No doubt long ere this my readers have been wondering what kind of a bird Little Billee is, but that is a question which has not yet been answered. But I love Little Billee so dearly that it makes little difference to me what his nationality is or whether his ancestors came over in the Mayflower, fought in the American revolution, or whether, like Topsy, he "just growed." It was amusing to see Little Billee the first time he heard the piano. One morning two friends came to see me, and while one of them played I lay on the sofa with Little Billee cuddled up in my neck. At first he was very much afraid and did not know what to make of the music. Soon he became charmed (as everyone does who hears exquisite playing) and craned his little neck way out, opened his bill, as if he were drinking in the sound, then reached around, kissed me in the mouth, snuggled down again, for a few minutes, and repeated it as long as she played.

One morning I saw Little Billee lying on the floor before an open window with his neck stretched out and bill wide opened. I thought he was dying, picked him up, but found him as lively as ever. When he did the same thing over again I understood he was taking a sun bath, and now he takes one every morning. One morning it was quite cold when we came in from our walk, and I sat down in front of the fire with Little Billee on my knee. It was amusing to see him put his head on one side, open his bill and drink in the warm air. For six weeks he strongly objected to taking a water bath, and I really suppose he was too young and knew best. I left a little dish for several days on the floor by the side of his cage, but he was very careful not to go near it. One morning everything was very quiet, I on my bed and Little Billee playing about the room. Soon he went to the dish, looked in all four corners, came back to the first one, put his bill in just a little way, then went the rounds; did it all over again, putting his bill in a little further, and shaking off the water. After debating a long time he got on the edge of the dish, put his head in until it was all wet, then screwed up all his courage and in he went. Such a droll little figure as he cut, standing there with his body and head held as high as he could get them, his wings out just a little, not knowing what to do next. All I could think of was a very timid child going in wading for the first time, with long thin legs, very short frock, and arms akimbo. His fear soon left him, and he was bathing like an old stager. When he finished he got out, gave himself two or three good shakes, then came over to the bed, and asked me to take him. I did him up in my handkerchief, but that did not suit him at all. I could not do anything with him, until I let him get on my bare neck, and covered him with the trimming of my robe de nuit. He was soaking wet and shivering like a person having a hard chill. He kept very still until his feathers were dry enough to be dressed. Such shaking, dressing of feathers, and prinking I never saw. When his toilet was made to suit him he nestled down under my chin, and we both slept for an hour. Every day we go through the same performance after the bath. One day I wanted to do something in my dressing-room, so thought Little Billee could take his bath and dry himself. Soon I began to hear very mournful peeps, and I came out to find Little Billee, soaking wet, standing in front of my bed, thinking I was there and teasing for me to take him. Of course I could not resist such pleading, so to bed we went. I know I am completely spoiling him, but he is such a dear no one could help it.

Little Billee has taken a great interest in this tale, and when I write is always on my shoulder, arm or hand. His favorite place to sit is on my left hand between my first finger and thumb, as they hold my portfolio on my lap, and peck at my paper and pen. One day he took the pen full of ink into his bill then threw the ink all over my paper. Little Billee has great fun taking the paper off from the bottom of his cage, and carrying it all about the room, and will take it out as fast as I put it in. The other day he went into his cage, took the furthest corner of the paper in his bill, backed out bringing the paper over his head until it was all on the floor, then went over to the opposite corner, took that in his bill, backed off the paper until he came to the end, then went around in a circle like the wind, for perhaps a dozen times, with the paper perfectly straight out just like a sail. After a few moments I put the paper back, he took it right out in the same way and did it all over again.

A number of weeks have passed since I began Little Billee's biography. He grows more wonderful every day, and his devotion to me is simply marvelous. Every day he does some new cunning thing and seems to understand everything I say to him.

The other day he would not come to me when I put down my hand, but ran across the room. After trying for some time to make him mind, I got up and said, "Billee, I am going away and leave you," and started out into the hall. He came chasing after me, and now will always do it when I tell him I am going to leave him. If I go out of my room and tell him he cannot go, he will sit on a chair by an open window or play about on the floor for an hour at a time, and never think of flying out of the window or going out of the door.

(Continued on [page 48].)

FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.SAND-HILL CRANE.
⅙ Life-size.		COPYRIGHT 1899, NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.