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ness and docility were beyond all praise. And while 

 their song was practically that so familiar to us all, it 

 was yet quite different. The sweetness of its tone was 

 ineffable, some of the notes being perfectly ravishing 

 and utterly unlike anything in the song as handed 

 down among any of the evolutionary products of arti- 

 ficial selection. 



And now to my chapter of misfortune and dis- 

 appointment. The borrowed bird had been largely — 

 indeed, speaking only from memory, I think nearly 

 entirely fed upon hemp seed, with the idea of keeping 

 him in song. As a consequence of this he was 

 evidently in possession of a liver in a state of pro- 

 nounced chronic congestion, even if it was not already 

 a victim to structural degeneration, for though he 

 sang sweetly enough, he was not so sprightly nor did 

 he sing so continuously as my own bird, and when 

 still he generally sat with puffed out feathers. On 

 putting him eventually into an outside aviary with 

 two hens I never saw him make any advances to them 

 whatever, and although the latter built nests and laid 

 between them one or two clutches of eggs, all these 

 proved infertile. He apparently became neither better 

 nor worse in health during the next few weeks, and 

 was at last returned to his owner. 



My own bird, located in an adjoining aviary, un- 

 fortunately had for companions two rogue hens. Both 

 of them went to nest about the same time, and both 

 hatched four eggs in the first round. Imagine my 

 delight at seeing eight tiny morsels as dark as Erebus, 

 all with uncertain efforts holding up a tiny mouth to 

 be filled ; and then try to imagine the depths of my 

 impotent rage when through hunger these efforts 

 became more and more uncertain and finally ceased 

 altogether. No foster parents had I handy at the time 

 to whom I could depute the neglected task of these 

 unnatural beasts of mothers, and I had to see the 



