I02 



I am pained to relate that half an hour later the 

 poor birds were burned amidst the baggage which had 

 taken fire from the heat of the burning buildings (the 

 famous St. Francis Hotel being among them). I 

 escaped with a partial suit of clothes which I was 

 wearing, and in which I had stowed the April, 1905, 

 cop\^ of Bird Notes and the March number of Cage 

 Birds, which had been lying upon my desk, and which 

 I snatched up as I said good-bye to my office. 



And this is all that remains of my nature Library. 

 But, patient editor and still more patient reader, the 

 story is already too long and I can only conclude in 

 the sentiment of the following: — 



A few days before the calamity I visited an old 

 cobbler, a character and a "natural" bird fancier. 

 His store, a large, big windowed room, and window 

 rich in a tapestry of cob-webs, dust, and grime; a 

 dozen or more cages, piled high with seed husks and 

 droppings, occupied by Canaries, native Linnets, 

 " Gold Finches," and some unclassified specimens 

 hung upon the wall— this was the picture presented. 

 His mother wit and instinct took the place (not being 

 a member of the F.B.C.) of fact and science. 



In a little wretched cage, rendered even more 

 forbidding by the bright beams of Californian sunshine, 

 hung a solitary specimen of the Sociable Finch, or, as 

 the cobbler said, "soger" Finch. He said "Watch 

 him," and presently the little bird burst into one of 

 those silent rhapsodies of song, accompanied \>y the 

 expanded tail and odd body movements, so familiar to 

 our members. The old cobbler with a gleam in his 

 eye and a broad, but ungraceful grin upon his rugged 

 face, exclaimed: "Look at him! Look! He is doing 



