"Gone! In perhaps we shall find her at play in the garden."
In this expectation they all went out, and as they drew near the spot
where the nest was, they saw Frances looking very eagerly into the
nest, and seeming to be in some agitation, then she threw something out
of her hand, and ran away as if wanting not to be seen.
"She is about some mischief," William said, and ran forward to the
nest. But what was his grief to see one of the little birds dead on the
ground, two others in the nest with pieces of bread sticking in their
mouths, gasping, unable to swallow or reject it, and the fourth with
its crop gorged, and slowly moving its little unfledged head from side
to side, struggling in death.
Full of sympathy with the little sufferer, and indignant with Frances,
he exclaimed, "Provoking girl! she has stuffed the little creatures as
she would like to stuff herself; and I believe she has killed them all."
The lively interest the other children had in the nest, impelled them
to hasten to the spot, and their lamentations, and even tears, soon
flowed.
"William, William, cannot you do anything for them? do try."
"Well, stand still and do not shake my arm--so saying, he began the
attempt, and drew the bread carefully out of the distended mouths of
the two.
"Now the other! the other, William!"
"That I cannot help," he answered: "see! she has forced it down, and we
cannot get it back again; it is dying now."
Anne picked up the dead one from off the ground, and stroking it with
her forefinger, "Poor little thing!" she said, "was she so cruel to
you!"
It was not long before they heard a rustling in the tree near the
place, and then a chirp of fright and distress. "Ah!" said their mamma,
"there is the mother! poor things, we will go a little distance to let
her come to the nest; perhaps she will be able to save the two."
They all withdrew, and the little parent bird was soon on her nest,
fluttering and chirping to awaken the dead and dying little ones, till
at length she sorrowfully brooded down on her nest, and spread her
wings over them, occasionally chirping as if to solicit an answer from
her little brood.
"Oh!" said Mary, bursting into tears, "I cannot bear it! cruel Frances,
to be so unkind to the little birds!"
"Go and find Frances," said their mamma, "and bring her to me."
"I will go," William answered, "I think I know where she will hide
herself."
It was not long before William returned, leading Frances, who very
reluctantly yielded to accompany him.
"Come here," said her mamma, stopping the accusations she saw were
ready to overwhelm the offending little girl; "come here, and let me
talk to you about this sad thing you have done to the little birds. Do
you see what you have done by your ill-judged kindness?"
"Kindness! mamma," they all exclaimed.
"Yes, dear children, she has been very faulty, but I believe she meant
to be kind, and through ignorance did this thing which proves the death
of the birds. _You_ would not have done it, William, because you have
already learnt there is such a thing as a necessary prudence to deal
out your morsels with wisdom, and in a measure suited to the age and
the capacity of the birds, and also that their food should be of a
wholesome kind suitable to their nature. Nothing of this did Frances
know, and it seems she had not learnt wisdom from the circumstances she
had herself so lately fallen into.
"It reminds me of the scripture, which teaches us to profit: 'Open thy
mouth wide, and I will fill it.' These little birds first attracted
your attention by their _open mouths_, which they had stretched to
receive what their poor mother was preparing to put into them. As one
lighted on the edge of their nest, they instinctively opened their
little yellow-edged beaks; she delighted to see them do so; and they,
taking with content what she had provided for them, with the utmost
confidence swallowed it down. She had a bit for every one of them in
turn and they waited patiently until it was given them. All was well
whilst they were nourished with parental tenderness and prudence, and
none other meddled with them, or ventured to give them other things,
which they, being blind, received and knew not the hand that gave, nor
the consequences of eating food not such as their parent would have
provided.
"Here you see Frances, neither prudent nor aware of consequences, has
stuffed these little birds with improper food, both in quality and
quantity. The consequences are fatal; one is dead, another is dying,
and it is very uncertain whether the others also will not die. She fed
them without measure, and their crops and throats were gorged so as to
stop their breathing. They took it greedily, because they knew not the
fatal consequences.
"Frances, you are a greedy girl. You had been suffering for this
offence, and had not the wisdom to leave it to me to apportion your
food. You opened your mouth wide, but you must remember it is not
written that _you_ are to fill it according to your own desires. 'I
will fill it,' saith the Lord. He knows what is good for us, and he
will measure his bounty according to his own wisdom."
Frances began to look ashamed and sorrowful.
