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down to tlie shop in the market place, where bird cages are sold,

to fetch me a new one with clean glasses for food and water, for

I should blush to carry into my hotel, on the edge of the lake,

such a dirty old cage as Pietro’s.


After all, my Passera cost me thirty francs instead of a

hundred ; for old Pietro soon found that I was not quite so

“ green ” as he had hoped for.


Having brought him home, I proceed, next morning, to

wash him: soaking his feet in warm water and removing the

encumbrances, which to the dainty feet of a bird must be as a

ploughman’s boots to a lady. The water in the basin is of a

deep brown, and the bird himself looks like a drowned one, but

the air is soft and the sun is shining, so I hang his cage on my

balcony, covering the top with a sheet of brown paper, leaving

him one perch in the shade and one in the sun, and in an hour

he looks considerably better.


Birds are naturally cleanly, because they instinctively

obey the laws of nature, and cleanliness is not merely next to

but part of godliness ; so that my Passera shewed true joy when

he found himself amid cleanly surroundings and felt the fresh

water on liis feathers.


That was five years ago, and still he sits and sings, but

always now in perfect plumage, his lovely smart blue attracting

the attention of ever}' visitor.


I have found Blue Thrushes quite hardy as indoor cage

birds, and possessing characters that are very attractive, singing

at any time of the night as long as the lamps or the candles are

lit, and knowing as w T ell as any dog a familiar or unfamiliar

form—for they are sometimes shy with strangers, and generally

almost terrified at ladies in large hats !


A lady said to me the other da} r , “ What a dreadfully wild

bird that is of yours ! ” I pointed out the fact that a bird

is naturally frightened at being suddenly confronted with a

colossal and nodding mass of ribbons, flowers, and perhaps

feathers ! (a few years ago it was a bunch of birds ! /) apparently

descending upon him. Why, if ladies’ headgears frighten the

men, it is not to be wondered at if a Blue Thrush had a fit on

the spot.


And all the lady says is “ Stupid bird! ”


But you should see him when he is not frightened. Then

he will come to me, perch on my hand and fight me, singing all

the time and even speaking : for “ Pretty boy ” comes as easily

from his throat and as distinctly as from any talented Parrot’s.



