'QUANTO E ALLEGRO!' 53 



the last agony began, a bird alighted twittering on 

 his window-sill. Garibaldi saw it, and murmured, 

 ' Quanta e allegro ! ' (' How joyful it is ! ') Half 

 child, half hero, he had been all the days of his 

 wonderful life ; it must have been the child in him 

 that the bird came to greet ; and this must have 

 been the last glad thing that his eyes looked upon. 

 But the dying man's sufferings were great, and his 

 words must have sounded half reproachful, and the 

 song must have jarred painfully on the feelings of 

 those who were watching the deathbed. 



I hope few birds are so heartless, so cruel, as 

 my old cock chaffinch has proved himself to be in 

 these last few days my old chaffinch that has fed 

 winter after winter at the window, that flies to it 

 when I open it, and waits till I throw him a bit of 

 bacon, which he cleverly catches flying, snapping 

 it up like a dog. As I said in my last note, he 

 brought his son to learn to feed here (having 

 reared his young in the juniper opposite), and was 

 apparently fond and proud of him. But the son 

 learnt fast, and grew fast, and soon became so 

 bold and greedy that he pecked at every other 

 bird that came to the window, even the nuthatch. 

 That, I suppose, is the reason why the bold bird 

 came a few days ago in a sadly different and 

 piteous condition, painfully limping on one weak 

 leg, tumbling over w r hen a gust of rough w r ind 



