Part 2

“They soon returned, and when the calls of hunger were satisfied, we made some enquiries about our two brothers, whom we had neither seen nor heard. They informed us, that they had conveyed them to a place of safety soon after day-break, and had then returned, in the hope of finding our sister and us. I will not detail the whole of our conversation, nor weary you with the relation of our complaints, and the consolations offered by our parents; but proceed to inform you, that their visits were constant, and our wants always supplied. At length, however, the weather became very hot, and we began to suffer much from thirst; for though the food our parents brought us was generally moist, it was by no means sufficiently so to supply the want of water, which, had we been at liberty, we could have procured abundantly for ourselves. Our friend the gardener did not perceive our uneasiness, though he took us in every night, till one morning he found my poor brother just expiring, and me apparently very ill. He then tried to recover us by giving us water. With me his efforts succeeded, but my poor brother was too far gone, and, though he revived for a short time, died that day.

“I now felt my condition so forlorn, that confinement was doubly painful to me, and grief for the loss of my beloved companion was nearly effecting what pain had not accomplished, when the gardener observing that I did not thrive, resolved to set me free. Accordingly, he one day opened my prison door, and I, who did not want much persuasion to depart, immediately flew out. My first sensation was exquisite delight at finding myself at liberty. I hopped from bough to bough, on the first tree I came to, and exerted the little voice I then had, in strains of rapture.

“When my ecstasy had somewhat subsided, I remembered my parents, and anticipated the pleasure I should have in ranging at large with them; but it being about noon, and not expecting them till the evening, I purposed hovering near the spot till the interval (which never before appeared so long) should elapse. The gardener, however, was again destined to be the destroyer of my hopes, for some time after he came into the garden, and though I thought myself quite secure from observation, he soon perceived me. He called to me, and I, seized with terror, lest, repenting his late precious gift, he had come to reclaim it and convey me back to my prison, immediately flew away.

“So fast and so far did my fright carry me, that I could not find my way back again, when the thought of my parents recurred to me; so that, with extreme anguish, I now found myself obliged to relinquish the hope of ever seeing them again. This, as you may suppose, was a severe stroke to me; and I began to discover that there are other evils besides captivity, scarcely less insupportable.

“Having no one now to provide food for me, and being hungry, I sought it for myself, and soon found abundance; but even in this particular I experienced fresh mortification, for whether, having been brought up in a cage, I had imbibed habits different from those of my species who were at large, or whether my being a stranger was the cause, I know not; but all the goldfinches I approached treated me with contempt and derision, and when I once attempted to expostulate with them, they proceeded to further violence, and attacking me with their beaks, drove me from their society.

“My days were now passed in solitude, but my nights were not the less peaceful; for though my situation was somewhat forlorn, I was not conscious of having done any thing disgraceful; and surely, thought I, misfortune is no crime; nay, so far from it, that I am persuaded, were my persecutors to hear my sad adventures, they would pity and console me.

“In my rambles to seek food and amusement, I often approached a village, by which you are to understand several houses near each other. One day, being near this place, I saw a very large bird just above me, with his eyes intently fixed on me. I flew from the spot where I was, but found, to my great astonishment, that he followed me. Not knowing his intention, I continued my flight, and he his pursuit, till we came near one of the houses in the village. I had often seen the little birds pursue each other in sport, and at first imagined that to be his object; but as I was now nearly exhausted, and unable to fly so fast as before, my pursuer gained upon me; and, as he came nearer, I perceived that his feet were large, strong, and armed with immense claws; his eyes fierce and piercing, and his whole appearance terrific.

“My fears had now nearly overcome me, and I was on the point of sinking to the ground, an easy prey to this destroyer, when one effort saved me. I perceived an open window in the habitation nearest to us, and collecting the little strength I had left, made towards it, entered, and sunk breathless on the bosom of a young lady who was sitting near it. She immediately rose, and taking me gently in her hand, shut the window. ‘Poor little bird,’ said she, ‘something must have alarmed you; but here you are safe and sure of protection. I will take care of you.’

“She then gave me some water, which I found very refreshing, and presently after, one of her sisters coming into the room, I learnt her intentions respecting myself. ‘See, Lucy,’ said she, ‘what a treasure I have.’ ‘A goldfinch! Where did you get it?’ ‘In a manner so extraordinary, that I shall not easily be prevailed on to part with it. Though I am much averse to slavery, and should not like to keep it entirely a prisoner, yet, as it came to me for protection, I should be unwilling to expose it again to the danger it so lately escaped.’

