2i 8 Cruelty to Birds 



" Now," I said, " open the cage door." 



" But they will escape, Signore." 



"That is what I wish them to do," I answered. 



The man looked at me as much as to say, " What 

 fools these Inglesi are ! " 



But he opened the door, and in another minute the 

 whole air was alive with fluttering wagtails, the large 

 majority of which, I believe, escaped. 



One poor little bird, weak for want of food, ran 

 feebly over the ground, and was pounced upon by a 

 big tabby cat that was lurking in the neighbour- 

 hood. 



I questioned the man as to who would have 

 bought them. He answered that people take them, 

 clip their wings, and let them run about in small 

 court-yards and rooms, where they catch the flies. 



Perhaps if the Neapolitans were not so dirty there 

 would be less of these pests. 



Spending a night on the island of Capri, that rises 

 out of the Mediterranean within the precincts of the 

 bay of Naples, my mind was again disturbed by sights 

 of cruelty. 



Riding to the higher parts, I passed a party of 

 Italians, having the appearance of being members of 

 the upper class, each of whom was on a mule or 

 donkey. 



One of these poor animals had a large and un- 

 sightly sore upon one of his hip bones, and his rider, a 

 fashionably-dressed man, was carefully belabouring the 

 poor beast on the actual sore itself in a really brutal 

 manner with a heavy stick. 



