Give your captives good food, and clear water; keep their dwellings free from vermin, which you may always do by having a spare cage to turn them into once a week, while you search the other, and destroy the devouring race of red lice that breed in their crevices and corners.
Squirt a mouthful of water over your birds now and then, it will do them good; this will much assist them in their moulting, and make them throw their feathers faster, particularly larks, nightingales, and robins. The latter may have their water-pans to fix inside the cage, so that they can dabble in them, when they like; this will save the trouble of taking them out to clean their feet. Larks must be taken out once a week, or their claws will become clogged with dirt, and rot off. The cleaning their feet is but very little trouble; dip them in warm water, and rub the dirt gently off with your thumb and finger. As these innocent creatures delight you with the beauty of their feathers, and sweetness of their song, too much cannot be done for their comfort.
Hoping this little dissertation (if I may so call it) will be useful,
I am, &c.
S.R.J.
I conclude with the following
Sonnet
On hearing a Thrush singing in the rain.
How sweet the song of the awakened thrush—
Mellow’d by distance, comes upon the ear,
Tho’ gather’d clouds have made the heavens drear,
And the rain hisses in the hazel bush,
Wherein he warbles with a voice as clear
As if blue skies were over, and he near
The one that lov’d him—sweet, yet sad to hear!
For it remindeth me of one I’ve heard,
Singing to other ears, herself unseen,
In her own bower, like that delightful bird,
While yet her bosom’s hopes were fresh and green,
One, whom I heard again in after years,
When sorrow smote her,—singing midst her tears.
S. R. J.
May, 1826.