A DROLL PERFORMANCE. 29 



he was the most friendly of our feathered neigh- 

 bors. 



He might be seen at any time, hopping about 

 on the ground, one moment picking up a morsel 

 of food, and the next throwing up his head and 

 bursting into song : 



" But not for you his little singing 1 , 

 Soul of fire its flame is flinging, 

 Sings he for himself alone," 



as was evident from the unconscious manner in 

 which he uttered his notes between two mouth- 

 fuls, never mounting a twig or making a " per- 

 formance " of his music. I have watched one 

 an hour at a time, going about in his jerky 

 fashion, tearing up the ground and searching 

 therein, exactly after the manner of a scratch- 

 ing hen. This, by the way, was a droll opera- 

 tion, done with both feet together, a jump for- 

 ward and a jerk back of the whole body, so 

 rapidly one could hardly follow the motion, but 

 throwing up a shower of dirt every time. He 

 had neither the grace nor the dignity of our 

 domestic biddy. 



Matter of fact as this fussy little personage 

 was on the ground, taking in his breakfast and 

 giving out his song, he was a different bird 

 when he got above it. Alighting on the wren's 

 brush heap, for instance, he would bristle up, 

 raising the feathers on head and neck, his red 



