the sparrow-hawk,
red and smooth as the finest coral; had dived into the ground-mansion of
the skylark for her lilac-tinted shells, and groped amongst the bushes
for the rosy-tinted ones of the woodlark; climbed the tallest trees for
the sea-green eggs of the rooks; had pilfered the spotted treasures from
the snug dwelling which the wren constructed in the eaves; and, worst of
all--I hardly like to write it, I hardly care to think, that Jesse could
have committed such an outrage,--saddest and worst of all, in the very
midst of that varied garland might be seen the brown and dusky egg, as
little showy as its quaker-like plumage, the dark brown egg, from which
should have issued that "angel of the air," the songstress, famous in
every land, the unparagoned nightingale. It is but just towards Jesse
to add, that he took the nest in a mistake, and was quite unconscious of
the mischief he had done until it was too late to repair it.

Of course these gifts were not only graciously accepted, but duly
returned; cakes, apples, tarts, and gingerbread, halfpence in profusion,
and now and then a new shilling, or a bright sixpence--all, in short,
that poor Phoebe had to bestow, she showered upon her uncouth favourite,
and she would fain have amended his condition by more substantial
benefits: but authoritative as she was with her grandfather in other
instances, in this alone her usual powers of persuasion utterly failed.
Whether infected by old Daniel's dislike, (and be it observed, an
unfounded prejudice, that sort of prejudice for which he who entertains
it does not pretend to account even to himself is unluckily not only
one of the most contagious feelings in the world, but one of the most
invincible:) whether Farmer Cobham were inoculated with old Daniel's
hatred of Jesse, or had taken that very virulent disease the natural
way, nothing could exceed the bitterness of the aversion which gradually
grew up in his mind towards the poor lad.

That Venus liked him, and Phoebe liked him, added strength to the
feeling. He would have been ashamed to confess himself jealous of their
good-will towards such an object, and yet most certainly jealous he
was. He did not drive him from his shelter in the Moors, because he had
unwarily passed his word--his word, which, with yeomanly pride, John
Cobham held sacred as his bond--to let him remain until he committed
some offence; but, for this offence, both he and Daniel watched and
waited with an i