THE SOLITAIRE. 



I hastened to end his trouble by covering the 

 glass. He flew several times around the room, 

 then alighted, reduced the inmates to meek 

 silence by his mysterious calls, then flew to his 

 own cage, retired to the upper perch, and re- 

 mained quiet and motionless for an hour or 

 more; apparently meditating upon the strange 

 occurrence, and wondering how the elusive 

 stranger had disappeared. During his trouble 

 before the glass, all the birds in the room were 

 excited ; they always were close observers of 

 everything he did, and never seemed to regard 

 him as one of themselves. 



In the spring, when the room was emptied of 

 all its tenants excepting two or three who could 

 not be set free, the clarin was a very happy bird. 

 He flew freely and joyously about, delighting 

 especially in sweeping just over my head as if 

 he intended to alight, and he sang hours at a 

 time. The only disturbance he had then — the 

 crumpled roseleaf in his lot — was the presence 

 of a saucy blue jay, a new-comer whom he could 

 neither impress by his manner nor silence by 

 his potent calls. So far from that, the jay 

 plainly determined to outshriek him ; and when 

 no one was present to impose restraint on the 

 naughty blue-coat (who, as a stranger, was for 

 a time quite modest), he overpowered every 

 effort of his beautiful vis-a-vis by whistles and 



