collar, and within the next five minutes I must have set up in his
nervous system a negative disposition to the caging of red-birds
that will descend as a positive tendency to all the generations of
his offspring.

All day this meditated outrage has kept my blood up. Think of this
beautiful cardinal beating his heart out against maddening bars, or
caged for life in some dark city street, lonely, sick, and silent,
bidden to sing joyously of that high world of light and liberty where
once he sported! Think of the exquisite refinement of cruelty in
wishing to take him on the eve of May!

It is hardly a fancy that something as loyal as friendship has
sprung up between this bird and me. I accept his original shyness
as a mark of his finer instincts; but, like the nobler natures,
when once he found it possible to give his confidence, how frankly
and fearlessly has it been given. The other day, brilliant, warm,
windless, I was tramping across the fields a mile from home, when I
heard him on the summit of a dead sycamore, cleaving the air with
stroke after stroke of his long melodious whistle, as with the swing
of a silken lash. When I drew near he dropped down from bough to
bough till he reached the lowest, a few feet from where I stood,
and showed by every movement how glad he was to see me. We really
have reached the understanding that the immemorial persecution
of his race by mine is ended; and now more than ever my fondness
settles about him, since I have found his happiness plotted against,
and have perhaps saved his very life. It would be easy to trap
him. His eye should be made to distrust every well-arranged pile
of sticks under which lurks a morsel.