“She then related the manner of my coming to her, and observed, that she supposed some bird of prey had pursued me. ‘Well,’ said Lucy, ‘and what do you intend to do with it?’ ‘I shall keep it in a cage till it becomes familiar; I shall accustom it to eat out of my hand, and when I have tamed it a little, I shall frequently let it out.’ ‘I like your plan, my dear Sophy, and trust that it will be the means of assisting our endeavours to restore your health. How we shall all love the little bird, if it adds to your happiness!’ ‘Oh! do not think of my health,’ returned Sophy, ‘you know I mean to get quite well soon.’ ‘Do so, my beloved sister,’ said Lucy, with a faint smile; but her countenance expressed no hope that her sister’s prediction would be verified. I even observed a tear trembling in her eye: to conceal it she hastily left the room, saying she would look for a cage.

“You, perhaps, think that the prospect of a cage terrified me, but I was now less satisfied with my liberty than at first, since I found that there were dangers and misfortunes attending it, of which I had not dreamt when in captivity: besides, I was shunned by my own species, and led a solitary life, which was extremely irksome to me; so that, upon the whole, I was not dissatisfied at becoming the companion of the interesting Sophia, of whom I shall now give you some account.

“Her father was an honest, intelligent tradesman, who had, by his reputation and diligence, obtained a very good business, by which he maintained his family, consisting of his wife, three daughters, and a son. The latter was very useful to his father, for, being a good accomptant, he kept the books, and otherwise assisted him in business, though scarcely fourteen. Sophia, my mistress, was fifteen, but in such a delicate state of health, that she had few opportunities of being useful to her family, though her disposition was so amiable, that, had she possessed the power, I am sure she would not have wanted the inclination. Lucy and Mary were twins, nearly two years older than Sophia, and so active and industrious, that they not only superintended the domestic concerns of the family, and did all the needle-work, but also found time for recreations, the chief of which was making clothes for their poor distressed neighbours. When Sophia was confined to her room, one of them always contrived to be with her; and Arthur generally joined them in the evening, to amuse his sister by playing on the flute; for she was very fond of music, and he had applied himself to it so earnestly, in order to afford her a new gratification, that he had made some progress in that delightful science. Sometimes the elder girls accompanied him with their voices, which were sweet and unaffected. My mistress took great pleasure in these little concerts; indeed, she frequently appeared as if beguiled of all her pain by them, and tears of delight would fill her eyes. I was no less enraptured on these occasions, and could not forbear joining my little notes in chorus, for which I was greatly admired.

“My sensible, kind-hearted protectress, as you may imagine, soon gained my affection. How, indeed, could it have been possible to know any one of this amiable family, without sentiments of esteem; but Sophia was constantly near me, and I was continually discovering something new to admire in her. The patience she displayed in suffering; the restraints she imposed on herself, in the presence of her dear relatives, lest any expression of pain should escape her, and add to the grief they already felt on her account; and, above all, the kind attention she bestowed on me, made me not only admire, but love her so much, that, had she opened the window and offered me liberty, I should have preferred staying with her. Indeed, my ideas of liberty were now very different to those I had formerly entertained: my enlargement had been attended with so many misfortunes, that I considered my present confinement much more tolerable.

“I was not always kept in a cage, but often allowed the full range of Sophia’s apartment. Besides, she taught me several diverting tricks; such as eating out of her hand, flying up to her mouth for a hemp-seed, and drawing up a little pasteboard box, which was suspended by a string to my cage, and into which she put something nice, as an inducement to my exertions. I found that these performances pleased and amused her very much, and I was, consequently, very docile and obedient.

“The amiable traits I discovered in each member of this family, led me to imagine that all human beings were equally well disposed, and I even pitied the timidity of our race, which made them mistrustful of such benevolent creatures; but I was soon undeceived, by a circumstance which is even now painful to my remembrance.

“Poor dear Sophia had with difficulty passed through the winter, but spring, which revives all nature, seemed to promise the restoration of her health. She was frequently able to quit her room, and on these occasions she sat in a neat little parlour which overlooked the garden. I, her constant companion, and more her favourite than ever, was always brought down in my cage, and placed near the window. The garden was separated on one side by a very close hedge, from that of a neighbouring gentleman, whose children often walked there. In this hedge a sparrow had constructed her little nest, and had been sitting some time, when it was discovered by Arthur, who pointed it out to his sisters. Sophia, from the window, observed the sparrow and her mate alternately relieving each other from the confinement of the nest, and frequently fed them. By this means they became very tame, and generally sought their food at the accustomed time and place, chirping, as if to thank their benefactress, whose gentle heart rejoiced at the idea of affording pleasure or assistance to the minutest living creature.

