another died, I believe
for no other reason than their longing for freedom. Let me say here that
feeling thus, they would have received their liberty, much as I wished
to study them, only their plumage was not in condition to fly, and they
would go out to certain death. My hope was to make them contented
through the winter, while they put on a new suit of feathers, and open
the doors for them in summer.

The subject of this tale, and the last of the series, I procured of a
dealer who has learned to keep tanagers in good condition, and I never
had trouble with this bird's health or spirits. It was not until May
that he wished to leave me. When he joined the circle in the room he had
just thoroughly learned that a cage was a place he could not get out of,
and he had ceased to try. The first morning when his neighbors came out
of their cages he was as much astonished as if he had never seen birds
out of a bird store. He stretched up and looked at them with the
greatest interest. When one or two began to splash in the large shallow
bathing dishes on the table, he was much excited, and plainly desired to
join them. I opened his door and placed in it a long perch leading to
freedom. For some time he did not come out, and when he did, the sudden
liberty drove out of his head all thoughts of a bath. When he flew, he
aimed straight for the trees outside the window, and of course came
violently against the glass.

This experience all house birds have to go through, and it is sometimes
several days before they learned the nature of glass. The tanager
learned his lesson more quickly. He fell to the floor at first, from the
shock, but in a few moments recovered himself and returned, this time
alighting on the top of the lower sash and proceeding to examine the
strange substance through which he could see, but could not go. He
gently tapped the glass with his beak the whole length of the window,
passing back and forth several times till satisfied. Turning at last
from that, he cast his eye around for another exit, and settled on the
white ceiling as the most likely place. Then he flew all about the room
close to the ceiling, touched it now and then with his beak, and finding
it also impassable, he came down to the window again. He had not the
least curiosity about the room, and was not at all afraid of me. The
world outside the windows and his cage when he was hungry, were all that
he cared for at present--except the bath.

The go