CHAPTER XIV. 
MY wife's story OF HER PET FINCHES. 
The loss of our pet, Gleneral Bern, was deeply felt. There 
was a sad vacancy in our liome again, which we did not 
soon expect to have filled. However, one morning, while I 
yet wept for Bern, W ■ came in with a small cage in his 
hand, containing an English Bullfinch. 
" See !" he said, I have brought a fine Bullfinch to 
cheer you — he sings very sweetly several German airs, and 
it will fill Bern's place a little for you !" 
" No ! no ! I cannot let him stay — no bird can take Bem's 
place. I do not want another bird to love. Take him 
away." 
" Poor little Bobby. I found him in the room of a rough 
fellow, who did not care for him, and who gladly exchanged 
the sullen bird, as he called him, for some trinket. A little 
girl whom I saw there told me how sweetly he sang, and I 
determined to have him at any rate. Must I take the poor 
bird away ? He will be so startled among my clamorers, 
that he will not sing to me !" 
Well, let the fellow stay — though, I assure you, I cannot 
love him !" 
So he hung the bird-cage on a nail in my room, and I 
tried to turn my back upon him. I could not help ob- 
serving, however, that he seemed to relish the glow of my 
wood fire, and the warmth of the room, greatly; and was 
commencing to dress his feathers and to jump about in his 
little cage with quite a cheerful air. 
