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When he looked down upon this he thought to himself: "A man who could do such things ought not to stay at home; he ought to go out to conquer the world." So he put into his wallet the cream cheese that he had bought that day and a favourite blackbird that used to hop about his shop, and went out to seek his fortune.
And then this blackbird of mine had begun very hoarse at first, trying a note now and then in a tentative sort of fashion, as though still drowsy and not quite sure of himself, but little by little his notes had grown longer, richer, mellower, until here he was pouring out his soul in an ecstasy. Ah! surely there never was, there never could be, such another morning as this!
And yet, when he was introduced into the state parlour with the six mahogany-backed, haircloth-seated chairs, the two narrow arm-chairs, the four ugly mirrors, and the little wire basket full of odds and ends of crockery and foreign coins covered by the skin of a white blackbird, found on the farm and prepared for stuffing he looked a very dapper, respectable, personable man.
When he had been making a desultory sketch, away out toward Malamocco, or in among the vignoli in the northern lagoon, pausing perhaps, for a good five minutes, between grassy banks, to listen to the whistle of the blackbird in the hedge, he felt no imperative call to seize an oar and double the rate of speed on the homeward way.
At five in the morning, before it was lightening in the east, the Blackbird rode four inches below her load water line with a mixed cargo of coho and dog salmon, the heaviest cargo ever stowed under her hatches, and eight fishermen divided two thousand dollars share and share alike for their night's work.
He choked because he was angry. "It's no use," he said gloomily to Mrs. Robin, as soon as he could speak. "It's no use trying to get Grandfather Mole to stop eating angleworms. In my opinion, he's too old to turn over a new leaf the way I meant. "You can't teach an old Mole new tricks," said Mr. Blackbird. GRANDFATHER MOLE was resting in the shade of a toadstool. It was a stifling, sultry day.
Robin thought it was one of the most delightful sounds he had ever heard, fluent and sweet as the pipe of a blackbird. "Apparently you and your sister go about doing kindnesses," she said, in a quick, touched way. "The very first thing she said to me was 'Can I help? And now, almost your first utterance is another offer of help! Is every one in the neighbourhood like that?
He comes circling up, quivering his yellowbanded tail, snatches a mouthful of air, and goes down again head first. Save for these alarms the pool is untroubled. It is guarded from the winds by a juniper, which an eglantine has chosen for its guardian and crowns each year with a wreath of roses. Each year, too, a blackbird makes his nest here. We keep his secret. He knows we shall not disturb him.
Can't you see that I've got a job on here?" Chum has found, however, that his particular mission in life is to purge his master's garden of all birds. This keeps him busy. As soon as he sees a blackbird on the lawn he is in full cry after it.
You may look for the same herd of antelope, feeding near the same place, about the same hour each day; the same lion stumping the same beat, as regular as a policeman, most nights; the same hyena uttering horrible nothings within hearing of the same hills, any time after the setting of each sun, just as surely as the same cock-robin asks you for crumbs, the same blackbird awakens you with inimitable fluting, and the same black cat seeks for both in the same vicinity each dusk.
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