Title: Two Yellow-Birds
Author: Anonymous
Language: English
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TWO YELLOW-BIRDS.

By Anonymous

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TWO YELLOW-BIRDS.

|When Lucy Tracy was a very little girl, her mother had a beautiful
yellow bird. He was quite tame, and would come out of his cage, and sit
upon Mrs. Tracy's plants, and then fly upon the breakfast table, and
pick the crumbs from the white cloth, while Lucy and her lather and
mother were eating their breakfast.

Little Lucy had no brother or sister to eat breakfast with her; so that
she enjoyed very much having Black-pate, as she called him, from the
black tuft on his head. She could chatter to him, as if he were no older
than herself. And she would often give him lumps of sugar.

He liked very much to fly into a basin of water and flatter his wings,
bob his head in and out, and spatter Lucy's face Then she would laugh
and clap her would peck at, while she held them in her fingers, and he
would do it again, as if to make her laugh the more.

She would stand by her mother, as she filled his glass cups, one with
hemp-seed and the other with water, and brush all the old seeds from the
bottom of his cage; for birds love a clean cage, as well as little girls
love a clean house.

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He was not a Canary bird; but one of the wild yellow birds, that fly
about in the woods and fields. He did not seem to mourn his liberty, but
appeared generally very happy in his wire house. His kind mistress took
good care of him. She never trusted any one but herself to wash his cage
or give him food. She knew poor birds often to suffer from hunger and
thirst, by the neglect of those who are _told_ to take care of them. She
would often say to Lucy, "It is a hard thing, my little girl, to be shut
up in a cage, as this poor bird is; therefore, we ought to do all we
can to make him comfortable. It is very wicked to let little birds want
seeds, or water, either to drink, or wash themselves in."

"But mother, if he don't like his cage, what makes him sing so sweetly,
when he flies into it, after he has washed himself in the little basin
you keep for him? That don't look as if he were unhappy."

"I did not say that he was unhappy; but he has a feeling of confinement,
when he flies against the wires of his cage, as if he wished to get out;
just as you have when you find yourself shut up in a room, when _you_
wish to get out. He sings to show his gratitude for his food, and while
he is eating, feels quite as happy as when he is in his native woods;
but after he has done, he wants to fly about just as you want to run.
Soon he is hungry again; and then goes to his seeds to eat; and again
sings his thanks."

"But, mother, if you think poor Black-pate is not happy, why don't you
let him fly away, and go into the green woods again?"

"Why, Lucy, look out of the window, ana see if there be any green
woods where he _can_ fly?" Lucy ran to the window, but soon returned,
exclaiming, "Oh dear! no, mother; the ground is all covered with snow;
and the trees are all frost instead of leaves. Poor Black-pate! you are
better where you are, for the cold snow would freeze your little, feet
and you could find no seeds upon the frosty trees and bushes. Wait till
spring comes; and then, mother, shan't you let him fly, if he chooses?"

"Yes, I only bought him of the boys, who brought him here in the
beginning of winter, to keep him until the warm spring comes, I told
them I would take him at the price they named, if they would not catch
any more, which they promised."

In about a month from this time, the snow was all gone--the buds upon
the trees began to swell, and some of them had burst into leaves.
The sun was quite warm; and Lucy remembered her mother's promise to
Black-pate. One morning, just before the sun rose. Mrs. Tracy called her
little daughter to walk with her into the garden. "Come, Lucy, let us
see if Black-pate would like to bid us good bye this fine morning."
Mr. Tracy took the cage, and Mrs. Tracy and Lucy followed him into
the garden; he hung it upon a tree, that was nearly covered with young
leaves, and opened the door. The bird flew in and out several times.

After breakfast, Lucy sat down with her mother, in a parlor, that led
to a piazza, looking into the garden, to study her lesson. Often she
started up from her book and ran out, to see if Black-pate was still
there. Her mother did not speak to her, for some time. He at
times, peeked at the leaves, flew from bough to bough, sung some of its
sweetest notes, but did not fly out of the garden. They left the cage
upon the tree, and Black-pate at liberty to go or stay, just as he
pleased.

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At last she said, "Lucy; how many words can you spell?"

