“Which name do you like the best, my dear?” asked Mrs Leslie.
“I think Pecksy. Pecksy was a good, obedient, little bird, and I am sure my dear little bird is as good as a bird can be.”
“Then I think I would call it Pecksy, dear,” answered Mrs Leslie; and Fanny decided on so naming her little favourite.
“Now you shall see, granny, how Pecksy will come out when I call it, if you will just hold up your shawl as you sit in your arm-chair, so that it may not see you; yet I am sure it would not be afraid of you if it knew how kind you are, and I shall soon be able to teach it to love you;” so Fanny placed the cage on a little table at the farther end of the room, and, opening the door, went to some distance and called to Pecksy, and out came Pecksy and perched on her fingers. She then, talking to it and gently stroking its back, brought it quietly up to her granny. Greatly to her delight, Pecksy did not appear at all afraid.
“There, granny! there! I was sure Pecksy would learn to love you,” she exclaimed; and Pecksy looked up into the kind old lady’s face, and seemed perfectly satisfied that no harm would come to it.
“Oh, I wish Norman would be fond of the little bird too,” she said, “but he does not seem to care about it, and thinks it beneath his notice; and yet I have heard of many boys—not only little ones, but big boys, and even grown-up men—who were fond of birds, and have tamed them, and taught them to come to them, and learn to trust and love them.”
“I do, indeed, wish that Norman was fond of your little bird,” observed Mrs Leslie; “many noble and great men have been fond of dumb animals, and have found pleasure in the companionship even of little birds. It is no sign of true manliness to despise even the smallest of God’s creatures, or to treat them otherwise than with kindness. You remember those lines of the poet Cowper which begin thus—
“‘I would not enter on my list of friends
(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.’
“They refer rather to cruelty to animals, but they occurred to me just now when thinking of Norman, and we must try to get him to learn them, as I am afraid that he does not consider that all God’s creatures have feeling, and that he would carelessly injure them if they came in his way.”
“I fear that at present he would do so, but then, he is very little,” said Fanny, “and perhaps if he learns those lines they may teach him to be kinder than he now is to dumb animals; still, I am sure he would not have the heart to hurt little Pecksy.”