When children of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight”;—
and they thought anything really written and printed in a hymn must be true; therefore they were very much astonished to see, from day to day, that their little birds in their nests did not agree.
Tip-Top was the biggest and strongest bird, and he was always shuffling and crowding the others, and clamoring for the most food; and when Mrs. Robin came in with a nice bit of anything, Tip-Top’s red mouth opened so wide, and he was so noisy, that one would think the nest was all his. His mother used to correct him for these gluttonous ways, and sometimes made him wait till all the rest were helped before she gave him a mouthful; but he generally revenged himself in her absence by crowding the others and making the nest generally uncomfortable. Speckle, however, was a bird of spirit, and he used to peck at Tip-Top; so they would sometimes have a regular sparring-match across poor Brown-Eyes, who was a meek, tender little fellow, and would sit winking and blinking in fear while his big brothers quarrelled. As to Toddy and Singer, they turned out to be sister birds, and showed quite a feminine talent for chattering; they used to scold their badly behaving brothers in a way that made the nest quite lively.
On the whole, Mr. and Mrs. Robin did not find their family circle the peaceable place the poet represents.
“I say,” said Tip-Top one day to them, “this old nest is a dull, mean, crowded hole, and it’s quite time some of us were out of it; just give us lessons in flying, won’t you, and let us go.”
“My dear boy,” said Mother Robin, “we shall teach you to fly as soon as your wings are strong enough.”
“You are a very little bird,” said his father, “and ought to be good and obedient, and wait patiently till your wing-feathers grow; and then you can soar away to some purpose.”
“Wait for my wing-feathers? Humbug!” Tip-Top would say, as he sat balancing with his little short tail on the edge of the nest, and looking down through the grass and clover-heads below, and up into the blue clouds above. “Father and mother are slow old birds; keep a fellow back with their confounded notions. If they don’t hurry up, I’ll take matters into my own claws, and be off some day before they know it. Look at those swallows, skimming and diving through the blue air! That’s the way I want to do.”
“But, dear brother, the way to learn to do that is to be good and obedient while we are little, and wait till our parents think it best for us to begin.”