THE PASSING OF A BIRD

The elemental messenger of HPB once rang the fairy bell with pathetic effect, at the moment when her pet canary died. It is fixed indelibly in my memory from the fact that it is associated with the recollection of HPB's felling of genuine sorrow.

It was just an ordinary little hen canary, not much to look at for beauty ... I forgot where we got her, but think HPB brought her from Philadelphia and that I bought her mate ... in New York ... We had them a long time and they came to be almost like children.

... All went well with us and the birds for many months, but at last our quartette was broken up by the death of Jenny. She was found lying at her last gasp on her back in her cage. I took her out and placed her in HPB's hand, and we mourned together over our pet. HPB kissed her, gently stroked her plumage, tried to restore her vitality by magnetic breathing, but nothing availed; the bird's gasps grew feebler and feebler, until we saw it could only be a question of minutes.

Then the stern, granite-faced HPB melted into tenderness, opened her dress, and laid little Jenny in her bosom; as if to give her life by placing her near the heart that was beating in pity for her. But it was useless; there came a last gasp, a last flutter of the birdie's heart, and then? Then sharp and sweet and clear in the Akasha near us, rang out a fairy bell, the requiem of the passing life; and HPB wept for her dead bird.