CHAPTER X.
ADVENTURES OF THE LITTLE ROBINS.
As they walked along, both Mrs. Benson and her daughter continued silent, for the former was greatly agitated, and the latter quite in consternation at what had lately passed. But their attention was soon awakened by the supplication of a poor woman, who entreated them to give her some relief, as she had a sick husband and seven children in a starving condition; of which, she said, they might be eye-witnesses if they would have the goodness to step into a barn that was very near. Mrs. Benson, who was always ready to relieve the distressed, taking her daughter by the hand, and desiring the servant to stop for her, followed the woman, who conducted her to the abode of real woe, where she beheld a father surrounded by his helpless family, whom he could no longer maintain, and who, though his disease was nearly subdued, was himself almost ready to die for want of good nourishing diet.
"How came you all to be in this condition, good woman?" said Mrs. Benson to his wife; "surely you might have obtained relief before your husband was reduced to such extremity?" "Oh, my good lady," said the woman, "we have not been used to begging, but to earn an honest livelihood by our industry; and never till this sad day have I known what it was to ask charity. This morning, for the first time, I applied at the only great house in this village, where I made no doubt there was abundance. I told my dismal tale to a servant, and begged she would make it known to her mistress; but she assured me it was in vain to come there, for her lady had such a family of cats, dogs, monkeys, and all manner of creatures, that she had nothing to spare for poor people; at the same instant I saw the poulterer bring a rabbit and a fowl, which I found were for the favourite cat and dog. This discouraged me from begging; and I had determined that I never would ask again, but the sight of my dear husband and children in this condition drove me to do it."
"Well, comfort yourself," said Mrs. Benson, "we will see what we can do ; in the meantime here is something for a present supply." Mrs. Benson then departed, as she was fearful of being late. Harriet was greatly affected at this scene, and could no longer help exclaiming against Mrs. Addis.
"She is deserving of great blame, indeed," said Mrs. Benson; "but I have the pleasure to say, such characters as hers are very uncommon—I mean in the extreme, though there are numbers of people who fall into the same fault in some degree, and make themselves truly ridiculous with their unnatural affections. I wish you, while you are young, to guard your mind against such a blameable weakness."
Harriet assured her mamma that she should never forget either Mrs. Addis or the lesson she had received on the subject, and then expressed her satisfaction that they had met the poor woman. "I rejoice sincerely," said Mrs. Benson, "at having been fortunate enough to come in time to assist this poor miserable family, and hope, my love, you will, out of your own little purse, contribute something towards their relief."
"Most willingly," said Harriet; "they shall be welcome to my whole store."
They kept talking on this subject till they arrived at home. Little Frederick, who sat up an hour beyond his time, came out to meet them, and assured his sister that the birds were well, and fast asleep.
"I think," said she, "it is time for you and me to follow their example; for my part, with my morning and evening walk together, I am really tired, so shall beg leave to wish you a good night, my dear mamma. Papa, I suppose, will not be at home this week?"
"No, my dear, nor the next," said Mrs. Benson, "for he has many affairs to settle in the west. I am rather fatigued also, and shall soon retire to rest."
At the usual hour of visiting Mrs. Benson's tea-table the next day, the parent robins took their morning's flight, and found the children with their mother. They had been up a long time, for Frederick had made in his bedchamber a lodging for the birds, which had awakened both him and his sister at a very early hour, and they rose with great readiness to perform the kind office they had imposed upon themselves.
The two blackbirds were perfectly well, but the linnet looked rather drooping, and they began to be apprehensive they should not raise him, especially when they found he was not inclined to eat. As for the blackbirds, they were very hungry indeed; and their young benefactors, not considering that when fed by their parents young birds wait some time between every morsel, supplied them too fast, and filled their crops so full that they looked as if they had great wens on their necks; and Harriet perceived one of them gasping for breath.
"Stop, Frederick!" said she, as he was carrying the quill to its mouth; "the bird is so full he can hold no more." But she spoke too late; the little creature gave his eyes a ghastly roll, and fell on one side, suffocated with abundance.
"Oh, he is dead! he is dead!" cried Frederick.
"He is indeed," said Harriet; "but I am sure we did not mean to kill him, and it is some satisfaction to think that we did not take the nest."
