Though my good mistress did not indulge her young visitors in an unlimited manner, or teach them to be selfish by making their recreations the price of their good behaviour, yet she found means to amuse and improve them at the same time, by taking them to museums, manufactories, &c. where they saw a profusion of the works of nature and art. These morning excursions furnished subjects for conversation in the evening, which, with a magic-lantern, representing some of the most remarkable occurrences in history, a geographical game, and other similar recreations, filled up their time so agreeably, that the hour of rest always seemed to arrive too early; yet they did not on that account repine or loiter when the maid came for them, but went off immediately and cheerfully.
In this manner three weeks elapsed. I grew very fond of these interesting children, and they were no less so of me: all the family had been so cheerful since they came, that I anticipated their departure with great regret. One day, when Henry and his sister had accompanied their grand-mamma to a menagerie, where they had seen a fine collection of birds, the former said, on his return: “Well, dear grand-mamma, of all the birds I have seen to-day, not one pleased me so well as your little Robin. Some of them, to be sure, were beautiful, but they had not that docility and tameness which I admire in him.”
“The difference, my dear boy,” replied my mistress, “proceeds from education. You may observe that children who are well brought up, are generally docile and intelligent, while those who are neglected or spoiled, are usually destitute of those amiable qualities. But,” continued she, “my dear Henry, I think you seem to respect the old tutor, so I will make you a present of him; and may you, my dear boy, improve your talents for the benefit of your fellow-creatures, as he has done.”
I felt much gratified by this encomium, and I could perceive that Henry was no less delighted with the thought of possessing me, though he modestly declined the offer, saying, he did not like to deprive his grand-mamma of her favourite, and observing, that, perhaps, his sister might like to have me.
“Your sister,” said my mistress, “shall have her choice among my Canary-birds, but you, Henry, shall have the Robin: you shall keep him for my sake. Come, Mary, my love,” continued she, “and choose your bird.”
Mary had been present during the whole of this conversation, her countenance expressing the greatest pleasure at her brother’s acquisition, and beaming with tenderness when he offered to resign it to her. She had not spoken, but all she felt was fully expressed in her mild and ingenuous features. Now summoned by her grand-mamma, she said: “Indeed, Ma’am, I should like a Canary-bird very much; so much that I could not bear any one to feed or attend it but myself, and as I am mostly at school, I could not do that; so I think I am better without one. You know I have the little pug you gave me last Midsummer. Henry feeds him while I am away, yet, whenever I return home, he knows me again and loves me as well as ever: but birds are not so sagacious.”
“Your reasons are so good, my dear,” said my mistress, “that I feel as much pleased as if you had accepted my offer; and that is saying a great deal, for I have real pleasure in bestowing my little pets on good children.”
The entrance of a servant with letters, here interrupted the conversation. One of these was from Henry’s papa, requesting that his little ones might be sent home early in the ensuing week, as Mary’s vacation had nearly expired, and an elder brother of Henry’s was expected from college, whose instructions were likely to be useful to the little boy.
Nothing material occurred before the day of separation. Great regret was evinced, both on the part of the children and that of their dear grand-mamma; but her promise to visit them the following summer, and the prospect of meeting their parents, soon consoled the former, and they set out for their paternal dwelling, about twenty miles distant, taking me with them.