IMITATING THE JAY. 217 



clarin nearly lived upon them. But after some 

 study the latter clearly made up his mind to try 

 the places his larger room-mate liked so well. 

 He had already learned to go upon the desk and 

 ask for currants, which in the absence of fresh 

 berries I kept soaking in a little covered dish. 

 If, after asking as plainly as eloquent looks and 

 significant movements of wings could, I did not 

 take the hint and give him some, he flew over 

 my head, just touching it as he passed. But 

 now, having resolved to imitate the jay, he went 

 to the floor, and tried all of his chosen retreats : 

 the lower rounds of the chair, my rockers, my 

 knee, and the back of a chair sacred to the jay. 

 During these excursions into unknown regions 

 he discovered that warm air came out of the 

 register, and apparently thinking he had discov- 

 ered summer, he perched on the water-cup that 

 hung before it, spread his feathers, and seemed 

 as happy as if he had really found that genial 

 season. 



Who can describe the song of a bird ? Poets 

 and prose writers alike have lavished epithets 

 on nightingale and mockingbird, wood thrush 

 and veery, yet who, till he heard one, could 

 imagine what its song was like ? Yet I must 

 speak of it. 



Singing was always a serious matter with my 

 bird ; that is, he never sang while eating or 