“At length Arthur informed her that the young ones were hatched, and she pleased herself with the hope, that they would soon come to feed with their parents at the window. But three days only had elapsed, when William Stanton, son of the gentleman before mentioned, came, attended by a servant, to walk in his father’s garden, and as they approached the hedge, we heard them conversing very familiarly together. ‘Master W.,’ said the footman, ‘had you any bird-nesting at school?’ ‘Very little,’ said the young gentleman, ‘for one of the boys met with an accident, which made our master prohibit it, and we were too closely watched to disobey. But you know, John, that will not prevent my having some sport in that way now I am at home. You shall help me.’

“I was much surprised, as you may suppose, to hear a young gentleman acknowledge, that he was obedient only when he was watched; for I had always thought, that, as greater praise is due to those who perform their duty voluntarily, the inducement to do so must be stronger where confidence is reposed, at least to a generous mind. Master William, however, could not, I imagined, possess any generous sentiments, since he was so cruel as to deprive little, inoffensive animals of their beloved offspring, and that too for sport.

“He and his servant were now approaching that part of the hedge where Sophia’s poor little birds had built. She was at the window during the above conversation, and was, doubtless, greatly alarmed for the helpless nestlings. After a short pause, Master William suddenly exclaimed, ‘I do think there are young birds in this hedge, for I heard some chirp.’ ‘Like enough,’ said John, and immediately they began to search.

“Poor Sophia, on hearing the last words, left the room, in order to request her mother’s interposition in behalf of _her_ nest, as she called it. Her mother, therefore, went down into the garden, where she found Master William actually in possession of the nest, the little ones chirping with terror, and the parent birds fluttering about the hedge in visible distress. ‘Dear Master Stanton,’ said she, ‘I am sure you cannot be sensible of the pain you are inflicting on those poor little birds, by disturbing their nest, for I am persuaded that you do not intend depriving them of it.’ ‘Yes, but I do, though,’ said he. ‘And what do you propose to do with them?’ ‘Oh, I shall play with them, and give them to my little sisters to amuse them.’ ‘But can you find amusement while giving pain to any animal?’ ‘Why, as to that, I shall not hurt them; and then, you know, they will not feel any pain.’ ‘But is hunger no pain?’ ‘Oh, I shall feed them.’ ‘That I am not sure you will be able to do; and even if you were, do you think the old birds will suffer nothing from the loss of them? See how distressed they now appear.’ ‘Oh, the boys at school say that is all nonsense; they will soon forget their grief.’ ‘Well, I see you are not to be prevailed on, for the sake of the poor little birds, perhaps you will replace them when I tell you, that they have been for some time a source of amusement to one of my daughters, who is deprived of many comforts by an illness which confines her entirely to the house, and from which we have indeed every thing to apprehend.’

On this account, Master William seemed somewhat inclined to yield his prize, but as he was entirely guided by his servant, he sought in his countenance the approbation of his half-formed resolve. But alas! for the poor little ones, John had once taken offence at some trifling circumstance relating to this excellent family, and now, glad of an opportunity of showing his consequence, he smiled sarcastically at Master William. The latter seemingly understood that this smile taxed him with weakness, for he immediately said, ‘Excuse me, Ma’am, I cannot give up this nest, so good morning to you. John,’ continued he, ‘do not you see a carriage going up the avenue? Let us make haste; there are certainly some visitors going to mamma.’

“I heard no more of this bad boy’s conversation, for he was soon at a distance. When poor Sophia learned from her mother the failure of her mission, she was very much grieved; the latter, however, endeavoured to console her by all the arguments she could adduce. ‘My dear mother,’ said the amiable girl, ‘how kind you are to console me! How can I grieve at any trifling loss, while you are so good to me! Yet I feel that I shall not easily forget this occurrence. The poor little ones will doubtless all perish! The old birds, too, what they will suffer! All their fond hopes destroyed in one moment, by the cruelty of that naughty boy! But, indeed, I ought rather to pity than condemn him, for it appears that false indulgence and improper company are leading him from the only path in which true happiness can be found—that of rectitude and humanity.’

“Here the entrance of Arthur and his father put an end to the conversation. The family shortly after sat down to dinner, and the sad fate of the nestlings seemed to be forgotten by all but Sophia, whose accustomed cheerfulness was somewhat abated during the rest of the day. I partook of her sensations at this time, for the event of the morning had greatly distressed me, and I was by no means sorry when the close of day invited me to repose.

