A BIRD STORY.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] hope, although the incident may be trivial, that the little fact may interest your readers as much as it did myself when I was listening some nights ago to the little lark of whom my story tells, piping away in what the poets call "dulcet strains" of the most melodious music.
My friend James Shanock, three years ago, caught a young lark, and it has been pouring out its song ever since then from its cage, and a very sweet note it is. Some little while ago, as the afternoon was sunny, the cage was hung outside- in the garden at the moment another lark was carolling in the air, and Shanock's bird rose from the cage, which was only covered with a fine net, and in which there must have been a rent, and disappeared in the direction of the other lark. My friend seeing this at once began to whistle, holding up the cage to attract his pet back again, and in a very short time down it came to his feet, and waited patiently while he gently replaced him in his cage. There were three witnesses. I believe, in this case.—I am, Sir, &c., Vicarage, Newburgh, March 6th. G. W. EEIRLE.
P.S.—The funniest thing, too, is that about the same time' James Shanock's cat brought him in a little bird quite delicately, and waited for him to take it from his mouth quite uninjured. He is a great bird-lover, and it looks as if the cat,, like everybody else, knew this fact.
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