Gertrude dried her eyes, and said, "I will try not to be selfish, mother. I am glad that Yellowbreast is happy with his little playmates."

After breakfast Gertrude went and studied her lesson, like a good girl.

XXXII.-GERTRUDE AND HER BIRDS.-CONCLUDED.

THE next morning, before Gertrude was up, she heard some little birds singing sweetly in the garden. "One of them sings just like Yellow-breast," said she. "Perhaps he has brought some little birds to thank us for taking care of him through the winter." She went into the garden, but could not distinguish him from the other birds.

Gertrude had two uncles that were sea captains. When they knew how fond she had been of little Yellow-breast, they brought her home some birds in their ships, from countries far off. told her that it would not do to open

Her mother

the cage and

let them fly away; for they were used to living in

1 Pron. böû. 2 thru. 3 sid.

4 āt.

5 år.

6 bâwt.

very hot countries, and the weather in our country would kill them. So Gertrude said she would make them as happy as she could in a cage.

After little Yellow-breast was gone, her first favorite was a very beautiful paroquet,' famous for his music. Gertrude soon learned to love this little bird more than she had ever loved the Yellow-bird. It could whistle any tune it had ever heard; and its voice was very soft and sweet.

Gertrude was never tired of hearing the bird sing; but she did not enjoy his songs long. A boy brought some wild berries into the house, and nobody knew that they were poison, till the poor little bird ate some of them and died.

Gertrude cried very much. She thought that she never would try to keep another bird. She asked. her father to bury her little favorite in the garden, and she planted a forget-me-not where his body was laid.

Some months after, her uncle brought home a Java sparrow. This little bird was so lady-like and slender, and had such very delicate purple feathers, and picked sugar from Gertrude's hand so prettily, that she soon learned to love it very much.

Gertrude had a large cage, hung in a sunny corner, with a rich grape vine all round it. The water in the sparrow's little glass cup was changed twice a day, and she had plenty of cake crumbs and dainty seed. She was as happy as a bird could be, taken away from her little playmates, and from the wide free air, to be shut up in a cage.

But Gertrude did not have good luck with her

birds. One day she came home from school, and found that her little sparrow was dead in the cage. She never knew what killed it. There was plenty of clean water and good fresh seed in the cups; but there it lay on its back, quite stiff and cold.

Gertrude cried as if her heart would break. Her father had the pretty little creature stuffed, and put under a glass case. But, for many weeks, Gertrude could not look at it without feeling the tears come in her eyes. She asked her mother to put the empty bird cage away, where she could never see it again.

She begged her uncles never to bring her another bird. “I had rather that the little creatures would stay in the warm countries where they are born," said she. "I am afraid that they are not happy in a cage. I am sure that they like better to fly about in the open air, with their little playmates."

After that, Gertrude had a little baby brother, and she liked so well to play with him, that she did not cry any more for her paroquet and sparrow. “I love darling little Frank better than a hundred birds," said she; "and I do not have to keep him shut up in a cage. That is a good thing."

XXXIII.-MY CANARY BIRD.

I HAD a little bird;

My only friend was he;

heart was stirred

And many a time my
With his sweet melody.

He'd sing to me of flowers,

Of sunshine on the streams; And lightly make the toilsome hours Glide by me, as in dreams.

He'd sing of meadows sweet,

With murmuring trees, and brooks Disturbed by little gleaming feet, As I had read in books.

And I had thoughts in me

My tongue could never tell;
But he would sing a melody
Should speak their meaning well.

He'd mind me of the day

On which my mother died, When he sang a lusty roundelay, While bitterly I cried.

And I but loved him more,

For all his ill-timed mirth;
For truth it seemed, that I before
Had never known his worth.

Now as I sat alone,

My eyes with weeping dim, And wore my fingers to the bone, For none but me and him,

Oft to myself I said,

"No other friend have I

To share with me my daily bread;
God grant he do not die."

And when the morning broke,
It was his sprightly song

That filled my lonesome room, and woke
Me to my labor long.

How he would wait until

I should his wants attend! Should take the lucid glass and fill With water for my friend!

Then bathe his wings, and raise
His little eyes to heaven,
Seeming to render gladsome praise
For the refreshment given! —

Then tune again his throat,

To please my listening ear,
And pour forth each familiar note
So rapturous and clear!

He had a voice for all

My joy and sorrow too;