202 ON THE DETRITAL TIN-ORE OF CORNWALL. 
and exceedingly poor deposit of detrital tin-ore, and this rests on 
the (Shelf) slate of the country. The earthy matter examined 
and rejected by ¢in-dressers of an earlier period have been discovered 
NN 
occasional visits to the kitchen, where he helped himself to whatever he 
fancied. He bathed many times every day in a little pool which he had dug, for 
his own use, in the gravelly bed of a rill which wound through the grounds. 
Now and then he associated with other birds which frequented the place, but, 
—being somewhat pugnacious—I believe, he more commonly drove them 
away. 
On my return to breakfast or dinner I called or whistled to him, and—if 
at hand—he immediately hopped on my stick when held out to him, or 
perched on my shoulder or my head ; if further distant, however, he instantly 
replied, and I had scarcely seated myself before he would dart through an 
open window or between the branches of the flowering shrubs which shaded 
the veranda, and—almost brushing my face with his wings—alight on the 
table before me. He fed off the edge of my plate, on small bits of meat with 
crumbs of bread and of potatoes, but never hesitated to take anything else 
he desired. After he had finished his meal he placed himself (most incon- 
veniently) between me and my plate, and was instantly asleep. His nap 
however was but ashort one; and, on awaking, he either flitted about the 
room, occasionally catching flies, or walked about the table, sometimes 
throwing knives and forks on the floor, but, in preference, pulling the spoon 
out of the mustard, and—as if conscious of having done wrong—screeching 
as he fluttered out of reach. On my leaving the breakfast-table he usually 
played about me for a few minutes and then flew off to his bath in the garden. 
When ale was taken at dinner he watched the bubbles as they rose, and 
quickly peeped over the rim of the glass to see them as, in succession, they 
burst at the surface. But before the cloth was removed, and whilst the sun 
was still shining, he became drowsy and chattered for his basket, hopped into 
it as soon as it was brought, and was asleep in a moment. 
* * & * * * 
He was always the first to welcome me home from journeys which some- 
times involved an absence of a day or two;. and if—as was not uncommonly 
the case—urgent business compelled my instant attention, a tug at my hair 
or a pinch of the ear reminded me that I had not acknowledged his greeting. 
On one occasion, however, I did not return for nearly a week; and, to my 
surprize he was not present to receive me on my arrival. It appeared that 
for three or four days after my departure he had continued to take his meals, 
and to sleep in my bed-room, as usual; he then discontinued his visits to the 
house, yet had been seen two or three times in the garden; but afterwards 
all trace of him had been lost. Grieved—not unnaturally- at the dis- 
appearance of so interesting a favourite, I visited every walk we had usually 
taken together through the grounds, but without receiving a reply to the call 
which heretofore had brought him instantly tomy side. At length I caught a 
faint note, which was repeated when I called again; this led me to an un- 
frequented part of the garden; when my poor little shrunken bird—his 
glossy plumage rumpled and soiled, his bright eye half-closed and dim— 
crept feebly from beneath a fallen banana-leaf; and, with every demon- 
stration of pleasure, took his accustomed place on my walking-stick. On 
