The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-06-13
THE OLD LADY's LAST SONG.
And N Wonderful Tale of "a Pet Ca
nary in Western PennsyIva mia.
From the Pittsburg Dispatch.


Dunremy told the following strange
tale about his pet canary. which he
claimed to be the finest songster in
Western Pennsylvania:
"A little golden male bird" said he,
(which we cali Daisy-its hard to
change a name, you know. His voice
is Incompatible. He can yodle like
Fritz Emmett the elder and improv1se
ike-er-Mascagni. l remem-
Der one time last June when he was
hanging out on the front porch among
the honeysuckle interchangeable
come in June, don't they? A dear old
lady was ebbing away next door. Dali
sy had done much to make her last
days bright. The invalid used to sit on
the porch in a reclining chair and lis
ten to the songster. Often my wife told
me that she had seen the aged wom-
an clap her hands feebly and smile
after one of the little fellows musical
flights.
But on this June day arose from
the luncheon table amazed by mar
velous melody. Daisy had never sung
that way before, nor had any other
bird. It's no use to try to describe the
music more than to say 1t was soft
and low and sweet. My wife ana l
stood listening underneath the cage.
Suddenly the song ceased, and we went
indoors, impressed more than l can
tell. Just few minutes later the cid
ladys daughter entered the house
weeping. She told us that the end had
come and tried to thank us for the lit
tie bird. She declared that the melody
had foated in through the open win
dow where her mother lay-floated in
like a blessing--and ceased just at the
last breath, and that her mother had
tried to clap her hands.
But that isn't the story I wanted
to tell resumed Dunremy "a couple
of weeks ago, through the gross care
lessness of the servant Daisy's cage,
which was hung insecurity on the
front porch. crashed down some six
feet or more. I rushed out and found
the bird fluttering on the bottom of
the cage with its left leg broken. MY
first impulse was to end the little ones
agony, but my wife restrained me. You
can imagine that she has a gentle and
steady hand when she succeeded in
wrapping a little bandage about the
break After that Daisy was wrapped
in cotton and placed in a little box
1T didn't seem to me that the can
airy could possibly live, but when I
came home to lunch the following noon
my wife declared joyfully that Daisy
had eaten some seeds from her hand.
On the fourth day we put the bird
back on his perch, and he sat there,
getting stronger every minute. At the
end of a week we heard a piteous lit
tie song. BY Jove. you don't know how
the first song appealed to us!
But the music grew louder each
day. BY this time 1t was impossible
to keep a bandage about the limb
Daisy would never rest until he sue
ceeded in tearing off the wrapping.
BY Jove he knew best! The
bones set themselves-a little crooked
and all that, but strong enough to do
support.
And here comes the strange part.
Yesterday morning l happened near
the cage and / saw Daisy engaged in
eating off his toes! It's a fact, and yet
it would take a Darwin to explain it.
You know, a bird has four toes, tip
ped with long claws; the whole is not
unlike a human hand without a little
finger. I was late at work
yesterday morning, watching the pro-
cess. Piece by piece Daisy bit off the
member corresponding to our index
finger, eating every scrap. Then he
treated the third in the same fashion,
severing the two clear to the leather
cushion And then he stopped work and
went to sleep. The members bled
slightly.
If you stretch out your thumb and
middle finger, forgetting the others,
u
This the canary wrapped lightly about
the bar of his perch. $And now
tell me, what bird instinct was at the
basis of such an action? The only
thing I can think of-and II isn't sat
isfactory-was that the members would
have dropped off, anyway, on account
of the poor circulation, and that Daisy
sacrificed the two comparatively use
less extremities with a strange instinct
of saving enough with which TO cling
and support even a little.
This morning the little one was
more lively than ever, and we heard
from HIM the first real old-time song"
The conversation which passed upon
Dunremy's tender tale harvested no
| further explanation. When there was
a lag in the talk the narrator built on
| the following uncertain cupola:
| Whenever I hear the canary sing
certain notes and snatches," said he, 81
| remember the sweet old lady next door
| and that June day a year ago.
| We were old neighbors, you know, and
my wife and l grew very fond of the
| aged invalid and her daughter. Often,
| on summer evenings, we would go
| over and sit for a while on the porch
| with the two. The old lady's favorite
song was Home, Sweet Home. Again
and again I have heard her sing that
old, sweet melody in the twilight. Her
| voice was Iull OF QUaVerS ana there
were queer, uncertain pauses in the
songs, and all that; but somehow she
always rang true to us. Maybe it was
because we thought so much of her,
or because she loved the song 80 we'll.
"Of course, we went to the funeral,
and. of course, the old lady's favorite
song was sung by the choir
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!-
| Be it ever so humble,
There's no place like homel
Suddenly l darted a glance at my
wife. She was looking at me. Her
face was ashen and her eyes were full
of terror.
LAS we walked across the lawn to
our house the carriages were leaving.
My wife grasped my arm, inquiring,
| hoarsely:
Did you hear it, too?
Yes said l.
1.-The old ladys quavering voice
Joining In as they sang the song she
| loved%
Yes. I said.
"And l did hear it," concluded Dun
remy, "sure as I'm sitting herel"
"Dunremy," we remarked, after a
pause, you're a man with a dilated
imagination"
IF you think that" he said with
a quiet smile come on out to the
house and I'll show you little Daisy
and his two toes!"