HOW THE BLACKBIRD GOT HIS GOLDEN BILL

Timaru Herald, Volume CXLIX, Issue 21971, 24 May 1941, Page 13

HOW THE BLACKBIRD GOT HIS GOLDEN BILL

Even In those far-away days the blackbird was a happy creature and played merry tunes upon his flute. People would look up at him among the green leaves and say: “That beautiful bird!” and the blackbird would sing: "It’s good to be beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful.” A wise man who heard him said: “Bird, that is a foolish song. What does it matter how a thing looks?” The blackbird thought: “I think this wise man cannot be so wise as people think." But he didn’t say so. He said: “The roses and the moon are beautiful, sir, and I am happier because they are. I must confess, sir, that 1 am glad to be good-looking, too.” “You?” said the wise man. “You good -looking? Pooh! you have never seen yourself?” And he went away. The blackbird felt uncomfortable at that and sang no more for a while. “True,” he thought. “I never have seen myself. I wonder what I look like.”

He began to picture what he thought he looked like. What richly glowing colours his wings must be to make people say: “That beautiful bird!” Ulen one day he went to drink at the stream. Always till now the water had been crinkled with small winds, but today the wind was still and the water was like a looking-glass. The blackbird looked in and saw himself. “Oh!” he said. “I am not beautiful at all. People have been making fun of me. I have a dirty black coat and black eyes—and look at my miserable bill, pale like pale ashes.” For in those days, you must know, the blackbird had not a golden bill. He was so unhappy at the thought of being ugly that for many days he did not sing, but hid among the leaves. There the Master of Life found him and said: “Blackbird, why do you not sing?” “Master,” said the blackbird, “I am

silent because I am unhappy and ashamed. I thought myself beautiful, but I am not. People must have been making fun of me when they said: “That beautiful bird!” "But,” said the Master, “they meant your song. Do you not know that your song is most splendid?” “I never thought about it,” said the blackbird. "I just sing because I like to.” “But you sing as well as you can, I am sure,” said the Master. “Oh, of course,” said the blackbird. "I get up early to practise. I want to sing as well as I can. But oh, Sir, I do wish I could be beautiful. Could you please make me a handsome pink?” “No,” said the Master. “A pink blackbird would be hardly fitting. But I can give you a bill to match your songs. Look in the stream, and you will find it.” The blackbird did not hurry. But when he looked into the stream and saw that he had a bill of pure gold ne was delighted beyond words. He flew to a tree and sang as never before, and people said: “That beautiful bird.” Tire blackbird sang: “I am beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful,” but not at all proudly, only thankfully, for it is good to be beautiful after all.