6 
Nesting c/ the Blade -Itcaded SisJdn. 
in a temperatuvc of 70 degrees, clumps of boamboos grow, 
and the Garden Warbler is singing. We set our prisoner un- 
resisting on the perch of a large quarantine cage. At first 
he gazes Avanly and wearily round, l)ut, when his intelligence 
at length grasps the details of his surroundings, he seems 
almost paralysed 1)y the startling suddenness of the change 
of scene. Once more he sees the golden sunlight and grow- 
ing trees and birds flitting about and singing as they used 
to sing in the Argentine. Can these things be real or is 
it all a passing dream? And then a miracle I His throat 
swells and we hear a song— the notes are weak and trembling, 
but it is a real song, I think we can all guess what that 
song meant. It was a paean of praise to the great Spirit 
of Nature — the Spirit of the sunlight and the wind, of the,' 
laughing rivers and the rustling trees — who for many days had 
forgotten this creature of the light and air and left it to 
languish in dark places but at last had taken thought of it. 
Need I tell you that our prisoner lived and is the iiero of 
my story — the chief actor of our little drama? 
Act II. 
The second act begins brightly but fmds w'ith 
tears; after all, so do most of the dramas of real life. 
In due course we obtained a hen Siskin — an acclimatised bird 
this time— and turned them out in the large breeding aviary. 
It was June; the sky was blue, the trees were green. The 
Siskins flitted from one thistle -head to another and in the, 
sunlight they looked like gleams of gold. As they clung to 
the flowering heads of the sow-thistles the stems swayed 
and bent, and sometimes broke, but the Siskins didn't care; 
it was June and the world seemed a very good place. 
On the 24th June they were building a very neat little 
nest in the thickest part of a Macrocarpa, very deftly woven 
with moss and bents and lined with fine grass. On the 30th 
the hen was sitting on four rather large eggs, of a very 
pale blue colour. The male Siskm had hardly any time 
for singing now, he had to work hard, feeding his mate, who 
would never leave the nest, and driving ofl" other birds. 
On the 14th July two young Siskins hatched — tiny little 
things of a yellowish colour covered with sparse blackish 
down— and, as his mate still refused to leave the nest, the 
