THE GOLDFINCH. 
bough, so slender indeed, that every puff of wind sways it to 
and fro. It is the custom of naturalists to assert — without 
adducing any proof — that the goldfinch chooses such a situation 
because he delights in the rocking motion ! Why don’t they 
tell us it is because the mother birds are alive to the advantage 
of having then fractious little goldfinches rocked to sleep as is a 
baby in its cradle ! It is my opinion that the bird instinctively 
chooses the end of a high bough, because it is more secure from 
pillage than other parts of the tree, and any little inconvenience 
that therefrom arises, is endured as a lesser evil. The better 
way therefore to reach the nest will be by means of the gar- 
dener’s ladder. Don’t be too hard on the poor mother. The 
hen fledglings are not the least use to you, and no doubt 
she sets as much store by her little daughters as by her sons. 
You may know the latter by the delicate white ring that encircles 
the stump of the beak. 
Stories op Famous Goldfinches. — Many wonderful stories 
are preserved concerning the docility and affection displayed 
by birds of this species. The reader must not suppose that I 
here note down the most marvellous that ever came under my 
notice, and I will give him the reason — I could be by no means 
sure of their truthfulness. The following, however, may be 
relied on. 
A lady friend of mine, residing at Enfield, possessed an ordi- 
nary black -headed goldfinch, of which she grew very fond, and 
allowed no one but herself to tend and feed it. Besides this 
finch, the lady had a little Skye terrier. It happened that she 
was obliged to come to London for a few months, bringing the 
dog with her, and leaving the disconsolate goldfinch behind. 
Now, for four years, the bird had been remarkable for his vocal 
powers — he sang, indeed, almost incessantly ; but from the day 
on which his mistress left her home, he was dumb, with the 
exception of occasionally uttering a small whining chirrup, 
resembling the bird’s call-note to his mate. 
Two months after the lady had left home, I paid a visit to 
her house at Enfield, taking with me the terrier, and no sooner 
was his bark heard within the house, than the dumb goldfinch 
suddenly recovered his vivacity — fluttering his wings half 
frantic with delight, and flooding the chamber with his pent-up 
music. The door of the room in which he was, was half glazed, 
so that I had a good opportunity of observing this, but no 
sooner did I and the little dog enter, than a sudden change 
instantly took place. The disappointment of the poor little 
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