“A few days after this memorable occurrence, one of a more serious nature happened. My dear young mistress, whose flattering appearance had lately induced her parents to hope that she would recover, suddenly became so ill, that their too sanguine expectations were converted into the most distressing apprehensions. She could not even bear my presence, as I unconsciously disturbed her by my artless song, which had always hitherto diverted her. I was, in consequence, removed from her chamber, and I now passed my time very sorrowfully. Little notice was taken of me, for all the family were too much occupied with my dear mistress. They did not, however, neglect to feed me and clean my cage, to which I was constantly confined. I should have suffered from this restraint, had not the thoughts of my dear mistress rendered me melancholy, and consequently, unfit for any amusement. The place I was removed to, was the little parlour I mentioned to you before. Here the doctors who attended poor Sophia frequently came, to inform her anxious parents how they found her. One day the benevolent physician, who had been most constant in his attendance, came in, and seeing Sophia’s mother, he appeared greatly agitated. She fearfully enquired after her daughter, when the good man, with tears in his eyes, begged her to be composed and prepare for the worst. ‘Your child, dear madam,’ said he, ‘has but a short time to suffer; she will then be as happy as she deserves to be!’ He could add no more, and abruptly quitted the room, leaving the unhappy mother in such distress, as can hardly be imagined, much less described.

“I will pass over the mournful scenes that ensued, and briefly inform you, that poor Sophia died that night! I was, as you may imagine, deeply impressed by this sad event, and being still closely confined, and deprived of my accustomed indulgences, I sat mournfully in my cage, without uttering a note. At last, however, the fine weather and my natural cheerfulness prevailed, and I ventured to sing a little; but the sound of my voice seemed to revive the grief of this afflicted family. The mother, in particular, was so much affected, that her children proposed conveying me to some place where I might be more welcome. They consulted together in my presence, (little thinking that I understood them,) and decided that I should be presented to Miss Stanton, the eldest sister of that cruel boy I told you of. I was struck with terror at the name; but as some alleviation of my sorrow and dread, I afterwards heard them expatiate on the amiable qualities of the young lady to whose care they meant to consign me.

“The same evening the sisters sent a polite note to Miss Stanton, (to whom they were not entirely unknown,) explaining their motive for requesting her acceptance of the ‘little favourite,’ as they called me. Arthur was the messenger on this occasion. He soon returned with an answer, in which Miss Stanton, after condoling with them on the loss they had sustained, expressed her willingness to receive me; at the same time promising that every attention should be paid to my comfort; for she justly imagined that they had some regard for me, and well knew how to appreciate the motive which induced them to part with an object that had been so dear to their lamented sister.

“On the following morning, Arthur was again deputed to convey me to my new residence. The distance was very trifling, and on our arrival a woman-servant ushered us into a little room, where there was a neat book-case, a piano-forte, and other things which gave it the appearance of a study. Here Miss Stanton soon joined us, and receiving me kindly from Arthur, heard, with apparent delight, the catalogue of my various accomplishments. She then dismissed my young conductor, with a present of some handsomely bound books for himself and his sisters, requesting, that whenever they read them they would remember their goldfinch, and feel assured that it would be carefully attended, for their sake as well as its own.

“I was greatly pleased with my reception, and the agreeable manners of my new mistress; but still I could not divest myself of the grief I felt for my beloved Sophia, nor of a degree of apprehension on the score of Master William; and I was, in consequence, a prey to melancholy reflections, which rendered me almost insensible to the caresses Miss Stanton lavished on me. My spirits were still more depressed by an event which occurred on the following day. Master William, it seems, had heard of my arrival, and he now sent a little girl to request that his sister would bring me to the drawing-room, as he was not allowed to stir from the sofa. She complied, and was ascending the staircase with me in my cage, when I beheld from a window a sight that made me shudder: it was nothing less than the whole brood of little sparrows, lying dead on the top of a portico. I afterwards learned, that Master William, in his haste to get home, had slipped down and sprained his ancle. The pain this accident caused him, and the bustle it occasioned in the family, united in banishing from his remembrance, and that of his attendant, the wants of his little captives: they were found dead on the following morning, and John carelessly tossed them out of the window.

“You may judge then what was my terror, when I found myself in the actual presence of the obdurate boy, who had so wantonly exposed these little innocents to a painful death, by taking them from their parents. Happily for me, my mistress did not quit the room, or allow him to touch me. I really think I should have expired through fear, if he had.