THE GOLDFINCH. 189 



walls in Piccadilly, which shut out the view of Bur- 

 lington house, built that its first inhabitant might be 

 quite out of town. Just before this range, many years 

 ago, a man used daily to take his stand for the sale of 

 birds. His object of attraction, which frequently had a 

 crowd round it, was a goldfinch, who, at a given signal, 

 feigned death : the eyes closed, the feathers were ruffled, 

 and when taken by the leg it looked perfectly inanimate. 

 Yet on a signal equally well known, it started up all 

 life and activity. 



The biographer of the late Rev. Henry Gauntlett 

 says: — " The principal amusement of his childhood (and 

 it was a predilection my father retained to the close of 

 life) was the natural history of birds. With their 

 haunts, instincts, and habits, he was well acquainted ; to 

 which was added an acute perception of the charac- 

 teristic melodies of their various tribes. His friends 

 have often heard him relate an incident, which, to some 

 readers, may appear almost incredible. Among his 

 captive birds was a favourite goldfinch, whose wild me- 

 lody he considered the most perfect he had ever heard : 

 being, however, in company with some canaries, it intro- 

 duced into its song a foreign note. Its owner then 

 gave it to a lady of his acquaintance, who had often 

 expressed a wish for it. Shortly afterwards, when 



