'70 THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
however, I called in vain to my pet — no answer was 
returned ; search throughout the garden was made, 
but no bird was to be found ; I therefore supposed 
that either a hawk or cat had destroyed him, and felt 
his loss, and missed his cheerful song, as I sat at 
work, attended to my plants, or amused myself with 
my drawing ; and began almost to wish I had left 
him to Farmer Stubbs's cat ; when one day the ser- 
vant entered, delighted, to tell me he had discovered 
my lost favourite. Having gone by accident to a 
shop in the village, he heard the well-known call of 
my poor bird, but in a dismal tone ; and, looking 
through the pane of glass in the door between the 
shop and parlour, there he saw him, a prisoner in a 
cage. He instantly claimed the bird, told the peo- 
ple how it had escaped, but they refused to give him 
up, alleging they had had it for a long time. Upon 
hearing this, I instantly repaired to the place, as the 
man was confident he was correct in his statement ; 
but they persisted it was their own bird. I gave the 
accustomed call, which was answered repeatedly, 
and louder than ever he had done before, and I could 
hear him flapping his wings against the cage, endea- 
vouring to get out. I asked;, as a satisfaction^, to be 
