"'I will not be interfered with,' I said; 'and I don't care if you never speak to me again;' and I screeched louder and uglier than before.
UNWELCOME ADVICE. Page [36].
"I must say she was very good to me, though I couldn't or wouldn't see it at the time; and seeing that I was determined to be sulky and ill-natured, she left me. Two or three days after, a green parrot, that my friend had warned me against, came and sat in a bush near me. He kept chattering away to himself,—speaking about the hard way he was used by the other parrots, and threatening to fly away and see them no more. Now, I had noticed they were rather severe upon him, but I also knew he was not a well-behaved bird by any means; but in my present state of mind I couldn't help pitying him.
"Creeping along the branch, I ventured to inquire what was the matter, when he poured into my ears a perfect shower of complaints against his brothers and sisters, friends and companions, and even against his parents. Two or three times I tried to get in a word of inquiry as to whether some of his trouble had not been brought on by his own conduct; for at that moment I remembered how gently my mother used to speak to me when I used to rage against all the cockatoos in my happy home by the bank of the river. However, it was useless to interfere with him, for the mere mention of the idea made his rage something fearful to witness. The sight of him called to mind, too, what my mother used to say to us when we lay curled up snugly in our nest in the old tree, before my brothers had learned to tease me. 'Children,' she used to say, 'a beautiful plumage is all very well, but a happy-looking face, and a kind, amiable disposition, are to be prized far before the loveliest coloured feathers.'
"This parrot now before me was as lovely a bird of his kind as one would wish to see; but his face was purple with rage, and his lovely feathers were all ruffled and rumpled with passion, so that any kind of feathers might have served him equally well.
"I cannot tell how it was," said the cockatoo, "but from that time I was always meeting the discontented parrot; and we gradually got more and more intimate. My good friend, the old cockatoo, did not hesitate to warn me against my companion; but I was angry with her, because I fancied she lectured me, having no right to do so, and treated me as if I had been a perfect baby. Then one night, after a long conversation with the parrot, I agreed to fly away with him, and seek our fortunes on some other part of the island. It was arranged that we should set out the next morning before the sun was up; for the parrot thought if he went away in open daylight, his father, who was a very fierce parrot, would interfere with our flight. I cannot tell you why I felt sorry, after the parrot left me, at the idea of leaving my good, kind friend, the old cockatoo; but I really was. She had been so good to me, and had so much to tell me about what she had seen during her long life, and in her travels, that time passed very quickly indeed. That evening, too, when I had retired to the branch I had selected for my sleeping-place, I overheard a conversation between a very large mother parrot and her three young ones, that somewhat filled my heart with alarm. 'Be contented, children,' the mother parrot was saying. 'I have known many parrots come to an untimely end, because they were always wanting to see what was beyond the trees and bushes of their own home. I remember my grandfather telling me about how a brother and he had strayed away far into the woods, and they were overtaken by the darkness, and were forced to remain in a tree all night. But he had not fallen asleep long when he heard a great shriek; and on opening his eyes, what should he see but an immense ape clutching his brother by the throat, and carrying him away up to the top of the tree out of sight. It was all my grandfather could do to get his wings to carry him home, he was so weak and faint with the fright; and never again did he wander from his companions.'
