Book: The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories

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Frontispiece.


[Illustration: Mrs. Dudley stood by her little boy, looking from the
window.]




THE

Nest in the Honeysuckles,

AND OTHER STORIES.


[Illustration]


WRITTEN FOR THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION.


Philadelphia:
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,
No. 316 CHESTNUT STREET.
_NEW YORK:_ No. 147 NASSAU ST.
_BOSTON:_ No. 9 CORNHILL...._CINCINNATI:_ 41 WEST FOURTH ST.
_LOUISVILLE_: No. 103 FOURTH ST.

_Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by the
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania._

* * * * *

_No books are published by the_ AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL
UNION _without the sanction of the Committee of Publication,
consisting of fourteen members, from the following denominations
of Christians, viz. Baptist, Methodist, Congregational,
Episcopal, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and Reformed Dutch. Not more
than three of the members can be of the same denomination, and no
book can be published to which any member of the Committee shall
object._




CONTENTS.

PAGE

THE NEST IN THE HONEYSUCKLES. 7

"MAY I POP SOME CORN?" 33

"WHICH WOULD YOU RATHER I SHOULD DO?" 36

THE BIRDS AND THE SNOW-STORM. 40

THE FIRST STRAWBERRY. 43

"I PRAYED ALL DAY FOR HELP." 44

"EVER SO MANY BEAUTIFUL THINGS." 47

LILY AND HER DUCKLINGS. 51

PRAYING FOR RAIN. 56

THE GRAPE CLUSTERS. 62

"IT ALMOST MAKES ME CRY." 65

THE BOY WHO STEALS. 68

LOOK AT THE BIRDS. 73

THE LOST CHILD. 78

THE UNPLEASANT NEIGHBOUR. 83

THE BOY WHO KEPT HIS PURPOSE. 87

MARY'S STORY. 91

THE SUNNY FACE AND THE SHADY FACE; OR, JUNE AND NOVEMBER. 93

"IT ISN'T FAIR--I PEEPED." 96

THE CHRYSALIS. 99

CHRISTMAS AT THE COTTAGE. 102

I WILL CONQUER MYSELF. 106

SELFISH ELLA. 110

"OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN." 114

HATTIE AND HERBERT. 117

THE TWO WILLS. 119

"BLESS GOD FOR THIS DOLL." 122

BESSIE HARTWELL. 126

"MARY'S GREAT TREASURE." 131

"SUSAN WILL BE HAPPIER IF I GO WITH HER." 133

THE NEWS-BOYS' BANK. 135

IDA'S DRESS. 144

WHAT MADE WILLIE HAPPY. 148

DO YOU INTEND TO BE A GENTLEMAN? (A QUESTION FOR BOYS.) 150

GENEROUS NELLY; OR, THE WILLING MIND. 153

LOVEST THOU ME? 155

MY LITTLE BAG. 158

DO YOU LIKE YOUR SEAT? 160

THE LITTLE BEGGAR. 164

LITTLE CHARLEY. 170

DARLING WILLIE. 173

WIDOW CAHOON AND HER GRANDSON. 178




THE

NEST IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.




CHAPTER I.

[Illustration]


"Do come here, mother," said Eddie, carefully tip-toeing from the
window, and beckoning with his hand. "Here is something I want to show
you. Come carefully, or I am afraid you will frighten it."

Mrs. Dudley laid aside her book, and stepped cautiously forward, Eddie
leading the way back to the window. "What is it?" she inquired.

"It is a bird with straw in its mouth, and I do believe it is going to
build a nest."

Mrs. Dudley stood by her little boy a few minutes, looking from the
window. Presently a robin alighted on the walnut tree, directly before
them, with a bunch of dry grass in its mouth. It rested a few seconds,
and then flew in among the branches of a honeysuckle which twined
around the pillars, and crept over the top of the porch. A fine, warm
place it was for a nest, sheltered from the north winds, and from the
driving rains, and from the hot rays of the noon-day sun.

