AN ENCHANTING SINGER. 219 



a remarkable mimicry. He delivered this with 

 the exquisite feeling of the native bird, even the 

 delicious quivering tone at the end, which indeed 

 my bird often repeated in a low tone by itself. 

 Sometimes, when the room was very still and he 

 sitting on his perch, feathers puffed out, per- 

 fectly happy, he breathed out this most bewitch- 

 ing tremulous sound without opening his beak, 

 a performance enchanting beyond words to 

 express. 



These themes the clarin constantly varied, 

 and in the three years of his life with me I often 

 noted down, in a sort of phonetic way, his songs, 

 as he delivered them, and I have six or seven 

 that are perfectly distinct and different. He 

 never mixed them together or united them ; he 

 rarely sang two on the same day. All through, 

 too, there seemed so much reserve power that 

 one could not resist the conviction that he 

 could go on and on, and break one's heart with 

 his voice if he chose. The bird's own deep feel- 

 ing was shown by his conduct ; the least move- 

 ment in the room would shut him up instantly. 

 One could heartily say with another bird-lover 

 across the sea, " If he has not a soul, who will 

 answer to me for the human soul ? " 



It was reserved for the last weeks of his life 

 for my bird to give me the most genuine sur- 

 prise. One day I sat quietly at my desk. The 



