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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