"I am afraid not one; for I am thinking all the time about dear
Black-pate, and how sad I shall he tomorrow morning, when I don't see
him on the table. And I keep looking out, to see if he has got back to
his cage. I am afraid, mother, I am selfish; for every time I look out
and see him flying about, I feel sorry. Is not that selfish?"

"Yes, my dear, it certainly is; for it is preferring your own happiness
to that of your little bird; which but a few weeks ago you begged me to
set at liberty. I am glad you see it is selfish, for you will try not
to indulge it, since you know it is wicked. Instead of thinking how sad
_you_ will be to-morrow morning, think how happy your _bird_ will be,
hopping about in the beautiful fresh air. And you may get up as early
as you please, and go into the garden, and see if he will not give you a
sweeter song than you ever heard in the house."

The next morning, as soon as the day began to dawn, Lucy awoke, and
called from her little bed. "Mother, do you think Black-pate is awake
yet?"

"I don't know, but you may get up and see." So up jumped Lucy, and put
on her clothes, and away she ran into the garden. She found the cage
empty, but soon heard Black-pate, and some other birds, singing most
briskly. She strewed some seeds and crumbs of bread upon the ground for
them, and had great pleasure in running about and hearing them sing,
till breakfast was ready. She then went into the house, and after
breakfast she sat down to sew with her mother. She finished all the work
that her mother required, and repeated her lesson without missing one
word.

She was so good a girl, that in the afternoon her fond mother took her
to ride with her, a few miles, to visit a friend, who had some children
about her own age. They walked in the woods and saw and heard many
little birds chirp and sing; and Lucy enjoyed very much a variety of
plays with the children, and passed a part of the time very pleasantly
in swinging.

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At night she, returned home by the light of a beautiful moon, and went
to bed very happy. In the morning she went into the garden to hear
Black-pate sing; but no Black-pate was there! At first she felt a little
sad; but she remembered how happy the little birds were, that she had
seen the day before; and she soon sent her sad feelings away A few days
after this, a gentleman, a friend of her father, came to dine with them.
As he was very fond of children, he talked a great deal with Lucy; and
she told him the story of her bird. Black-pate.

He listened very kindly to her and when she had finished, he said, "And
so, my little girl, then your fine cage is quite empty and useless now?"

"Yes, sir," said Lucy. "Well," said he, "I have some young birds that
were born in a cage; and they will not be unhappy to live in one, if
they are taken good care of; for they have never known any other home.
Now if your mother is willing, and you would like it, I will send you
one to-morrow morning, to put into your empty cage. And I dare say you
will never forget to feed him, and give him fresh water to drink and
wash in every morning."

Mrs. Tracy was quite willing; and Lucy promised she would not
forget.--The next morning the gentleman sent the bird; for he always
remembered his promises.

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This bird was not so handsome as Black-pate; his color was not as
brilliant, nor his neck so long and graceful; but he sung very sweetly;
and Lucy soon found that she loved him quite as well as she had ever
loved Black-pate Though only six years old, she never once forgot to
give him fresh seeds and water, and to clean his cage every morning.
She was so small that she could not take down the cage from the sunny
window, where it hung, nor put it back, after she had cleaned it;
but her father was so much pleased with her attention to her little
favorite, that he was always ready to help her.

For nearly two years, Lucy thought that her bird grew handsomer and sang
more sweetly every day. She used to go to school in the morning, and
when she came home, would often bring flowers to dress his cage with, or
chickweed, and the long seed vessels of the plantain, which little birds
love very much; and he always repaid her with a song.

But the third spring, he began to droop and look sick; he left off
singing, and almost left off eating. He would sit on his roost for a
long time, hanging his head, as if he had not strength to hold it up.

It grieved Lucy very much to see him so. She put saffron into the
water; buds of saffron about his cage; gave him lump? of nice sugar; and
spread, every morning, large branches cf fresh chick-weed over his cage;
but all to no purpose.

One morning, poor little Pet, for that was the name she gave him, looked
more sick than ever. She changed the water and the seeds; though the
seeds she had put in fresh the day before, had not been touched. She
dressed his case with all the flowers she could find in the month of
May, and then went to school with a heavy heart. At noon she came
home, and her dear Pet lay on his hack upon the bottom of his cage. His
sufferings were all ended. The little bird was dead!

