REDBREAST. 21 



up one morning on deck, weak and wounded; it had been 

 driven against a mast of the ship in the night, which was 

 rough and squally. The bird was attended to, and recovered, 

 and continued with the vessel until she reached Bengal, where 

 it was taken to land and liberated. It used to fly about 

 the rigging, and come down on the deck to be fed. Mr. 

 Burroughes added, that it was highly curious to see the Robin 

 preparing to shelter itself about the different parts of the 

 rigging, etc., upon the approach of any coarse weather.' 



At a gentleman's house in Darley Dale, in Derbyshire, as 

 mentioned in the 'Derby Reporter,' a Eobin domiciled for three 

 successive winters, having had ingress and egress during the 

 day, with the privilege of free access to a well-stocked larder, 

 partaking at will of what it contained. Its roosting-place 

 was usually on a Christmas bough in the kitchen, which 

 was retained for its dormitory. It used to enter for the 

 night at dusk of evening, having during the day occasionally 

 sung for hours together to the domestics, as if to reward 

 them for cherishing it thus bountifully. Each year it built 

 its nest in the trunk of a tree near the house, and fed its 

 young from the larder. Being so familiar with the household, 

 it would fly undauntedly from room to room, and occasionally 

 alight on the family breakfast-table, sometimes perching and 

 chirping, as if to ingratiate itself with its hospitable enter- 

 tainers. 



Mr. Macgillivray says, 'In the summer of 1835, a male 

 Robin in my garden became so tame that he picked from 

 the hand of the gardener; and in the middle of the day, 

 when the latter took his dinner, he constantly attended for 

 the purpose of obtaining a portion of it. Upon the knee of 

 my wife I have frequently seen him alight, and take bread 

 out of her hand as familiarly as if he had been tamed from 

 the nest. To me he likewise became very much attached: 

 he continued so during the autumn. One cold morning in 

 the beginning of winter, as I was standing at the door of 

 my house, having heard my voice, he immediately flew to me, 

 and, seeming to claim my protection, followed me into the 

 parlour, where he was quite at ease. I caught him and put 

 him into my garret, in which, during the winter, he sang 

 most delightfully. Being sorry to see him alone, I got for 

 him a helpmate to cheer him in his confinement. About the 

 middle of April I set them at liberty, and, to my surprise, 

 a few days after I discovered a very neat nest which they 



