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would fly merrily away, with doubtless "the gratifying- 

 feeling that their duty had been done." 



The first youngster left the, nest on Aug. 3rd, and 

 the second on the following day. They were funny 

 little things, about half the size of their progenitors, 

 with light brownish plumage, white waistcoats, darkish 

 legs, lead-coloured beaks, black eyes, and queer little 

 bob tails. Both parents were most attentive to their 

 every want, and woe betide the bird that incautiously 

 ventured too near them, they soon departed with a flea 

 in their ear. The two little things would sit as 

 motionless as statues for hours on end, except when 

 being fed, when they kept up a continuous plaintive 

 cry. The old birds always got above them to feed. 



The White-throated Finch has very little voice. 

 The hen has a solitary chirp something like a Sparrow. 

 The song of the cock reminds me of a remark of 

 Kingslake's, when listening for some time to the 

 zither, "I like that music, it is almost as good as none 

 at all." 



With regard to food these little birds are very easy 

 to please: they prefer white millet, then canary seed, 

 and, if you can get it, flowering grass comes first of all 

 Cuttle-fish bone they much appreciate. 



I have had the nest photographed as it is such a 

 beautiful structure — so strong and yet apparently so 

 fragile. 



The eggs are rather large for the size of the bird, 

 and very much resemble those of our garden Sparrow. 

 I took one out of the second nest, after I was sure of 

 the first youngsters, otherwise nothing would have 

 induced me to look., 



The little hen is sitting steadily as I write, and 

 will no doubt bring off another brood with luck. 

 Blessings never come alone! 