This consideration was not enough to comfort Frederick, who began to cry most bitterly; his mamma hearing him, was apprehensive he had hurt himself, for he seldom cried unless he was in great pain; she therefore hastily entered the room to inquire what was the matter, on which Harriet related the disaster that had happened. Mrs. Benson then sat down, and taking Frederick in her lap, wiped his eyes, and giving him a kiss, said,—
"I am sorry, my love, for your disappointment; but do not afflict yourself; the poor little thing is out of his pain now, and I fancy suffered but for a short time. If you keep on crying so, you will forget to feed your flock of birds, which I fancy, by the chirping I heard from my window, are beginning to assemble. Come, let me take the object of your distress out of your sight; it must be buried." Then, carrying the dead bird in one hand, and leading Frederick with the other, she went down-stairs.
While she was speaking, Harriet had been watching the other blackbird, which she had soon the pleasure to see perfectly at his ease. She then attempted to feed the linnet, but he would not eat.
"I fancy, Miss Benson," said the maid, "he wants air."
"That may be the case, indeed," replied Harriet, "for you know, Betty, this room, which has been shut up all night, must be much closer than the places birds build in." Saying this, she opened the window, and placed the linnet near it, waiting to see the effect of the experiment, which answered her wishes; and she was delighted to behold how the little creature gradually smoothed his feathers, and his eyes resumed their native lustre; she once more offered him food, which he took, and quite recovered. Having done all in her power for her little orphans, she went to share with her brother the task of feeding the daily pensioners, which being ended, she seated herself at the breakfast-table by her mamma. "I wonder," said Frederick, who had dried up his tears, "that the robins are not come."
"Consider," said his sister, "that they have a great deal of business to do now that their young ones begin to leave their nest; they will be here by and by, I make no doubt." An instant after, they entered the room. The sight of them perfectly restored Frederick's cheerfulness; and after they were departed, he requested of his mamma that he and Harriet might go again into the orchard, in hopes of seeing the young robins.
"That you shall do, Frederick," said she, "upon condition that you continue a very good boy; but as yesterday was rather an idle day with you, you must apply a little closer to-day; and Harriet has a great deal of business to do, therefore you must wait till evening, and then perhaps I may go with you."
Frederick was satisfied with this promise, and took great pains to read and spell. He repeated by heart one of Mrs. Barbauld's hymns, and some other little things which he had been taught; and Harriet applied herself to a variety of different lessons with great diligence, and performed her task of work entirely to her mamma's satisfaction.
As soon as the old redbreasts left their little family in order to go to Mrs. Benson's, Pecksy, with great kindness, began to ask Robin where he had hurt himself, and how he did it.
"Oh," said he, "I am much better; but it is a wonder I am now alive, for you cannot think what a dreadful fall I had. With turning about as I did in the air I became quite giddy, so could not make the least exertion for saving myself as I was falling, and came with great force to the ground; you see how my eye is still swelled, and it was much more so at first. My wing is the worst, and still gives me a great deal of pain; observe how it drags on the ground; but as it is not broke, my father says it will soon be well, and I hope it will be so, for I long to be flying, and shall be glad to receive any instructions for the future. I cannot think how I could be so foolishly conceited as to suppose I knew how to conduct myself without my father's guidance."
"Young creatures like us," said Pecksy, "certainly stand in need of instruction, and we ought to think ourselves happy in having parents who are willing to take the trouble of teaching us what is necessary for us to know. I dread the day when I must quit the nest and take care of myself." Flapsy said she made no doubt they would know how to fly and peck and do everything before that time; and for her part she longed to see the world, and to know how the higher ranks of birds behaved themselves, and what pleasures they enjoyed; and Dicky declared he felt the same wish, though he must confess he had great dread of birds of prey.
"Oh," said Flapsy, "they will never seize such a pretty creature as you, Dicky, I am sure."
"Why, if beauty can prevail against cruelty, you will be secure, my sweet sister," replied he, "for your delicate shape must plead in your behalf."
Just as he had finished his speech a hawk appeared in sight, on which the whole party was seized with a most uncommon sensation, and threw themselves on their backs, screaming with all their might; and at the same instant the cries of numbers of little birds echoed through the orchard. The red-breasts soon recovered, and rising on their feet, looked about to see what was become of the cause of their consternation; when they beheld him high in the air, bearing off some unhappy victim, a few of whose feathers fell near the young family, who, on examining them, found they belonged to a goldfinch; on which Pecksy observed that it was evident these savages paid no attention to personal beauty. Dicky was so terrified, he knew not what to do, and had thoughts of flying back to the nest, but after Robin's misfortune he was fearful of offending his father; he therefore got up into a currant bush, and hid himself in the thickest part of the leaves. Flapsy followed him; but Robin being obliged to keep on the ground, Pecksy kindly resolved to bear him company.
