the slums, my father was so fascinated by
the intelligence of a busy goldfinch drawing water for himself in his
cage--he had other accomplishments as well--that he went in and bought
it. But not a thing would the little bird do, not a trick would he
perform when he got to his new home in Doughty Street, and would only
draw up water in the dark or when he thought no one was looking. "After
an interval of futile and at length hopeless expectation," my father
writes, "the merchant who had educated him was appealed to. The merchant
was a bow-legged character, with a flat and cushiony nose, like the last
new strawberry. He wore a fur cap and shorts, and was of the velveteen
race velveteeny. He sent word that he would 'look round.' He looked
round, appeared in the doorway of the room, and slightly cocked up his
evil eye at the goldfinch. Instantly a raging thirst beset the bird, and
when it was appeased he still drew several unnecessary buckets of water,
leaping about the perch and sharpening his bill with irrepressible
satisfaction."

While at Broadstairs one summer, our bathing woman, who reared birds,
gave a canary to my sister and myself. "Dick," who was only a few weeks
old when he came to us, grew to be a very king of birds, and became in
time a most important member of the household. There was a fierce war
waged against cats during his lifetime, and writing from Boulogne my
father very funnily describes our troubles with the feline race: "War is
raging against two particularly tigerish and fearful cats (from the mill,
I suppose), which are always glaring in dark corners after our wonderful
little 'Dick.' Keeping the house open at all points it is impossible to
shut them out, and they hide themselves in the most terrific manner,
hanging themselves up behind draperies like bats, and tumbling out in the
dead of night with frightful caterwaulings. Hereupon French, the
footman, borrows a gun, loads it to the muzzle, discharges it twice in
vain, and throws himself over with the recoil exactly like a clown. But
at last, while I was in town, he aims at the more amiable cat of the two
and shoots that animal dead. Insufferably elated by this victory he is
now engaged from morning to night in hiding behind bushes to get aim at
the other. He does nothing else whatever. All the boys encourage him
and watch for the enemy, on whose appearance they give an alarm, which
immediately serves as a warning to the creature, wh