MY CANARY. 
1S7 
him to use another. He would sooner abstain altogether from 
his accustomed wash than enter into a strange bath. Its posi- 
tion was of equal importance to him. It was usually placed on 
a mantel-piece close to a gilded glass in which he could see 
himself. As his splashings injured the gilding, I removed his 
bath to another place, but then he would not use it. I replaced 
the bath in its customary position, and endeavoured to protect 
the gilding by placing some paper against it. This did not 
please him, and he pulled away the paper with his beak before 
he would bathe. He watched with great interest my arrange- 
ment of flowers, and when he could carry off small ones he 
would fly to the window-sill with one at a time, and place them 
in parallel lines. When I wished him to go into his cage he 
readily obeyed me, but when I told my maid to put him in he 
would wait until she held the cage within a few inches of him 
and then he flew away, generally to a picture-frame. There he 
stayed until the cage was again held near to him, and then he 
quietly went off again a short distance, repeating these tactics 
until my maid’s outstretched arms were tired with holding the 
cage. When my amusement was satisfied I took the cage and 
called him, and he at once obediently went in. 
practice was to have his cage placed on a small table 
near my bed. When I awoke a pair of black beads were always 
watching me, and his yellow beak was thrust between the wires. 
I then opened the cage door, when he began to amuse himself 
by getting into some mischief. One morning after letting him 
out I feigned sleep, but kept my eyes sufficiently open to watcli 
his proceedings. He got on to my bed and began singing. As 
this apparently did not awaken me he ran up my arm, and 
perching himself on my shoulder he began to pull stray hairs 
that were about my ears. As this did not seem to awaken me. 
he began to sing so loudly close to my ears as almost to deafen 
me. Later on he would follow me downstairs, flying into what- 
ever room I entered. On more than one occasion when I had 
dined out I was told on my return that Dick looked very ill, 
and that he had been lying on his back in the cage, with his legs 
stretched upwards, seemingly almost at his last gasp. When I 
went to him saying, “ My poor little Dickie, what is the matter 
with you ? ” he jumped up chirping and fluttering about the 
cage as well as possible. 
One evening a lady had been dining with me, to whose cap 
Dick took an intense dislike. The cap was left in my room after 
her departure, and in the morning, on hearing some curious 
little twitterings and sounds of anger, I felt sure that Dick was 
in mischief. And so he was. He had got hold of the cap 
firmly in his claws, and was literally pulling it to pieces with 
his beak, drawing out the threads one by one. 
Amongst other traits of character he certainly possessed a 
real sense of humour. One day having left him at large in a 
room, where I was arranging flowers, on my return instead of 
