CHAPTER XLV.—WOOD-WORKING AND CARVING; OR, WALKING-STICKS AND HOW TO TREAT THEM.

Walking-sticks of all varieties—apple, ash, blackthorn, brier, cherry, elm, hazel, holly, oak, vine, and whitethorn—are best when cut in the winter, between November and February; the sap is then sluggish, the leaves are off, and the character of the stick can be most easily descried.

To boys who desire to carry a stick of their own choice and dressing, the following practical notes will be of value.

Never attempt to trim a stick as soon as you have cut it. Leave the branches on it an inch or two long, and hang the stick up to dry for a week or so, knob end uppermost with a weight on the narrow end. Let it hang in a moderately cool place, and when it is dry and pliable, take it down and begin to trim it. Cut off the branches you do not want, and make the crook if you do not care to finish merely with a knob. To make the crook, plunge the end for a quarter of an hour in boiling water, bend it to shape, and keep it in place by a piece of string twisted by a stick in the middle, like the spring of a jumping frog, or the stretcher of a ribbon saw. When the stick has dried in shape, trim it to taste with a sharp knife, and give it a good rub down with sand-paper. When it is smooth and presentable, if you want it to remain its natural colour, give it a coat of boiled linseed-oil, and let this dry thoroughly into it. If you want the stick to be black, boil a pound of logwood chips for an hour in a quart of water, and brush the stick over with the boiling liquor. When the stick is dry, give it another boiling coat of the decoction. When that is dry, dissolve an ounce of green copperas in a quart of hot water and coat the stick with the solution. Keep the stick away from the fire, and let it dry each time slowly and well, and you will find that the mixture of the copperas and the logwood has dyed it an intense black. After you have stained it, give it a coat of boiled oil, and when that is thoroughly dry, begin to polish it.

For the polish, mix an ounce and a half of shellac with a quarter of an ounce of gum mastic, and dissolve them slowly in half a pint of methylated spirits, or, what is better, quicker, and cheaper, buy threepenny worth of French polish from the nearest oil-shop.

Having polished the stick, finish it with a coat of hard varnish or copal varnish such as the artists use, of which a little goes a long way. Hard varnish can be bought cheaply. If you must make it, mix together an ounce of gum mastic, two ounces of gum juniper, a quarter of an ounce of turpentine, and a pint of methylated spirits. Give the stick one or two even coats of varnish, and you will find it last for many months. Some sticks do very well varnished over the oil and stain, then the polish is saved. If you want to stain a stick brown, add dragon’s blood to the polish; if you like it golden coloured, drop in some yellow ochre or gamboge. The difficulty in stick-making, however, is not in the polishing; it is in the bending and trimming.

Apple makes excellent sticks if judiciously dried. Ash sticks are best cut from saplings; when cut from hedges or pollards, they are inclined to become brittle. Like apple sticks, they require careful seasoning to be serviceable. Blackthorn sticks are heavy, and liable to splinter. They are best when cut from saplings. Brier sticks are also best when cut from saplings. Cherry sticks should be stripped of only a part of their bark, and require sand-papering, oiling, polishing, and varnishing. Elm sticks should have the rough bark left on; they also are best when taken from saplings, but it is very seldom indeed that an elm stick is fit for anything else than to be looked at. Hazel sticks are light and handsome, and do good service, no matter whence they are cut. They should be well rubbed down with sandpaper and carefully varnished. Holly sticks are as good as any. Cut them from the branch with the crook or knob attached, and let them have a long time to dry. Oak sticks are the strongest and toughest, but the most difficult to dry and trim. If you dry them too rapidly they split, if you dry them with the bark off they split, if you have the knots close together they split. If you get a good oak cudgel you can smash any stick of any other wood not exceeding it in size. Vine sticks are also of value, but they have an unpleasant tendency to warp and twist. Whitethorn sticks are like unto blackthorn sticks—heavy, treacherous, and brittle.

If you want to bark a stick, steep it in hot water, and rub off the coat with a piece of sacking. If you want to bend or straighten a stick, cover it with hot wet sand, and get it into shape while it is hot.

Of canes we need make no mention, nor need we deal with the birch. They are but luxuries, frequently doomed to be misunderstood. Their days are over. Alas, poor cane! Alas, poor birch!

Nothing has been said so far about carving its handle, and as a stick of our own cutting and carving has a certain charm about it, and in its making affords an agreeable exercise for a wet day, we [herewith] give a couple of designs which can easily be improved upon, and which are grotesque enough to look well even as failures; and this to a beginner is a quality not to be despised. We may as well, however, adopt the usual plan of descending from generals to particulars, and find space for a few notes on stick history.

