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several repetitions of it. After this, without at all arresting the singing, she returned to the large compartment, sat upright, resumed again the grand rôle, and put into it some variations of execution which astonished me. One measure, I remember, was so silvery and soft that I said, to a lady who was listening, that a canary able to execute that would be worth a hundred dollars. I occasionally detected what I am utterly unable to explain—a literal dual sound (a rollicking chuckling), very like a boy, whistling as he runs, drawing a stick along the pickets of a fence. So the music went on, as I listened, watch in hand, until actually nine minutes had elapsed! Now, the wonderful fact is, that the rest between the rôles was never much more than for a second of time; and, during all this singing, the muscles could be seen in vigorous action, through the entire length of the abdomen. This feat would be impossible to a professional singer; and the nearest to it that I have heard was the singing of a wild mocking-bird in a grove."

The point which I think I have demonstrated elsewhere in this matter is, the invalidity of the position taken by some, that the singing faculty of these little creatures is due to a diseased condition. The specimen above dwelt on has been for a whole year at least in perfect health. It now appears, from a late number of the Naturalist, that a gentleman in Maryland amused himself in breeding white mice, in the hope of raising a singer. After raising several hundred, he procured one that manifested a little musical ability. It sang in six months about half a dozen times. He says that it is in perfect health, and that its offspring are the largest and the finest, and that it is an amiable, playful little pet. This was a domestic mouse, and at best but a very moderate singer. But Hespie differs in all respects. She is the wild wood-mouse, and an incessant singer, and one of very remarkable parts in musical ability. She has also many interesting differences pertaining to habits and food. Cheese is not relished by her; but insects and grass are choice morsels. Her greatest luxuries are worms, and maggots out of nuts and fruit. She will take an earthworm into her little hands, and, holding it up to her mouth at one end, will cause it to gradually shorten and disappear, as some bipeds from Faderland might dispatch a favorite sausage. Her agility in catching flies is wonderful; she leaps at the object, and rarely misses a catch.

A singular fact is this: she is subject to occasional attacks of nostalgia. They are brought about in this way: For her health, as well as for our comfort, the cage must be regularly cleansed. This is at all times annoying to her. But occasionally the little bed of cotton-wool, in a small box in her large compartment, is taken out, and burnt, and a new one is supplied. This occurs about once a month, and invariably this change of bed is followed by a day or two of homesickness. She is unhappy, seems not to like the situation, tears her bed up, pulls it out, then pulls it in, in part, and goes off somewhere, and lies down, a habit she does not like to indulge in outside of the privacy of her little box. The tiny being is undoubtedly sick, and has not much appetite. After at most two days, she becomes reconciled, and is as