gentleman's house, he soon found himself disturbed at the praises
bestowed by some ladies in company upon a little canary bird, which
belonged to the mistress of the house. He began to kick his feet
together, to hang first one arm and then the other over the back of his
chair, with the obvious expression of impatience and contempt in his
countenance. Henry Campbell, in the meantime, said, without any
embarrassment, just what he thought about the bird. Archibald Mackenzie,
with artificial admiration, said a vast deal more than he thought, in
hopes of effectually recommending himself to the lady of the house. The
lady told him the history of three birds, which had successively
inhabited the cage before the present occupier. "They all died,"
continued she, "in a most _extraordinary_ manner, one after another, in a
short space of time, in convulsions."

"Don't listen," whispered Forester, pulling Henry away from the crowd who
surrounded the bird-cage; "how can you listen, like that polite
hypocrite, to this foolish woman's history of her _extraordinary_
favourites? Come down-stairs with me, I want to tell you my adventure
with the schoolmistress; we can take a turn in the hall, and come back
before the cabinet of minerals is opened, and before these women have
finished the ceremony of tea. Come."

"I'll come presently," said Henry; "I really want to hear this."

Henry Campbell was not listening to the history of the lady's favourite
birds like a polite hypocrite, but like a good-natured sensible person;
the circumstances recalled to his memory the conversation that we
formerly mentioned, which began about pickled cucumbers, and ended with
Dr. Campbell's giving an account of the effects of some poisons. In
consequence of this conversation, Henry's attention had been turned to