Mocking-bird 
At the small hotel where I stayed was an 
old nigger woman who did the cooking. She 
owned the most delightful mocking-bird it has 
ever been my fortune to listen to. She had 
reared him from the nest, and he was absolutely 
tame. Now, the old lady loved her bird, and 
he seemed to reciprocate her affection, whilst I 
coveted him. I spent my spare time in bribing 
her to sell him to me, but it was not until the 
last day of my visit that an offer of ten dollars 
rewarded my importunities, and I became the 
proud possessor of that bird and cage. I took 
him in the railway car on my way back to San 
Francisco. The motion of the train seemed to 
excite him into surpassing even himself, for he 
sang, imitated a chicken, and whistled during 
the greater part of the day. He became a great 
attraction to the passengers, who crowded into 
the carriage to listen to him. This bird’s end 
was sad. I managed to get him to Victoria, 
British Columbia, in safety, leaving him in 
charge of the woman in whose house I stayed, 
until such time as I should return from Alaska. 
Unfortunately she did not give him a sufficient 
supply of ants’ eggs and similar food, with the 
result that he died. These birds are very difficult 
to keep, as they are most delicate, and feel the 
cold severely. 
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