OUR PETS. 57 



their nest a spot amongst some long grass on the bank 

 of a little stream, and year after year, in the most 

 friendly and sisterly manner, incubated side by side, 

 were dubbed Bessie Bell and Mary Gray. A splendid 

 game-cock, of impetuous valour and unconquerable 

 prowess, received the distinguished name of Cceur-de- 

 lion. A burly pigeon, remarkable for the inconstancy 

 of his attachments and the number of his wives, was 

 Henry VIII., and his mates were of course namesakes 

 of that monarch's consorts. A gull recovering from 

 the gun-shot wound which made him a prisoner, but 

 deprived him of an eye and a pinion, was Nelson. A 

 raven — simply, I suppose, because he was black — was 

 Othello, And so on. Thus we were never at a loss 

 for names. The individuality which close observation 

 soon discovers in animals even of the same species is 

 truly wonderful ; the variety is just as great as in the 

 genus homo. It was a common practice with us, there- 

 fore, to change the original name into a characteristic 

 one. 



Of fowls, ducks, geese, pigeons, we had a goodly 

 number; but in making pets of these, there was one 

 considerable drawback. It was against the rules to 

 transfer any of them to the larder, despite the old cook's 

 loud, and I am afraid sometimes contemptuous, protes- 

 tations against the sentimentality which refused to per- 

 mit Bessie Bell or Mary Gray, or Coeur-de-lion, or the 

 Templar, or Henry VIII., or any of their families, to 

 be converted into roast duck, even when the peas were 

 temptingly green, or boiled fowl or pigeon-pie, when 



