or else the body of the cage itself until their ablutions are satisfactorily completed and they are quite dry again, when allow them to resume their labours in peace. Baths must on no account be indulged in at the time the eggs are about to be laid, nor again when these are a week old, because in the first instance the hen will become eggbound and die, and in the second, the possible chill communicated from the hen's newly washed plumage will kill the chicks instinct in the egg, and prevent their becoming hatched at all. For some days a quick ear may always detect the yet unhatched bird chipping against his shell ere he emerges through it. Under any circumstance be scrupulously cautious that the parents really are dry before you give them access to the nest; and whatever you do, never allow your birds to run the risk of exposure to damp or draughts. Baths and exercise are unfailing antidotes to sweating sickness and red mites. Let the breeding cage door be opened every day. In birds "worth their salt," paternal love cannot err as to the time it is safe to leave their young without their nestling protection. Both parents in turn guard the nest and indulge in exercise, therefore half an hour in every twenty-four hours spent soaring unfettered round their own particular room, will be gratefully appreciated, and also have a most beneficial effect on the health of the devoted pair, if before they are liberated proper precautions be taken that everything in any way likely to injure is first carefully removed. For instance, all possibility of a cat's intrusive

presence, flowers covered over or placed altogether

outside, scissors sheathed, knives shut, windows and door secured, to prevent escape and a consequent miserable death of starvation and cold; ink-bottles closely stoppered; and a searching glance sent over each shelf that nought shall lurk there overlooked, which, if pecked at, will make the careless, happy, "free" regret the moment of their last flight; because you must bear in mind always, whatever Dick comes across in his travels, his insatiable curiosity will personally examine with beak and claw.

As regards the climate suitable and desirable for a breeding cage, I refer my readers to the remarks made by the Rev. F. Smith in his "Canaria." "Too much heat is as much to be avoided as too much cold, making the hens sickly, producing weakening perspirations injurious to their health, as well as causing their young to be delicate, and difficult to rear." Aim therefore at an even temperature, free from cold and chilling draughts, and also from great heat and closeness; nothing being more prejudicial than great and sudden changes of climate.

G

CHAPTER IX.

PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS.

No person, except those who have kept birds for any length of time, and have studied them carefully, could ever suppose or imagine the immense diversity of "character" that exists even amongst the same species of our domestic and commonest feathered favourites. The contradictory qualities exhibited in an aviary containing only half-a-dozen birds, affords amusement sufficient to while away many an idle hour. How inquisitive, active, imitative, affectionate, and "larky" are some! others, again, greedy, selfish, unobservant, and self-indulgent! I kept one Canary eight years, alternately in solitude and society; he was a confirmed hermit in his tastes, preferring isolation to the charms of any companionship whatever. Alone, he was affectionate, lively, and content; in an aviary, he made himself hated by the hen birds, and bullied by all those of his own sex! Timid to a degree, he would be frightened out of his wits by any of his friends opening their eyes at him, whereas his owner might handle him as often and as long as he pleased, without arousing the slightest alarm! His

son, on the other hand, was merry and popular in a crowd of other birds of various kinds, as his father was the reverse. Everlastingly feeding or being fed by his neighbours, personally investigating everything, copying the notes of each wild bird he overheard, flying about and singing from dawn till dark, and even after—for gas or candle-light was always the signal for him to recommence his droll antics, and wake up the entire aviary. This Canary was so irrepressible that nothing daunted him, bursting into ringing song on a noisy, rattling, railway truck, after a long night journey from the South of England to the Highlands.

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Study the disposition of your bird; many a good Canary has been lost through this being neglected," and do not believe people when they tell you this or that species is "always mopish." Depend on it poor Dick is sick, dull, or unhappy, if he persists in sulking. When in sound health and proper condition, it is perfectly unnatural for any of the feathered tribe ever to be otherwise than absolutely lively and gay, even on dark days, and during moulting.

We once had the misfortune to lose a hen Canary when her chicks were only a week old. Unwilling to let these die, we reared them as best we might until fledged, feeding them once every quarter of an hour by means of a quill containing biscuit, soaked and moistened with yolk of egg and water. One died, and the other lived to become my inseparable companion. Never in his cage except at night, I carried him unfettered, everywhere

about the house and garden, on hand or neck. He knew my voice so well, that if I was upstairs, he down, and his cage door open, I had only to call, and whirr--a flutter of wings-and happy Dick was once more in his old place upon my shoulder! His great delight was to perch on the pen with which anyone was writing, and do his utmost to catch the flying nib; if successful and rewarded by a beakful of ink, away went Dick spluttering and scolding with rage, and forgetful of the past, repeat the experiment at the very next opportunity. was equally fond of prancing about on the keys of a piano, becoming furious when an octave or scale passage for a moment cut short his amusement. Another favourite trick was to insist on bathing each time he saw me meddling with water, and when dripping wet, flying to get warmed and dried on my neck and hair, grumbling with all his might if not allowed. This absurd bird showed a passion for being kissed, the

ness of the lips seeming to excite his

He

colour and softcuriosity, for the

command to "kiss me, Dick," was always unhesitatingly responded to. Caress his head, back, or wings with the mouth and he was highly affronted, but a proffered kiss instantly caused him to strain up as high as possible on his toes to comply with the request, which positively appeared to give him delight. I trained him by this means to pay his respects to me, the first thing in the morning, before taking his breakfast. The cage door was opened for him when he was still asleep, I meanwhile retreating out of sight into Bedfordshire. When I