THE AMERICAN "ROBINSON CRUSOE" 115 



to see was a " red-headed woodpecker." Then he fell in 

 love with the bluebird, and wrote of it one of the most 

 beautiful poems in the language. 



He had one companion — a parrot. It was a Carolina 

 bird, and did not learn to talk after the manner of South 

 American birds, but it traveled with him a thousand miles. 

 He used to wrap her up in his handkerchief, and carry her 

 about in his pocket, and if she made her escape he would 

 turn aside to find her again. They loved and quarreled, 

 and she would sit on his shoulder and eat from his mouth. 

 Her health was broken at last, and she became a discon- 

 solate-looking bird. He put a mirror beside her; she 

 thought that her reflection was another bird, and she be- 

 came happy. She would lay her head against her own 

 reflection with joy. Alas, how like human life, when we 

 fancy that we find ourselves in others, or in others a reflec- 

 tion of ourselves! She was the man Friday. 



He stood at last before the great naturalists of Europe. 

 " They poked each other in the ribs " when they beheld 

 him, but he shamed their ignorance by his simple knowl- 

 edge of things that he perfectly but they imperfectly knew. 



We make mention of this friend of Audubon for a 

 reason that should inspire naturalists in their methods of 

 work. He never destroyed life if he could help it. He 

 studied living specimens, and when he could set them free 

 he gave them again to the fields, air, and sky. 



He captured a little mouse, and he was about to kill it 



