e it swayed up and down with his weight.
The moment it came to a rest, he flew around the room in a wide circle
and came down again heavily, holding on with all his might, and keeping
his balance with wings and tail. He enjoyed it so well that he often
swung for a long time.

Later he found another snug retreat where no bird ever intruded. He
discovered it in this way: one day, on being suddenly startled by an
erratic dash around the room of the brown thrush, which scattered the
smaller birds like leaves before the wind, he brought up under the bed
on the floor. The larger bird had evidently marked the place of his
retreat, for he followed him, and in his mad way rushed under when the
gray-cheeked disappeared. The bedstead was a light iron one, high from
the floor, so that all this was plainly seen. No one being in sight, the
brown thrush came out and turned to his regular business of stirring up
the household while the little thrush was not to be seen, and perfect
silence seemed to indicate that he was not there at all. After some
search, aided by an indiscreet movement on his part, he was found
perched on the framework, between the mattress and the wall. This narrow
retreat, apparently discovered by accident, soon became a favorite
retiring place when he did not care for society.

This interesting bird, with all his dignity, had a playful disposition.
Nothing pleased him better than rattling and tearing to bits a newspaper
or the paper strips over a row of books, although he had to stand on the
latter while he worked at it; and notwithstanding it not only rustled,
but disturbed his footing as well, he was never discouraged. A more
violent jerk than usual sometimes startled him so that he bounded six or
eight inches into the air in his surprise, but he instantly returned to
the play and never rested till he had picked holes, torn pieces out, and
reduced it to a complete wreck.

All through the long winter this charming thrush, with his two
neighbors, delighted the house with his peculiar and matchless music,
and endeared himself by his gentle and lovely disposition. No harsh
sound was ever heard from him, there was no intrusion upon the rights of
others, and no vulgar quarrels disturbed his serene soul. But as spring
began to stir his blood he changed a little; he grew somewhat
belligerent, refused to let any one alight in his chosen places, and
even drove others away from his side of the room. Now, too, he added to