There is no one who will not have remarked that 



birds kept in a cage in a drawing-room never fail, if 



dsitors arrive and the conversation grows animated, 



to take a part in it, after their fashion, by chattering 



or singing. 



It is their universal instinct, even in a condition 

 of freedom. They are the echoes both of God and of 

 man. They associate themselves with all sounds and 

 voices, add their own poesy, their wild and simple 

 rhythms. By analogy, by contrast, they augment 

 ^- and complete the grand effects of nature. To the 

 hoarse beating of the waves the sea-bird opposes his shrill strident 

 notes ; with the monotonous murmuring of the agitated trees the tiirtle- 

 dove and a hundred birds blend a soft sad cadence ; to the awakening 





