14 ADVENTURES AMONG BIRDS 



in return my mother made his house her home for a 

 month or so in winter. This was my first visit, and 

 I remember the house was like a luxurious palace to 

 my simple mind accustomed to rude surroundings. 

 It had a large paved courtyard, with ornamental 

 shrubs and orange and lemon trees growing in it, 

 and many prettily decorated rooms; also a long 

 passage or balcony at the back, and, at its far end, 

 facing the balcony, the door of the study. This 

 balcony at the back had an irresistible attraction for 

 me, for on the wall were hung many cages containing 

 beautiful birds, some unknown to me. There were 

 several canaries, a European goldfinch, and other 

 kinds; but the bird that specially attracted me was a 

 cardinal in fine plumage, with a loud, glad, musical 

 call-note — just such a note as that with which the 

 bird in a London thoroughfare had pierced my heart. 

 But it did not sing, and I was told that it had no song 

 except that one note, or not more than two or three 

 notes, and that it was kept solely for its beauty. 

 To me it was certainly most beautiful. 



Every day during our six or seven weeks' visit I 

 used to steal out to the balcony and stand by the 

 hour watching the birds, above all the cardinal with 

 his splendid scarlet crest, thinking of the joy it would 

 be to possess such a bird. But though I could not 

 keep away from the spot, I was always ill at ease when 

 there, always glancing apprehensively at the closed 

 door at the end — for it was a glass door, and in his 

 study behind it the clergyman, a grave studious man, 

 was sitting over his books. It made me tremble to 



