CHAP. I.
You will, perhaps, wonder, my young readers, how I attained to a sufficient knowledge of literature, to relate my adventures; but your astonishment will subside when I inform you, that the early part of my life was passed in a school-room, where, though few were taught, much was inculcated; and I, though a silent auditor, partook of the general instruction. I once heard the “Life of Carlo” read by one of the pupils; I was greatly pleased with it, and resolved from that time to improve as much as possible the advantages I possessed, that, if any of the events of my life should be worth relating, I might be able to publish them. Of the ultimate success of my endeavours, it will be your province to judge when you have read my history, to which, without further preface, I now proceed.
I was hatched in a thick, sheltered box-tree, or bush, for it was not more than a yard from the ground. My father and mother attended on me, my brother, and sister, (for there was three of us,) with the most tender solicitude: my mother, indeed, scarcely ever left us, but when her affectionate mate, alarmed for her health, insisted on taking her place, that she might enjoy some relaxation from the arduous, though, to her, pleasing office of maternal tenderness.
My father brought us plenty of food, which, from his account, was procured with little difficulty; for he mentioned some persons who were so kind as to strew crumbs of bread near our dwelling, on purpose for our use. I frequently felt an ardent curiosity to behold these good friends. My brother and sister expressed the same desire, and we frequently entertained ourselves with conjectures respecting them, which, however, always ended with the supposition that they resembled our good parents. Judge then of our astonishment, when, one day, we heard a rustling noise in the box-tree, and the next moment beheld three or four large objects, regarding us with apparent delight. We were all greatly terrified, not knowing whether they intended to do us good or harm: fear naturally suggested the latter. However, we were soon reassured, by their closing the branches gently, and regretting that they had disturbed my mother, who, on their approach, had flown to an adjacent paling, where, in breathless anxiety, she waited their departure.
“Well, my poor children,” said she, on her return, “you have at last seen our benefactors; they are called human beings, and though many of them are a terror to our race, yet I do not think those you have seen are of that number, for I have witnessed several instances of their affection towards the feathered tribe; and a young blackbird, who is our neighbour, informed me, that, during the last winter, which was uncommonly severe, he found an asylum in their dwelling, where a small apartment was allotted him, and that in the spring he was brought near this spot and set at liberty, though not without some regret on their part; which evinces that they preferred his happiness to their own gratification, and practised their duty, though in opposition to their inclination; therefore, I trust we have not much to fear from them, for they must be actuated by principles of justice and humanity.”
After this first visit, we generally saw our friends daily, and our fear of them daily diminished; yet we could not help observing, that our parents always flew away on their approach, and we once ventured to ask our mother the cause.
“It is not,” said she, “that I apprehend any injury from them; on the contrary, we have continual proofs that they desire to increase rather than to diminish our happiness, but my own experience, and the many instances I have heard of the cruelty of some of their species towards us, have produced, in my mind, such an habitual mistrust, that I never venture within their reach; though I have observed that we Robins approach much nearer than any other birds, except, indeed, when they are impelled by famine, in an intensely cold winter.”
Several days passed after this conversation without any extraordinary occurrence. Our friends, came to visit us as usual; we throve very fast; and as we were nearly fledged, and the weather fine, our parents were longer and more frequently absent. One morning, when they had just quitted us, after many kind injunctions respecting our conduct during their absence, we heard the sound of voices, which we soon recognized to be those of our friends. They approached, and one, as usual, came to peep into our nest. “Pretty little creatures!” said she, “they are all safe: really they are gaping for food. How close they lie beside each other, just as if they were packed.” “How I should like to see them!” exclaimed another voice. “Well, I will show you one,” resumed the former; and so saying, she put her hand gently into the nest and lifted me out.