him.

"'You sing uncommon well, pretty one,' he said, stopping and putting
his hat even farther back than usual to look up. He was one of those
good people who stop a dozen times in one street, and look at
everything as they go along; whereby you may see three times as much of
life as other folk, but it is a terrible temptation to spend money. It
was so in this instance. The sailor looked till his kindly eye
perceived that the bird was ill-cared for.

"'It should have a bit of sod, it _should_,' he said emphatically,
taking his hat off, and scratching his head again; 'and there's not a
crumb of food on board. Maybe, they don't understand the ways of birds
here. It would be a good turn to mention it.'

"With this charitable intention he entered the house, and when he left
it, his pocket was empty, and the thrush was carried tenderly in his
handkerchief.

"'The canary died last voyage,' he muttered apologetically to himself,
'and the money always does go somehow or other.'

"The sailor's hands were about three times as large and coarse as those
of the boy who had carried the thrush before, but they seemed to him
three times more light and tender--they were handy and kind, and this
goes farther than taper fingers.

"The thrush's new home was not in the narrow streets. It was in a small
cottage in a small garden at the back of the town. The canary's old
cage was comparatively roomy, and food, water, and fresh turf were