When Œdipus solved the riddle of the Sphinx, he thought of a walking-stick—as many others of the puzzled have done. ‘There’s a being,’ said the riddler, ‘which has four feet, and three feet, with only one voice; but its feet vary, and when it has the most it is the weakest.’ ‘That,’ said Œdipus, ‘must be man, who, when he is a child, crawls on his hands and knees; when he is a man walks uprightly; and when he is old totters with a walking-stick!’

On the origin and development of the walking-stick a goodly volume might be written. Perhaps the most interesting form the stick took was that of the pilgrim’s staff. This staff was about four feet long, armed at the lower end with a spike, and fitted about a foot from its top with a knob for the hand to rest upon. The lower part was solid, the upper part was hollow, and was used for relics of saints, or a musical instrument, or something to eat, according to the taste of the owner. It was in a pilgrim’s staff that saffron was secretly brought from Greece to Saffron Walden, and it was in a similar way that silkworms found their way to Europe. This idea of using a stick as a carrier has been utilised in our own days, not only for telescopes, match-boxes, swords, and guns, but also for surgeons’ instruments.

Another striking form was that of the ferula, which derives its name from the giant fennel, of whose stalk it generally consisted. The tough lightness of the fennel wood rendered it particularly suited for the support of the aged, and hence it gradually became the prototype of those lighter wands which have continued amongst us as a sign of office or seniority; and at the same time it retained its popularity with the chastisers of erratic youth. In the East the ferula was replaced by the reed; but in Egypt the reed gave place to slender sticks of cherry wood, some of which had a carved handle. This carving of the head is, however, peculiar to no country and no age. It is a practice indulged in by all men, savage and civilised.

In our own Tudor period the walking-stick began to flourish much. Then for the first time do we get it elaborately carved and adorned with precious metals. In the inventory of the old palace at Greenwich, there is entered, “A cane garnished with sylver and gilte, with astronomie upon it. A cane garnished with golde, having a perfume on the toppe; under that a diall with a pair of twitchers and a pair of compasses of golde; and a foot rule of golde, a knife and a file of golde, with a whetstone tipped with golde.” A somewhat elaborate battery to carry in a walking stick! In the seventeenth century sticks became even more ornamental, and in the eighteenth they began to be made entirely of agate, or clouded marble, or ivory. How these were used and abused can be learnt from No. 103 of the Tattler, where Isaac Bickerstaffe issues licences regarding them, and is appealed to by petitioners, one of whom asks for permission to retain his cane on account of its having become as indispensable to him as any of his other limbs. “The knocking of it upon his shoe, leaning one leg upon it, or whistling upon it with his mouth, are such great reliefs to him in conversation, that he does not know how he should be good company without it.” Later on this fashion of elaborate walking sticks was adopted by the old ladies, and it was quite common to see the dames out walking with wood, ivory, whalebone, or green glass sticks, five or six feet in length, having the ends bent over like a shepherd’s crook, and twisted back again towards the ground.

In these days, now that the means of communication have been so much improved and the world become one huge country, foreign sticks have lost much of their rarity. They come to us in tons, and a stick importer’s warehouse is a sight to see. The goods in the rough do not look inviting; in fact, anything more resembling a lot of firewood it would be difficult to imagine. Those who have not the chance of seeing the interior of one of these stores, can obtain a very good notion of what they are like by inspecting a shop window next door to the Autotype Gallery in what used to be New Oxford Street. There can be seen canes of all sorts, rough and rooty, from the eastern and western tropics—rajahs from Borneo; malaccas from Sumatra (nearly all the malaccas come from Siak, they are the stems of Calamus scipionum); whanghees (the stems of Phyllostachis) from Hongkong; lawyers (a species of Calamus) from Penang; ratans and dragons from Calcutta; white bamboos, black bamboos, fluted bamboos from other seaports in the great Bay of Bengal; partridge canes, jambees, and dog’s-head canes; Spanish reeds (Arundo donax); jacks (vine stems), cinnamons, pimentos (the stem of the allspice), cabbage-stalks, and coffee-branches from the West Indies, with the green-backed orange and knobby lemon sticks from the same colonies; triangular leaf stalks of the date palm from Tunis; myrtle, pomegranate, and olive sticks from Algeria and Italy; blue gums from Australia; mahoganies from Cuba; ebonies, tulips, and crocodiles; cabbage-stalks from Guernsey; and, perhaps, tooroos from Guiana.

But English sticks, and the foreign importations supposed to be such, are the favourites after all, and it is them that we would ask our readers to choose for their experiments. The chief, as already explained, are oak, ash, beech, blackthorn, cherry, maple, crab, and hazel, all of them within reach of those that walk or dwell in country places, and all easily dressed and made presentable.