"I was to you," her mamma continued, "in the affair of the cake,
endeavoring to fulfil this my duty, but you rebelled against my
discretion, and would covet more than was right. You _helped yourself_,
you gorged your stomach. You were cross and peevish, and ill, and when
the medicine had relieved you, as it was designed, you, without
reflection, sallied forth and suffocated the little birds. You could
not feed them as the _mother_ would. You could not find in the air and
on the ground the little insects, and small worms and little grains
which were their proper food, and you should have left it to their own
mother to fill their opened mouths. _She_ would have made no mistake
either in the quality or quantity _convenient_ for them."
"O," Mary said, "how that reminds me of the scripture in Proverbs xxx.
8: 'Feed me with food _convenient_ for me.'"
"Yes, my dear girl, it's a scripture of great importance and often does
it impress my mind in combination with the other I mentioned, Ps.
lxxxi. 10: 'Open thy mouth wide, and _I_ will fill it,' in their
spiritual application, when I am providing for you, and dividing out
your portions, and considering what diet is most suited to your
constitution, and limiting the quantity of dainty or rich luxuries not
_convenient_ for you. I am also frequently led to apply it to myself,
and to offer my petition to the Lord that he will graciously judge for
me, both temporally and spiritually to _fill_ my mouth, and feed me
with food _convenient_ for me."
"I think too, mamma, that there is some meaning belonging to this in
our Lord's teaching us to pray, 'Give us this day our daily bread,'
Matt. vi. 11."
"Assuredly, my dear child, and I am rejoiced to find you are led by
this subject to compare spiritual things with spiritual.
"You see how the word of God interprets itself, and we are taught to go
direct to the bounteous hand who giveth liberally, but never wastefully
Our daily bread is sufficient for the day, and we must wait on him
still for the daily bread of the succeeding day; so we are instructed
to open our mouths wide to ask the Lord to fulfil his promise and to
fill them, and to be contented with convenient food."
"O Mamma, you cannot think how many scriptures seem to come to my mind,
and to give me a clearer understanding. You know the manna which was
given in the wilderness, was _convenient_ food when it was gathered
daily as the Lord commanded, but when they laid it up, you know it was
no longer _convenient,_ for it stunk and bred worms. Does not this
teach us to trust God as well as not to _disobey_ him?"
"May this ready application of the word of God proceedeth from that
grace, my child, which teaches you, like Job, to esteem the word of God
more than your necessary food, for you will also remember what our Lord
said to the tempter, 'It is written, Man does not live by _bread
alone,_ but _by every word_ that proceeded out of the mouth of God.'
But we are too apt to forget this, and to imagine that we can provide
well for ourselves by fulfilling the desires and lusts of the flesh,
and by so doing, we are likely to be brought to _forget_ God, the
bountiful and wise Supplier of all our wants."
"I remember the text, mamma, which has in it, 'Feed me with food
_convenient_ for me; and in another part, 'lest I be full and deny
thee,' Prov. xxx. 9; and this little bird's nest has helped me to
understand it better."
"May the Holy Spirit engrave it on your heart, for it will often remind
you of the thankful contentedness with which you ought to wait on the
Lord."
"Yes, mamma," William said, "but there is no harm, you know, in opening
the mouth _wide_."
"No, William, certainly no _harm_, for it is a _duty_. 'Open thy mouth
wide,' is an injunction of God, but it is immediately subjoined and
strictly said, 'and I will fill it.' Therefore bear in mind the double
instruction. Neither take the filling on yourself, nor be ready to
swallow every crude and unwholesome morsel which the ignorant or the
wicked would present to you. Do you remember a certain day last week
when something happened?"
William looked anxious to recollect what his mamma alluded to, and in
less than a minute he shook his head, and said, "Ah, mamma, that is too
bad, you mean when Mrs. Arnot called, and you were out."
"Yes I do, William; you all opened your mouths wide, and _she_ filled
them. Her sweet things did not prove _convenient_ food. You see,
therefore, we should learn to discriminate between a heavenly Father's
provision, and that of a stranger, whose busy interference may cost you
your life. I was not many minutes away from my little nest, when a
stranger came, and, by mistaken kindness made you all ill.
"Frances, have you never read that scripture: 'Put a knife to thy
throat, if thou be a man given to appetite.'"