OUR HOME BIRDS. 
85 
decorated holly-bough and carried from house to 
house by the captors, who sing at the same time a 
song of which this is the burden: 
‘ The wran, the wran, the king of all birds, 
St. Stephen’s Day was caught in the furze : 
Although he is little, his family is great ; 
So come out, kind ladies, and give us a trate/ 
To such lengths of cruelty will ignorance and super- 
stition go ! 
“ ‘ This little bird has a strong antipathy to cats ; 
for, having frequent occasion to glean among the 
currant-bushes and other shrubbery in the garden, 
those lurking enemies of the feathered race often 
prove fatal to him. A box fitted up in the window 
of the room where I slept was taken possession of by 
a pair of wrens. Already the nest was built and 
two eggs laid, when one day, the window being open 
as well as the room-door, the female wren, venturing 
too far into the room to reconnoitre, was sprung upon 
by Grimalkin, who had planted herself there for the 
purpose, and before relief could be given was de- 
stroyed. Curious to see how the survivor would de- 
mean himself, I watched him for several days. At 
first he sang with great vivacity for an hour or so, 
but, becoming uneasy, went off for half an hour ; on 
his return he chanted again as before, went to the top 
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