The most useful of them are the ash and beech, which can be stained and cut to resemble any stick, and form the raw material of almost all the shams. A goodly proportion of the blackthorn sold in the streets are beech sticks carved and dyed. It is easy to dye a stick black. Brush it over it with a hot decoction of logwood and nutgalls, and when it is dry give it a brushing with vinegar in which rusty nails have lain for two or three days. If you wish to dye it red, add some dragon’s-blood gum to the polish; if you wish it to be yellow, use ochre instead of dragon’s blood.

All sticks should be cut in the winter and left to dry in the rough in a cool place. If the bark is to come away let the stick be half dry before you begin to work upon it. If the bark is to remain on, let the stick get thoroughly dry before you attempt to trim it.

Ash sticks can be got from the hedge or the thin branches of a pollard, but the best are young saplings taken up root and all, the root coming in handy for carving. Oak sticks are easy to carve, but difficult to dry without splitting; they are the toughest and strongest of all sticks, and are generally got from copse-wood stumps. Holly sticks are best with the bark off; they are best when cut from the secondary branches that shoot up parallel to the main trunk. Sometimes they are found as saplings, and then the roots are retained as groundwork for decoration. Elm sticks are easily got and easily worked, but seldom turn out satisfactorily. Hazel, on the contrary, gives first-rate stick wood, and is soft and easily cut, and if tolerably thick and well dried it will not bend. Blackthorn is the best stick in vogue at what has taken the place of the historic Donnybrook, but there are many tougher and more trustworthy weapons for the peculiar recreation in which it is usually employed. It is an easy stick to prepare and polish, but like case-hardened iron to carve. We are told that those who attempt its carving generally borrow the tools from some unsuspecting friend! Verb. sap., or rather verb. to those who have dried out its sap and not discovered brittleness. Cherry sticks and apple sticks come easily to hand, and are not unfrequently charred with a hot iron and stained with acids to enable them to be sold as foreigners. Birch and poplar are best left alone. British vines almost always warp; and brier and whitethorn, like all the Rosaceæ, have wood that snaps and splinters on the slightest provocation.

To shape a stick use hot sand or steam, and fix it in the desired position when hot. To straighten it lash it when hot to a board, or hang it up with a heavy weight at its end. To dress it or polish it employ one of the methods described in the former part of this section.

When carving a handle, choose some design that will be smooth to the hand. As examples try a man’s head. One of the most extraordinary collections of walking-sticks ever made was formed by Robertson of Kincraigie, who was popularly supposed to be ‘daft.’ It was his practice to carve on his stick the head of any friend or foe he met with, and in time he owned quite a portrait gallery of wooden heads, which proved the cause of much wonderment to his visitors, for every batch he entertained had their features promptly reproduced in oak or hazel! As suitable designs for stick-heads there may be instanced dogs’ heads, birds’ heads, particularly broad-beaked ones, such as goose and albatross, snakes’ heads, fishes, and squirrel and beaver tails. To get good results proper carving tools should be used, cutting up instead of down with the grain; but capital work can be done with an ordinary penknife, the secret of success consisting in never cutting away a chip unless its removal has been well thought over. Carving stick-heads is not like carving panels, and fine work is out of the question with regard to them. There is not much room for improvement in the art. We saw in the 1851 Exhibition a stick carved in China 4,000 years ago, and it was as well done as anything now obtainable from the London stick-seller.

CHAPTER XLVI.—CAGES AND HUTCHES: AND HOW TO MAKE THEM.
By Gordon Stables, C.M., M.D., R.N.

I.—THE TOOLS AND MATERIALS—USEFUL HINTS.

Candidly, we must admit, that to attempt in this chapter to give anything like a complete and elaborate account of the making of the many different kinds of cages and hutches in which to keep pets of feather or pets of fur would be folly.

But I can give my readers many hints that will be of use to them on the subject in hand, and I may begin by telling them that it is not half so difficult to manufacture a good roomy, healthy, wholesome breeding-cage as may at first appear.

Nor need the cage you make be at all ugly or clumsy; only take pains with it, and do not be in a hurry, and I feel sure you will succeed. Do not let any person dishearten you by saying, ‘You can buy cheaper than you can make.’ I doubt if you could do so, but even allowing this were possible, you could not point proudly to your bought cage and say, ‘I made that.’

Now the first questions of practical moment I have to answer are these: 1, What tools are required in the manufacture of cages? And, 2, What materials?

An answer to the first question will enable you to decide at once whether or not you think it worth your time and trouble to go in for cage or hutch-making. I shall mention the tools that it is indispensable you should possess, and you may either buy them or borrow them, as you please. If you are merely going to make one cage or two, perhaps you had better borrow them. But I take this opportunity of reiterating this advice to all sensible boys who may have some spare time on their hands, to possess themselves of a box of useful tools. Cheap boxes of tools are worse than want. If you mean getting tools, get good ones. Do not be caught by the glitter and get-up of the box that contains them, nor by the sheen of the contents either. Be suspicious of articles that are advertised at an exceedingly low price, else you may find yourself possessed of hammers whose heads won’t stop on, saws as brittle as brass, gimlets and awls that burst their handles, planes with pot-metal tongues, and pliers as soft as cheese.

