Autumn was now past, and winter set in with some severity. My prospects
at this time became very gloomy, for Henry’s father was appointed to
a lucrative situation abroad, which he accepted the more willingly,
as he knew that a residence in a warm climate would be beneficial to
the health of his amiable partner. I cannot describe the regret of
my young friends at leaving their comfortable home, nor the grief of
their poor neighbours at losing their kind benefactors. Frank’s aunt,
however, was taken care of, she had the charge of the house during the
absence of the family, and Frank was retained about the farm. Mary was
to accompany her parents; but my poor little master was to be sent to
school, as his father did not approve of a foreign education for him.
Amidst all these arrangements, I dare say my young readers are
anxious to learn how I was to be disposed of; and, indeed, this was
a subject of frequent discussion between Henry and Mary, till the
latter fortunately remembered that the lady with whom she was at school
was very fond of birds. When this circumstance recurred to her, she
immediately communicated it to her brother, who, as he was obliged to
part with me, was happy to procure me a safe and comfortable asylum. It
was therefore decided that I should be sent on the following day, and
Frank was accordingly deputed to take me, with a letter from Mary to
her late instructress, begging her to accept me, and recommending me to
her favour by a recital of my various qualifications.
Ah! with what a heavy heart I went on this journey. My young conductor,
too, seemed no less grieved than I was: but how great was my surprise,
and how much my uneasiness was abated, when I was conveyed into the
presence of a lady whom I instantly recognized to be my first kind
mistress, Miss Sedley, who it seems had quitted the charming family in
which I left her, to watch over the declining years of an affectionate
mother, and had established a school, in order to reside near this
beloved object. She received me very kindly, observing, when she had
read Mary’s letter, that my accomplishments greatly resembled those
of a little bird she once possessed. Oh, how I then wished to speak!
Action, however, is eloquent where language fails: she opened the cage
door, and I immediately flew on to her shoulder.
“This is surprising,” said she: “it must be my bird; but I will make
one more trial.”
She then walked to the piano-forte and began to play. I immediately
understood her motive, and, anxious to convince her of my identity,
perched on her music-book. This was the proof she wanted: therefore
she now rose, and returning to the table, wrote a kind answer to Mary,
thanking her for her present, and relating the curious coincidences
above mentioned.
Now, my dear young readers, I have been some time happily settled
with my kind mistress, and with her I hope to spend the remainder
of my days. I have frequently seen Henry and Mary, who continue as
amiable as they always were, and are the delight and comfort of their
parents. My life is no longer chequered by variety, but flows on in one
uninterrupted stream of happiness. Here then I shall close my memoirs,
though, if any new vicissitudes happen to me, (which I trust will not
be the case,) I may again appear before you as an author.