I hope if you have a canary
of your own, you are very careful to give it its seed and water quite
regularly, and to keep its little house as clean as a new pin; for how sad
it would be to neglect the happy little creature who is entirely dependent
upon you for everything!
I once knew a little girl who had a present of a canary when she was seven
years old. I think she was realty too young to have the care of a bird, but
she was very, very fond of her Dick, and used to bring him home groundsel
and chickweed when she went out for a walk, and often had the pleasure of
standing upon a high chair and putting a lump of sugar between the bars of
the cage as a special treat for her pet.
All went well until one morning, when she opened the cage door and saw,
instead of the pretty, pecking, chirping birdie hopping from his perch to
greet her, just a soft yellow ball of feathers lying at the bottom of the
cage. Ah, the sad story was soon told--her pet had been starved to death,
and she had been the cause! This was what nurse told her, when she ran
sobbing to her with the poor dead bird in her little hand. "It is very
cruel of you," she said; "you just went to your play, and forgot all about
your poor little Dick, and now he is dead; you will never hear him sing his
sweet song again."
The poor child was too sorry and too frightened to say anything, and yet
in her heart she knew she had not forgotten her birdie; she was quite sure
that she had filled his glass with seed and given him fresh water, only the
day before.
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