It is far better to fit your own box up, and fill it, buying the articles you require at a respectable ironmonger’s shop, and paying a fair price for them. Then all you have to remember is to keep everything in its place, and keep all steel work free from rust, and the box itself in its own corner and locked, so that Mary Ann, when she wants to break coals, will not have an opportunity of appropriating your axe.

Talking about rust, I find nothing better wherewith to smear tools that are to be laid past for a short time than a little blue ointment. You should keep a morsel of this in a chip box in a handy corner.

Well, now, as to birdcage and hutch-making, you must have, first and foremost, a bench whereon to work. Any old table will do if it be strong enough. But one thing it must have, and that is a contrivance to hold the wood on which you are working with the plane or other instrument. This may either be the wooden screw apparatus, or what is cheaper, the bench-lug.

The tools and things you really want, and must have, to make anything like a job, are (1) a nice sizeable saw, one that will either rip or cross-cut, so it must not have a back to it. (If you go in for fine and ornamental work about your cage it will be better to have a lathe—cost about £3 10s.—and a box of fretwork tools which will run you in to £1 10s. more. So take my advice—be content with what is useful for a time. If you breed some beautiful canaries you can sell them, and having extended the balance at your banker’s, go in for the ornamental afterwards.) (2) A plane or two, one plain plane, and one plough. I do not advise a jack. I know when I was a boy I could not manage the jack-plane nearly so well as the little short one. (3) Some chisels; say three; they are cheap and useful in a thousand ways. Mind, always keep them sharp, and do not use the mallet much on the end of them. (4) A wooden mallet. (5) A hammer or two, with claws at the end. (6) A spokeshave. (7) Pliers and pincers for ironwork. (8) A boring brace and bits to fit. (9) A bradawl or two. (10) A small hand-vice. (N.B.—This last is most essential for holding your wires, etc. Sometimes this vice itself will want holding to enable you to work with both hands. Very well, be handy, fasten it on to the end of your bench by means of the lug or screw apparatus.) (11) A two-foot rule. Do not buy a cheap one; it goes all out of shape in no time; besides, if you have a really serviceable article you can use it as a square. (12) A hone or sharpening stone. (13) Etceteras, in the shape of nails and screws of various sizes (I myself use nothing but the round French nails; they do not split the wood; they go home kindly, and with ordinary care they do not bend); a jam-pot to heat your glue, some glue to heat, a carpenter’s pencil, sand-paper, and a small oil-flask. Other little things may suggest themselves to you; I can’t think of anything else at present. And I would not mind beginning to make either an ordinary breeding cage or a hutch at this moment with the tools I have just named.

But, ‘What a lot!’ you will say, and ‘what a deal of money they will cost!’ Yes, but think of the many useful things you can make with those tools, quite independent of either cage or hutch.

And now as to the materials. What are these? I answer in two words, wood and wire. The wood may be almost any sort, but it must be very well seasoned, else as soon as it gets wet you will find the bottom of your cage coming off, or the back bulging out, and the whole concern gaping in the most unseemly way. The parts to be polished and stained may be hard wood.

Fig. 1.—Simple Breeding Cage.

The cage I have had [figured] is an ordinary two-roomed breeding-cage. It might have been a trifle easier for you to have tried your ‘’prentice han’,’ as Burns calls it, on perhaps a show-cage to begin with, but I cannot forget that the cock canary may have sometimes to be separated for a time from the hen; hence that partition with the hole in it, a hole that may be closed.

Some cagemen recommend this to be a fixture, but do you not think with me that if the partition can be withdrawn, so as to make both cages into one big one when required, it is better?

II.—CANARY BREEDING-CAGES, GERMAN AND ENGLISH.

I have already said that the wood a cage is made of is a matter of secondary importance. The body may be pine, for instance, and the front parts any kind of ordinary hard wood—mahogany to wit. The cage ([Fig. 2]) which is now before us is one of the German kind, manufactured by Mr. Abrahams, naturalist, St. George Street East. The nest has, however, been put in the drawing in the wrong compartment.

Fig. 2.

Fig. 3.

In order to make a breeding-cage like this, you repair to your working shop or garret, and having wood, wires, and tools all handy, you first determine the size you wish it to be. Well, I am of opinion that birds cannot have too much room; therefore, for sake of a little more wood and a little more wire, do not begrudge them space; say, 22 in. long, 11 in. wide, and 14 in. high. You can, I think, get wood wide enough to have the back all one piece, as well as each side and the bottom. If you cannot, just use your ingenuity, and make a neat job of joining.