In a few minutes their parents returned from Mrs. Benson's and found the two latter pretty near where they had left them; but missing the others, the mother with great anxiety inquired what was become of them. Robin then related how they had been frightened by a hawk; and while he was doing so, they returned to him again.
"I am surprised," said the father, "that a hawk should have ventured so near the spot where the gardener was at work." Pecksy informed him that they had not seen the gardener since he left them.
"Then I dare say he is gone to breakfast," replied the mother; and this was the case, for they at this instant saw him return with his shears in his hand, and soon pursue his work. "Now you will be safe," cried the father; "I shall therefore stay and teach you to fly in different directions, and then your mother and I will make some little excursions, and leave you to practise by yourselves; but first of all let me show you where to get water, for I am sure you must be very thirsty." "No," said they, "we have had several wet worms and juicy caterpillars, which have served us both for victuals and drink; Robin is very quick at finding them." "There is nothing like necessity to teach birds how to live," said the father; "I am glad Robin's misfortunes have been so beneficial to him," "What would have become of you, Robin, if you had not exerted yourself as I directed?" said his mother; "you would soon have died had you continued to lie on the scorching ground. Remember from this instance, as long as you live, that it is better to use means for your own relief than to spend time in fruitless lamentations. But come along, Dicky, Flapsy, and Pecksy, there is water near." She then conducted them to the pump from which Joe watered the garden, which was near the tool-house where Robin slept.
Here they stayed some time, and were greatly amused, still so near the gardener that they regarded themselves as under his protection. The parents flew up into a tree, and there the father entertained his beloved mate and family with his cheerful music; and sometimes they made various airy excursions for examples to their little ones. In this manner the day passed happily away, and early in the evening Flapsy, Pecksy, and Dicky were conducted to the nest; they mounted in the air with much more ease than the preceding day, and the parents instructed them how to fly to the branches of some trees which stood near.
In the meantime they had left Robin by himself, thinking he would be safe while the gardener was mowing some grass; but what was the grief of both father and mother, when they returned, and could neither see nor hear him! The gardener, too, was gone; they therefore apprehended that a cat or rat had taken Robin away and killed him, yet none of his feathers were to be seen. With the most anxious search they explored every recess in which they thought it possible for him to be, and strained their little voices till they were hoarse with calling him, but all in vain. The toolhouse was locked, but had he been there he would have answered: at length, quite in despair of finding him, with heavy hearts they returned to the nest; a general lamentation ensued, and this lately happy abode was now the region of sorrow. The father endeavoured to comfort his mate and surviving nestlings, and so far succeeded that they resolved to bear the loss with patience.
After a mournful night the mother left the nest early in the morning, unwilling to relinquish the hope which still remained of finding Robin again; but having spent an hour in this manner, she returned to her mate, who was comforting his little ones.
"Come," said he, "let us take a flight if we sit lamenting here for ever, it will be to no purpose: the evils which befall us must be borne, and the more quietly we submit to them, the lighter they will be. If poor Robin is dead, he will suffer no more: and if he is not, so much as we fly about, it is a chance but what we get tidings of him. Suppose these little ones attempt to fly with us to our benefactors? If we set out early, and let them rest frequently by the way, I think they may accomplish it." This was very pleasing to the little ones, and accordingly it was determined that they should immediately set out; they accomplished the journey by easy stages, and arrived in the court yard just after the daily pensioners were gone.
"Now," said the father, "stop a little, and let me advise you, Dicky, Flapsy, and Pecksy, to behave yourselves properly; hop only where you see your mother and me hop, and do not meddle with anything but what is scattered on purpose."
"Stay, father," said Dicky, "my feathers are sadly rumpled." "And so are mine," said Flapsy.
"Well, smooth them then," said he; "but don't stand finicking for an hour."
Pecksy was ready in an instant, but the others were very tedious, so their father and mother would wait for them no longer, and flew in at the window; the others directly followed them, and, to the inexpressible satisfaction of Frederick, alighted on the tea-table, where they met with a very unexpected pleasure; for who should they find there as a guest but the poor lost Robin!
The meeting was, you may be sure, a happy one for all parties, and the transports it occasioned may be easier conceived than described. The father poured forth a loud song of gratitude, the mother chirped, she bowed her head, clapped her wings, basked on the tea-table, joined her beak to Robin's, then touched the hand of Frederick. The young ones twittered a thousand questions to Robin, but as he was unwilling to interrupt his father's song, he desired them to suspend their curiosity to another opportunity.