You will, perhaps, wonder, my young readers, how I attained to a
sufficient knowledge of literature, to relate my adventures; but your
astonishment will subside when I inform you, that the early part of
my life was passed in a school-room, where, though few were taught,
much was inculcated; and I, though a silent auditor, partook of the
general instruction. I once heard the “Life of Carlo” read by one of
the pupils; I was greatly pleased with it, and resolved from that time
to improve as much as possible the advantages I possessed, that, if
any of the events of my life should be worth relating, I might be able
to publish them. Of the ultimate success of my endeavours, it will be
your province to judge when you have read my history, to which, without
further preface, I now proceed.
I was hatched in a thick, sheltered box-tree, or bush, for it was not
more than a yard from the ground. My father and mother attended on me,
my brother, and sister, (for there was three of us,) with the most
tender solicitude: my mother, indeed, scarcely ever left us, but when
her affectionate mate, alarmed for her health, insisted on taking her
place, that she might enjoy some relaxation from the arduous, though,
to her, pleasing office of maternal tenderness.
My father brought us plenty of food, which, from his account, was
procured with little difficulty; for he mentioned some persons who
were so kind as to strew crumbs of bread near our dwelling, on purpose
for our use. I frequently felt an ardent curiosity to behold these
good friends. My brother and sister expressed the same desire, and we
frequently entertained ourselves with conjectures respecting them,
which, however, always ended with the supposition that they resembled
our good parents. Judge then of our astonishment, when, one day, we
heard a rustling noise in the box-tree, and the next moment beheld
three or four large objects, regarding us with apparent delight. We
were all greatly terrified, not knowing whether they intended to do us
good or harm: fear naturally suggested the latter. However, we were
soon reassured, by their closing the branches gently, and regretting
that they had disturbed my mother, who, on their approach, had flown
to an adjacent paling, where, in breathless anxiety, she waited their
departure.
“Well, my poor children,” said she, on her return, “you have at last
seen our benefactors; they are called _human beings_, and though many
of them are a terror to our race, yet I do not think those you have
seen are of that number, for I have witnessed several instances of
their affection towards the feathered tribe; and a young blackbird, who
is our neighbour, informed me, that, during the last winter, which was
uncommonly severe, he found an asylum in their dwelling, where a small
apartment was allotted him, and that in the spring he was brought near
this spot and set at liberty, though not without some regret on their
part; which evinces that they preferred his happiness to their own
gratification, and practised their duty, though in opposition to their
inclination; therefore, I trust we have not much to fear from them, for
they must be actuated by principles of justice and humanity.”
After this first visit, we generally saw our friends daily, and our
fear of them daily diminished; yet we could not help observing, that
our parents always flew away on their approach, and we once ventured to
ask our mother the cause.
“It is not,” said she, “that I apprehend any injury from them; on the
contrary, we have continual proofs that they desire to increase rather
than to diminish our happiness, but my own experience, and the many
instances I have heard of the cruelty of some of their species towards
us, have produced, in my mind, such an habitual mistrust, that I never
venture within their reach; though I have observed that we Robins
approach much nearer than any other birds, except, indeed, when they
are impelled by famine, in an intensely cold winter.”
Several days passed after this conversation without any extraordinary
occurrence. Our friends, came to visit us as usual; we throve very
fast; and as we were nearly fledged, and the weather fine, our parents
were longer and more frequently absent. One morning, when they had just
quitted us, after many kind injunctions respecting our conduct during
their absence, we heard the sound of voices, which we soon recognized
to be those of our friends. They approached, and one, as usual, came to
peep into our nest. “Pretty little creatures!” said she, “they are all
safe: really they are gaping for food. How close they lie beside each
other, just as if they were packed.” “How I should like to see them!”
exclaimed another voice. “Well, I will show you one,” resumed the
former; and so saying, she put her hand gently into the nest and lifted
me out.