Measure and cut the wood for the top and bottom first, both exactly the same, then the sides ditto. Now plane the wood very nicely, leaving it about three-eighths to half an inch thick. Do the same by the piece of wood that is to form the back.

No dovetailing is needed, and that is a good thing, is it not? Now cut out your square doorway in each gable. If you do this neatly the pieces that you have sawed out or cut out will themselves form the doors. Size of each door—say four inches square. This is big enough for any one’s hand, and big enough to put the nest in. But never mind fitting the doors at present; we will do that after.

Next proceed to fix the box-work of the cage; that is, fasten sides, back, and bottom in their positions, and we will then turn our attention to the front and the internal fittings. There is a hole in the back part, by-the-way, by which you hang the cage on a nail. You may as well make that before you fix up. Have your small nails, your hammer, and your glue-pot at hand, the latter hot, because before you send the nails quite home you must insert a goodly dose of glue. This is important, because it entirely fills up any crevice that might otherwise harbour vermin, and if these once get into your breeding-cage your prospects of doing any good are very likely to be ruined for one season.

Now nail and glue your sides to the back first and foremost, then turn the cage upside down, and fasten in the same way the bottom to the sides and back, reverse and do the same to the top. If you have previously taken correct measurements of the parts, the body of your cage will now look square and fair and neat. If you have not, you had better take it to pieces again and mend matters before you go any further.

Direct your attention next to the front, but you had better let the work you have already done get firm and dry before doing much more to it. Meanwhile measure and make the piece of hard wood that crosses the cage in front just above the bottom drawer ([Fig. 2], A).This should be from two to two and a half inches wide, and an oblong space or opening (B B) is to be left at each end. These are for the little seed-tins to fit in. As soon as you have made this piece of wood (A) and dressed it most neatly, you may place it in position. This must be most carefully done, leaving a full inch of space beneath it for your bottom drawer or false bottom. Nail it from the sides.

Fig. 4.

Fig. 5.

You can now proceed to make this false bottom, taking great care that the front part, which is of hard wood ([Fig. 2], C), fits the space you left for it exactly, and without a flaw. The mechanism of this false bottom is so simple that instead of describing it or illustrating it, I beg to refer you to your friend Smith’s cage. A glance will suffice. But remember not to spare the glue on that either.

Well, a glance at the complete cage ([Fig. 2]) will show you that there is a wire partition at D dividing the cage into two compartments, a big and a small. This partition, however, does not go right to the bottom of the cage, because it is a sliding one and draws out. It runs at top and bottom in grooves made by three pieces of wood, one of the pieces of the lower groove being deeper than the others, and quite filling up the vacancy between the false bottom and the wire partition, so as to prevent a bird from creeping through under.

This wire partition, then, had better be made next. It is simply a carefully measured and carefully adjusted square frame, neatly wired in the same way as the barred front of the cage is wired, of which I shall presently speak. You make the little frame first, then you bore your holes and wire it, and next you nail and glue a little front piece of hard wood on to it with a small wire-work handle in the centre, whereby to pull it out.

The grooves in which this is to run should now be made top and bottom, the lower one fastened to the cross board (A), and the upper to the back of the cage at one end and to the front when finished at the other.

Now for the front. This is to be made separately, and then slipped in. There is another plan, but I think I give the better of the two. Glance again at [Fig. 2]. Take a look at friend Smith’s cage as well. Now scratch your elbow thoughtfully, gather all your scattered senses together, and all your brains, and proceed to business. There is a top bar and a lower bar, and two strong cross wires; but mark this, please—these cross wires are not continuous all the way, there must be a space left for your wire partition to slip out and in.

Well, you have your wires all ready. Measure the length you want them, and cut them all of a size a little longer than they are actually required. They have to pass right through the upper bar ([Fig. 2]), and be fastened into the lower ([Fig. 2]), and as the same space—namely, half an inch—must exist between each wire, before you bore the holes for them you must carefully mark the places on both bars, and this is done either with a pair of compasses, or more surely and securely with the prongs of a two-toed fork. While making or wiring the front, be sure first that the top and bottom bars are exactly the same length, then lay them fair and square on your bench or table, and tack them down with small nails: so shall you do your work firmly and well. Bore the holes very even which you have marked off, then put each wire through separately and snip off with your pliers what is not wanted. The wires, by means of your hand-vice, should previously be made as straight as possible. When you have got all your upright wires in put on your cross pieces. These are simply laid on over the others and whipped in position with a long thread of very fine wire.

Now your front is all ready. Of course you have not forgotten the little ring-like spaces at the bottom, through which the canary pops its head to get a drop of water from the fountains. These last may be glass, and they are slung in wire loops from the cross-board.

The perches are easily put in. It is better to have one cross one as well as two or three from front to back.

When you have your little doors made, and neatly hinged with wire, the greater part of the work is finished.