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Poor Lucy wept bitterly; this was the heaviest affliction she had ever
known. She laid down upon her mother's bed, and sobbed aloud. Mrs. Tracy
knew that the sorrows of children are not last ing, though they are
severe for the time. She therefore did not, at first, think it best to
endeavor to restrain her tears; but she found that if not checked, she
would make herself ill. She would not eat any dinner; and she was unfit
to go to school in the afternoon. Her mother, at length, said, "My dear
child, you must not give way thus to your grief for the loss of a bird.
I know that you loved Pet very much, and that he gave you a great deal
of pleasure; but you must remember, that sorrow for the death of a bird
ought not to unfit you for every thing. Now, by thus crying, you have
been obliged to stay from school, and have lost several hours work upon
the little frock you were making for your aunt; besides making your head
ache so much, that you cannot study your lesson this evening. I feel
very much for your grief; but you are old enough to understand that all
sorrow which prevents us from doing our duty, is wrong--it is selfish
While you were laying upon the bed crying and sobbing, do you think your
father and I could enjoy our dinner? I assure you we did not. And your
lather went to the store with a very sad countenance. I hope when he
comes home, you will meet him with a smiling face, and let him see,
that, though you loved your bird very much, you love him more. And I
hope, my little girl, you will learn a lesson, from this first sorrow,
which will be of use to you all your life, viz. not to feel so strong an
attachment to any object, that the loss of it will unfit you to do any
thing that it is your duty to do."

Lucy was in general a good girl: and she loved her parents very much,
for they were always kind to her; though they never indulged her in any
thing they thought wrong. She attended to what her mother said, and was
sorry she had grieved them so much. She got up from the bed, washed her
face and eyes in cold water, combed her hair smooth, and when her father
came home, he found her sewing with her mother She was a little sad; but
she cried no more, and answered very pleasantly when any one spoke to
her.

A friend of her father passed the evening with them. He saw that Lucy
was not so lively as usual, and inquired the cause. He told her he would
paint her a likeness of her little bird.

We have said that the bird was not handsome; but he was a very sweet
songster. And we trust all our little readers know, that beauty of
person alone will never recommend either little birds or little girls,
to the affections of their friends.

When Lucy became a woman, though she met with many heavy afflictions,
she always kept in mind, that "all sorrow which makes us neglect our
duty to our fellow-beings, is selfish, and of course wrong."



MARIA

|Come, Maria, my dear, said her mamma, let us take a walk, and I will
show you some pretty things.

Maria was quite pleased to hear this, and ran to fetch her bonnet and
cloak.

Her mamma then took her by the hand, and led her out at the door, and
then out at the gate, and then they came into the road; and as they
went to the place where her mamma meant to show her little girl the
fine things, they saw a number of sheep and lambs sporting in the open
fields.

They soon came to the place, and there they saw very fine flowers, which
smelled so sweetly that little Maria felt quite happy with the sights
and scents.

"Here, my dear," said the lady to her little girl, "this is a rose; what
a fine pink hue it has got! Smell it my dear, for I am sure that you
will like it;--did you ever smell any thing so sweet?--There is a bud of
the rose: see what fine soft moss grows on it, and how close it is
wrapped round with green leaves to guard it whilst it is young and
tender."

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"That, Maria, is a stalk; it is like a little bush of red flowers, of a
very nice scent. It is so fine a one, it looks like a young tree. There
is a wall flower: some like the smell of them very much, but some think
they are too strong.

"There is a pink; it is very sweet to smell of.

"That is a heart's ease: it is a very pretty little flower. What a fine
purple color on that leaf; it is like velvet; but it has no scent."

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"Neither has the blue-bell, which you see there, though it looks very
pretty."

Maria's mamma shewed her a great many more flowers, and told her the
names of them.

"Oh! what flower is that, mamma," said little Maria, pointing with her
finger to a very tall and large flower.

"That, my dear, is a sun-flower."

"Oh! how large it is," said Maria, "it is like a sun in this fine
Garden."

Her mamma then took her all over the garden, and Maria asked her what
the name of this thing, and what the name of that thing was all the
time they were there.

Her mamma then picked her little girl a very pretty bunch of flowers,
which Maria took home with great care, and then put them in one of the
vases which was in the parlor, and put water to them, to keep them alive
as long as she could.

Her mamma took home a large bunch for herself, to put into the large
China jar, to make the room look lively, and smell sweet with the scent
of it, and a very fine flower-pot it was.





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