THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. '255 
Not liking the idea of keeping the living and the 
dead together, I removed the stuffed bird. The 
other daily drooped more and more, and, whether 
from the change of climate, or the loss of his com- 
panion, I cannot say ; but at the end of a week, on 
going to feed him, I discovered him lying at the 
bottom of his cage quite dead. Who can say that 
this bird did not possess feelings and sensibility. I 
do not suppose that he thought it was really his 
companion that he had beside him, no more than I 
can imagine a miniature likeness to be the actual 
person it represents. Here was an end of all its cares 
and griefs. I could almost fancy, as the day before 
its death it gently warbled in a timid, doleful strain, 
that its notes were addressed to its departed com- 
panion, which I thus attempt to analyze : — 
And we will sleep a pleasant sleep, 
And not a care shall dare intrude. 
To break the marble solitude, 
So peaceful and so deep. 
