“I suppose he learned it of some foreign bird,” said she, “for I never heard any wild note like it.”
This lady was very rich, and a good customer to my master, so he thought it best to satisfy her entirely; he therefore produced me as the instructor of her bird, relating all he knew of my history, at least, all that was creditable to himself. The lady admired me very much, and offered to purchase me.
Oh! how my heart beat while I heard my master enumerating my services to enhance my value, that he might obtain a high price for me, or deter the lady from becoming a purchaser; for he did not like to sell me, though he could not well refuse her the favour.
At length my anxiety was relieved by the lady’s saying: “Come, come, do not hesitate; I will give you the price you ask, and what is more, I will lend him or the linnet to you, for a month or two next spring, if you wish either of them to be your singing-master.”
An offer so advantageous could not be refused; the bargain was concluded, and I, exulting in the hope of happier days, was placed in the carriage, and conveyed to the lady’s house.
I cannot express the joy I felt on seeing my dear little pupil the linnet, nor describe his demonstrations of pleasure on our meeting. Here we were, indeed, comfortable! What an alteration we found! I almost rejoiced that we had been at the bird-fancier’s, for privation had given a greater value even to common enjoyments: cleanliness, comfort, and occasional liberty, were now luxuries.
Our good mistress had many other birds, to all of which, as well as to ourselves, she was extremely indulgent; but I was particularly noticed by her, not only for my song, but for my familiarity also, for I took every opportunity of showing her how happy I was, and how grateful I could be. I had, to be sure, no way of expressing my gratitude, but by flying to meet her, perching on her shoulder or her arm; but I found that she understood my caresses, and valued me for them.
I had been some time with this good lady, having every thing I could desire, and regretting only that there were no children in her house, (for I have always been extremely fond of children,) when I one day heard her giving directions about beds and other things, that were preparing for her two grand-children, who were coming to spend a few weeks with her. I was greatly delighted at the prospect of again having it in my power to observe the manners and behaviour of young persons. Besides, I had a presentiment that my mistress’s grand-children were well-disposed and amiable; supposing she would not otherwise be so anxious as she appeared to be to give them pleasure. I am happy to assure you, my young readers, that I was not at all disappointed in my expectations, for when they came, every favourable prepossession was realized. But, perhaps, you will like better to judge for yourselves, so I will describe them as well as I can.
Now it is probably expected that I should mention the colour of their hair, their eyes, and enumerate all the charms of their persons. But as we do not contribute any thing either to our personal graces or defects, and consequently cannot derive any merit from the former, or disgrace from the latter, I consider those points of no importance, therefore, shall pass them over in silence. Mary, the eldest, was about nine years of age, her brother Henry about seven: the former, I understood, had been some time at school: it was now her vacation. Both of these children seemed to have been well brought up, for they were never at a loss for employment or amusement; were never lounging about on the chairs or sofas, or leaning listlessly against the fire-place. But what I particularly admired in them was the affection they evinced towards each other, and the attention they paid to every wish of their parents, though absent from them. In short, all their conduct seemed to proceed from some principle superior to self-gratification, or, in other words, they sought true gratification, where only it was to be found—in the performance of their duty.
As I was naturally fond of all children, it is easy to imagine that I became particularly attached to these, amiable as they were. I do not, however, mean to represent them to my young readers as models of perfection, for such would be as far beyond their imitation as they are from resembling nature. I have observed that all children have their faults; but those who are most patient of reproof, and most open to conviction, are also most likely to amend their trivial failings; for great defects such cannot have. Henry and Mary were certainly every thing their parents could wish, and their sensible grand-mamma was greatly delighted with them, yet she never extolled them when present: a single word of approbation, or an affectionate smile, repaid all their endeavours to please her. And, indeed, so sweet was her smile, so judicious her approbation, that the dear children seemed to desire nothing more.