Good-morning, little bird;
I wish you'd sing for me;
You look as if 'twere fun to live
Out-doors so wild and free.
I've brought Matilda Jane
Because she needs the air;
She is a very pretty child,
With lovely curling hair.
How many little birds
Are flying round to-day!
Now surely you will stay with me
When I've come here to play?
Oh, you have children three,
And they, perhaps, have stirred;
Well, if they need you, hurry home.
Good-morning, little bird.
[OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
New York City.
I thought I would write to you about my little bird Billie. He is a canary of the German breed, and is rather long and slim, but he sings very sweetly. I think he is the smartest and most intelligent bird I ever saw outside of a show. I taught him myself to stand on my finger whenever I put my hand in his cage; and he knows when I speak to him, for when I call to him, he will turn his head toward me, as if to say, "What?" I used to make him seesaw on a little stick with his little companion John, who was blind nearly all his life, which was very short; and then I would make him hold a little gun, and balance himself on a ball which I would keep in motion. He would stand on a little cart, and hold the reins with one claw, while I drew him around the room, with John, held in a market-basket, sitting on behind. He seldom tries to fly away, and I have frequently taken him out-doors in my hands, without fear of his escaping. Sometimes, for a change, I used to let him swing like a paroquet in one of my bangles. This I do not think he liked much, for his tail was so long it was hard for him to keep his balance. But the most difficult thing that I taught him to do was to lie on his back and pretend he was asleep. I would lay him down gently, and after kicking his feet, and trying to grasp my fingers, he would lie perfectly still until I touched him, when he would jump up; and then I would have him kiss me, which he can do nicely, moving his bill all the time. I should like to tell you about John, who died, we think, on account of his eyes, which, after we had had him a little time, became covered with white mists, which we think were cataracts.
A Strong Friend of
"Harper's Young People".
It would be interesting to hear of your method in teaching your pet so many pretty tricks. I suppose you were very gentle and patient, and that you taught him one thing perfectly before letting him begin upon another.