BOURSE'S PARRAEEET. 109 



was made long long before him, by the anonymous author of the book 

 of Job, who makes the Eternal inquire "Who is this that darkeneth 

 counsel by words without knowledge?" so true it is, as another wise 

 man said, that "there is nothing new under the sun"; and we cannot 

 say much more about the Bourke than has been already said. 



The price of this bird, says Dr. Euss, is from seventy-five to one 

 hundred marks each, which is about what an English dealer would ask 

 for the occasional specimen of a very charming bird that chanced to 

 reach his hands, that is to say as nearly as possible twice its weight 

 in gold, for the Bourke is not a heavy bird, being plentifully provided 

 with feathers, which enable it to bear with impunity the frequent changes 

 of temperature to which it is subjected in its own country, as well as 

 the rigour of our winter, and the still more trying easterly winds of 

 spring. 



What a delightful country this of ours would be, were it not for 

 those terrible east winds that, sweeping over the whole continent of 

 Europe before they reach our shores, arrive in our midst, not only 

 deoxygenated, but laden with miasmata and dusty refuse of all kinds, 

 to spread death and desolation on our coasts; but so it is: the "hot 

 winds" of Australia, the siroccos of Africa, and the icy blasts that 

 occasionally make their way southwards from the Arctic pole, or north- 

 wards from the Antarctic, are all objectionable, not to say pernicious, 

 in- their several ways; but their capacity for mischief falls into mere 

 insignificance when compared with the power for evil possessed by our 

 English east winds, that carry ruin and destruction on their wings, 

 and make life itself scarce worth having while they last. 



Yet the late Charles Kingsley professed to like the east wind, and 

 even wrote, we understand, an ode, or a song in praise of it! which, 

 to our mind, was carrying insular singularity to a singular extreme. 

 "When the wind is in the east", says an ancient rhyme, "'tis neither 

 good for man, nor beast", a sentiment with which we are entirely in 

 accord, and yet Bourke' s Parrakeet seems to take no account of those 

 east winds, beyond ruffling up his feathers a little, and seeking the 

 shelter of the covered-in portion of the aviary. 



It seems cruel, nevertheless, to expose the natives of a semi-tropical 

 clime to such ungenial influences; but what enormities will not men, 

 and women too, perpetrate in order to the gratification of their appetites 

 and whims? 



We fancy these birds would be much more likely to breed in a 

 snug indoor aviary, where the temperature could be maintained at a 

 suitable height during the cold months of winter and spring, than if 

 left to the chances of the weather in an aviary out of doors: and the 



