taking the courageous step of going to Colantonio and actually asking him for the hand of his daughter in marriage. His application was treated with ridicule by Colantonio, who, by way of extinguishing the poor gipsy's hopes, told him that he meant to bestow his daughter only upon some one who was as good a painter as himself. Then will you accept of me,' said Solario, 'for your son-in-law, if after a certain time Í should present myself with that qualification? Will you give me ten years to learn to paint, and so to entitle myself to the hand of your daughter?' The painter, thinking he was not hazarding much by agreeing to such a proposal, and wishing to get rid of the impetuous importunities of the tinker, which were becoming rather alarming, acceded to Solario's request, on condition that he left Naples, and did not show his face for that number of years. The agreement having been ratified by respectable witnesses, one of whom was a princess, the reigning king's sister, who perhaps joined in the affair for the fun of it, Solario left Naples for Rome, but no one there would encourage him in his pursuit of art and love under difficulties. Hearing of Lippo Dalmasi, a painter of Bologna, he repaired thither. Lippo also attempted to discourage him; but not to be baffled with difficulties or deterred by ridicule, he pressed his application so perseveringly, employing even tears to aid his entreaties, that the reluctant painter was at last induced to admit him as a pupil. But all difficulties were not yet at an end. He was poor, and to supply his necessities he would frequently go to the neighbouring villages in his profession of tinker, and return with unquenched ardour to the performance of the higher duties of the artist. His application was as unceasing as his progress was unquestionable. He had not been with Lippo long before his master and fellow students saw that he had within him the germs of genius, and sufficient industry and enthusiasm to ultimately ensure success; and those who at first laughed at him for his adventurous love now encouraged him to persevere with unceasing activity in the great work to which he had luckily committed himself. He remained six or seven years with Lippo, and then left Bologna to visit the other great cities of Italy, with a view to improve himself in his art by studying the various styles of the great masters. He spent three years in this way, during which time he visited Florence, Ferrara, Venice, and Rome. By this time he had become deeply penetrated with a love of his art, and wherever he went he felt more inspired; for Italy in that age was consecrated by the presence of Genius, and the atmosphere of its

She

cities was redolent with incense offered at the shrine of the Beautiful. After an absence of nine years and some months Solario returned to Naples as a stranger, but with letters of introduction to some of the distinguished families of that city. He brought with him a Madonna and Child of his own drawing, and presented it to his former patroness, the princess, who, during the interval, had become queen. Ascertaining that he painted the beautiful picture, she sat to him for her portrait, which Solario painted with exactitude and finish. When her majesty had expressed her approbation of the picture, Solario threw himself at her feet, and asked her if she did not recollect the wandering gipsy, who, ten years before, had the honour of being admitted to her presence, and in whose fortune she had then been pleased to take an interest. The queen, after closely observing him, and calling memory to her assistance, saw that he was indeed the very man! immediately sent for Colantonio, and asked him his opinion of her newly-painted portrait. The old artist extolled it beyond measure. On her majesty asking him whether he would not prefer giving his daughter to one who could so paint, than wait any longer for the return of the gipsy, of whom for so long a time he had heard nothing? Too glad of an opportunity of being released from his engagement, the Neapolitan painter eagerly expressed his assent to the proposal. Solario was then called from behind the curtain, where he had been listening to the whole of the conversation, and was introduced to Colantonio by the queen as he who had been the gipsy, but who, by his matchless industry, and unquenchable love of art, and the old gentleman's daughter, had heroically smitten down difficulties, and realized his magnificent dream by becoming a great painter. Colantonio, struck with astonishment, saw before him the very face and form which had so earnestly asked for his daughter's hand ten years before, and overcome with his feelings, he fell on the neck of the transformed tinker, and kissed him, and said, that if his ancestry did not deserve his daughter, his art did.

Solario in the full flush of triumph was introduced to the lady towards whom his heart had so long aspired, and whose happiness it was his high ambition to promote. They soon went, she in her beauty and he in his pride, to the altar, and there pledged themselves to a union which had been so nobly struggled for and so worthily won.

We have not yet exhausted this fertile subject, and shall return to it in our next number, when other interesting illustrations of the Romance of Love' will be given.

1][111

FAVORITE BIRDS.

PRACTICAL HINTS TO THOSE WHO KEEP THEM.

ANY arguments have been urged against the practice of keeping birds in confinement, and it is usual to consider such arguments as the offspring of a mawkish sentimentality and a sham humanity, and to treat with contempt the authors of such pleadings on behalf of the feathered captives. Unfortunately it is one of the fashions of this world for those who differ in opinion, no matter on what subjects, to make motives as much a part of the discussion as the questions professedly at issue. Were this not the fashion there would be more pleasure in making opposition and more profit in debate. We are of those who believe that the imprisonment of a bird is not so terrible a thing as it has been represented, but we are not prepared to smile at the humanity of those who condemn the practice as cruel and unjust. If we consider Nature as a republic of individuals, then it is manifestly unjust to interfere with the liberties of the meanest citizen of her commonwealth. But Nature is not so liberal in her politics; she believes in might over right, and practises tyrannies quite at variance with the idea of universal liberty. Argue as you will-admit that it is cruel to make prisoners of birds-concede the point that humane motives render the capture of any creature an act of cruelty-still people will keep birds, and hence there will always be those to catch them and teach them to bear imprisonment. No doubt the love of birds springs from the highest capabilities of our nature, from that love of things beautiful and gentle, that yearning in man after the joys of free nature, which are shut out from his false city life, and which he endeavours to replace by flowers in pots, landscape pictures on his walls, and birds that sing in cages.

