A BAD TEMPER. 237 



he raging from side to side of his cage, as near 

 to her as he could get, and scolding furiously. 

 This could not go on forever, and the most 

 watchful care was not able always to protect 

 her without making prisoner of one. It was 

 the middle of winter, and she could not be set 

 free ; but if I had suspected how far his tyranny 

 would go, I should have removed one of them 

 to another room. To my deep sorrow, I found 

 her dead one morning, and her body so thin I 

 was sure she had been worried to death. 



Naturally, I did not love the brutal bird who 

 had teased another out of her life, but I cer- 

 tainly looked for an improvement in his temper 

 now that he had no one to vex his sight. I 

 looked in vain. He was more savage, more of 

 a tramp and poacher, more of a scold, than ever. 

 He even went so far as to huff at the sparrows 

 outside the window. He never entered into the 

 feelings of his neighbors in any way ; when 

 every other bird in the room was excited, 

 alarmed, or disturbed, he alone remained per- 

 fectly unconcerned, exactly as if he did not see 

 them. 



During the latter part of that winter I was 

 interested to see a curious provision of nature 

 for an emergency. The oriole had a serious 

 affection of one hind toe, which swelled, turned 

 white, and was evidently so painful to use that 