What a different scene now presented itself to my view, to any I had
before imagined. I had fancied that the environs of our box-tree were
the boundaries of the world, and our nest no inconsiderable part of
it. I now found myself in a pretty, circular garden, enclosed by a
rustic paling, and surrounded by a delightful shrubbery, excepting on
one side, where stood a green-house. My friend (though I was somewhat
alarmed at this new proof of her friendship) carried me to a little
distance, where I saw three young ladies, who appeared more healthy and
fresh-coloured than the one who held me, whom, from their respectful
manner towards her, I supposed to be their governess; for they did not
call her mamma. They all agreed in admiring me very much, and I still
continuing to gape, the elder lady put a bit of bread into my mouth,
which I immediately swallowed; she then conveyed me back to the nest,
and retired.
I began to relate what I had seen to my brother and sister, which so
strongly excited the curiosity of the former, that he resolved to get
out of the nest. My sister and I endeavoured to dissuade him from so
rash an attempt, but without effect, for he got on the edge of the
nest, and almost instantly disappeared. Just then I heard our friends
returning, and trembled for my brother, lest he should be crushed
to death. The elder lady peeped into our nest, to see, as she said,
whether I was hurt by her having fed me, and missing my brother,
informed her pupils of it, with expressions of regret at having
disturbed us at first.
“What shall I do?” exclaimed she; “the poor little thing will be
killed or starved. I wish I had not touched them.” She then began to
search about the bush for the little truant. My poor sister now became
dreadfully alarmed: the shaking of the bush, and the confusion of
voices, in her idea, seemed to threaten us with immediate destruction.
I too was somewhat afraid, but concealed my fear, in order to repress
my sister’s.
The search was continued, but my brother was not found; and my
sister’s fortitude at last entirely forsaking her, she also quitted the
nest. My terror increased after her departure, but still I resolved to
await the event where I was, as I thought it probable that the dangers
I might encounter elsewhere, were as great as those from which I should
escape by flight. Our friend now looked again into the nest, and her
distress was greatly increased on finding two of us gone. “Worse and
worse!” said she: “how have I disturbed the happiness of this peaceful
little family! I will never again venture near a nest. Poor little
things, I fear they will all die!”
At this moment the gardener coming past, offered his assistance. He
soon found my brother and sister, to the great joy of our friends, who
immediately placing us side by side, as if nothing had happened, left
us.
They were scarcely gone, when my brother and sister began to describe
what they had seen, and expressed such satisfaction from this first
excursion, though they had been only under the box-tree, that they
resolved to stay no longer in the nest. I begged them to remain where
they were, at least till our parents’ return; but they told me, that,
instead of giving advice, I ought to take it, and accompany them in
their excursion. This I could by no means consent to, so they again
left me.
Our parents had now been a great while away, and I, anxiously expecting
their return, sat on the edge of the nest. At length I heard the
welcome sound of their voices at no great distance. But, alas! I was
never again to behold them; for at the same time I heard other voices,
not so agreeable, and the ladies once more approached the box-tree.
“Are they safe?” said one. “Oh dear, no!” was the answer, “they are all
gone except one, which is sitting on the edge of the nest, ready to get
away. How I pity the poor parents! What will be their distress, when
they find their snug little nest deserted, their pretty little ones,
perhaps, destroyed. I have a great mind to preserve one, if possible.
The old birds may find the others, and feed them on the ground; at
least, I shall be sure that they will not _all_ perish of hunger.”
You may easily imagine, my young readers, that the children admired
this project, and were very anxious for its execution. Accordingly, I
was taken home with them, and soon ceased to regret the change; for my
mistress fed and attended me with the greatest tenderness, and I soon
got accustomed to her way of feeding me, and grew fond of her. I will
pass over the surprise I felt at every thing I saw in the school-room,
(whither I was conveyed,) lest I should fatigue my young readers by
depicting sentiments of which they cannot partake: besides, I dare
say they are anxious to be introduced to the family of which I am now
become an inmate.