Bullfinches that are perfect in their song, are worth a great deal of money. Both the male and female sing, but the colours of the male are the brightest. These birds, however, in confinement, lose their brilliancy of hue, and, from growing duskier and duskier, sometimes become entirely black, as if putting on mourning for their lost liberty. The same change has been observed in a bird which lost its mate to whom it had been tenderly attached. It is principally for its power of imitation and memory that this bird is prized. His wild notes, when loud, are not particularly sweet, but at times are very soft and plaintive. I will conclude with a pretty and affecting little story of a piping bullfinch that once belonged to Sir William Parsons. When young he was a great musician, and had taught his bullfinch to sing "God Save the King." On going abroad, he committed his feathered friend to the care of his sister, with many injunctions to be watchful of its health and happiness. On his return she told him the little bird had seemed pining away, and was then very ill. Grieved to hear this news, Sir William went at once to the room where it was kept, and, putting his hand into the cage, called the little creature. It knew the voice of the dear master for whom it had so pined and, opening its eyes and shaking its disordered feathers, as if to do him honour, staggered on to his finger, piped "God Save the King," and then fell dead. THE ALBATROSS. This is the largest of all sea-birds, and you are not very likely to make acquaintance with him except in a picture. For though the albatross has been seen in our latitudes, yet the southern seas are his native home. There he spreads his long wings and floats over the ocean like a white sea-king. The greater part of his feathers are white, but the head and back are shaded with grey. There are many kinds of albatross, but the great Wandering Albatross, as it is called, is the largest, and though the body is not much bigger than that of a pelican, the wings, which are long and narrow, have been known to measure as much as fourteen feet across when fully expanded, or spread out. Must he not look a noble bird, sailing as he does calmly round and round, far up in the air, over those southern seas? From the length of his wings, the albatross has some little trouble in raising himself from the surface of the water, where he often floats at rest. He has to skim along half flying and half running for some distance, until his wings are clear of the water; then he soars away, seldom flapping his wings, but rising, sinking, and floating through the air, as if kept up by some internal power. As he seldom is obliged to flap his wings he does not get tired of flying, and can remain on the wing for a very, very long time, pursuing his prey, or enjoying the sailing motion through the air. [Illustration: THE ALBATROSS.]