you have need of a much longer continuance of your parents' care than birds and other animals; and, therefore, God has ordained that parental affection, when once awakened, should always remain in the human breast, unless extinguished by the undutiful behaviour of a

child."

At that instant the young ones arrived, and met with a very joyful reception. The amusement they afforded to Master Benson reconciled him to the loss of their parents, but Harrict declared she could not help being sorry that they were gone.

"I shall, for the future, mamma," said she, "take great notice of animals, for I have had much entertainment in observing the ways of these robins."

"I highly approve your resolution, my dear," said Mrs. Benson, "and hope the occasional instruction I have at different times given you, has furnished you with general ideas respecting the proper treatment of animals. I will now inform you upon what principles the rules of conduct I prescribe to myself on this subject are founded.

"I consider that the same almighty and good God, who created mankind, made all other living creatures likewise, and appointed them their different ranks in the creation, that they might form together a community, receiving and conferring reciprocal benefits. "There is no doubt that the Almighty designed all beings for happiness, proportionable to the faculties he has endowed them with, and whoever wantonly destroys that happiness, acts contrary to the will of his Maker.

"The world we live in seems to have been principally designed for the use and comfort of mankind, who, by the Divine appointment, have dominion over the inferior creatures; in the exercise of which it is certainly their duty to imitate the supreme Lord of the Universe, by being merciful to the utmost of their power. They are endued with reason, which enables them to discover the different natures of brutes, the faculties they possess, and how they may be made serviceable in the world, and as beasts cannot apply these faculties to their own use in so extensive a way, and numbers of them being unable to provide for their own sustenance, are indebted to men for many of the necessaries of life, men have an undoubted right to their labour in return.

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"Several other kinds of animals, which are sustained at the expense of mankind, cannot labour for them; from such they have a natural claim to whatever they can supply towards the food and raiment of their benefactors; and, therefore, when we take the wool and milk of the flocks and herds, we take no more than our due, and what they can very well spare, as they seem to have an over-abundance given them, that they may be able to return their obligations to us. "Some creatures have nothing to give us but their own bodies; these have been expressly destined by the Supreme Governor as food for mankind, and he has appointed an extraordinary increase of them for this very purpose-such an increase as would be very injurious to us if all were suffered to live. These we have an undoubted right to kill, but should make their short lives as comfortable as possible. Other creatures seem to be of no particular use to mankind; but as they serve to furnish our minds with contemplations on the wisdom, power, and goodness of God, and to exhilirate our spirits by their cheerfulness, they should not be wantonly killed, nor treated with the least degree of cruelty, but should be at full liberty to enjoy the blessings assigned them, unless they abound to such a degree as to become injurious, by devouring the food which is designed for man, or for animals more beneficial to him, whom it is his duty to protect. "Some animals--such as wild beasts, serpents, etc. are in their nature ferocious, noxious, or venomous, and capable of injuring the health, or even of destroying the lives of men, and other creatures of a higher rank than themselves. These, if they leave the secret abodes which are allotted to them, and become offensive, certainly may with justice be killed.

"In a word, my dear, we should endeavour to regulate our regards according to the utility and necessities of every living creature with which we are any ways connected, and, consequently, should prefer the happiness of mankind to that of any animal whatever. Next to these (who, being partakers of the same nature with ourselves, are more properly our fellow-creatures) we should consider our cattle and domestic animals, and take care to supply every creature that is dependent on us with proper food, and keep it in its proper place. After their wants are supplied, we should extend our benevolence and compassion as far as possible to the inferior ranks of beings, and if nothing farther is in our power, we should at least refrain from exercising cruelties on them. For my own part I never willingly put to death, or cause to be put to death, any creature, but when there is

a

CONCLUSION.

As the old robins, who were the hero and heroine of my tale, it is time for me to put an end to it; but my young readers will doubtless wish to know the sequel of the history, I shall therefore inform them of it in as few words as possible.

Miss Harriet followed her mamma's precepts and examples, and grew up a general benefactress to all people, and all creatures, with whom she was anyways connected.

Frederick was educated upon the same plan, and was never known to be cruel to animals, or to treat them with any improper degree of fondness; he was also remarkable for his benevolence, so as to deserve and obtain the character of a good man.

Miss Lucy Jenkins was quite reformed by Mrs. Benson's lecture, and her friend's example; but her brother continued his practice of exercising barbarities on a variety of unfortunate animals till he went to school, where, having no opportunity of doing so, he grati fied his malignant disposition on his schoolfellows, and made it his diversion to pull their hair, and pinch and tease the younger boys; and by the time he became a man, had so hardened his heart that no kind of distress affected him, nor did he care for any person but himself; consequently he was despised by all with whom he had any intercourse. In this manner he lived for some years; at length, as he was inhumanly beating and spurring a fine horse, merely because it did not go a faster pace than it was able to do, the poor creature, in its efforts to evade his blows, threw his barbarous rider, who was killed on the spot.

