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KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. . 



singular note, a note which is totally different 

 at other times. We have known a bird 

 warble delightfully, but ominously, a few 

 minutes only before his decease. Like the 

 swan, he has sung most sweetly at his death. 

 As the strain ceased, he fell lifeless from his 

 perch. His heart had burst ! On looking 

 into the cage, we found our suspicions veri- 

 fied. From neglect, either Dicky's food had 

 been exhausted, or his water, from careless- 

 ness, had been inaccessible. That " last " 

 eloquent song of his was a bitter reproach 

 to his hard-hearted master or mistress ! 



We cannot help thinking, and we wish to 

 be very emphatic on the point, that no 

 persons should ever attempt to keep birds, 

 or allow their children to do so, unless they 

 are naturally " fond " of them, and, at the 

 same time, themselves of a kindly disposi- 

 tion. To trust birds to the care of a thought- 

 less child, a callous servant, or an indifferent 

 person, in one's absence from home, unless 

 under very particular circumstances, is to 

 yield them up to almost certain destruction. 

 Hard-hearted servants either cram their 

 troughs full of food (sufficient to last a week) 

 with a view to save trouble, or, by never 

 changing their water, they allow it to become 

 corrupt. In the former case, the hull of the 

 seed which is eaten, falling on the top of 

 the residue, prevents the birds obtaining a 

 fresh supply ; whilst, in the latter, the birds 

 become poisoned by putridity. 



We are sorry to say, adults are frequently 

 quite as much in fault as children in this 

 matter; too often more so — for birds are not 

 unfrequently killed by children through an 

 excess of attention, having many things min- 

 istered unto them quite unsuited to their 

 animal economy. They are also taken out 

 of their cages to be nursed and " petted " — 

 a horrible practice ; when the heat of the 

 hand and undue pressure of their body cause 

 their death.* Why, let us ask, should we 

 be thus thoughtlessly, and continually cruel, 

 when five minutes of our time every morn- 

 ing would, in many cases, be amply sufficient 

 to make our favorites both comfortable and 

 happy ? 



* A few months since, while making some pur- 

 chases at the shop of a bird-fancier, a ragged urchin 

 rushed in and asked for a " penny bird." In ex- 

 change for his penny, he received a cock sparrow. 

 Shortly afterwards, a little girl entered, with 

 scarcely sufficient clothes on to cover her person ; 

 her demand was for a " half-penny bird." There 

 was handed to her a hen sparrow. From the ex- 

 quisitely-savage feeling of delight with which 

 both birds were clutched by their respective pur- 

 chasers, it would require little of the spirit of 

 divination to enable one to predict their fate — 

 torment, doubtless, and starvation ; but the con- 

 soling reflection presents itself that, — they were 

 "only sparrows! " 



These little creatures, if we would nar- 

 rowly watch them, possess the most singular 

 attractions, exhibit the most romantic attach- 

 ments. Not a movement of their master or 

 their mistress escapes their observation. They 

 may be taught, easily taught, by affectionate 

 care, to come out of their cages when called for; 

 or to sit on the finger, and sing when re- 

 quested. A simple movement of the head, 

 or expression of the eye, will accomplish 

 this ; whilst the reward of a bit of hard- 

 boiled egg, or a morsel of loaf sugar, will 

 speedily cement an intimacy terminable only 

 by death: the attachment of some birds 

 knows no other limit. We have verified 

 this, times out of number ; and have by us, 

 at the present moment, a little army of 

 " pets," who, having paid the debt of Nature, 

 are now carefully and lovingly embalmed in 

 glass cases — mementoes of many by-gone 

 happy hours. 



We have rarely found, during a long ex- 

 perience of nearly 30 years, any great diffi- 

 culty in taming a bird, or indeed an animal 

 of any kind. Instinct, on some occasions 

 very closely bordering on reason, unerringly 

 teaches the lower order of animals to dis- 

 criminate who are their friends, and who are 

 their enemies. This is demonstrable by the 

 extraordinary familiarity, apart from all fear, 

 which some birds and other animals exhibit 

 when in the presence of their masters and 

 mistresses, on whose fingers we have known 

 birds to sit and sing with the most perfect 

 confidence. 



We were much struck the other evening, 

 whilst visiting the Cyclorama, in theRegent's- 

 park, to observe, mounted on a stand, a large 

 and very ferocious macaw ; who. having been 

 evidently subjected to a succession of an- 

 noyances from tormenting visitors, was ever 

 on the alert to fasten on the first victim that 

 should fall in his power. Unlucky wight ! The 

 ferocity of the animal was the subject of 

 general remark. Whilst passing through the 

 same room, in the after part of the evening, 

 we saw the macaw caressing the face of a 

 gentleman with the fondest marks of affec- 

 tion, insinuating his head inside the gentle- 

 man's waistcoat, and giving other most ex- 

 travagant tokens of regard. That gentleman 

 was his master ! 



Apropos of these little endearments. W e 

 remember, some years since, holding an 

 argument with an " unbeliever " about the 

 power we possessed of taming animals. We 

 pretended indeed to no particular gift or 

 mode of fascination ; simply kindness. Mes- 

 merism at that time slumbered ; and we were 

 in the habit of recognising effects without 

 being able accurately to divine their causes. 

 Science has, since, rapidly progressed ; and 

 we now view matters through a different, a 