Eddie and his mother watched the bird for some time. It would bring
straws, and arrange them in its nest, as only a bird can; and then it
would away again, and come back, perhaps, with its bill covered and
filled with mud, which it used for mortar in fastening the materials
in their places. Then it would get in the nest, and, moving its feet
and wings, would make it just the right shape to hold the pretty eggs
she would lay in it, and the little robins she would love so well, and
feed so carefully.

The robin was industrious, and worked hard to get the house finished
in season. I think she must have been very tired when night came, and
she flew away to her perch to rest till morning. I do not see how she
could balance herself so nicely on one foot, as she slept with her
head turned back, and half-hidden beneath her wing.

Eddie often watched the robin during the day. He was careful not to
frighten it. "I wonder how the robin could find so nice a place. I
should not have thought it would have known about it,"--he said to his
mother, as he saw the bird fly in, almost out of sight, among the
clustering branches.

Mrs. Dudley told Eddie God taught the birds where to build their
nests, and that he took care of them, and provided food for them.

Is it not wonderful that God, who has built the world in which we
live, and all the bright worlds we can see in the sky, should attend
to the wants of the robins and sparrows, and other birds which he has
made? We should forget them, if we had much of importance to attend
to, or we should be weary of providing for their wants; but our
heavenly Father never forgets, and never grows weary. He hears the
ravens when they cry, and not even a sparrow falls to the ground
without his knowledge. "Are ye not much better than they?" our Saviour
said to his disciples, when endeavouring to teach them to trust in the
love and parental care of God, and not to be anxious in regard to
their temporal welfare.

If God so cares for the birds, whose lives are short, and who have no
souls to live in another world, will he not much more care for those
who are made in his image, and for whom the Saviour died?

No good thing will he withhold from those who walk uprightly, who try
to obey his commandments, and look to Christ for salvation from sin. I
hope, my dear children, when you see the birds, you will remember
God's love to them and to you.

I have given you all I know of the history of one day of the robin's
life, but Eddie will observe it while it lives in its house in the
honeysuckle, and will tell me all he sees of its domestic
arrangements. I hope to tell you with what kind of a carpet it covers
the floor, and what it hangs on the walls, and how it brings up its
little children, if it should be so happy as to have any to gladden
its quiet home, and cheer it with their chattering tongues. I am sure
it will have pretty flowers and green leaves for pictures to look at,
painted by One whose skill no artist can rival; and it will need no
Cologne for perfume for the breath of the honeysuckle is more
delicious than any odour which the art of man could prepare.




CHAPTER II.

GOING TO HOUSEKEEPING.


I promised to tell you more about the nest in the honeysuckles. Eddie
has observed it with great attention, and has kept me well informed in
regard to it. I have stepped out upon the porch with him, and,
kneeling down, and looking over the side, I have had a peep myself at
this wonderfully contrived home of the robins. It is partly supported
by a cornice, which runs around the porch, and gives it a firmer
foundation than the small branches of the honeysuckle could do.

But I must not forget to tell you about the finishing of the nest.
The second day, the robin was at work before six o'clock in the
morning; so you see birds are early risers, and like to have their
work done in good season. They know how pleasant it is to see the rosy
dawn, and welcome it with their sweetest strains of music. I wonder
how many of my little friends see the sun rise, these bright mornings!
If they would awake with the birds, they must, as wisely as the birds,
go to their places of rest before the shades of evening shroud the
world in darkness. If they sit up late, they will lose the morning
songs, which fill the woods with sounds of gladness, and which resound
from every tree and shrub about the houses of those who love these
pleasant visitors, and refuse to allow them to be frightened from
their premises.

The robin rose early, as I have told you, and resumed her labours for
a short time. Through the day she came occasionally to see how the
house was drying, but did not seem to be at all busy. She had
accomplished so much by her previous industry, that there was no
necessity for much exertion, and she felt quite at liberty to enjoy
herself, taking short excursions in the country, and returning
sometimes alone, and sometimes in company with her mate. He, once in a
while, visited the nest; but was so well satisfied with the domestic
arrangements of his wife, and had so much confidence in her ability
and skill, that he manifested no disposition to interfere with any of
her plans, but cheerfully acquiesced in them, and cheered and
encouraged her by singing her one of his sweetest songs, telling her
how dearly he loved her, how highly he esteemed her, and how truly
happy he was that he had so pleasant and agreeable, and at the same
time so housewifely, a companion. She appeared quite as well pleased
to be appreciated as any wife or housekeeper of my acquaintance, and
it made her labour a labour of love. We all like to be appreciated.

