The wet weather, of which we had had abundance, at length disappeared,
and summer, in her gayest apparel, rapidly advanced. I greatly
enjoyed the genial warmth of the sun, and frequently basked on the
window-frames, where it was transmitted, with increased ardour, through
the glass.
My young readers may remember, that when I was out for two or three
hours, the ground was wet and the air chilly, and I was consequently
unwilling to remain in so uncomfortable a state; but now that the
weather was warm and settled, the trees covered with beautiful foliage,
and I able to provide for myself, I must confess that I frequently
viewed the pleasing landscape before me, with something like a wish
that I were at liberty to roam at large in it, and I began to calculate
the happiness I should enjoy, when, according to the avowed intention
of my mistress, I was to be at my own disposal. I indulged myself
the more freely in these anticipations, as I was not guilty of any
ingratitude in so doing, for I knew that she rather wished to encourage
than repress my desire of liberty.
One morning my mistress rose much later than usual, on account of
a slight indisposition, and I finding the time rather long, amused
myself by looking out at the window. There was before the house an
extensive lawn, in which were a few trees. I saw a multitude of little
birds alternately flying about, and resting on the waving branches,
and sporting with that active gaiety which a delightful summer morning
inspires. Suddenly there appeared among them a much larger bird, who
seemed to terrify them all, for they flew with great precipitation
towards the shrubbery. One of them, however, was closely pursued by the
large bird, and though he made every effort to escape, was overtaken
and caught by him. If this is play, thought I, it is very rough play.
But how shall I describe the horror I felt, when I saw the monster
begin to devour the inoffensive little bird! I uttered a scream, and
flew to hide myself behind my mistress’s pillow, scarcely knowing what
I did or where I was; though, had I reflected for a moment, I should
have known that I was entirely out of danger.
When I recovered myself, I remembered the goldfinch’s narrow escape on
a similar occasion, and I felt my ardour for liberty somewhat abated;
for I began to consider that there might be other dangers, of which I
was entirely ignorant, and this one was sufficiently appalling.
When my mistress had been up some time, she took me with her to the
school-room. I was fully intent on relating what I had witnessed to
my companion, so flew immediately towards her cage. She was not there;
but this did not surprise me, for neither she nor I was much confined.
I expected to find her about the room, but she was not to be found;
and the entrance of Lady Seymour put an end to my doubts and my search
at the same time, for little Julia met her with tears in her eyes, and
deplored the loss of her bird, which had, she said, flown out at the
window.
“But why, my love,” said her mamma, “did you let her out when the
window was open?”
“It was I, dear mamma,” interrupted Anna, “who was so unfortunate; I
did not know the window was open.”
“You mean careless, not unfortunate,” returned Lady Seymour: “you ought
to have been sure it was shut.”
“Dear mamma,” said Julia, “poor Anna is very sorry: if I had let out
her bird, I should not have needed one reproach; and I did not intend
to cry, for fear of vexing her more, but, indeed, I could not help it.”
“I am pleased with your affectionate conduct on this trying occasion,
my little Julia,” said Lady S. “particularly as it is founded on the
noblest of all principles—that of doing as you would be done to. A
hundred little birds are not to me so valuable, as one instance of
goodness in my children. I will soon procure you another little pet.”
“I shall not soon like another so well as my own poor little Goldey,”
said Julia: and I thought just as she did. I had become much attached
to my companion, and felt her loss very severely, especially when my
friends went out, for I was then quite solitary. Besides, I knew not
what might be her fate; nor was I certain that she was not the unhappy
victim I had seen in the morning.