The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1859-06-22
SeIett MiseelIanp
THE LOST CANARY.
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND.

"Now, Weston, my little boy, don't touch
the cage while mamma is gone" And the
sweet voiced lady pushed away the bright curls
from the child's forehead, and kissed it with
such tenderness, you would have known she
was his mother.
"No, mamma, I'll only listen to Carols sing
ing'-looking up with smile from the illustra-
ted volume of Robinson Crusoe, over which
his curly head had been bowed for the last two
hours. And so Mrs. Platt left the room, and
the only life within it was the boy and the
bird.
Both were quiet for long time; the willow
shadows swept coolly against the open windows,
or brushed up and down the palm leaved pa
per hangings, while the bird was curled up in
the corner of the cage.
Weston Patt was her only child, and it was
not strange that the parents loved their beauti-
full, brown-haired boy, with love that was
almost idolatry.
Weston had an ardent, impulsive, generous
nature, and Mrs. Platt, though perhaps an
over fond, was judicious and Christian mother
"Carol," the canary, whose large wire cage
hung near the window, was the pet of the
whole household, as his songs were its morn
ing and evening music but the bird was
doubly dear to Mrs. Platt because he was the
gift of her youngest brother, just before he
left her for California.
"Hurrah I've finished you up at last" sud-
denly broke out Weston, as he tossed the ele-
gantly bound volume into an arm chair. "I
shan't read any more this morning, that's certain
Carol you lazy little bird, wake up here, and
sing one of YOUR sweetest songsP' And he
darted off to the cage, giving it slight blow
which sent it vibrating backward and forward,
aud started up CuruI fiuIn his slumbers.
The bird shook its bright yellow wings, and
blinked at Weston with its soft brown eyes.
But the boy hummed tune, and Carol soon
caught the contagion. Its clear, sweet war
bling flowed up and down the room, and out
among the willow boughs, and Weston leaned
his head against the window frame, and listen
ed quietly, for the boy had an unusual love for
music. ..'-
At last Carol ceased, and Weston put up his
face close to the wires. "Come here, birdie, %
he said, coaxingly, "and let me smooth your
yellow plumes."
But Carol was shy, and hoped up to the
top-most bars of the cage, or stuck his bill in
to the china trough of seed, and Weston could
not reach him, though he pushed his fingers
through the bars.
His hand was on the door fastenings, when
he remembered his promise to his mother
"No matter, you need only push the door the
least bit jar, whispered the voice of the tempt
er in the heart of Weston Platt.
Alas little children, love to write for you
the good, rather than the evil, but the truth
must be told always, and Weston Platt did lis
ten to that soft voice, and slowly, very slowly
he turned the fastenings.
At first he did not leave the door ajar more
than half an inch, but Carol still hovered close
ly in the corner of the cage, and Weston could
not push his hand through the aperture.
In his excitement he opened the door wider
than he intended, in order to reach the bird