I see the robin is a plain, common-sense bird in her notions, and
wants nothing for mere display. Every thing which could add to the
real comfort of her family she has provided, and has no desire for any
thing further. Many house-keepers might learn a valuable lesson from
her prudent, comfortable arrangements.

When the dwelling was completed, and suitably dry for occupancy, the
robin deposited there four bluish-green eggs. I assure you they are
beautiful, and are great treasures to her. In about twelve days from
the time Eddie first saw her carrying straws into the honeysuckles,
she became very domestic, never leaving home but for a few minutes at
a time. Her four eggs now occupy all her attention and her great
business seems to be to keep them warm with the heat of her own body.
She does not complain of being confined at home, but is entirely
satisfied to attend to the duties which devolve upon her. She is not
uneasy that she cannot sing like her husband, or, like him, attend to
the interests of Robindom; but quietly and discreetly she labours in
her appropriate sphere, and feels no wish to leave it for a less
secluded and less happy life. Her _heart_ is satisfied with the
happiness of her home, and she feels no uneasiness--no ungratified
longings for something to occupy her, aside from the duties she so
cheerfully performs.

Madam Robin was entirely satisfied with the success of her labours,
and she had reason to be. No bird could have done better. This
consciousness of having done well did not make her proud; it only gave
her such self-respect as every one feels who is conscious that an
allotted task has been faithfully performed; and the praise of her
husband was no injury to her, as she was not silly enough to think of
herself more highly than she ought to think.

As the house was for a summer residence, she selected fine
straw-matting, instead of woollen carpets for it. She put it down with
great care, perfectly smooth and even. The wall was covered with the
same cool material, delicately woven. Wasn't it nice?




CHAPTER III.

PLEASANT NEIGHBOURS.


The location selected by our friend, the robin, seems to be highly
appreciated by many of the feathered race. Although the robin was the
first settler, others have already decided that it affords great
advantages in the way of shelter from the fierce winds, from the
burning rays of a summer sun, and from the too-curious eyes of hawks
and other birds of prey.

An abundance of fresh, soft water can be obtained not far from
Honeysuckleville, and this is always a recommendation in favour of any
place, either for men or birds. Fruit also abounds. There will be
bright red currants for the little folks; strawberries, too, more than
they can eat, and raspberries in any quantity they may wish. I must
not forget the cherries, of which birds are so fond, and which they
can have at any time when they are ripe, for merely the trouble of
picking.

It is not surprising, with all these advantages in its favour, that
Honeysuckleville should find more than one family happy to settle
within its borders. For some time, two song-sparrows have made it
frequent visits; and have finally decided, after a careful survey,
that no more desirable spot can be found for a summer residence. They
have accordingly commenced building, not more than two feet from the
mansion of the robins. Their house is much smaller--a cottage--but
quite large enough for them. It nestles so lovingly in the shadow of
the vines, that I am sure domestic comfort must be found there.
Discord and contention could not abide in so peaceful a retreat.

The song-sparrows will be pleasant neighbours. They are exceedingly
fond of vocal music, and their clear melodious voices fill the new
settlement with harmony. In that terrible snow-storm which occurred in
the middle of April, I often saw a sparrow alight on a bough of a tree
near the house, and send up to heaven such a strain of full, gushing
melody, as melted my heart with pity and admiration. It reminded me of
a child of God in the midst of trials and afflictions, yet rejoicing
in faith, and trusting continually in the care of a Father in heaven.
Was the cold little sparrow singing itself away, as it was once
believed the swan sung its own death-song? Or may the new neighbour of
the robin be the very one whose voice rang out so clear and loud,
above the howlings of the storm? I trust no rude blast nor chilling
frost will mar the pleasure of our feathered friends, but that they
may prosper in their plans, and never forget seeking a home in the
vine which winds so gracefully around the porch of Mrs. Dudley's
cottage.

