A GENTLE SPIRIT. 39 



note of his wild song in the cage (perhaps be- 

 cause it is winter) but he sometimes adds his 

 voice to the chorus in the room, in a low 

 whispered twittering, very sweet, but very 

 unsatisfactory. The most unexpected sound 

 he makes is a sort of low squeal — I can call 

 it nothing else — over something he very much 

 likes, as a bit of apple or meat. He clatters 

 his bill, as other thrushes, when startled or 

 annoyed. He was very intelligent in learning 

 his name, and is the only bird in the room now 

 who will come when called. 



There is a curious circumstance about the 

 spots on his breast. They seem scattered with- 

 out any attempt at regularity all over the lower 

 parts as far back as his legs, a little less thickly 

 perhaps in the middle, but at night, when he 

 is puffed out into a ball, the spots form three 

 regular, unbroken lines on each side, meeting 

 under the chin, and sweeping away to right and 

 left in graceful curves. Looking at him from 

 the front, he bears no little resemblance to the 

 prow of a broad ship, with three well defined 

 brown lines down each side, and perfectly white 

 in every other part. 



Among the many unknown habits of the 

 thrush is one in which I feel a peculiar interest. 

 It is this : what mysteries do wild thrushes per- 

 form at early morning, with the first streaks of 



