in the lower sections of the traps had 

 been the victims of the trappers earlier 

 in the season, and the sight of their 

 familiar haunts, the sunlight, the 

 breeze, and the swaying willow 

 branches, where so often they had 

 perched and sung, t caused them to 

 nutter about and to utter pathetically 

 the call note of their days of freedom . 

 It is upon this yearning for liberty and 

 its manifestation that the bird trappers 

 depend to secure more victims. No 

 sooner does the piping call go forth 

 from the golden throats of the little 

 prisoners, than a reply comes from <the 

 thistle tops, far down the field. A 

 moment more and the traps are sur- 

 rounded with the black and yellow 

 beauties. The fact that one of their 

 own kind is within the curious little 

 house which confronts them seems to 

 send all their timidity to the winds 

 and they fairly fall over one another 

 in their endeavor to see what it all 

 means. Finally one finds the door- 

 way in the roof and drops upon the 

 perch within. Instantly the doors 

 close and a Goldfinch is a prisoner." 

 Lawrence Sterne alone, of senti- 

 mental writers, has put in adequate 

 language something of the feeling 

 that should stir the heart of the 

 sympathetic, at least, on seeing the 

 unjust confinement of innocent birds. 

 The Starling, which is the subject of 

 his elevated sentiment, will appear in 

 an early number of BIRDS. Sterne 

 had just been soliloquizing somewhat 

 favorably of the Bastile, when a voice, 

 which he took to be that of a child, 

 complained " it could not get out." 

 " I looked up and down the passage, 

 and seeing neither man, woman, nor 

 child, I went out without further 

 attention. In my return back through 

 the passage, I heard the same words 

 repeated twice over, and looking up, I 

 saw it was a Starling hung in a little 

 cag*e. 'I can't get out, I can't get 

 out,' said the Starling. I stood look- 



ing at the Bird, and to every person 

 who came through the passage, it ran 

 fluttering to the side, towards which 

 they approached it, with the same 

 lamentation of its captivity. ' I can't 

 get out,' said the Starling. ' God help 

 thee ! ' said I, ' but I'll let thee out, 

 cost what it will ;' so I turned about 

 the cage to get the door. It was 

 twisted and double-twisted so fast with 

 wire, there was no getting it open 

 without pulling the cage to pieces. I 

 took both hands to it. The bird flew 

 to the place where I was attempting 

 its deliverance, and thrusting his head 

 through the trellis, pressed his breast 

 against it as if impatient. ' I fear, 

 poor creature,' said I, ' I can't set thee 

 at liberty.' ' No,' said the Starling, 'I 

 can't get out,' ' I can't get out,' said 

 the Starling. I vow I never had my 

 affections more tenderly awakened ; or 

 do I remember an incident in my life 

 where the dissipated spirits, to which 

 my reason had been a bubble, were so 

 suddenly called home. Mechanical as 

 the notes were, yet so true in tune to 

 Nature were they chanted, that disguise 

 thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery,' 

 said I, 'still thou art a bitter draught; 

 and though thousands in all ages have 

 been made to drink of thee, thou art no 

 less bitter on that account. No, thou 

 thrice sweet and gracious goddess 

 liberty, whose taste is grateful, and ever 

 will be so, till nature herself shall 

 change ; no tint of woods can spot thy 

 snowy mantle.' ' 



The bird in his cage pursued Sterne 

 into his room, where he composed his 

 apostrophe to liberty. It would be 

 well indeed, if a sentiment could be 

 aroused which would prohibit 

 absolutely the caging of birds, as well 

 as their wanton destruction, and if the 

 children are taught that " tenderness 

 which is the charm of youth," another 

 generation will see it accomplished. 



C. C. MARBLE. 