The polishing and varnishing, and nest and nest material, I will speak about presently. The different types of cages shown in [Figs. 3] to [5] need no verbal explanation, the pictures speaking for themselves.

III.—NESTS AND NEST-BOXES—THE GERMAN METHOD OF BREEDING—HUTCHES FOR RABBITS, GUINEA-PIGS, RATS, AND SQUIRRELS.

It will be high time now to return your friend Smith’s cage, for the probability is that, as the breeding season will soon commence, he will want it himself. I gave full directions just now for the completion of your own cage, with one or two little items excepted. Take a glance before you carry it back, then, at the neat way small fastenings and hinges are made for the doors, and little handles to pull out the partition and the false bottom, and the solitary big one on the top for the purpose of lifting the cage. Very natty and neat, are they not? and all made out of wirework. Pliers and pincers, and a little handiness on your part, are all that is wanted, but it is better you should observe how things are done. The wire loops that hold the glass fountains are fastened in the same way—holes made, the wire put through and doubled down behind so that it shall not pull out, and the whole thing is ready.

Two tiny two-inch square or oval tin drawers to slip in at each corner of the lower front of the cage are infinitely better to hold seed and food generally, than those long wooden world-old drawers with holes in them, which make such beautiful receptacles for dust and vermin.

As to the nests, you have plenty of option. These can be bought. There are wooden ones to hang up on a nail at the back of the cage, tin ones, basket or rope ones, and also those which you can make yourself out of half a large cocoanut-shell. The basket and rope nests, it is said—I have not tried them and do not mean to—do very well if previously steeped in petroleum and dried. The tin and earthenware nests are neatly lined with soft felt; a bit of an old hat does very well properly shaped, steeped, and moulded in.

The cocoanut-shell will suit every useful purpose. You can make it yourself, lining it well with warm lambs’-wool. Fasten a loop of wire round the top edge to join in front, and finally extend to form two hooks to fasten the nest on to the cage.

When breeding birds, it is as well to have a small nursery cage to put the fledgelings into. The parent birds then feed them through the bars. Also a bath-cage. Both these are attached when wanted to the main cage. They are very simple in construction, and you can easily make them yourself. Any ordinary small cage will do for the bath, one side being taken out and hooks put on wherewith to fit it to the side of the cage opposite the doorway. The bath is a tin or zinc dish inside the cage, but a large saucer or a soup plate will do very well. Remember, I am not talking now about breeding, but ordinary living cages.

Mr. Abrahams, the well-known naturalist, of 191, George Street East, London, a visit to whose menagerie would well repay any one fond of birds and beasts, writes to me in the following strain about canary breeding. I need hardly tell you that I value his opinions, as they are the result of long experience. He says: ‘I do not hold with the English way of breeding canaries; they will stick to their old style of a hundred years back. They use cages which may be divided, by means of a partition, into two compartments. In one of these compartments there are two small boxes, in which the birds are to build their nests. Outside the cage a bag is fastened containing hair and other building material, which not seldom are far from cleanly, and often already provided with the eggs and germs of insects (vermin).

‘It is rarely that the male and female are of the same opinion in which box the nest should be built. If the hen has begun to build in one box the cock will pull the nest to pieces, and begin to work in the other box, and vice versâ. Thus not only is time lost, but the birds are excited and become weak. When at last they have young ones they are often wretched, timid little things, and often both young and parents die from being continually worried by insects.

‘Many tens of thousands of canaries are imported annually into England from the Continent, and of these the Belgian, Dutch, and French canaries especially are strong, bold-looking fellows, and nothing like our timid little creatures that flutter about or creep into a corner if anybody comes near the cage. How can this difference be accounted for? On my many travels in the countries of the Continent I have watched how canaries are bred there. Almost every working man breeds canaries in his workshop. On one side of the room he has his bench or worktable, and round the walls there are cages, parted off by partitions into smaller compartments of about three feet square. Each of these compartments can again be divided into two by a movable partition, which consists simply of a wooden frame covered over with wire. In one compartment the cock is put; in the other one or more hens; also a tin with seed and another with water. Now the moment is watched when the cock and hen become friendly, then the partition is withdrawn, so that both compartments become one. Then a nest—or more, if there are several hens—is hung up in position by hooks to the wire. For small birds, a small one; for longer birds, such as the Belgians, etc., a larger one. They are made of leather, lined with lambskin with wool on it, and ready for use, so that the birds do not receive or want any building material. It cannot be pulled to pieces. When once used it can be washed and be nice and clean for a second nesting, so that there is no fear of insects troubling the birds. Feeding and cleaning of cages takes only a few minutes daily. The eggs and the young ones can be looked at at any time without frightening the birds; they get used to their keeper and lose all fear. Is it to be wondered at, then, that the young also are strong, bold-looking birds?’