The song sparrow is not the only neighbour of the robin. A pair of
cat-birds have a nest in a lilac near the honeysuckle, and one of them
sings hour after hour on the walnut-tree opposite to the window and
often comes near enough to the house to look through the open
casement. These birds have lived for several summers in that same
lilac, and annually make all the repairs necessary to render their
dwelling habitable. They have raised several broods of birdlings, much
to their own enjoyment, and of Mrs. Dudley's bird-loving family.




CHAPTER IV.

HOME DUTIES AND HOME PLEASURES.


Our robin has been a keeper-at-home ever since those four bluish-green
eggs demanded her attention. She has occasionally left, for a few
minutes at a time, to procure food and drink, or to take a little
exercise; but she has never forgotten her quiet abode, and the duties
which there require her almost constant presence. She loves the green
fields, the leafy trees, and the clear blue sky, and delights to hop
about with her mate over the fresh grass and the clean gravel-walks;
but better than all she loves those pretty eggs, which lie so cozily
in the bottom of her straw-built nest.

Before she commenced house-keeping, she was very fond of travelling,
and many a mile has she wandered, over hill and valley, in company
with her friends. She assisted at concerts, and was universally
admired; but she had the good sense to give up these enjoyments
without a murmur, when higher claims called for her undivided care.
Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well; and the robin will
doubtless be repaid for the unwearied patience with which she performs
her unostentatious duties. Some people are inclined to think domestic
labour dishonourable, and the cares of house-keeping a burden; but our
feathered friend is wiser than they. She does with her might what she
finds to do, and she does it heartily. Every act of duty, faithfully
and cheerfully performed, is acceptable to God; and his children do
his will when they endeavour to attend to their various occupations in
such a way as he can approve. If all house-keepers felt that, in
attending to the different departments of their work as they should be
attended to, they were honouring Him who has made this care necessary
for the comfort of families, it would be a blessing to themselves, and
to who all who dwell under the same roof with them. We cannot consider
any thing which we do to please our heavenly Father of small
importance, and no favour can be degrading which he requires of us.

We may all learn a lesson from the robin who lives in the
honeysuckles, and we shall see how she was rewarded for her devotion
to the employment which Providence assigned her. The wisest of men, in
describing the character of an excellent woman, says: "The heart of
her husband doth safely trust in her." "She will do him good, and not
evil, all the days of her life." Our feathered friend's husband is
absent much of his time (as most gentlemen are obliged to be) from his
well-ordered home; but he always thinks of it with pleasure, and
hastens to it whenever he can find time to do so. Sometimes he only
stops a moment, but it is a precious moment to them both, for their
hearts and interests are one. They are cheered, in their separation,
by the pleasant memories of these brief interviews, and by bright
anticipations of future enjoyment.

I have observed, Mr. Robin thinks it of importance to look nice at
home, as well as when he is abroad. I have seen him alight on the
walnut-tree, and carefully arrange his toilet, before going into the
presence of his wife. She must feel complimented by this delicate
attention, indicating so high a regard for her, and such anxiety to
preserve her esteem. I should not wonder if she was a little proud of
her handsome husband. However this may be, I am sure it is her
greatest happiness to deserve his respect and love, and honourably to
perform all the duties which devolve upon her in her married life.

