196 
WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIKDS. 
but, unfortunately, whatever of Greek taste there may be 
among us is so emulously expended in erecting Doric Pig- 
stys and Corinthian Coal sheds, not to speak of building tem- 
ples for Banking Houses and domes to light our stables ! 
that we have no time or wit to spare for more graceful fan- 
cies, so the apotheosis of this syren of the solitude must be 
even left to the hearts of rough way-farers, whom it has 
cheered when stumbling by the way ! 
But I commenced to tell you of my Pet Wood Thrushes ! 
I have one now before me on my table. The wild and gentle 
little fellow ! — he watches my pen with such a knowing air. 
I wonder if he doesn't understand all about it ? His curios- 
ity becomes, now and then, rather troublesome, for, he occa- 
sionally gets upon a regular " lark," when we let him out 
of the cage, and then such a hubbub as we have upon my 
sanctum table 1 He seems to be of a decidedly literary turn, 
and attacks my papers the first thing. Here they go scatter- 
ed over the room, sheet after sheet sent flying from the table ! 
He seizes one at a time from the chaotic heap, and, running 
backward with vigorous jerks to the edge of the table, tosses 
it off, and then, with body stooping over the edge and head 
turned sagely awry, he watches it sail down to the floor, and 
returns gleefully to the attack again. Tired of this some- 
what laborious sport, the running of my pen on the paper 
attracts his attention, and standing erect with most sagacious 
port, he eyes the proceeding for a moment and then com- 
mences racing to and fro after the pen, pecking at the words 
as they are left, to the great and frequent detriment of my 
orthography, which is often sadly blurred and bedraggled by 
his reckless toes. 
How much the saucy pest has learned by his audacious in- 
quisition, I can only judge by the fact that he soon tires of 
his pursuit of knowledge, and now has attacked my inkstand 
— ^the temptation of those long white-feathered quills is not 
to be withstood — they too would look well sailing down to 
the floor after those sheets of paper— hey-day ! spatter, spat- 
