136 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 



ing parrots, who seem quite suited to their sur- 

 roundings — but draws upon my sympathies. 

 I would gladly buy the whole stock and open 

 every door. But when one apparently singles 

 me out, fearlessly comes as near as possible, 

 and, looking me straight in the face, gives a 

 plaintive cry, I am unable to resist. I bought 

 the skylark, though I did not want him. 



I spared no pains to make the stranger happy. 

 I procured a beautiful sod of uncut fresh grass, 

 of which he at once took possession, crouching 

 or sitting low among the stems, and looking 

 most bewitching. He seemed contented, and 

 uttered no more that appealing cry, but he did 

 not show much intelligence. His cage had a 

 broad base behind which he delighted to hide, 

 and for hours as I sat in the room I could see 

 nothing of him, although I would hear him stir- 

 ring about. If I rose from my seat he was in- 

 stantly on the alert, and stretched his head up 

 to look over at me. I tried to get a better 

 view of him by hanging a small mirror at an 

 angle over his cage, but he was so much fright- 

 ened by it that 1 removed it. 



When the lark's door was opened, with the 

 cage on the floor, he went out readily, but he 

 always ran rapidly around the edge of the room 

 in a crouching position, as if he expected every 

 moment to be pounced upon. He was not 



