MY NEIGHBOUR’S BIRD STORIES 75 
little he knew of their ways and wants, he related 
the history of a thrush he once kept in a cage 
hanging at the back of his house, where there was 
a garden, and where he amused himself by 
cultivating flowers and vegetables. The bird had 
been taken from the nest and reared by hand; 
consequently it had never learnt to sing a true 
thrush song, but had invented a song of its own, 
composed of imitations—cackling fowls, whistling 
boys, and various other village noises, including 
those from the smithy. The village postman, who 
lived close by, had a peculiar shrill double whistle 
which he always emitted when nearing his house, 
to bring his wife to the door. This sound, too, the 
thrush mimicked so cleverly that poor Mrs. Post- 
man was always running to the door for nothing, 
and at length had to beg her husband to invent 
some other sound to announce his approach. 
Seeing that the bird was always cheerful and 
noisy, it was a puzzle to Mr. Redburn that it never 
looked well. It was supplied with clean water and 
good food—bread and milk and crushed rape-seed 
—every day; but it never seemed to enjoy its 
food, and its plumage had a dry, loose, disarranged 
appearance, and was without a gloss. It was a 
perfect contrast in this respect to a wild thrush 
that used to visit the garden. 
One day, when the bird had been in his possession 
for a little over a year, he happened to be sitting in 
his garden smoking, when this wild thrush came on 
the scene and began running about the lawn looking, 
