STOEIES ABOUT BIRDS. 125 



The canary bird can be taught a great many 

 tricks, some of which are surprising enough. 

 I had a bird once, who was quite a cunning 

 fellow. He used to play with me every day. 

 When I let him go out of his cage, in the 

 room which I occupied as a study, he would 

 play all manner of capers. Sometimes he 

 would be still for a long time, until, perhaps, I 

 had almost forgotten that he was out of his 

 cage, when he would suddenly fly from the 

 place where he was sitting, and pass over my 

 table, just hitting my head with his wings. 



But Willy — for that was the name of this 

 bird — had not so thorough an education as 

 some birds of his species which I saw about a 

 year since, at a public exhibition. These 

 birds, with a multitude of others in the same 

 collection, performed so many surprising feats 

 that I must tell you something about them. 

 I was in Baltimore, on my way to Eichmond, 

 and called, as a matter of course, on my edi- 

 torial friend Mr. Reese. I had not been in his 

 office more than fifteen minutes, when he 

 called my attention to a regiment of trained 

 birds which an Italian, whose name does not 

 now occur to me, was at that time exhibiting 

 in Baltimore. " You must go and see them," 

 said he, " by all means." I told him that the 

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