This sad condition would, I think, soon have delivered me from the possibility of any other misfortune; and here, gentle reader, my history would have terminated, had not my master, who was not ignorant of my talents, now thought proper to turn them to some account. When he told Miss Amelia that my song was not that of a Robin, he spoke truth, but not the whole truth. He affected to depreciate my value, that he might get possession of me. I was separated so early from my parents, that I did not learn their song, but being naturally disposed to music, and hearing no other than that of the piano-forte, when with my first dear mistress, I had contrived to pick up a few notes here and there, and put them together at my leisure; thus forming a kind of wild melody, not resembling the song of any other bird. Had Miss Amelia been aware of this circumstance, she certainly would not have parted with me; for, as I observed before, she valued things in proportion as they were difficult of attainment. Well had it been for her if this disposition had extended to her studies: in this instance they might have been subservient to her darling propensity. But such is the lot of those who are wilfully ignorant; they are continually duped by the artful, and not unfrequently defeat their own plans of enjoyment, by not knowing how to pursue them. But to return to myself. I was now to assume a new character—no less than that of preceptor. My master procured some very young birds, so young that several of them died for want of that delicate attention which the parent alone can bestow. Two or three survived, and these were placed in small cages near mine, that they might hear my song and adopt it. I sincerely pitied the early misfortunes and captivity of these poor little creatures, and sang rather to sooth and cheer than to instruct them. As they grew older, however, they tried to imitate my note, and soon acquired it so exactly, that my master sold them to great advantage. I must say I regretted losing my little pupils, particularly one, a linnet, who had evinced great affection towards me; but I consoled myself with the assurance, that they must be better off any where than with the mercenary bird-fancier, who valued them only as a means of getting money. CHAP. IX. My business for the year was now finished, and I mournfully resigned myself to my fate, expecting no release from prison, nor any amusement in it, till the following spring, when my mind would be at least relieved by a similar occupation. My deliverance was, however, much nearer than I expected, for the lady who had purchased my pretty linnet, came to enquire particularly of my master about its song, with which she was much pleased. “I suppose he learned it of some foreign bird,” said she, “for I never heard any wild note like it.”