THE FINCH 9 



end ; the male remains patiently near his mate, feeding 

 their young with insects and caterpillars ; my author 

 added that adult finches feed on seeds, such as poppies, 

 mast and grain. 



Thus well informed, 1 returned to the cage. The pii- 

 soner did not at all seem inclined to get used to it. 

 Clutching at the bars, fluttering incessantly, he had upset 

 the trough and disdained the hemp-seed which filled the 

 manger. I thought perhaps the bird did not like its fare, 

 my book having spoken of poppies and mast. 1 ran into 

 the fields to search for this food ; when I came back 

 the feverish agitation of the prisoner had redoubled. 

 It continued throwing itself against the bars in a state 

 of great rage, bruising its pretty bluish head, breaking 

 the feathers of its tail, while the bristled down of its chest 

 was flying about the air. From time to time, being out 

 of breath it would huddle itself up in a corner, opening- 

 wide its deep black eyes and its despairing glance 

 seemed to cry out to me : « Set me free ! oh set me free ! » 

 I turned a deaf ear to its mute appeal and left it, beguiling 

 myself with the hope that the night would calm it. At 

 day-break I ran again to my cage... there lay the finch, 

 already stiffened, on the bottom board of the cage, 

 with closed eyelids, bristled dull plumage, dead amidst 

 the scattered seeds it had left untouched. The wild 

 biid of the mountain, hating its prison, had starved itself 

 to death. 



