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A Street Troubadour 



certainly had their esthetic preferences. A few 

 Guinea-fowl feathers that originally came from 

 Central Park Menagerie had been stolen from 

 one nest to another, till now they rested in the 

 sumptuous home with which Cravat and his 

 wife had embellished one of the marble capitals 

 of the new bank. The Bully did much as he 

 pleased in the Park, and one day, on hearing 

 Randy's song, flew at him. Randy had been 

 a terror among Canaries, but against Cravat he 

 had but little chance. He did his best, but 

 was defeated, and took refuge in flight. Puffed 

 up by this victory, the Bully flew to Randy's 

 new nest, and after a more or less scornful 

 scrutiny proceeded to drag out some strings 

 that he thought he might use at home. Randy 

 had been worsted, but the sight of this pillage 

 roused the doughty Troubadour again, and he 

 flew at the Bully as before. From the branches 

 they tumbled to the ground. Other Sparrows 

 joined in, and, shame to tell! they joined with 

 the big fellow against the comparative stranger. 

 Randy was getting very roughly handled, fea- 

 thers began to float away, when into the ring 

 flashed a little Hen Sparrow with white wing- 



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