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Jim. 



to the city, after the intense heat and the 

 fatal fever season were over, far down the 

 hill and far up the hill and "across the hills 

 and far away." And everywhere around 

 our region people would say, "There goes 

 little Ruth Mayfield's wonderful bird Jim, 

 singing away to his heart's content." 



In my few leisure hours I had tried to 

 cultivate Jim's voice, too, and with such 

 marked success that he could v/histle "The 

 Star-Spangled Banner" correctly and clearly 

 when he chose. He did not always choose, 

 though, and sometimes when we most 

 wanted him to "show off," no coaxing nor 

 persuasion would induce him to whistle it. 

 He was like some little boys and girls that 

 you and I know of, wasn't he ? I believe 

 that if my wife or I had had the time, or 

 if Ruth, who possessed a perfect ear for 

 music, had been old enough to teach him, 

 Jim could have been taught to whistle 

 any tune. You know, though, that to train 

 any pet requires unwearying patience and 

 time at one's command. 



Altogether, Jim was a marvel, and he 

 was so tame and had such an affectionate 

 disposition, united with his many accom- 

 plishments, that we all grew much attached 

 to him, especially Ruth. She was very 

 proud and very fond of him. Here is a 

 letter she sent home to her brother. The 

 words, if not the writing and spelling (she 

 was only six years old), are strictly her 

 own : 



"My Dear Brother: 



"I hope you are well and enjoying yourself. I 

 have a new bira, Jim papa named him. He is ugly. 

 He is big. He has some long legs stiff, and he 

 jumps from perch to perch. He is not quiet one 

 single minute. I'apa bought a great big cage, which 



is all he could live in [the only size that would hold 

 him she means]. I admire him better much than all 

 my pets. [Vou see, she would not acknowledge she 

 loved him the best.] IVIamma says I must give you 

 their names. Jollie is a English lark Capt. Gar- 

 dener brought to me. He is sad to go home again. 

 Punch and Judy is two cardinals, and has red heads. 

 Faith, Hope and Charity, and Pride and Prejudice 

 [Pide and Pejjidish, in Ruth's language], which is 

 canaries, and sings beautiful, in spite of Jim. Bijou 

 is a monkey marmoset, who is cross and snaps, but 

 he don't come up to Dom Pedro, a rooster, who 

 fighted a boy. I called my lovely mastiff, that came 

 on the ship. Monsieur, and Toddles is a little sweet 

 Scotch terrier — oh! so small! Haven't I got a fine 

 lot ? Jim's cage is grinded up to the top nights, so 

 that no rats, nor cats, nor bixos will eat him up, and 

 he can whistle the Star-Spangled Banner [that Ruth 

 pronounced Tar-Pangled Banner], and he can 

 whistle and sing the greatest in the world. Good- 

 bye. From your affectionate little sister, 



"Ruth Mavfield." 



As Ruth stated, though perhaps you did 

 not quite understand what she meant, we 

 were so afraid lest any harm should come 

 t ) our Jim from bixos (a Brazilian word, 

 which means any kind of hurtful or despised 

 thing, or animal, or insect), we had his cage 

 fastened to ropes in the ceiling, and every 

 night we lifted him gently up by means of 

 pulleys. One night we heard a fearful 

 crash. We hurried out into the room where 

 Jim slept, and found that his cage had 

 fallen clear down to the hard tiled floor. 

 Whether it was that the rafters of the old 

 house were rotten and had given way, or 

 whether the rats had gnawed the ropes, or 

 indeed what had caused the accident, we 

 could never just tell. Certain it was that 

 the cage was prostrate and Jim, our brave, 

 noble singer, lay dead. The fall had broken 

 his neck. 



H. E. Mavfield. 



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