“Oh, what pretty little things!” cried Lizzy, as she took them out; “they shall certainly hatch something pretty.”
She was going to put them all in her bosom at once; but the fairy told her she had better put only one in at a time, and the others in one of the pockets of her apron; for it would be rather worse if there should be several spiders running about in her bosom, than only one.
“Oh, there will not be any,” said Lizzy; “there will be a pretty bird hopping about there—but I will do as you advise.” She ran down the ladder, and the fairy tripped along after her, and when Lizzy turned to bid her good morning, she saw the ivy-vine clasping the tree, and the woodpecker tapping away at the bark.
Lizzy ran along through the wood, hoping that something would happen to arouse in her breast a good affection of some sort,—for there was nothing there now but a mingled feeling of pleasure and dread,—for a sweet-brier bush, for what purpose is not known, caught hold of her dress, and thus occasioned a frightful rent; and sweet-brier bushes, if they do bear sweet roses, do also love to play off their jokes upon people, in quite as unbenevolent a way as the blackberry and thorn. But Lizzy thought it no joke at all. What barbarous cruelty to tear her dress so, and then to hold upon it so relentlessly! and whilst she was trying to force the thorns to let go their hold, she became so angry that she cried out, “Oh! I wish there was not a sweet-brier bush in the world, I do! and I wish this was dead and burnt up.” But before she had released herself from the bush, she felt something moving in her bosom. Putting her hand in, she pulled out an empty egg-shell, while the wasp, which had just been hatched, flew around her face. She brushed it away with her handkerchief. She looked at the sweet-brier roses,—those little rosy cups all arranged so garland-like on the bending boughs,—and said, “I wonder it was not a scorpion. Poor little roses! I do not wish you to wither; I want you to flourish, and breathe out your sweet breath;” and she bent her head over them, and while they breathed forth their sweet breath, they looked so much like little infants, that the tears came into Lizzy’s eyes, while she said, “May the Lord that made you, forgive me!”—When she lifted up her head, she saw a wasp fall to the ground, and then a pretty bird came, and picked it up and swallowed it. Lizzy then took another egg from her pocket, placed it in her bosom, and walked on, taking care to keep at a safe distance from sweet-briers and brambles.
She had not gone far when she saw a little sparrow fly from a low shrub, making a sound as if he had a nest there. When he had gone so far away that she thought he would not see her, she peeped in amongst the leaves, and there she espied the little home, with its three inmates; not three little birds as yet—but, what she knew were quite as dear to the parents, two speckled eggs. “Ah!” thought Lizzy, “how I should like to see if I could not hatch a sparrow’s egg. I should be sure that a wasp would not come out of a sparrow’s egg.” And she put her hand very slily into the nest, and stole away one of the sparrow’s speckled treasures, and laid it in her bosom by the side of the fairy egg. As she left the bush, she turned to see if the sparrow went to look at it; and while she stood watching him, she felt a strange nestling and fumbling in her bosom, that she thought both eggs must have hatched. Looking in, she saw a small snake writhing about most energetically. “I will put the sparrow’s egg back,” thought she, for she was struck with horror.