Farmer Wilson's prosperity increased with every succeeding year, and he acquired a plentiful fortune, with which he gave portions to cach of his children, as opportunities offered for settling them in the world; and he and his wife lived to a good old age, beloved and respected by all who knew them.

Mrs. Addis lost her parrot by the disorder with which it was attacked while Mrs. Benson was visiting at the house; and before she had recovered the shock of this misfortune, as she called it, her grief was renewed by the death of an old lapdog. About a year afterwards her monkey escaped to the top of the house, from whence he fell and broke his neck. The favourite cat went mad, and was obliged to be killed. In short, by a series of calamities, all her dear darlings were successively destroyed. She supplied their places with new favourites, which gave her a great deal of fatigue and trouble.

In the meanwhile her children grew up; and, having experienced no tenderness from her, they scarcely knew they had a mamina; nor did those who had the care of their education inculcate that her want of affection did not cancel their duty: they therefore treated her with the utmost neglect, and she had no friend left. In her old age, when she was no longer capable of amusing herself with cats, dogs, parrots, and monkeys, she became sensible of her errors, and wished for the comforts which other parents had enjoyed; but it was now too late, and she ended her days in sorrow and regret.

This unfortunate lady had tenderness enough in her disposition for all the purposes of humanity; and, had she placed it on proper objects, agreeably to Mrs. Benson's rule, she might have been, like her, a good wife, mother, friend, and mistress-consequently respect able and happy. But when a child, Mrs. Addis was (under an idea of making her tender-hearted) permitted to lavish immoderate fondness on animals, the care of which engrossed her whole attention, and greatly interrupted her education; so that, instead of studying natural history and other useful things, her time was taken up with pampering and attending upon animals, which she considered as the most important business in life.

Her children fell into faults of a different nature. Miss Addis, being, as I observed in a former part of this history, left to the care of servants, grew up with very contracted notions. Amongst other prejudices, she imbibed that of being afraid of spiders, frogs, and other harmless things; and, having been bitten by the monkey, and terrified by the cat when it went mad, she extended her fears to every kind of creature, and could not take a walk in the fields, or even in the street, without a thousand apprehensions. And at last

her constitution, which from bad nursing had become very delicate, was still more weakened by her continual apprehensions; and a rat happening to run across her path as she was walking, she fell into fits, which afflicted her at intervals during the remainder of her life.

Master Addis, as soon as he became sensible of his mother's foible, conceived an inveterate hatred to animals in general, which he regarded as his enemies, and thought he was avenging his own cause when he treated any with barbarity. Cats and dogs in particular he singled out as the objects of his revenge, because he considered them as his mother's greatest favourites, and many a one fell an innocent victim to his mistaken ideas.

The parent redbreasts visited their kind benefactors the next winter; but, as they were flying along one day, they saw some crumbs of bread, which had been scattered by Miss Lucy Jenkins, who, as I observed before, had adopted the sentiments of her friend in respect to compassion to animals, and resolved to imitate her in every excellence. The redbreasts gratefully picked up the crumbs, and, encouraged by the gentle invitation of her looks, determined to repeat their visits; which they accordingly did, and found such an ample supply, that they thought it more advisable to go to her with their next brood, than to be burdensome to their old benefactors, who had a great number of pensioners to support. But Master and Miss Benson had frequently the pleasure of seeing them, and knew them from all their species by several peculiarities, which so long an acquaintance had given them the opportunity of observing.

Robin, in pursuance of his father's advice, and agreeably to his own inclinations, attached himself to Mrs. Benson's family, where he was an exceeding great favourite. He had before, under the conduct of his parents, made frequent excursions into the garden, and was, by their direction, enabled to get up into trees, but his wing never recovered sufficiently to enable him to take long flights; how ever, he found himself at liberty to do as he pleased, and, during the summer months, he commonly passed most of his time abroad, and roosted in trees, but visited the tea-table every morning, and there he usually met his sister Pecksy, who took up her abode in the orchard, where she enjoyed the friendship of her father and mother. Dicky and Flapsy, who thought their company too grave, flew giddily about together. In a short time they were both caught in a trap-cage, and put into the aviary, which Dicky once longed to inhabit. Here they were at first very miserable; but, after a while, recollecting their good parents' advice, and the example of the linnets and pheasants, they at length reconciled themselves to their lot, and each met with a mate, with whom they lived tolerably happy.

