CHAP. VIII.
Mrs. Carleton’svisit to Mrs. Wyndham was protracted longer than she at first intended. At length the great fête-day arrived. Every thing went on in the best manner possible. Miss Wyndham’s generosity in clothing the poor children, and her taste in the judicious arrangement of her part of the entertainment, were talked of throughout the neighbourhood; yet, for my part, I discovered nothing so meritorious in the young lady’s conduct, nor could I forbear thinking Louisa Carleton much more entitled to admiration, even on this occasion; for she bestowed her time and attention in teaching little Peggy. And I afterwards learnedthat it was she, who, with the assistance of one of her sisters, had entirely made the children’s dresses; for Amelia was neither able nor willing to work for any one, so that all the praises bestowed on her, were, in reality, due to Louisa. However, I am sure each was rewarded according to her own taste:—Amelia with the applause of the multitude, Louisa with the more grateful, though less pompous testimony of her own heart.
The grand business of thefêtewas no sooner over, than Amelia’s thoughts recurred to me, and she accompanied Louisa, on the following evening, to the cottage. I shall pass over the poor woman’s expressions of gratitude, (which Miss Amelia did not receive with that openness and affability I had so often observed in Louisa on similar occasions,) and continue my narrative.
Amelia asked to see me. “It is a Robin,” said she: “does it sing?”
“Yes, Miss,” said Peggy; “perhaps, if you stay a little while, you will hear him.”
I was not willing to disappoint my little mistress, so I presently after began to sing.
“That is not the song of a Robin,” said Amelia.
“So I have often observed,” returned Louisa; “but it is a very sweet song, and he is a very nice little bird, I think.”
“So do I,” said Amelia: “I wish I had one like him. Could not you get me one, child?” enquired she, addressing Peggy.
“I don’t know, Miss, but I’ll try—I mean, I’ll ask our Willy to try.”
“Do so,” said Amelia; “but I suppose there are few like this: I never saw one so tame. Besides, I thought Robins could not be kept in a cage.”
The object of the visit being thus far attained, the young ladies departed. Louisa, however, ran back to tell Peggy’s mother, that though she was now about to return home with her mamma, the littlegirl should not be forgotten; for that she would come, though perhaps not so often, to teach her. “After Christmas,” added she, “I shall be able to send her to the village school; and in the mean time, you can send her every Sunday with her brother, to learn her Catechism, and then I can teach her; for mamma has promised to take me always with her to the Sunday-school.”
When Louisa was gone, Peggy’s mother said: “Child, you must give that little bird to Miss Wyndham, for I am sure she wants it.”
“Must I, dear mother,” said Peggy: “why, I did not wish to part with it; yet, if I did, I thought I should like to give it to Miss Louisa.”
“She does not wish for it, and Miss Amelia does,” replied the mother: “you know she gave you clothes, and you must not be ungrateful.”
“Well, if I must, I must,” said the child, with a sigh; “but may I not waittill Sunday, to ask Miss Louisa what she thinks?”
“That you may, with all my heart,” returned her mother; “she is sure to tell you what is best.”
Peggy appeared pleased with this short respite. Perhaps, indeed, she hoped, as I did, that her benefactress would advise her not to part with her favourite. It happened, however, quite otherwise. Louisa contrived to visit the cottage once more before her departure, and when little Peggy, with artless simplicity, told her all that was in her mind, the excellent girl refused to deprive her of herpet, (as she called me,) but advised my being sent to her friend Amelia.
I was much distressed at this decision; yet I could not help admiring the disinterestedness and prudence displayed in Louisa, who well knew that the child would gain more than an equivalent by the sacrifice; and for herself, though I am sure she would have liked to possessme, she was too generous to deprive Amelia of an object she so ardently desired.
In pursuance, therefore, of her advice, Willy took me on the following morning to Wyndham Hall. His poor little sister shed some tears on parting with me. “My poor little Bob!” said she, “you may get a finer house and better food, but you will not find a mistress who loves you better than I do.”
I felt as much grieved as herself, and had I been able to speak, would have told her that I did not desire any thing better than she had provided me; but as my language was unintelligible to her, I could not afford her even this consolation.
On our arrival at the hall, Miss Amelia received me with apparent delight, and having put me safely in a very handsome cage, ran to show me to her mamma, and to request that she would give the child something in return. Mrs. Wyndham, who could not bear that her daughter shouldbe under an obligation, particularly to a poor person, made now a very judicious return for the favour, far, indeed, exceeding its value. She ordered a good milch-cow to be sent back with the boy. This was, indeed, a valuable present to the poor woman, as it not only supplied her family with milk, &c., but enabled her to sell some to the neighbours, which, with the promised assistance of Mrs. Carleton, no doubt made her circumstances tolerably easy. And I must acknowledge, that these considerations consoled me for the separation. Besides, I felt myself of more consequence than heretofore, as I had been the means of affording relief to an amiable family, who stood much in need of it.
