to cultivate an
acquaintance, I have no doubt something might have been accomplished;
but he just huddled down in one corner of the cage, half frightened to
death, like a logy, lumpy, country bumpkin as he was, and I swept him
back to his native coop in disgust. Relieved from the lout's presence,
Cheri gradually laid aside his tantrums, smoothed down his ruffled
plumes, and resumed the manners of a gentleman.

My attempt at happy families was nipped in the bud, decidedly.

By and by I went to the market-town, and, having sold my butter and
eggs, hunted up a bird-fancier. He had plenty of heliotropes,
verbenas, and japonicas, and HAD had plenty of birds, but of course
they were every one gone. Nobody wanted them. He had just about given
them away, for a quarter of a dollar or so, and since then ever so many
had been to buy them. Could he tell me where I might find one? Yes, he
sold one to the barber last week, down near the depot. Didn't believe
but what he would sell it. Was it a female bird? For my ambition had
grown by what it fed on, and, instead of contenting myself simply with
a companion for Cheri, I was now planning for a whole brood of
canaries, with all the interests of housekeeping, baby-tending, and the
manifold small cares incident upon domestic life. In short, I was
launching out upon an entirely new career, setting a new world
a-spinning in that small wire cage. Yes, it was a female bird. A good
bird? For I could not understand the marvelously low price. Yes 'm,
prime. Had eight young ones last year. Eight young ones! I rather
caught my breath. I wanted a brood, but I thought three was the
regular number, and I must confess I could hardly look with fortitude
on such a sudden and enormous accession of responsibility. Besides,
the cage was not half large enough. And how could they all bathe? And
how could I take proper care of so many? And, dear me, eight young
ones! And eight more next year is sixteen. And the grandchildren! And
the great-grandchildren! Hills on hills and Alps on Alps! I shall be
pecked out of house and home. I walked up the street musingly, and
finally concluded not to call on the barber just yet.

It was very well I did so, for just afterwards Cheri's matins and
vespers waxed fainter and fainter, and finally ceased altogether. In
great anxiety I called in the highest medical science, which announced
that he was only shedding his feathers. This opinion was cor