“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.