She had plenty of flowers in her bay window conservatory, besides a tiny crystal fountain, that leaped and sparkled to the astounding altitude of some eighteen inches, and which, on festive occasions, ran Florida-water or Eau-de- Cologne.

In addition to these, she required, to my mind, a bird to complete the effect of the whole.

A bird she, accordingly, should have.
I had often heard her say that she loved birds dearly.

Not wild songsters, however, who sing best in their native freedom of the skies, like the spotted-breasted, circle-carolling lark, the thicket-haunting blackbird, and the sweet-throated thrush .-- It would have afforded her no pleasure to prison up one of these in a cage.

But, a little fledgling that had never known what it was to roam at its own sweet will, and who, when offered the liberty of the air, would hardly care to "take advantage of the situation;" _that_ would be the bird which she would like to have, I was certain.
I knew just such an one.