a case of "no song, no supper;" but of supper--or, rather,
dinner--and no song. Bermondsey had failed in the artistic combat, not
from lack of powers, as its brilliant part in the duet and its
subsequent soli proved, but simply from a Sybaritic love for creature
comforts. I ventured to suggest it might have been expedient to remove
the seed, but was informed that, under those circumstances, the
creature--its proprietor called it an uglier name--would not have sung
at all. The remarkable part of the business to me was that they did sing
at the proper time. They had not uttered anything beyond a twitter until
silence was called, and from that moment one or the other was singing
incessantly. I suppose it was the silence. I have noticed not only caged
birds, but children--not to speak ungallantly of the fair sex--generally
give tongue most freely when one is silent, and presumably wants to keep
so.

The contest, however, was over, the stakes paid, and Corydon sought his
pastoral pipe again--not without beer. It was a new experience, but not
a very exciting one--to me, at least. It evidently had its attractions
for the very large majority of attendants. In fact, Rodney Road is
generally a "birdy" neighbourhood. Its staple products, to judge by the
shops, seemed birds and beer. I was much pressed by mine host to stay
for the evening entertainment, when six birds were to sing, and the
attendance would be more numerous. As some five hours intervened I
expressed regret at my inability to remain, reserving my opinion that
five hours in Lock's Fields might prove the reverse of attractive, and
Corydon in greater force might not have an agreeable effect on that
already stuffy chamber. So I took myself off, wondering much, by the
way, what strange association of ideas could have led any imaginative
man to propose such an incongruous reward as a copper kettle by way of
praemium for linnet-singing.

CHAPTER XI.

A WOMAN'S RIGHTS DEBATE.

There never was a time when, on all sorts of subjects, from Mesmerism to
Woman's Rights, the ladies had so much to say for themselves. There is
an ancient heresy which tells us that, on most occasions, ladies are
prone to have the last word; but certain it is that they are making
themselves heard now. On the special subject of her so-called "Rights"
the abstract Woman was, I knew, prodigiously emphatic--how emphatic,
though, I was not quite aware, until having seen from the top of a
City-b