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Another matter is where you put your cage or aviary. The place should be neither too hot, nor too cold, nor in drafts. In summer, especially at the time of nesting, a high sunny window, out of the reach of cats, and where cooling breezes blow about him all day, will bring out Pet's gayest songs and warm into their richest beauty the golden hues of his plumage. In winter a window would be the worst possible place for him, for there he is exposed to the dozen steady drafts of cold air which incessantly pour in through the crevices in sashes and panes. In cold weather the best place for birds is the wall of a dwelling-room on which the sun shines. There their spirits are kept gay by human companionship, and, being always in sight, their supply of food and water is less likely to be forgotten. Stoveheat, however, and particularly the presence of gas in the room, is bad for canaries, and to avoid the evil effects of the last, which makes the air near the ceiling insufferably hot, causing the canary to molt out of season, to droop, etc., a good plan is to have the cage suspended from a pulley, and in the evening to lower it to within four feet or so of the floor. An even temperature, summer and winter, ought, if possible, to be secured for the birds. night, if the room is to become cold, the cage should be wrapped in a woolen shawl, or, at least, in thick paper, leaving an air-hole. It is always better, where possible, to have a little room devoted to the birds alone, but this, of course, is only practicable where you have plenty of space and money. Now, having your pet comfortably and prettily housed, comes the duty of his daily care. I say duty, for if we undertake to keep an innocent creature in captivity, we are bound to make its life just as joyous as we can. A canary will manage to live for a long time, and even be cheerful now and then, surrounded by filth and half starved, for it has a wonderfully buoyant disposition; but it will not be happy, and no person has a right to call himself a bird-lover, or even fancier, who will allow his canaries to suffer from neglect.

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The first essential is cleanliness,-scrupulous neatness all the time. The cage must be thoroughly cleansed every morning, or every other morning, in all parts, and care should be taken that the seed is free from dirt, the water pure, and the sand on the floor of the cage well cleaned by being previously boiled in water. The corners and wooden parts should be particularly looked at, the perches well scraped, and twice a a week plunged in boiling water to kill any of those pests, the red mites, that may have got there. Pet must have a bath every day in a sufficiently large tub, but it will not do to let him bathe whenever he pleases, and hence the water must not be left in the cage after he has once finished. He must not

lack a good supply of seed and plenty of the purest drinking-water. A bird is so tirelessly active and so warm-blooded that it uses up its heat and strength a great deal faster than any other animal. It therefore needs constant nourishment, and a simple morning or evening meal will not do at all; it must have seed all the time, and in return will reward you by songs of thanksgiving without end. A starved bird not only will not sing, but his coat loses its plumpness and gloss, his manner becomes listless, and some morning you find him dead and stiff in the bottom of his cage.

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hemp, rape, millet, linseed and poppy, and the crushed seeds of many garden vegetables, mixed with the canary-seed, or given separately. Canary and rape seed mixed is called "black-and-white bird-seed." The seeds of many of our road-side weeds,-chickweed, plantain, feathery heads of grass,--and fresh, tender young leaves of watercress, plantain, lettuce and cabbage are appreciated; while a perfectly ripe strawberry or pieces of mellow sweet apples and pears are dainties to a canary. Plums, cherries, stone-fruits, and rinds are objectionable for the acid they contain. The green food given should be perfectly fresh, and if you live in the city a good plan is to plant a quantity of bird-seed in saucers of earth, and when the canary, hemp, rape, or millet is sufficiently grown to look green at the top, pull it up, roots and all, and throw it into the cage. You shall see how quickly your pets will seize it! These are so tough that a

canary needs still harder substances to aid his digestion, and will naturally resort to the sand in the bottom of the cage; you must therefore choose your sand carefully-sea-sand is the best, because saltish-and wash it clean. The bird needs lime also, out of which to build the shells of its eggs; supply this want with hens' egg-shells, except during the nesting season. Daily and regularly fed with plenty of seed, and saved from devouring "jim-cracks" in the shape of meat and other un

stroy his health, or we have been over-indulgent and injured his stomach with rich food, or else we have allowed him to associate with some diseased bird and so catch the malady. It is always one of these three causes that kills our birds,-leaving accidents and old age out of the question,-and all three of these we can avoid.

