32



Miss D. Hamilton,



Gladstone was fierce and strong and loved raw meat as much as

Birdo did, and always tried to steal his share. Both hissed and

bit and struck with their claws, but neither ever seriously hurt

the other. That year my sister and I came to England, and our

parents chloroformed poor Birdo, as they dared not let him free.

The peasants said he would devour all their fowls and kids, and

■even possibly, their children. Birdo was a wonderfully hand¬

some and intelligent fellow. His full plumage was reddish brown,

speckled with darker brown, and his tail barred with black.


One of the birds which I used to see at Mr. Rothschild’s,

and which I coveted more than any, was a Crossbill. But it was

not till years afterwards, when I came to London, that I had one

of my own. My first London bird, however, was a Robin.

Coming up Great St. Andrew Street, on my way from Charing

Cross one day, in the window of a cagemaker’s shop I saw a

filthy cage containing four dead Robins and one miserable live

one—there was not a particle of food nor a drop of water in the

cage. Burning with indignation I burst into the shop, and

boldly began haranguing a yellow-haired dirty old Jew who was

working therein. “ How dared he be so cruel ? A Robin too ! of

all birds! ” The old man looked surprised. He said he was

“ a poor, hard-working man, who had no time to look after birds

properly. He had been extra busy to-day, because his wife was

ill, so perhaps he had forgotten to feed the birds. Missey could

have the Robin, if she liked, for a shilling, and a beautiful cage

to keep it in for five shillings more.” In those days my pocket

money didn’t run to six shillings, so I paid one shilling for the

bird, and carried it home in a paper bag. Once home I let it fly

in my study, and gave it water and bread and milk ; but it flew

on to the tea table and ate the butter ravenously, much to my

surprise. It lived for some months with me, perching on the tops

of my books, or hiding behind them. It lived on bread and

milk and “ Lark food ” and, I suppose, on what flies and spiders

it could pick up for itself.


I soon had more birds than the Robin. Whether it was in

the vain hope of converting the yellow-haired old Jew from the

error of his ways, or because he knew many things about

birds which I did not, I cannot say, but certain it is that



