REDBREAST. 19 
returned to the tree at the approach of winter, and was again 
received into the office, where it took up its old station till 
March. Some of the workmen would not believe that it was 
the same bird, and one of them, having caught it, marked 
the breast feathers, under the throat, with printing-ink. The 
next spring came, and the bird took its departure, as before, 
returning again at the end of September, to the old mulberry 
tree, with several other birds of its kind. The window was 
quickly opened to the welcome old songster, when it flew 
into the office, followed by two other birds, probably its young. 
It displayed greater familiarity than before, even perching on 
the caps of the men, and there singing.” 
In “The Naturalist” for March, 1853, there is a very 
interesting account given, as forwarded to me by Mrs. Harriet 
Murchison, of Bicester, of one of these birds, whose tameness 
in a room equalled that of any of those I have here narrated; 
and Mr. Thompson also records another history, forwarded to 
him by a lady from Hazelbank, in the county of Antrim. Two 
birds became quite tame, one of them feeding out of the hand 
quite fearlessly:—‘In a short time he became more familiar, 
and seemed to watch our approaches, for he frequently met 
us on the little walk leading from the house, and when we 
did not attend to him, he would come dashing past, striking 
my bonnet violently with his wing, or fluttering in my face; 
he would sometimes sit upon a twig, as if to hold a conversation 
with me, for he would be quite silent while I talked with him, 
and so soon as I paused, he began a little soft and sweet 
muttering in his throat, as if in reply, which he would cease 
the moment I again spoke. When we found him absent, 
and called, Terry! Terry! he was soon at our side; and 
his hearing must be very acute, for I have seen him flying 
towards us from a very great distance. To give an idea of 
his extreme composure and satisfaction while sitting on the 
hand, he has more than once, after feeding, tucked up 
one of his little feet under his feathers, as we often see 
barn-door fowls do, and roosting on a finger, deliberately 
prepare himself for sleep; which on one occasion he indulged 
in so long as to completely weary his perch. He would eat 
off my lap, hop about me without any concern, pick at my 
shawl, and then look up into my face and begin his little 
song or prattle.’ The occupation of land and notions about 
tenant-right would seem to have been the cause of various 
disputes; and on such occasions, the writer says, ‘It would 
