. The bird . life is all movement andfreedom. Dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea-pigs, lived togetherin concord. The tame chickens, the pigeons, followedmy mother everywhere, and fed from her hand. Thesparrows built their nests among us ; the swallowseven brooded under our bams ; they flew into our verychambers, and returned with each succeeding spring tothe shelter of our roof How often, too, have I found, in the goldfinchesnests torn from our cypress-trees by rude autumnalwinds, fragments of my summer-robes buried in thesand ! Beloved birds, which I then sheltered aU unwit-tingly in a fold of my ve
. The bird . life is all movement andfreedom. Dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea-pigs, lived togetherin concord. The tame chickens, the pigeons, followedmy mother everywhere, and fed from her hand. Thesparrows built their nests among us ; the swallowseven brooded under our bams ; they flew into our verychambers, and returned with each succeeding spring tothe shelter of our roof How often, too, have I found, in the goldfinchesnests torn from our cypress-trees by rude autumnalwinds, fragments of my summer-robes buried in thesand ! Beloved birds, which I then sheltered aU unwit-tingly in a fold of my vestment, ye have to-day a surershelter in my heart, but ye know it not! Our nightingales, less domesticated, wove their■^ nests in the lonely hedge-rows ; but, confident of a»(^ /: generous welcome, they came to our threshold a hundred1 ( times a-day, and besought from my mother, for them-selves and their family, the silk-worms which hadperished. 24 HOW THE AUTHOR WAS LED TO ;:p^*«©-. III the depths of the wood the woodpeckerlaboured obstinately at the venerable trunks ; one mighthear him at his task when all other sounds had listened in trembling silence to the mysterious blowsof that indefatigable workman mingling with the owlsslow and lamentable voice. It was my highest ambition to have a bird all tomyself—a turtle-dove. Those of my mothers—sofamiliar, so plaintive, so tenderly resigned at breeding-time—attracted me strongly towards them. If a youngffirl feels like a mother for the doll which she dresses,how much more so for a living creature which respondsto her caresses ! I would have given everything forthis treasure. But it was not to be so; and the dovewas not my first love. The first was a flower, whose name I do notknow. I had a small garden, situated under an enoi-mousfig-tree, whose humid shades rendered useless all mycultivation. Feeling very sad and sorely discouraged, Idescried one morning, on a pale-green stem, a beautifullittle gold
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Keywords: ., bookauthormich, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, booksubjectbirds
