ings, both good and bad, and many of the weavers in Manchester know
and care more about birds than any one would easily credit. Stubborn,
silent, reserved men on many things, you have only to touch on the
subject of birds to light up their faces with brightness. They will tell
you who won the prizes at the last canary show, where the prize birds
may be seen, and give you all the details of those funny, but pretty and
interesting mimicries of great people's cattle shows. Among these
amateurs, Emanuel Morris the barber was an oracle.

He took Libbie into his little back room, used for private shaving of
modest men, who did not care to be exhibited in the front shop decked
out in the full glories of lather; and which was hung round with birds
in rude wicker cages, with the exception of those who had won prizes,
and were consequently honoured with gilt-wire prisons. The longer and
thinner the body of the bird was, the more admiration it received, as
far as external beauty went; and when, in addition to this, the colour
was deep and clear, and its notes strong and varied, the more did Emanuel
dwell upon its perfections. But these were all prize birds; and, on
inquiry, Libbie heard, with some little sinking at heart, that their
price ran from one to two guineas.

"I'm not over-particular as to shape and colour," said she, "I should
like a good singer, that's all!"

She dropped a little in Emanuel's estimation. However, he showed her his
good singers, but all were above Libbie's means.

"After all, I don't think I care so much about the singing very loud;
it's but a noise after all, and sometimes noise fidgets folks."

"They must be nesh folks as is put out with the singing o' birds,"
replied Emanuel, rather affronted.

"It's for one who is poorly," said Libbie, deprecatingly.

"Well," said he, as if considering the matter, "folk that are cranky,
often take more to them as shows 'em love, than to them as is clever
and gifted. Happen yo'd rather have this'n," opening a cage-door,
and calling to a dull-coloured bird, sitting moped up in a corner,
"Here--Jupiter, Jupiter!"

The bird smoothed its feathers in an instant, and, uttering a little
note of delight, flew to Emanuel, putting his beak to his lips, as if
kissing him, and then, perching on his head, it began a gurgling warble
of pleasure, not by any means so varied or so clear as the song of the
others, but which pleased Libbie more; for she was always one to find
o