OUR HOME BIRDS. 
159 
‘pounce down on a lawn moistened with dew and 
rain. At first he stands motionless, apparently think- 
ing of nothing at all, his eye vacant or with an un- 
meaning gaze. Suddenly he cocks his ear on one 
side, makes a glancing sort of dart with his head and 
neck, gives perhaps one or two hops, and then stops, 
again listening attentively and his eye glistening with 
attention and animation; his beak almost touches the 
ground; he draws back his head as if to make a 
determined peck. Again he pauses ; listens again ; 
hops perhaps once or twice, scarcely moving his 
position, and pecks smartly on the sod ; then is once 
more motionless as a stuffed bird. But he knows well 
what he is about ; for, after another moment’s pause, 
having ascertained that all is right, he pecks away 
with might and main, and soon draws out a fine 
worm, which his fine sense of hearing had informed 
him was not far off, and which his hops and previous 
peckings had attracted to the surface to escape the 
approach of what the poor w T orm thought might be 
his underground enemy, the mole.’ 
“ This bird sings well in a cage, and will sometimes 
utter words distinctly, one having been know n to say, 
‘ My dear ! my pretty dear ! my pretty little dear !’ 
as plainly as possible.” 
“ Oh, do let us have one, Miss Harson !” cried Clara 
and Edith in great delight. 
