The Nest in the Honeysuckles | Page 8

truth, for he has never deceived them. He has bound a life-preserver beneath their arms, and has promised to remain near, to catch them, if they begin to sink; yet they are afraid, and draw back. They lack faith. When at last they timidly push from the shore, and find themselves buoyed up on the water, their delight is almost unbounded, and they are as unwilling to leave as they were reluctant to enter it.
The old robins stood on one of the branches of the walnut-tree, and endeavoured to persuade their timid brood to come to them. They were not stern and severe, for they had not forgotten their own youth, and they sympathized deeply with these children; but the father found he must be decided, so he told them, (as it seemed,) authoritatively, that they must hesitate no longer. He would count one--two--three; and when he said three, they must spread their wings and do as well as they could. The mother smiled lovingly upon them, and they determined to obey, whatever effort it might cost. "One--two--three," counted the robin, in his full, musical tones. The birdlings fluttered their wings, and strained every nerve to alight by the side of their parents. With what joy they felt their feet clinging round the branch! How elated they were with their success! They chirped continually, and merry and brisk was the conversation. "What is this?" one asked, and "What is that?" said another, till it seemed as if the old birds would be weary of their questions; but they never lost their patience; they thought the little folks remarkably intelligent.
When they were rested, away flew the birds to the elm, and called to their young. Grown courageous by success, they quickly followed, and, through the whole day, they were flying about from tree to tree, enjoying themselves highly.
At sunset, I saw them on the locust-tree, near the cottage, inhaling its delicious perfume, with their faces toward the west, wondering, perhaps, what occasioned all that glorious beauty, as the sun escaped from their view.
Presently they flew to a great cherry-tree, and, from the chirping and calling, we concluded they spent the night in its shelter. How strange it must have been to them, this first night of their perching! The sky was clear, the stars twinkled, and the half-moon shed her silvery light on the earth, and gleamed through the cherry-leaves, as it had done through the honeysuckles; but it was not home, that cherry-tree, and they sighed as they thought of their birthplace. They sat close to their mother's side, and felt that, after all, where she was, was the best place for them. They curled up one foot into the soft down, and turned back their heads till their bills were beneath their wings. The lids slowly closed over their eyes, and they slept quietly and sweetly, till wakened in the morning by the warbling of songsters who welcomed the rosy dawn.
A new sense of responsibility filled their hearts. They were no longer mere children, their every want supplied by others; but they were youth, and must begin to provide for themselves, and depend upon their own energies. We frequently hear the young robins among the trees, but we seldom see them. We really miss them, and think of them as pleasant visitors who have been spending a few days with us.
We hope that Honeysuckleville will not be forsaken; but that every year the birds will return, and rear their young beneath its fragrant shade, making hearts of the little Dudleys glad, and teaching them to love.
"All things, both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, Hath made and loveth all."
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"MAY I POP SOME CORN?"
"May I pop some corn?" asked Eddie.
"Yes," answered his mother; and laying down her work, she went to the closet and got for him several small ears--some red and some white--the kernels of which where not half so large as those of common corn.
Eddie took a white bowl and sat down on the carpet by his mother with the tiny ears in his apron. He worked away for some time, shelling first one ear and then another, till every little kernel was in the bowl, and nothing but cobs left. These he thought would help to build a "log-house," so he put them in his play-box, with those he had treasured before, and took his bowl to the kitchen.
Kate, the cook, was a coloured woman, and she loved children. When he said to her, "Mother told me I might pop some corn," she cheerfully placed the iron pan on the stove, and when it was hot enough, told him he might put in the corn. Pretty soon it went Pop! pop! pop! till the pan was filled with snow-white kernels. Eddie always wondered