THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BIRD. 



My name is Dewey, and no bird was 

 ever prouder of his name. I know if Ad- 

 miral Dewey could see me he would feel 

 proud of his namesake, as I am said to be 

 an unusually handsome, intelligent bird. 

 I have been laughing in my wings for 

 many months, hearing people say what 

 kind of a bird I am. Some say I am an 

 oriole ; some a male, others a female ; an- 

 other a meadowlark ; another not a mead- 

 owlark, but some kind of lark. One 

 thing they agree upon, that I go on a 

 lark from early morn till "Dewey eve." 

 I am said to have a little of the bluejay, 

 and points like dozens of birds. When 

 I was about six weeks old I was quite 

 large and fluffy, but very much of a baby, 

 for I knew nothing about feeding myself. 

 My tail was long, olive on top, yellow 

 underneath ; wings black, with cream 

 color on the edges — on the lower feathers 

 just a line, on the upper ones quite a lit- 

 tle wider, at the top short yellow feathers, 

 making lovely little scallops ; head and 

 back olive-brown ; rump more on the yel- 

 low ; throat and breast light yellow, with 

 a tinge of blue under the wings, and belly 

 only tinted. As I grew older I kept 

 changing, and now at nine months old 

 my breast is light-orange, belly light-yel- 

 low, head and back deeper olive, rump 

 deeper yellow. I broke my tail all off in 

 the fall, and when it came in, the upper 

 feathers were black, with yellow a quar- 

 ter of an inch at the rump ; under ones 

 yellow and black. On my head are al- 

 most invisible stripes of black, on my 

 neck pretty broken wavy ones. My eyes 

 are large and bright, my bill everyone 

 says is the handsomest they have ever 

 seen, very long and pointed as a needle. 

 Underneath ivory white, on top black, 

 with a white star at the head. The ad- 

 miration of all are my legs and claws, as 



I keep them so clean, and they are a beau- 

 tiful blue, just the shade of malachite. I 

 am seven inches long, and for the last 

 month have been getting black spots over 

 my eyes and on my throat. Now what 

 kind of a bird am I ? 



One June afternoon I thought I was 

 old enough to take a walk by myself, so 

 off I started, without asking permission 

 of my father or mother. All went well 

 for awhile, and I was having a delightful 

 time, seeing many new strange things. 

 Then all at once I began to feel very tired 

 and hungry, and thought I would go 

 home, but which way to go I knew not. 

 I went this way and that and peeped as 

 loud as ever I could, calling "Mother! 

 mother!" but no answer came. Finally 

 I sat down, tucked my head under my 

 wing and went to sleep. The next thing 

 I knew something was coming down over 

 me and I was held very tight. I screamed, 

 pecked, and tried my best to get away. 

 Then someone said very gently : "Don't 

 be afraid, little birdie ; I am not going to 

 harm you, but send you to a lady who 

 loves little birds, and will take good care 

 of you." I was dreadfully frightened, but 

 I did not make another peep. We went 

 a long way. Then I heard the little boy 

 say : "Charlotte, will you please take this 

 bird to Miss Bascom, for she was so kind 

 to me when I was sick?" I changed 

 hands, and off we went. Soon I heard 

 some one calling out: "There comes 

 Charlotte with a bird." Then another 

 voice said : "I wonder if it is another 

 sparrow ;" but when she saw me she ex- 

 claimed, "What a perfect beauty!" took 

 me in her hand and I knew at once I 

 had found a good friend and new mother. 

 Bread and milk were ordered. Of course, 

 I did not know what bread and milk were, 

 but I was so hungry I could have swal- 



