2i6 BIRDS INTOWN AND VILLAGE 



fare, each one tasting half a dozen different 

 leaves every minute, hopping here and there and 

 changing places with his fellows, glancing their 

 bright little eyes this way and that, and all the 

 time uttering gratulatory notes in the canary's 

 conversational tone. And their language is not 

 altogether untranslatable. I listen to one, a pretty 

 pure yellow bird, but slightly tyrannical in his 

 treatment of the others, and he says, or seems to 

 say: "This is good, I like it, only the old leaf 

 is tough; the buds would be better. . . . These 

 are certainly not so good. / tasted them out of 

 compliment to nature, though they were scarcely 

 palatable. . . ." No, that was not my own ex- 

 pression; it was said by Thoreau, perhaps the 

 only human a little bird can quote with approval. 

 "This is decidedly bitter — and yet — yes, it does 

 leave a pleasant flavour on the palate. Make 

 room for me there — or I shall make you and let 

 me taste it again. Yes, I fancy I can remember 

 eating something like this in a former state of 

 existence, ages and ages ago." And so on, and 

 so on, until I began to imagine that the whole 

 thing had been put right, and that the uncom- 

 fortable feeling would return to trouble me no 