If people will keep birds it is essential that they should know how to feed, rear, and preserve them, in order that they may afford the full amount of gratification, and enjoy life sufficiently in captivity as to cease, as it were, pining in wretchedness for the liberties they have lost. Hundreds, thousands of birds are brought from the green woods into

London, and other large towns, for the delight of citizens, whose fate it is to perish miserably and speedily, and afford none of the gratifications of song. Ill-fed, neglected, exposed to colds and heats, buried in dark corners, or flung into an intolerable blaze of unshaded sunlight, numbers of these helpless and beautiful creatures are sacrificed almost without a pang by the thoughtless who purchase them, and the callous who neglect them. We pronounce it a cruelty and a sin for any person, either by design or neglect, to inflict pain on one of the lower creatures. The act marks a capacity for something worse, a wantonness which may some day exhibit itself in maltreatment to a child, deceit to a friend, forgetfulness of selfrespect. The cruelty which flows from ignorance is more pardonable, though not the less pernicious, perhaps more so, to its victim, and for this we propose a remedy in the way of a few hints.

THE CANARY.

Unquestionably of all the birds which have become favorites to dwellers in towns, the canary holds the most prominent place. He is no prisoner, but a citizen installed in the rights of citizenship, a married and settled housekeeper, earning his bread by labours well appreciated, and having no longing for the outdoor life of his less civilized brethren.

Canaries are of three kinds, namely, French, mealy, and mottled. The finest are the French; they are brilliant in colour, of a fine gold above the head and neck, with a few black spots about the wings and tail, but without a trace of white about them. The mealy stand next in excellence; they are so mixed in colour that they have no distinct markings, though their young frequently show fine and decided colours. The mottled are ill-looking birds, owing to the sickly white, or very pale yellow or grey, with which they are marked, though the hens of this kind usually make excellent mothers.

If you make up your mind to purchase a cock canary, consider yourself lucky if you do not get a hen instead, for of all cheats, bird-fanciers are the cleverest and the most unscrupulous. A cock canary, to be worth his keep, should be well taught and well bred, and at the same time of brilliant colour. In purchasing choose the most sleek and sprightly bird you can find, but beware that the dealer does not make some sickly Lazarus appear the most abandoned of revellers. A healthy bird in good song will flounce two or three times to the top of his cage and then strut and shake himself in defiance of you. A sickly bird will do something of the sort, if frightened by the ingenious tricks of the dealer, who, while you admire what

you deem the perking sauciness of the terrified victim, will make such motions with his hand while pointing out the fictitious excellences of the bird, as will deceive you, and inspire the other with many caprices of fear; therefore always set the bird at a distance, and if he struts boldly, moves with vigour, and shakes himself with abandoned sauciness, you may depend upon his health. If at all ailing, he will, when set at a distance, crouch, mope, hang his wings, or sit all of a heap, or put his head under his wings, all of which performances indicate disease. You may judge also by the dung, which from a healthy bird is thick, hard, and round, of a fine white outside and dark in the middle; if at all thin, slimy, with no black in it, it is certain he is not long for this world. But the greatest difficulty is to make sure of getting a cock bird; if you hear him sing, you have no further inquiry to make; a hen never sings, though she may make a respectable jabber. That bird is best whose song commences like the sky-lark and runs on like the notes of the nightingale, and if he holds it long with no mingling of hard notes, nothing can be finer. Some, however, are much prized if they blend the nightingale with the tit-lark, and there are many varieties of style equally good in themselves. The least valuable is the bird whose song holds all through in the style of the sky-lark, and the most valuable that which blends the nightingale and lark together, with no abruptness of expression and with plenty of breath and courage.

If you do not hear the bird sing, as you seldom can when purchasing, you must resort to more subtle modes to discover the sexes. At first sight an inexperienced observer would note but little difference between the one and the other; a little attention, however, will soon enable any one to pick out all the cocks in a collection of birds. First, the real songster has a noble carriage, which the hen never shows. He carries his head erect, and stands upright like a sparrowhawk; the hen is short, small, and round in the vent, the cock, on the contrary, is slender and tapers off from wing to tail almost in a point. In addition to these signs look for brighter tints of yellow above the bill, under the throat, and on the pinion of the wing, for no matter what is the general colour of the bird, the cock invariably shows bright markings in these places, while the hens are destitute of them. Those cocks which have touches of dusky green above and below are generally the strongest.

Many a fine bird, for which a high price has been paid, loses his song in the course of a few weeks, and his life in a few