Referring to the [German cage] figured on [page 405], he adds: ‘I forgot to mention that the cage is divided into two compartments by a wire partition. When the old birds go to nest a second time the young ones are shut up into the smaller compartment; the old ones will continue to feed them through the wire as long as it is necessary.’

Well now, if you have done all I told you, if you are the proud owner of a good box of tools, many, if not all of which, mind, you can buy for very little, second-hand, at any dealer’s or broker’s, and if you have managed to make a breeding cage, you are capable of making any other kind of cage or hutch either. I do not refer to those dandy all-wire and painted-tin businesses. You can try your hand at these if you like, but as I do not approve of them, on the principle that all birds should have a partially shut-in cage, as they dearly love a little privacy, I shall not describe the process of manufacture. You will, however, naturally wish your cages to look nice. Well, varnish the front with the ordinary mahogany varnish of the shops, having first rubbed the woodwork very smooth.

I have spent so much time over directions for cage-making that my space is small in which to deal with hutches. I do not regret it, however, for the boy that can make a cage can make a hutch. He has only to see one and carefully examine it.

The same kind of hutch that is used for rabbits does excellently well for guinea-pigs.

Now you can make a very serviceable hutch out of that useful article a bacon box.

First it must be thoroughly washed and cleaned and exposed for a day or two to the weather. Then if meant to stand under cover, in, say, an outhouse, you simply make a doorway and cover it with galvanized iron network, price about twopence a yard, and cover all the front, with the exception of about a foot (this to be covered with wood), with the same kind of network. The bottom of the box should be covered with zinc for cleanliness’ sake. This is an ordinary hutch. The breeding hutch is different, as there must be a dark retiring room for the mother and young. The floors of hutches ought to slant a little forwards, and they ought to be always well raised off the ground.

Fig. 6.—Hutches.

Squirrels’ and rats’ cages are easily made, and a good deal of amusement can be got out of these animals if they are well treated and have plenty of room. Both rats and squirrels like a dark retiring or sleeping compartment; this should have a door behind. Personally, I think the ordinary wheel arrangement is cruel. I do not like to see an animal that contributes to our amusement condemned to penal servitude and the treadmill.

Different kinds of birds require differently arranged cages, but whenever you make up your mind to keep any kind of bird as a pet, go boldly to work and make a cage for it, if needs be, borrowing one as a pattern for the purpose.

CHAPTER XLVII.—HOW TO MAKE A CAGE FOR WHITE MICE.
By W. G. Campbell.

To make a cage with sleeping-boxes in the upper part, and a ladder for the mice to ascend and descend by, is by no means a difficult operation, nor does it cost an exorbitant price; and it is very pleasant to watch the inhabitants climbing up and down, and running in and out of the holes in their upstairs rooms, and also to see the small animals swinging about in their boat-swings; nor, after one or two days, do they seem at all to wish to get out, or to gnaw their bars, as many mice do if confined in a narrow space.

I will first give a list of the materials and their cost, and after that proceed to describe how the cage is to be made:—

	s.	d.
Thick wire	0	5
Thin do.	0	1
Zinc	0	8
Perforated ditto	0	1
Hinges	0	2	¹⁄₂
Screws for ditto	0	2
Staples	0	1
Brads	0	3
Tacks	0	2
Emery-paper	0	1
Handle	0	3
Screws for ditto	0	0	¹⁄₂
Iron bar	0	6
Screws for ditto	0	0	¹⁄₂
	3	0	¹⁄₂
Without handle and bar	2	3	¹⁄₂

These articles can be readily obtained at any ironmonger’s or smith’s, except the emery-paper, which an oilman would supply. The thick wire should be about as thick as a thin knitting-needle, the other wire, as it is for binding purposes, should be as thin as possible; so also should the zinc; the hinges ought to be about an inch long; the iron bar will be described as hereafter.

The following are the sizes and descriptions of pieces of wood for a cage 18 in. long by 13 in. high and 10 in. deep:—

Framework.
A.	11		inches	by	18		inches.		Bottom.
B.	10		„	„	12	¹⁄₂	„	-	Ends.
B´.	10		„	„	12	¹⁄₂	„	-	Ends.
C.	5		„	„	18		„		Front half of cover.
D.	3	¹⁄₂	„	„	18		„		Upper half of back.
Sleeping-boxes.
E.	6	¹⁄₂	inches	by	17		inches.		Bottom.
F.	3		„	„	17		„		Front.
G.	4	³⁄₈	„	„	3		„	-	Divisions.
G´.	4	³⁄₈	„	„	3		„	-	Divisions.
Doors.
H.	9		inches	by	18		inches.		Lower part of back.
K.	4	⁷⁄₈	„	„	5	³⁄₈	„	-	Cover of sleeping boxes.
K´.	4	⁷⁄₈	„	„	5	³⁄₈	„
K´´.	4	⁷⁄₈	„	„	5	³⁄₈	„

The wood should be ¹⁄₂ in. thick. The cage that I made, and which was a very neat one, was formed from a box and some loose pieces of wood obtained from a grocer for 4d.

