THE CAGE BIRD AND THE BIRD-FANCIER. 
459 
he never dreams of going near his charge, and takes care 
to cover the cage over with a dark cloth. The bird, in 
its now darkened prison, has time and opportunity to 
devote to the consideration of its position. 
Loss of freedom is hard, very hard; but it is clear that 
it is useless to struggle with any idea of regaining it. 
The stomach impetuously asserts its rights; true, it is a 
very poetical idea to seek a release from all earthly woe 
by a death brought about by self-denial, terminating in 
starvation. The putting into execution, however, of such 
an enterprise is a very different matter,—one, indeed, 
far from easy, and demanding such unmitigated disgust 
of life as is rarely to be met with, where the heart is young 
and the pulse beats strong ; the difficulty is, moreover, 
greatly increased when plenty of food is placed under 
one’s nose, which, by the way, may be very savory;—in 
fact, which might just be tasted if only to see what it is 
like : the horrid human being is absent, and the room is 
quiet, and the bird gently raises its sad little head, 
smooths its feathers, takes one tiny mouthful,—a second, 
a third,—when, lo, it feeds ! The master stands watching- 
hidden somewhere handy, and rejoices like a child over 
the first favourable sign. The rascally little Tomtit, who 
has been about a fortnight in the room, and who sits 
sharpening its beak on the edge of the stove, laughs 
jeeringly at the prisoner, who has taken such a long time 
to come to a decision as to whether it should live or die! 
It is true the Titmouse only knocked its head against the 
window twice, and, needing no further admonition, took 
good care not to approach the perfidious crystal wall too 
close again. On the first day it made itself at home in the 
room, as if it had been resident there for a month, and 
each crack, cranny, and crevice, were duly noted: it ate 
