hing she told them was, that she had one of the
prettiest Canary-birds in the world. "He is as yellow as gold," said
she, "and he has a little black crest, like the plumes of my mamma's
hat. Come, you must go and see him! His name is Cherry."

Cherry was as happy as any bird need wish to be, under the care of
Nancy. Her first business every morning was to feed Cherry: and whenever
there was any cake at table, Cherry was sure to come in for a share of
it. There were always some bits of sugar in store for him, and his cage
was constantly decorated with the most lively herbage.

Her pretty bird was not ungrateful, but did all in his power to make
Nancy sensible how much he was obliged to her. He soon learned to
distinguish her, and the moment he heard her step into the room, he
would flutter his wings, and keep up an incessant chirping. It is no
wonder, therefore, if Cherry and Nancy became very fond of each other.

At the expiration of a week he began to open his little throat, and sung
the most delightful songs. He would sometimes raise his notes to so
great a height, that you would almost think he must kill himself with
such vast exertions. Then, after stopping a little, he would begin
again, with a tone so sweet and powerful, that he was heard in every
part of the house.

Nancy would often sit for whole hours by his cage, listening to his
melody. Sometimes so attentively would she gaze at him, that she would
insensibly let her work fall out of her hands; and after he had
entertained her with his melodious notes, she would regale him with a
tune on her bird organ, which he would endeavour to imitate.

In length of time, however, these pleasures began to grow familiar to
his friend Nancy. Her papa, one day, presented her with a book of
prints, with which she was so much delighted, that Cherry began to lose
at least one half of her attention. As usual, he would chirp the moment
he saw her, let her be at what distance she would; but Nancy began to
take no notice of him, and almost a week had passed, without his
receiving either a bit of biscuit, or a fresh supply of chick-weed. He
repeated the sweetest and most harmonious notes that Nancy had taught
him, but to no purpose.

It now appeared too clearly, that new objects began to attract Nancy's
attention. Her birth-day arrived, and her godfather gave her a large
jointed doll, which she named Columbine: and this said Columbine proved
a sad rival to Cherry; for, from mo