First of all the pieces B B should be nailed at the ends of A, leaving 1 in. of A projecting at back, and then from the top of each of them a strip 5 in. by ¹⁄₂ in. should be cut, so that the piece C can now be nailed to join the ends and form front half of cover; across upper half of back we will next nail D: the framework is thus finished.

Now let us make the sleeping-boxes. First we must with a centrebit bore three holes an inch in diameter in piece F for entrances to nests; then let us nail G and G´ on one side of F to divide sleeping-box into three equal compartments; to these we should next nail E, projecting 1⁵⁄₈ in. beyond F to form run in front of nests. Two holes should then be bored with a bradawl near the front edge of this run, opposite middle hole to F, to receive ends of ladder, which will be described hereafter. Next we must tack a strip of zinc along this run with eight or nine tacks, punching small holes just above those bored with bradawl; then nail the sleeping-boxes thus made to B B´ and D as shown in drawing, leaving a slit of ¹⁄₈ in. between F and back edge of C through which a piece of zinc 4 in. by 17 in. is to be slipped, to keep the mice in their boxes while cleaning out the cage. The ends, bottom, and large door should then be lined with zinc inside, leaving a space of ¹⁄₂ in. all round front of cage, where the wires are to come; and just under the holes bored in the run outside sleeping-box punch two others the same distance apart in the zinc which lines the bottom—these are to hold the lower spikes of the ladder. The zinc should be tacked down as much as possible as well in the middle as at the edges, having holes punched in it for the tacks to go through.

Now bore holes ¹⁄₄ in. apart along C, and same in but not through A, about ¹⁄₄ in. from front edge of each, then cut off from your wire enough pieces 12³⁄₄ in. long to go through these holes, which will be about sixty-eight in number. Let the wood of A be quite ¹⁄₂ in. thick or a little more, so that the wires can have as much hold in it as possible. Straighten your wires, emery-paper them, and push them through the top holes, and bring them down to the corresponding ones in the bottom; then fix two longitudinal wires from B to B´ across the front of the others, and bind these upright wires to them with the pliant wire.

Hinge the doors to D, as shown in drawing, and splay front edge of each of small doors, K, K´ and K´´, and top edge of F, so that these doors may shut closely. Each small door should also have a hole made with the centrebit in the middle, and a piece of perforated zinc should be tacked over them inside to ventilate the nests. We now come to the ladder. Get two pieces of wood 8³⁄₄ in. long by ¹⁄₄ in. broad and ¹⁄₄ thick, and make holes every ¹⁄₂ in. along them, and in each end of them bore a hole, and drive a piece of thick wire ⁵⁄₈ in. long in all these end holes, leaving ³⁄₈ in. projecting from top ends, and ¹⁄₄ in. from bottom; then break off enough pieces 1 in. long to go into remaining holes of one of your sticks, and drive them in, but not so as to come through the other side; then drive the other ends into the remaining stick, and your ladder is finished. The boat-swings can be easily made in the same manner after looking at drawing, and fastened at the top of the wire that they are hung by with two staples to floor of sleeping-box. The fastenings can be made from staples, those marked a for large door, and b for small doors; the hooks of a should be put a little lower than middle of large door and the catches in ends of cage.

Thin strips of zinc should be tacked in any places where the mice could gnaw the wood.

Now, if you are going to have a handle, get as small an iron one as will comfortably lift your cage, and screw it on to C, as near sleeping-boxes as possible; then, as you will find the sleeping-box side will be the heavier, you might get a bar of old iron from an ironmonger or smith 18 in. long, between ¹⁄₄ in. and ³⁄₈ in. thick, and broad enough to make your cage weigh equally; have three holes drilled in it, and screw it underneath the cage in front.

A few remarks more about the cage and its inhabitants, and I shall have finished.

The cage must have sawdust strewed on the floor and hay in the nests; the former must be changed once a day, and the latter every other day, or at least twice a week. If you cannot get sawdust anywhere else, an oilman will let you have enough to last you a month for twopence. In such a cage as I have described a ‘boar’ and six ‘sows’ may be kept. When a sow is about to have young it should be put in a small cage by itself, and as soon as the young are old enough to eat and run about they may be turned with their mother into this big cage. Perhaps they will get chased about a little at first, but they will not be hurt, and will be all right by the next morning. As soon as they are a month or six weeks old they should be removed elsewhere. Only one full-grown boar should be kept in a cage.

When mice are first put in such a cage as I have described, the ladder appears steep for them, but they soon get used to it, and reach their nests in two or three bounds from the ground.

Heus! incaute puer—silvis latet ursus in altis