The symptoms by which you can tell whether or not your canary is in the enjoyment of health are: The general appearance of his plumage, the

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wholesome things, there is no harm in once in a while allowing Pet a taste of hard-boiled egg, or a lump of sugar, but such sweets must be sparingly supplied. If you are watchful, you will soon come to know what effect certain food has upon your bird, and to understand that what he can eat at one season is not good for him at another-when molting, for example.

It is disagreeable to have anything to say about disease in such dear little objects as our birds; but, unfortunately, they sometimes fall sick, yet may occasionally become mopish and ill for a few days in spite of all we can do; but permanent disease is always due to some neglect on our part. Either we have allowed his cage to be so dirty as to de

color of his eyes, beak and legs, and last, though not least, his liveliness or his lack of it. A bird's health is usually most delicate at the time of the yearly renewal of the coat of feathers, or "molting," which in the Northern States begins in August, or earlier in hot weather. Too early molting should be checked by removal of the bird to a cooler room and by frequent baths, but not by medicine. Unless the time is very much out of the way, however, it is generally best to let nature have its own course, only guarding against chills; for if Pet catches cold at this time, he is a dead bird! Strong light-but not the direct rays of the sun-is of the utmost importance now, deepening the colors of the new feathers. While

molting, your bird should have plenty of water for drinking and bathing; and if he seems to suffer from having a skin so tough that the growing quills will not push through readily, anoint the sore parts with a brush dipped in slightly warm castoroil. A generous diet, some stimulant in the drinking-water, like a rusty nail or an addition of a trifle of brandy or sherry wine, an extra allowance of linseed, and unusual attention on your part, will help your favorite through this trying season.

Sometimes the feet and legs become tender, sore, and scaly. This is caused by foul perches; and the treatment is to hold the feet frequently in warmish water, sometimes adding a trifle of arnica to it, and to anoint them with oil. Inflammation in various parts of the body, hoarseness of the voice, and dizziness are not uncommon complaints; but to give full instruction about half of these troublesome diseases would require a whole number of ST. NICHOLAS; and where care and common sense do not prevent or cure them, there are books to be consulted on the subject, especially those published in England. After all, "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," and the tender care which neither neglects nor frightens the canary is worth a whole college of doctors. So much for their bodily troubles.

Canaries show a great aptitude for tricks, sometimes learning to do many amusing and difficult things, and also to sing tunes very well. They soon come to know their masters or mistresses, and will often follow them about. I "mind," as a Scotch girl would say, a little lassie who had a pet bird so tame that in pleasant weather she used every day to open the window and let it go out of the house, for it would always return at evening, tapping on the window-panes to be let in, if the sash happened to be closed. An English gentleman had a canary for several years which never was kept in a cage, and in summer was always flying out to the gate or down the road to meet its master, perching on his finger, nestling in his bosom, or, best of all, clinging in his hair, where it was completely happy; at the same time only one other person in the house would it allow to touch it, resenting any attempt at familiarity with the fiercest anger. At last, however, this bold little fellow got bewildered in a sudden dense fog, and was lost. Canaries can live out-of-doors in our climate very well in the summer, and some

times join the families of wild birds; but their house-bred constitutions can hardly stand the cold of winter, and escaped birds probably all perish before spring. They are very affectionate little creatures, always prefer companions, and will make friends even with their natural enemies. A fancier in London had a cat which, with her kittens, would eat out of the canaries' dish in the bird

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OLD TRAY AND HIS LITTLE FRIEND.

room, and never think of harming them, while the birds seemed to enjoy Tabby's society. The picture of the bird in the dog's mouth tells a true story of a canary in France which really would go into Old Tray's open mouth, and sit there in perfect security; reminding us of the birds which venture into the horrid jaws of the crocodiles dozing on the banks of the Nile, finding some kind of food there, and never being harmed by the lazy reptiles.

On the other hand, canaries are easily frightened. I knew of one which was thrown into convulsions and died simply because a gentleman placed his white hat suddenly near the cage. What must have been the terror of that poor bird I saw in Thirty-fifth street, New York, the other day! Its cage had been placed close up against the broad pane of a front window, outside of which there was a little balcony. A large cat saw it, and thought he had a fine prize; so he crept stealthily across the balcony until he thought he was near enough, when he made a spring, and to his surprise pounced hard against the strong plateglass, which evidently he had not seen in his way-it was so clear. It was amusing to watch the cat sneak away, abashed, and sore-headed, but the canary was terribly shocked. There is always danger from cats in hanging cages out-of-doors, and also danger from small hawks and butcher

birds, which frequently drag Pet through the wires and devour him.

