KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



591 



when the din and turmoil of the day are over. 

 They seem to despise all mixing with the 

 noisy hum and hideous hubbub of our busy 

 world, and are seldom heard in the neighbor- 

 hood of crowded public thoroughfares. Study- 

 ing his habits, therefore, let his cage be of 

 mahogany (we have already stated where 

 these li model cages," may be had). Let its 

 length be 17 inches; height, 14 inches; depth, 

 11 inches. The sides, back, and top, must 

 all be of mahogany, and the front of strong 

 lacquered wire, or of cane. In the centre of 

 this, let there be a hole made, sufficiently 

 large to give the bird's head free play when 

 drinking ; and let a tin drinking-pan be sus- 

 pended immediately opposite. Tin must not 

 be used for the reception of his food. Nothing 

 is so suitable for this purpose as a small white 

 earthenware circular soap-dish, which should 

 be fitted in a mahogany frame, hung on hinges, 

 and made so as to open out wards. Place this 

 at one of the sides towards the back of the 

 cage, and let it be secured by a button outside. 

 Fit up just such a frame-work on the opposite 

 side ; and insert in the centre a circular glass- 

 washer. See that the water in this be changed 

 twice at least, daily. 



There must be two perches, one above, and 

 one below. The former should be fixed as 

 high as possible, allowing the bird just suffi- 

 cient room to stand quite upright, and no 

 more. This should run exactly across the 

 cage, from end to end, and be immediately in 

 the centre, so as to allow ample room for the 

 bird's tail. The lower perch should be simi- 

 larly fixed from end to end, but placed imme- 

 diately behind the tin drinking-pan, say at 

 barely two inches' distance. To keep your 

 bird quite private, a green silk curtain may 

 be fixed on a spring roller, at the top of the 

 cage, immediately over the wire. This could 

 be drawn down or raised ad libitum. It is 

 seldom, however, that a curtain is required. 



Now for his Majesty's food. Being an in- 

 sectivorous bird, the nearest assimilating diet 

 that we can provide him is, raw rump-steak., 

 all lean, and perfectly sweet. If tainted in 

 the least degree, and he partakes of it, it will 

 be all " dich-j" with him. 



The trouble necessary to be expended upon 

 these birds is great, yet are they worthy of 

 it. To insure your beef being fresh, procure 

 it twice, daily, of your butcher. A penny- 

 worth each time will suffice. Now for mani- 

 pulating with it, and preparing it selon la 

 regie. 



All operations in connection with a night- 

 ingale's food must be performed on a circular 

 slab of marble, and the naked hand must be 

 kept at a respectful distance. Use a silver 

 fork to hold the beef, and scrape it with a 

 small sharp steel case-knife. If the rump- 

 steak be tender and lean, as it ought to be, it 

 will scrape kindly. Discard from it all the 



fibrous matter, and place the residue on one 

 corner of the slab. Moisten this gradually 

 with a little cold spring water, and then mix 

 with it some yolk of hard-boiled egg. The 

 consistency of the whole should be moderate, 

 neither too thin nor too solid. Either extreme 

 is to be carefully guarded against. 



Such of the above food as remains uneaten, 

 should be thrown away about 1 p.m.; and the 

 earthenware dish, after being thoroughly 

 scalded, should be re-filled. Not only does 

 the meat become tainted through the exces- 

 sive heat of the weather, but it is speedily 

 rendered nauseous by the constant incursion 

 of blow flies, whose pestiferous breath and 

 all-but-living eggs pervade all animal matter 

 within their sight, smell, or reach. 



Gathering of the Vine. 



The following graphic sketch is from a work 

 recently issued, called " Claret and Olives." 

 It will be perused with interest. — The ancient 

 types and figures descriptive of the vintage are 

 still literally true. The march of agricultural 

 improvement seems never to have set foot amid 

 the vines. As it was with the patriarchs in the 

 East, so it is with the modern children of men. 

 The goaded ox still bears home the high-pressed 

 grape too, and the feet of the treadcr are still 

 red in the purple juice which maketh glad the 

 heart of man. The scene is at once full of 

 beauty, and of tender and even sacred associa- 

 tions. The songs of the vintagers, frequently 

 chorussed from one part of the field to the other, 

 ring blithely into the summer air, pealing out 

 above the rough jokes and hearty peals of 

 laughter shouted hither and thither. All the 

 green jungle is alive with the moving figures of 

 men and women, stooping among the vines, or 

 bearing away basketfuls of grapes out to the 

 grass-grown cross roads, along which the labor- 

 ing oxen drag the rough vintage carts, groaning 

 and cracking as they stagger along beneath their 

 weight of purple tubs heaped high with the 

 tumbling masses of luscious fruit. The con- 

 gregation of every age and both sexes, and the 

 careless variety of costume, add additional 

 features of picturesqueness to the scene. The 

 white-haired old man labors with shaking hands 

 to fill the basket which his black-eyed imp of a 

 grandchild carries rojoicingly away. Quaint 

 broad-brimmed straw and felt hats — handker- 

 chiefs twisted like turbans over straggling elf 

 locks — swarthy skins tanned to an olive brown — 

 black flashing eyes — and hands and feet stained 

 in the abounding juices of the precious fruit — 

 all these southern peculiarities of costume and 

 appearance supply the vintage with its peasant 

 characteristics. The clatter of tongues is inces- 

 sant. A fire of jokes and jeers, of saucy 

 questions and more saucy retorts — of M'hat in fact, 

 in the humble and unpoetic but expressive ver- 

 nacular, is called " chaff - ' — is kept up with a 

 vigor which seldom flags, except now and then, 

 when the butt-end of a song, or the twanging 

 close of a chorus strikes the general fancy, and 

 procures for the morceau a lusty encore. 



