BECOMING AN ILLUSTRATOR 45 



mistaken, but I had to try several things before 

 finding out wh*t I had been born to do. While the 

 musical fever endured I practised for hours every 

 day on the piano or violin. Soon I noticed when 

 playing that the birds set up a perfect Babel of 

 song. If the music was fast and loud, they sang 

 in imitation. If my notes were soft and low, they 

 warbled deep in distended throats. The parrot 

 especially enjoyed whistling to the piano or violin 

 but he disliked the song of the other birds and 

 frequently broke off his most charming strain in 

 order to scream harshly, "Shut up!" at the 

 canaries. Having been taught to whistle with a 

 flute the parrot soon became expert, while the other 

 birds seemed to follow his lead. All of them did 

 their best work with simple old melodies, played 

 slowly. "The Carnival of Venice" seemed to be 

 the most suitable, and the greatest favourite with 

 all of them. After a long course of special training, 

 feeling ready to perform before an audience, I 

 grew vainglorious and wrote to my father to 

 come and be convinced of the wonder I was per- 

 forming. 



Then one day my little daughter caught her 

 apron on a nail and tore a long straight slit down 

 it; so I drew the sewing machine from a closet and 

 started to mend the garment. With the exception 

 of the parrot, every one of my birds tuned up and 

 sang "The Carnival of Venice" to the accompani- 

 ment of the sewing machine quite as well as they 



