Little Henry and His Bird

by Anonymous

The tall flowers growing around the window, and the gentle breeze and sunshine, made it very pleasant, and the little bird seemed to enjoy it, for raising its head it sung as if delighted, and Henry was doubly delighted to think he possessed such a treasure. By-and-by a bird like Henry's came and sat on a rose bush, close to the open window, and sang a joyous strain. It then flew away, and behold Henry's bird lifted up its wings and flew away with it, and together they went to the top of a great oak tree, and then there was such a singing as if all the birds were rejoicing together. Henry stood alone at the window—his beautiful bird was gone. The cage stood there with the cup of water and the seeds, but he turned away his eyes, and covering his face with his hands, burst into tears. His father came in, and seeing his grief, inquired the cause. When Henry had told him, he took him on his knee and said, "My son, if you should go away on an errand, and should get hurt by some furious animal, so that you could not come back, we should all be in trouble, and when you became able to return, we should be very happy. Shall we not be glad, then, with the birds, because their lost one is found? You may still hear it sing from the trees, and see its bright plumage as it skips about the garden, and know that it is happier there than it would be in confinement, where its song would seem to be—

"Thanks, little stranger, for all thy care,

But dearly I love the clear cool air;

And my snug little nest, on the old oak tree,

Is better than a golden cage to me."

Still, if you want something which will fly in the air, and yet return when you wish it, be a good boy, and when I come home again I will bring it for you." Henry no longer shed tears for the bird when he thought of its being so happy in freedom.

All the afternoon he studied and worked and played as usual, often wondering what it was that his father would bring him. At length sunset came, and his father returned, bringing him a handsome kite, adorned with painted pictures. "O, father," cried Henry, after he had joyfully examined it, "may I go and play with it now?" "Not now," replied his father, "but in the morning when the wind is fresh I will show you how to raise it, and you may see it fly." Early the next morning Henry rose while a faint star was still shining in at his window, and kneeling down with a confiding heart, he repeated softly and slowly, his morning prayer. He then took his kite and went down into the garden, where the sun was just lighting up the dew-drops, making them shine like diamonds, and the breeze was fresh and strong. In a few minutes his father appeared, smiling at his promptness, and went with him into the field to assist in raising his kite.