The Nest in the Honeysuckles | Page 8

encouragement were addressed to them by their parents.
They told them how they themselves had suffered from similar fears;
how difficult it was for them to trust implicitly in the wisdom of their
own father and mother; and how they stood, tremulous and fearful, on
the top of the nest, wishing they had sufficient resolution to obey, and
yet fearing to venture; but how easy and pleasant they found it to
spread their wings in the air, and be borne up by it, when they fully
determined to make the attempt.
Our little birdlings still hesitated, just as I have seen children hesitate
and quiver with terror when for the first time they go into the water to
learn to swim. They know their father tells them the 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."
[Illustration]

"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