278 THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
From the moment since first I this vital air drew^ 
One friend has preserved and supported me too ; 
Yet how often have I, vv^hilst I sumptuously fared, 
Forgotten the hand that my banquet prepared. 
Cottle. 
Being retired to my little concert room, to select 
a subject to close the illustrations of this v^ork, 
and, having chosen a blackbird, was on the point of 
committing his likeness to paper, when casting my 
eyes to the window, I perceived a dear little Robin 
perched on a flower-pot outside. Opening the sash 
very cautiously, to throw him out some crumbs, he 
was alarmed, and flew off ; but presently I observed 
him perched on a branch of an old apple-tree, in the 
garden. It instantly occurred to me, that he would 
make a much prettier picture than the former sombre- 
coated gentleman, who was consequently restored to 
his companions, and, with pencil in hand, and paper 
on desk, I commenced my sketch of sweet robin on 
the apple-tree, which change I hope will be equally 
agreeable to my readers ; for although he is a sad 
pilferer of our fruits, devouring our currants and 
gooseberries without mercy, still the pleasure we 
