S The Canary. 



bachelor's life, all alone, for about tbree years, when he 

 died in moulting, whilst we were all away from home 

 in the autumn, probably from neglect, being left in 

 charge of a servant, who knew little and cared less 

 about the requirements of birds under these trying cir- 

 cumstances. Great was the grief amongst our young- 

 sters at this, untoward event, for such a thing as his 

 dying had never entered their heads, and they probably 

 expected that he would live for ever. To soothe their 

 grief and repair the loss, on a fine Saturday morning 

 towards the end of October, I and the three elder 

 children, having set out on our usual marketing expedi- 

 tion, paid a sauntering visit to the bird fanciers' stalls. 

 Here we loitered about for some time, more out of 

 curiosity than with any idea of buying, when we sud- 

 denly found ourselves standing before an old man's 

 cage, who soon endeavoured to turn the occasion to 

 account by soliciting our attention to the quality of his 

 wares, and setting them off to the best advantage he 

 <iould. Though the day was somewhat cold and bleak, 

 and the birds were starved, we saw enough to make us 

 listen to his tale, and finally to make a purchase of 

 what seemed to us then a pretty little curiously-marked 

 grey hen canary, but about which I shall have more to 

 speak in another chapter, leaving behind another sin- 

 gularly coloured companion, which, after all, perhaps, 

 was the prettier, and certainly the more rare bird of the 

 two. The one we purchased was, to a fancier's eye, by 

 no means a good specimen of her kind, her feathers 

 being all tipped with white, which they should not be, 

 and her general colour being, instead of pure grey, 