The first fortnight I spent at Wyndham Hall, passed very agreeably; for Miss Amelia was continually seeking something new to please me. I cannot say, however, that my esteem for her was equal to the kindness she lavished on me, for shewas not so assiduous in striving to please every body; and not only the servants, but even her too-indulgent mother, sometimes felt the effects of her peevish humours. Besides, not having been accustomed to occupy her time steadily and usefully, she was perpetually changing the objects of her attention. This fickle disposition made me conclude, that novelty was my chief recommendation, and that, consequently, some new favourite would soon supplant me. My conclusions were but too well founded, for her attention to me gradually diminished, and was shortly after engrossed by a new object.
By the time I had been with her a month, I found myself little noticed. However, as Amelia minded appearances very much, she thought proper to order me a new cage, not thinking the one I had, sufficiently ornamental to the drawing-room. A bird-fancier, with whom she had formerly dealt, was accordingly sent for, to receive her directions about it. He came, and Iobserved that he regarded me with particular attention, and listened earnestly to my song. He soon after asked my mistress, in an apparently careless manner, where she got that bird. “It is a Robin,” added he, “but it has not the right song.”
Had Miss Amelia read some of the nice books which remained untouched in her library, she would, perhaps, have known, that the circumstance he mentioned greatly enhanced my value; but, though surrounded with the means of obtaining knowledge, she was very ignorant. Guided, therefore, by the man’s manner of speaking, she seemed suddenly to lose all regard for me, and by her answer convinced him that he might get me at a very easy rate.
“Ah, Miss,” said he, “as to song, you should hear a bird I have at home!”
“What bird?” demanded Amelia, eagerly.
“A piping-bullfinch, Miss: he has learnedRule Britanniaand theCollege Hornpipe, and”——
“Do you mean to sell him?” interrupted Amelia.
“Why, as to that, Miss, I could get more by keeping him to teach others; yet I would not much object selling him to some particular customer, like you, Miss, for example.”
“What do you ask for him?” said Amelia, to whom the idea of one bird teaching another was quite novel, and who was also flattered by being termeda particular customer.
“Why, to you, Miss,” answered the man, “I could sell him for five guineas; though that is too little, for there is not another bird like him in the kingdom.”
This last observation of the cunning bird-fancier, decided Amelia; she produced her purse, but, alas! the contents did not amount to four guineas. “What shall I do!” exclaimed she, “mamma is out, and will not return till just before dinner, and I did so wish to surprise her with my piping bullfinch.”
“Why, Miss,” said the man, “as you seem to have no great fancy for that silly bird yonder, if you like, I will take him and his cage for what is wanting, and send home Piping Tom in the new cage you have ordered, and all in time before your dinner.”
Amelia readily acceded to this proposal, and I was taken by the bird-fancier, to supply the place of Piping Tom, whose removal I considered no more enviable than my own, unpleasant as it was.
My new situation was extremely uncomfortable, for I had always been more or less accustomed to liberty. Here I was closely confined, and what was to me worse than all, my cage was seldom cleaned, and my food and water remained so long unchanged, that I frequently found it almost impossible to touch either.
This sad condition would, I think, soon have delivered me from the possibility of any other misfortune; and here, gentle reader, my history would have terminated,had not my master, who was not ignorant of my talents, now thought proper to turn them to some account. When he told Miss Amelia that my song was not that of a Robin, he spoke truth, but not the whole truth. He affected to depreciate my value, that he might get possession of me. I was separated so early from my parents, that I did not learn their song, but being naturally disposed to music, and hearing no other than that of the piano-forte, when with my first dear mistress, I had contrived to pick up a few notes here and there, and put them together at my leisure; thus forming a kind of wild melody, not resembling the song of any other bird. Had Miss Amelia been aware of this circumstance, she certainly would not have parted with me; for, as I observed before, she valued things in proportion as they were difficult of attainment. Well had it been for her if this disposition had extended to her studies: in this instance they might have been subservientto her darling propensity. But such is the lot of those who are wilfully ignorant; they are continually duped by the artful, and not unfrequently defeat their own plans of enjoyment, by not knowing how to pursue them.
But to return to myself. I was now to assume a new character—no less than that of preceptor. My master procured some very young birds, so young that several of them died for want of that delicate attention which the parent alone can bestow. Two or three survived, and these were placed in small cages near mine, that they might hear my song and adopt it. I sincerely pitied the early misfortunes and captivity of these poor little creatures, and sang rather to sooth and cheer than to instruct them. As they grew older, however, they tried to imitate my note, and soon acquired it so exactly, that my master sold them to great advantage.
I must say I regretted losing my littlepupils, particularly one, a linnet, who had evinced great affection towards me; but I consoled myself with the assurance, that they must be better off any where than with the mercenary bird-fancier, who valued them only as a means of getting money.