

KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

a particular color. Our mouchoir de poche 
happened to be of the objectionable color, 
and he became sensitively nervous whenever 
it was unfurled. Gay colors annoy him evi- 
dently. When he has “dined,” he usually 
flits, light as a gosSamer, on to the shoulder 
of one of the young ladies ; and here he pours 
out atide of song quite ravissant. Handle 
him if you will, and he is pleased with the 
familiarity ; kiss him, and he will (very pro- 
perly) return it. He is well educated, and 
quite polished in his manners. He is yet 
young. We prophecy he will become a 
musician of most surpassing powers of song. 
We could say a vast deal more about 
this “happy family,” but we stick to our 
‘text.’ 
Travelling in quite an opposite direction, 
we have seen recently other prodigies of 
affection in animals towards the tender hands 
that wait upon them. If our readers will 
kindly turn to page 171, Vol. II., they will 
there find some remarks of ours on the Art 
of Taming Animals. A correspondent, 
LEONORA, is therein named as being the pos- 
sessor of certain milk-white pigeons, birds, 
&e. Wewent downtosee them at that time; 
and were so delighted, we recollect, with 
what we saw, that we actually wished we 
could be changed into “a milk-white pigeon.” 
If we remember rightly, we printed this 
wish. Ifwe wished it then, what do we now? 
But we must not digress. 
Another visit to this “happy family,” 
has presented sights that no amount of 
money could purchase. All people who 
‘love’ animals are liberal-hearted. They 
do not sell their friends. Oh,no! Show us 
a narrow-minded or stingy person, or a 
person “fond” of money, and we will show 
you at once a brute, in the simple signifi- 
cation of the word. Nature has but one 
law, and a sweet law it is. A loving heart 
is a happy heart—happy not only in itself, 
but it disperses happiness on all around it. 
Animals feel its influence; bow to it; re- 
cognise it; make their abode in it. We love 
all people who really ‘‘love’’ dumb animals. 
The oddest possible questions are asked 
us, continually, about the art of taming 
animals! The very questions confirm the 
fact of the inquirers being of a cold, heart- 
less disposition. This is antagonistic. Only 
think of our asking anybody how we could 
endear ourself to those we wanted to love— 
or how we could make them love Us in 
return! The question would be equally 
farcical. It is the heart, good people, which 
is the seat of the affections. Cultivate an 
honest, sincere, open, and liberal heart ; 
discard covetousness, despise selfishness— 
and then you will never need ask how to 
make yourself beloved. But our words are 
idle. The world is not made of the good 


stuff we speak of. The “choice few” are 
alone in the secret. 
The pigeons we have alluded to—loving 
animals !—are tamer than ever. They know 
not what fear is, neither what suspicion is. 
The same with an elegant little goldfinch 
a perfect jewel of a bird—and so fond of his 
devoted mistress! A happier, and a more 
innocent pair could not be. Then there is a 
very beautiful little dormouse, with such speak- 
ing, eloquent eyes! How fond is “‘ Bopeep” 
of her dear mistress—and how fond her mis- 
tress is of her! Then the dog Fanny, who 
goes through her set of little exercises so 
prettily—what a good, dear creature it is! 
There seems only “ one” heart in that family. 
Passing over other pets, such as some 
very entertaining parrots, parokeets, &c., &c., 
we must, in obedience to the printer, come 
toa full stop. Ere we go, however, let us 
not fail to notice a pair of fly-catchers— 
Wolf and Peggy—living in a mansion built 
expressly for their use. 

These birds are very rarely known to live 
in a cage—indeed, for them to exist through 
a winter has been pronounced impossible. 
But this pair are now preparing for a second 
winter. They are in noble plumage; sound, 
wind and limb; and undeniably jolly. To 
attempt to describe their tameness and de- 
yotion to each other, would be silly. They 
have no fear. They fly in and out; allow 
themselves to be fondled; eat and drink from 
the hand or from the mouth; play together ; 
flirt with mealworms, and sing by day as 
well as by night. In short, they are harmless 
idols. Gilbert White says ‘they do not 
sing.” We wish the amiable Gilbert were 
alive. How delighted he would be to see 
such reason to change his sentiments! His 
humane heart, too, would expand in the at- 
mosphere that here reigns triumphant. Hvery- 
thing seems to sing here. Ere we left, a 
noble robin, in full song, darted from the top 
of a tree in the garden; and lighting on the 
person of the fair owner of those ‘‘ milk- 
white pigeons” and that pair of fly-catchers, 
took from her hand a mealworm. ‘This bird 
is the “‘ Sir Robin Redbreast,” whose family 
history is recorded in full at p. 347, Vol. III. 
We had intended to dilate upon at least 
a dozen other examples of tameness; but 
they will keep. Meantime, if any of our 
readers want a pair of TAME SQUIRRELS—so 
tame as to be indescribably tame, let them 
pay a visit to Mr. CiurrorD, 24, Great Saint 
Andrew Street, Holborn. We were detained 
there, recently, at a considerable cost of 
time, being in raptures at the performances 
of this pair. Cat, kitten, and squirrels— 
there they were, romping, skipping, jumping, 
frisking, and throwing summersaults from 
the top of the stairs to the bottom. Pre- 
sently, Skuggy at a bound reached the counter; 


