Mrs. Bloomfield H. Moore

Summary

Mrs. Bloomfield H. Moore Frank and Fanny

Grandmother has often said that every thing is for the best; and perhaps, this will make us more careful to try to do right--so don't cry any more."
"I do try not to cry, Franky, and then I think how sweetly the little bird would have been singing to-day, if it had not been for me, and how badly the papa and mamma birds must have felt, when you took it away, and I can't help crying. And perhaps, the little bird will go to heaven, Frank, and it might see our mamma, and tell her how naughty we had been to take it from its nest, and then she would think we were such bad children--oh, dear;"
Source: Gutenberg

Mrs. Bloomfield H. Moore Frank and Fanny

Here upon the margin of the water, seated upon a little stump, watching for his finny prey, the children used often to peep at the Belted King Fisher, in his bluish coat, white collar, and prettily marked wings. This bird's delight is to dwell on the borders of running rivulets, or the bold cataracts of mountain streams, which abound with small fish and insects, his accustomed fare. When the fish do not approach his station, he flies along, just over the water, and occasionally hovers with rapidly moving wings over the spot where he sees a trout or minnow.
Source: Gutenberg

Mrs. Bloomfield H. Moore Frank and Fanny

Just then they heard Sally calling them to supper, and they went down stairs, and sat down at the table. But the bowls of new milk remained untouched. They felt too sad to eat, for Fanny could hear the low plaint of the bird, in the room above; and still louder sounded in Frank's memory, the sad, "chick-a-dee-dee-dee," of the mourning mother.
"Why do you not eat your supper, children?" inquired their grandmother, kindly.
Source: Gutenberg

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