To tame birds and to train them to perform tricks are two very different things. Any one may do the first by constant, quiet kindness, endless attention, and patience. Accustom the bird to your presence, and let it understand that, whatever you do about it, nothing is intended for its terror or harm. This learned, teaching it to perch on your finger, or come to your whistle and call, is only a matter of time and gentle patience. Some odd tricks may be taught them if they are 'cute, for different birds differ very greatly in their ability

to learn, as well as in their natural talents and dispositions, but the astonishing exploits of some troupes of "performing birds" which are exhibited about the country are all taught to them by a terribly cruel course of lessons, and you ought not to make your Pet emulate these performances.

The Germans often teach young birds tunes and the songs of other birds; but the operation is a slow and tedious one, and the result not very satisfactory. It seems to me that our highest wish should be to perfect all that is natural to a canary, and not try to make him something else than he is, or was intended to be.

THE FIRST PARTY.

BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

MISS Annabel McCarty

Was invited to a party,

"Your company from four to ten," the invitation said; And the maiden was delighted

To think she was invited

To sit up till the hour when the big folks went to bed.

The crazy little midget

Ran and told the news to Bridget,

Who clapped her hands, and danced a jig, to Annabel's delight,
And said, with accents hearty,

"T will be the swatest party

If ye 're there yerself, me darlint! I wish it was to-night!"

The great display of frilling

Was positively killing!

And, oh, the little booties! and the lovely sash so wide!
And the gloves so very cunning!

She was altogether "stunning,"

And the whole McCarty family regarded her with pride.

They gave minute directions,

With copious interjections

Of "Sit up straight!" and "Don't do this, or that !-'t would be absurd!" But, what with their caressing,

And the agony of dressing,

Miss Annabel McCarty did n't hear a single word.

There was music, there was dancing,

And the sight was most entrancing,

As if fairy-land, and floral band, were holding jubilee;

There was laughing, there was pouting; There was singing, there was shouting; And old and young together made a carnival of glee.

Miss Annabel McCarty

Was the youngest at the party,

And every one remarked that she was beautifully drest;
Like a doll she sat demurely

On the sofa, thinking surely

It would never do for her to run and frolic with the rest.

The noise kept growing louder ;

The naughty boys would crowd her;

"I think you're very rude indeed!" the little lady said; And then, without a warning,

Her home instructions scorning,

She screamed: “I want my supper!—and I want to go to bed!"

Now big folks, who are older,

Need not laugh at her, nor scold her,

For doubtless, if the truth were known, we've often felt inclined To leave the ball, or party,

As did Annabel McCarty,

But we had n't half her courage, and we could n't speak our mind!

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PATTIKIN had a way of calling her home" my house," as if she were the owner of the Parsonage, and all that was in it. Ask her where she lived, and she would say, "Up to my house." Ask where was her hat, when she was found out bareheaded in the sun, and she would point her cunning, dimpled finger and say, "In my house." So we who loved Pattikin, and thought her baby ways very winsome and sweet, came to call the old red house that sheltered us "Pattikin's house." hope you will be pleased with the story of some of the good times we had there.

CHAPTER I.

BLACKBERRYING.

THE minister tipped the sugar-bowl toward him, picked out a lump and put it into Pattikin's mouth,

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and then leaned his elbow on the table, and his head on his hand, reflectively.

"We must economize!" said he.

"Now, father," said his wife, "that makes three lumps of sugar you've given Pattikin since we sat down to supper, and it is n't good for her. Besides that, the firkin 's empty."

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'Out of sugar again, are we! Why, I thought it was only a week ago But never mind! We may as well begin to economize there as anywhere, perhaps. We can go without sugar."

"Oh no, father!" said Thirza, and Tilda and Pattikin, ". we can't!" And, "Oh no, father,not go without any sugar!" was echoed by Seth, Samuel, Simon and Sandy.

"We might do with less, I suppose,” said their mother.

"Look here!" said the minister,—and he took his wallet out of his pocket, and inverted it over his plate and shook it well. From one of the com

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