Madam Robin was sitting one day in her vine-shaded home, looking out
through the slender branches of the honeysuckle, which were gently
swayed by a refreshing breeze, when she heard a slight tap. She
listened eagerly. Another tap--presently another. How her heart
fluttered! It proceeded from one of those highly-prized eggs, and she
knew it was the timid knock of a birdling, who was in that little
chamber, and was waiting to have the door opened. Of how small
consequence all her self-denial and her seclusion from general society
seemed, when that thrilling tap sounded on her ear! She continued to
listen, and within those four tiny chambers she heard the same rapping
repeated; and more than that, the sweet word, Mother, might seem
faintly to greet her ear. How she longed for her mate to return, that
he might enjoy, with her, this new happiness! When husband and wife
love each other, as they should, all pleasure must be shared, or it
will still be imperfect. She waited, almost impatiently for his
coming; and when he alighted on the honeysuckle, she looked so full of
grateful joy, that he knew that something more than usual must have
occurred. He affectionately kissed her bill, and then, in a low
tremulous voice, she told him the glad news. He was quite as much
pleased as she, although he did not appear so excited. Had employment
in the open air given a firmness to his nerves, which her sedentary
occupations had not done for her? Yet beneath that calm exterior, his
sparkling eye plainly revealed the full tide of emotion within.

It was pleasant music to their ears to hear those four new voices in
their secluded home; and though they knew it would increase their
labour to provide food for those gaping mouths, what cared they for
their own comfort, if they could nurture their precious charge, and
rear them to be an honour and a blessing?

When the doors of their chambers were quite open, out came the
baby-birds, with a few downy feathers covering them!

"How very little they are!" said Eddie, with one breath; and, "How big
their mouths are!" with the next. To be sure, they do look very small,
and their mouths are very large for such diminutive bodies, and they
open them so wide that it almost seems as if one of them could jump
down another's throat.

The robin now often comes home, and brings food to his family. It is
gratifying to see how attentive he is to his dear children and their
mother; and I hope I may be able, some day, to tell you that they
repay his attachment, by growing up fine, obedient birds. It will not
be long before their education will be commenced, and I will tell you
whether they are taught at home, or are sent away to school, and what
progress they make in acquiring their accomplishments.




CHAPTER V.

HOME LIFE AND HOME EDUCATION.


The birdlings still live in the honeysuckles.

"How they do grow!" Eddie exclaims, when he looks at them. "I
shouldn't think they could ever have lived in those little eggs."

They are now almost half as large as the old birds. They are well
covered with feathers, and their mottled breasts are very pretty.

"They don't have to dress as we do," said Eddie. "Their clothes grow."
And he thinks it would be a great convenience if his clothes grew too,
for then they would always be large enough for him, and his mother
would not have so much sewing to do.

Sometimes these little birds lie in the bottom of the nest, quietly
sleeping, while their father and mother are both away, getting them
food. At other times they feel wide awake. Then they stretch their
wings, stand upon their feet, and peep over the side of the nest. From
the parlour-window, the children can look up directly at their
secluded home, and can see them amusing themselves and practising
their lessons. The honeysuckle grows almost as fast as the birds, and
the tender, overhanging branches make a roof which keeps off all the
rain.

The old birds are mindful of their children, but do not consider it
necessary to be with them all the time. So other parents endeavour to
implant good principles in the hearts of their children, and then
leave them to their self-control; ever keeping a watchful eye on the
influences which surround them, and using their proper authority, when
it becomes necessary, to restrain from evil, and guide in the way of
virtue. The child that has never learned to depend upon himself, or to
control his own passions, and to do right because it is right, will
hardly be able to sustain himself when the presence of his parents is
withdrawn.

The robins know very well that children grow weary of long lectures;
so they give them here a little and there a little instruction, as
occasion demands.

They are decided in their family government, but not severe. Their
children are taught to obey promptly and cheerfully, but they have no
slavish fear of their parents. Their presence is not regarded as a
restraint; for, at all suitable times, they have freely permitted
their little ones to laugh and frolic to their hearts' content. They
willingly listen to all the plans of the birdlings, and lend an
attentive ear to the story of their joys and their sorrows. Their
sympathy is never withheld; their griefs are never considered as of no
consequence because they are brief and soon forgotten.

The parent birds do not leave their young alone but a little while at
a time. They often fly home to see them, and sometimes perch on the
walnut-tree, and talk with them. Their musical chirpings are pleasant
to hear. We don't understand the bird-language; but we judge, by the
soft tones, that it is something kind and agreeable they are saying.
Perhaps they are talking about their plans for the future, when they
all know how to use their wings, and can fly about together.

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