Happy would it be for the animal creation if every human being, like good Mrs. Benson, consulted the welfare of inferior creatures, neither spoiled them by indulgence, nor injured them by tyranny. Happy would mankind be if everyone, like her, acted in conformity to the will of their Maker, by cultivating in their own minds, and those of their own children, the divine principle of general benevolence.

From the foregoing examples, I hope my young readers will select the best for their own imitation, and take warning by the rest, otherwise my FABULOUS HISTORIES have been written in vain.

THE END.

THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER.

THIS song's of a beggar who'd long lost his sight,
And had a fair daughter most pleasant and bright,
And many a gallant brave suitor had she,
And none was so comely as pretty Bessie.

And though she was of complexion most fair,
And seeing she was but a beggar his heir,
Of ancient housekeepers despised was she,
Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessie.
Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessie did say,
"Good father and mother, let me now go away,
To seek out my fortune, whatever it be."
This suit was granted to pretty Bessie.
This Bessie, that was of a beauty most bright,
They clad in grey russet; and late in the night
From father and mother alone parted she,
Who sighed and sobbed for pretty Bessie.
She went till she came to Stratford-at-Bow,
Then she knew not whither or which way to go,
With tears she lamented her sad destiny;
So sad and so grave was pretty Bessie.

She kept on her journey until it was day,
And went into Romford, along the highway;
And at the "King's Arms" entertained was she,
So fair and well-favoured was pretty Bessie.
She had not been there one month at an end,
But master and mistress and all was her friend;
And every brave gallant that once did her see,
Was straightway in love with pretty Bessie.
Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
And in their songs daily her love they extolled;
Her beauty was blazed in every degree,
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessie.

Four suitors at once unto her did go,

They craved her favour, but still she said "No,
I would not have gentlemen marry with me!"
Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessie.

Now one of them was a gallant young knight,
And he came unto her disguised in the night;
The second, a gentleman of high degree,
Who wooed and sued for pretty Bessie.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
Was then the third suitor, and proper withal;
Her master's own son the fourth man must be,
Who vow'd he would die for pretty Bessie.

"If that thou wilt marry with me," quoth the knight, I'll make thee a lady with joy and delight;

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My heart is enthrallod in thy fair beauty,
Then grant me thy favour, my pretty Bessie."
The gentleman said, "Come marry with me,
In silks and in velvet my Bessie shall be;

My heart lies distracted, oh! hear me," quoth he,
And graut me thy love, my dear pretty Bessie."

Let me be thy husband," the merchant did say, Thou shalt live in London most gallant and gay; My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee, And I will ever love pretty Bessie."

Then Bessie she sighed and then she did say,
"My father and mother I mean to obey;
First get their goodwill, and be faithful to me,
And you shall enjoy your dear pretty Bessie."
To every one of them that answer she made,
Therefore unto her they joyfully said,
"This thing to fulfil we all now agree,

But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessie?"

"My father," quoth she, "is soon to be seen:
The silly blind beggar of Bednall Green,
That daily sits begging for charity,

He is the kind father of pretty Bessic.

"His marks and his tokens are known full well,

He always is led by a dog and a bell;

A poor silly old man, God knoweth, is he,

Yet he's the true father of pretty Bessie."

"

'Nay, nay," quoth the merchant, "thou art not for me."

She," quoth the innholder, "my wife shall not be.”

"I loathe," said the gentleman, "a beggar's degree,

Therefore now farewell, my pretty Bessie."

"Why, then," quoth the knight, "hap better or worse,

I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse,

And beauty is beauty in every degree.

Then welcome to me, my dear pretty Bessie.

With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.”

Nay, forbear," quoth his kinsman, "it must not be so;

A poor beggar's daughter a lady shan't be,
Then take thy adieu of thy pretty Bessie."

As soon, then, as it was break of the day,
The knight had from Romford stole Bessie away.
The young men of Romford, so sick as may be,
Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessie.
As swift as the wind to ride they were seen,
Until they came near unto Bednall-green;
And as the knight 'lighted most courteously,
They fought against him for pretty Bessie.

But rescue came presently over the plain,
Or else the knight there for his love had been slain;
The fray being ended, they straightway did see
His kinsman come railing at pretty Bessie.

Then bespoke the blind beggar, "Although I be poor,
Rail not against my child at my own door,
Though she be not decked in velvet and pearl,
Yet I will drop angels with thee for my girl;
"And then if my gold should better her birth,
And equal the gold you lay on the earth,
Then neither rail you, nor grudge you to sec
The blind beggar's daughter a lady to be.

"But first, I will hear, and have it well known,
The gold that you drop it shall be all your own."
With that they replied, "Contented we be."
"Then here's," quoth the beggar, "for pretty Bessie!"

