THE CONFESSIONS OF A FANCIER. 49 



my time, and lavished my caresses upon the 

 object of my adoration. My excessive ardour 

 was not uncalled for. There was a rival in the 

 field competing with me for the fair and comely 

 prize of a beautiful wife. His devotion was 

 excessively romantic — it would constrain him to 

 call at the young lady's house in the early 

 morning prior to the visit of the sonorous milk- 

 man, and leave a bouquet for the adornment of 

 her breakfast-table — a little delicately scented 

 note being just .visible in the midst of the 

 fragrant assemblage of flowers, which, when 

 withdrawn from its dainty retreat and opened, 

 revealed in delicately turned verse the passion 

 that inflamed the donor's breast. 



He who wins can aiford to be magnanimous. 

 I won. I bore no after-malice toward my rival 

 for these honourable and ingenuous attempts to 

 supplant me in my lady-love's affection. 



After two or three years of happy married 

 life a longing, in a mild form, returned to own 

 a pair of my feathered favourites. I erected 

 a small wooden shed in the garden, and put 

 several pairs of Baldheads in it — unfortunately 

 they were soon out of it. One Sunday morning 

 going to feed them 1 found the door open, and 

 on closer inspection discovered the place vacant, 



D 



