except certain natural instincts and appetites, which they cannot help following, and, therefore, they have a claim upon us for sympathy and assistance. For this reason they are indignant if any beast be put to death by torture, or pleasure be sought in its slaughter, as a Venetian goldsmith lately found to his cost. He was amusing himself with bird-catching, and had taken among others a bird the size of a cuckoo, and almost the same colour; its beak was not large, but its throat could be expanded by force so as to receive the fist of a full-grown man. As he was naturally fond of a joke, and was struck by the strangeness of the phenomenon, he fastened the bird to the lintel of his door with its wings outspread and with its throat forced open by a peg, so as to show a huge orifice. The Turks who were passing by in crowds kept stopping and looking up, but when they perceived the bird was alive and moving, struck with compassion they exclaimed, it was a shame that a harmless bird should be so tortured, called the goldsmith out, seized him by the neck, and dragged him before the judge who tries capital charges, and he was near being bastinadoed, when a messenger came from the gentleman, who administers the law to the Venetians at Constantinople, and is called the Venetian Baily,[177] to demand his release; the application was favourably received by the judge, and the goldsmith was dismissed, to the great indignation of the Turks who were present. Thus was he preserved. This goldsmith was a frequent visitor at my house, and I had a hearty laugh when he told me the whole story, and what a fright he had had. Moreover he brought the bird for my inspection. I have described its appearance, and it is said to fly at night and suck cows’ udders. I fancy it is the same as the goat-sucker of the ancients. This story will show you how merciful the Turks are to all kinds of animals, and especially to birds.[178] Opposite our lodging there is a lofty plane tree remarkable for the extent of ground its branches cover, and the thickness of its foliage; here bird-catchers sometimes station themselves with a great number of small birds. Many people go to them and ransom their prisoners for a trifle, and then release them from their hands one by one. They generally fly up into the plane tree, where they clean themselves from the dirt of their cages, chirping all the while. Then the Turks who ransomed them say to each other: ‘Do you hear how yon bird congratulates himself on his freedom, and is thanking me for it?’