With that an angel he dropped on the ground,
And dropped, in angels, full three thousand pound;
And oftentimes it proved most plain,

For the gentleman's one, the beggar dropped twain.

So that the whole place wherein they did sit,
With gold was covered every whit.

The gentleman having dropped all his store,
Said, "Beggar, your hand hold, for I have no more."

"Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright,
Then marry the girl," quoth he to the knight;
"And then," quoth he, "I will throw you down,
An hundred pound more to buy her a gown."

The gentlemen all, who his treasure had seen,
Admired the beggar of Bednall Green;
And those that had been her suitors before,
Their tender flesh for anger they tore.

Thus was the fair Bessie matched to a knight,
And made a lady in other's despite.

A fairer lady there never was seen,

Than the blind beggar's daughter of Bednall Green.

But of her sumptuous marriage and feast,
And what fine lords and ladies there prest,
The second part shall set forth to your sight,
With marvellous pleasure and wished for delight,

Of a blind beggar's daughter so bright,
That late was betrothed to a young knight,
All the whole discourse therefore you may see;
But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessie.

PART II.

It was in a gallant palace most brave,
Adorned with all the cost they could have,
This wedding it was kept most sumptuously,
And all for the love of pretty Bessic.

And all kinds of dainties and delicates sweet,
Was brought to their banquet as it was thought meet;
Partridge and plover, and venison most free,
Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessie.

The wedding through England was spread by report,
So that a great number thereto did resort-
Of nobles and gentles of every degree,
And all for the fame of pretty Bessie.

To church then away went this gallant young knight,
His bride followed after, an angel most bright,
With troops of ladies, the like was ne'er seen,
As went with sweet Bessie of Bednall-green.

This wedding being solemnized then,
With music performed by skilfullest men:
The nobles and gentlemen down at the side,
Each one beholding the beautiful bride.

But after the sumptuous dinner was done,
To talk and to reason a number begun,

And of the blind beggar's daughter most bright,
And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.

Then spoke the nobles, "Much marvel have we, This jolly blind beggar we cannot yet see."

My lords," quoth the bride, "my father so basc Is loth with his presence these states to disgrace."

"The praise of a woman in question to bring,
Before her own face is a flattering thing;
But we think thy father's business," quoth they,
"Might by thy beauty be clean put away."

They no sooner this pleasant word spoke,
But in comes the beggar in a silken cloak,
A velvet cap and a feather had he,
And now a musician, forsooth, he would be.

And being led in from catching of harm---
He had a dainty lute under his arm-

Said, Please you to hear my music of me,
A song I will sing you of pretty Bessie."
With that his lute he twanged straightway,
And thereon began most sweetly to play,
And after a lesson was played two or three,
He strained out this song most delicately-
"A beggar's daughter did dwell on a green,
Who for her beauty may well be a queen,
A blithe bonny lass, and dainty was she,
And many one called her prettie Bessie.
"Her father he had no goods or no lands,
But begged for a penny all day with his hands,
And yet for her marriage gave thousands three,
Yet still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessie.
"And here if any one do her disdain,
Her father is ready with might and with main,
To prove she is come of noble degree,
Therefore let none flout at my pretty Bessie."
With that the lords and the company round,
With hearty laughter were ready to swooned;
At last said the lords, "Full well we may see,
The bride and the bridegroom's beholden to thee."
With that the fair bride all blushing did rise,
With crystal water all in her bright eyes,

Pardon my father, brave nobles," quoth she,
"That through blind affection thus doats upon me."

"If this be thy father," the nobles did say,

66 Well may he be proud of this happy day,
Yet by his countenance well may we see,
His birth with his fortune could never agree;

"And therefore, blind beggar, we pray the bewray,
And look to us then the truth thou dost say,
Thy birth and thy parentage what it may be,
E'en for the love thou bearest pretty Bessie."
"Then give me leave, ye gentles each one,
A song more to sing, and then I'll begone,
And if that I do not win good report,
Then do not give me one groat for my sport-

"When first our king his fame did advance,
And sought his title in delicate France.
In many places great perils passed he;
But then was not born my pretty Bessie.

"And at those wars went over to fight
Many a brave duke, a lord, and a knight,
And with them young Monford of courage so free;
But then was not born my pretty Bessie.

"And there did young Monford, with a blow on the face,
Lose both his eyes in a very short space;
His life had been gone away with his sight,
Had not a young woman gone forth in the night.

"Among the said men, her fancy did move,
To search and to seek for her own true love,
Who seeing young Monford there gasping to die,
She saved his life through her charity.

"And then all our victuals, in beggar's attire,
At the hands of good people we then did require;
At last into England, as now it is seen,
We came, and remained in Bednall Green.