MINNIE IN PRISON.
Minnie thought the night would never end. She watched the stars that
moved so slowly overhead; she watched the moonlight slant into the wood,
and the pale flowers fill with dew. She heard the night wind creep among
the leaves; and her old friend the owl, and other wild creatures that
hide by day, she heard prowling about in the dark.
Sometimes there would be a quick cry, or a patter of light little feet,
or the dull hoot of the owl; and then all was still again, and Minnie
gazed once more to see how far the stars had moved. O, it was such a
little way, and they had so far to go before the sun would shine again!
At last she fell asleep from very weariness, and awoke to find a faint
red light above the eastern hills. It was morning--morning! Another hour
would see the sun rise, and bring some friend, perhaps, to help her away
from her prison.
When some kind friend awakens you at sunrise on a summer morning, and,
feeling drowsy, you long to turn and sleep again, and wish daylight
would never come, you must suppose that you were in Minnie's place, and
see then if you do not find it easier to spring from your beds. Because
the sunshine comes to us so freely, we must not forget how precious and
beautiful it is.
Suppose the darkness, instead of lasting for one night, should last
whole months, as it does at the far north. What a damp, dismal world it
would be! How we should grope from place to place, and, sitting in our
houses by the flicker of poor lamps, how we should long for the
sunshine--for the beaming, generous light and pleasant warmth that
spread now over all the land!
The birds began to rustle among the boughs, or, half asleep still, sing
short dreamy songs upon their nests; but Minnie could not make them
hear her little voice, and had resolved to call no more, but drown or
starve, if she must, when a humming-bird came wheeling and buzzing by.
He was such a noisy fellow himself, that, like the rest, he might have
passed on without noticing Minnie's cry, but he paused to drink at the
pitcher, where he knew that water was hid; and what was his surprise to
find an old acquaintance there!
Minnie was always ready for a joke; so she popped up her head like the
little men you have seen shut into boxes, that, when the cover is
lifted, start up and frighten you.
She knew very well that if humming-bird flew away at first, his
curiosity would lead him back again. She laughed to see how quickly he
flitted into the wood, and then how cautiously he came forth, and, from
bough to bough and plant to plant, made his way to her side once more.
Then Minnie's face grew serious, as she told her little friend how much
she had suffered and feared through the long, long night, and begged
that he would help her to escape. He was not half strong enough to lift
her, though he tried till his bill ached with dragging at her tangled
hair.
And this work, if hard to him, was not, as you may judge, the most
agreeable to Minnie. She persuaded the humming-bird to leave her for a
while, and see if he could not find help, or, at least, find something
for her to eat.
It happened that, in seeking food for Minnie, the bird found something
of which he was especially fond himself; so, after eating his fill, he
went humming across the meadow, never thinking again of the friend he
had promised to help.
Very impatiently the little girl expected him every moment, until an
hour had passed, and still she waited, hungry and alone.
Then came a great flapping of wings overhead, and a rustling such as she
had once heard when a hawk flew into her father's poultry-yard. He had
eaten the white chicken that she called her own, and it was as large as
she was now. Suppose he should eat her!
The rush of wings came nearer, and the bird, whatever his name might
be, alighted close beside Minnie, who ventured to peep over the edge of
her pitcher, and beheld a curious, tall, awkward creature, such as she
had never seen before in her life.
She coughed to attract his attention, and he turned toward her a bill as
long as her own arm was once, and began to stalk about on legs longer,
even, than his bill, and that looked like a pair of stilts.