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Inside the workshop they whistle and sing to the hammer-strokes; there are times when the dark room sounds like a bird-shop. "Thank God, now we have the spring!" says Master Andres over and over again, "but the messenger of spring doesn't seem to be coming this year." "Perhaps he is dead," says little Nikas. "Garibaldi dead? Good Lord! he won't die just yet.
Do you know that he has become a shopman in the bird-shop of my dear old friend Mr Blurt, who is very ill has been ill, I should have said, were you aware of that?" "No," answered May, in a low tone. "I thought he came to England by the invitation of Sir Somebody Something, who had good prospects for him. Did not you?" "So I thought," said May, turning her face away from the light.
Ah, dear Wordsworth, 't is easy enough to answer your question. Still, at last the pen falls from my tired fingers. 't is a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet! How sweet his music! On my life, There's more of wisdom in it. Yes, I will go down and hear the woodland linnet, there is one in the bird-shop round the corner. Ah me! he will not pipe his is the wisdom of silence.
They had taken but a few steps when the door suddenly opened, and the tall figure of the Wondersmith appeared on the threshold. His face was convulsed with rage, and the black snake that quivered on his upper lip seemed to rear itself as if about to spring upon the hunchback. The four gypsies left Herr Hippe's house cautiously, and directed their steps towards Mr. Pippel's bird-shop.
Ortheris landed at last in the "little stuff bird-shop" for which your soul longed; Learoyd back again in the smoky, stone-ribbed North, amid the clang of the Bradford looms; Mulvaney grizzled, tender, and very wise Ulysses, sweltering on the earthwork of a Central India line judge if I have forgotten old days in the Trap!
Ortheris landed at last in the 'little stuff bird-shop' for which your soul longed; Learoyd back again in the smoky, stone-ribbed North, amid the clang of the Bradford looms; Mulvaney grizzled, tender, and very wise Ulysses, sweltering on the earthwork of a Central India line judge if I have forgotten old days in the Trap!
Time advanced apace, and wrought many of those innumerable changes in the fortunes of the human race for which Time is famous. Among other things it brought Sir James Clubley to the bird-shop of Messrs. Blurt one Christmas eve.
The canary died and was buried when Evelyn had a cold and was in bed, and Henrietta went by herself into the town, contrary to rules, and spent all her savings at a little, low bird-shop getting a mangey canary. She brought it back and put it into the cage, and when Evelyn, convalescent, came into the nursery, she attempted to palm off the new canary as Evelyn's original bird.
All the oddities of trade seem to have found their way thither and made an eccentric mercantile settlement. There is a bird-shop at one corner, wainscoted with little cages containing linnets, waxwings, canaries, blackbirds, Mino-birds, with a hundred other varieties, known only to naturalists.
That goldfinch lived at a bird-shop, and offered, in writing, to barter himself against old clothes, empty bottles, or even kitchen stuff. Surely a low thing and a depraved taste in any finch! I bought that goldfinch for money. He was sent home, and hung upon a nail over against my table.
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