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Mrs. Elizabeth Hobsbrugh,



wonderful African night,—the ceaseless “ panging ” of heavy beetle

bodies against the fly-screens, the scent of flowers mingled with the

acrid odour of the earth of Africa—and from the darkness without,

the melancholy whistle of my Dravelkie dominating the night.

Those who played with us will remember.


And I let my Dravelkie out one miserable day, and because

of a forgotten open door, we very nearly lost him for ever. Luck

was with me that time, and the “ Dravel ” came home with us, and

lived for many a day. But I have had a fear of open doors for my

bird friends ever since.


And so, on that morning early in May, when I came into the

sitting room, just as the little grey man poked his head out of his

prison cage, and gave one mighty dash for freedom, and flew circling

and chirping above our heads—I confess that my heart was in my

mouth, and I felt sure that whoever the stranger might be, we

should never catch him again. And the next minute he was on my

shoulder, dancing his little one step to his own particular “ Robert

E. Lee ! ” From that moment ‘‘ Winkie ” became a personage.


I have seen tame birds, and very tame birds, and “ absurdly"

tame birds, but never, never have I met with the equivalent kind

of tameness which is “ Winkie’s.” It is not that he will come to

you. It is that he will not stay away from you. He is obsessed

with a love of human beings, and of them he has no fear whatsoever.

He is afraid of dogs, but man is his brother and his friend, and

without him, life would be a wilderness. I do not know how he

would behave if he had a wife; his own image in the looking glass

sets him wild with rage, and he wastes a great deal of time and bad

language pecking at his own likeness. He has intense likes and

dislikes, and very ill-founded they are ! My maid gives him food and

water, and tidies his cage daily. She takes him into her room when

we go out, that he may not be lonely, and she is more than kind to

him. He hates her! If he is flying loose, he goes for her like a

vicious dog, and with a very angry note he bites her hands. Dance

for her ? Not he! Answer her when she talks to him? Certainly

not ! Nibble gently at a finger placed between the bars of his cage ?

Not at all!—bite it and swear horribly instead! My husband

offended him deeply a few days after his arrival. For some reason



