STORIES OF FAMOUS GOLDFINCHES. 
creature at seeing a stranger in company with the dog instead 
of his mistress, was unmistakable ; the song instantly ceased, 
he craned his neck, and “ lushed ” spitefully, and then retired 
sullenly to the extreme comer of his cage, nor did he again tune his 
pipes till six weeks after, when his mistress came home. Then 
you should have heard him ! It would have been worth any 
money to have understood bird-language but for ten minutes. 
One moment he would mount on his highest perch with his wings 
expanded and drooping (you might fancy them “ akimbo ”) and 
jerk out his notes in the most violent way, as though upbraiding 
her for her long neglect ; then he would come forward, press 
his beautiful body against the bars of his prison, and sing low 
and coaxing, as if to say, “ Forgive my abuse, you are my dear 
good mistress ; let us be as good friends as ever.” 
I myself until lately possessed a goldfinch which I would 
not have parted with for an entire aviary of the choicest 
songsters. He was thirteen years old when he came into my 
keeping, and his eyes were beginning to fail him. They grew 
weaker and weaker, till at last the glare of the sunlight 
was more than he could bear, and I made him curtains 
of green gauze for which he was very grateful, and never failed 
to reward me with a bit of extra good music when they were 
pulled round his cage on sultry afternoons. When he was seven- 
teen years old he went quite blind, but that did not at all 
interfere with the friendship that existed between us. He knew 
my footstep as I entered the room, he knew my voice,— I do 
believe he knew my cough and sneeze from any one else’s in the 
house. He was extremely fond of cabbage-seed, and the door 
of his cage having been previously opened, I had only to enter 
the room and call out “ cabbage-seed, cabbage seed,” to make 
him fly out of his cage and come to me. Sometimes I would 
hide behind the window-curtains, or beneath a table, and it 
was curious to see him put his little blind head on one side 
for a moment, to listen in what direction my voice proceeded, 
and then to dart unerringly to my head or shoulder. What is 
most remarkable, my brother (whose voice is singularly like 
mine) has often tried to deceive the blind goldfinch by personating 
me ; but I do believe he might have called “ cabbage-seed, 
cabbage-seed,” till it sprouted in his hand, and the blind finch 
would not stir an inch. One morning when the blind bird 
was upwards of eighteen years old, I entered the room ; alas ! 
he was deaf to the enticement of cabbage-seed — he was dead 
at the bottom of his cage. 
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