COMPANIONS IN SOLITUDE 
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but he was never able to fly or even to walk without limping, as 
both his leg and his wing had been injured in his fall. He had 
a bench in the kitchen where he always used to sleep at night, 
or rest in the day time if he felt inclined. He never allowed 
anything to be put down on his bench, and if by chance any- 
thing was put there he would show his displeasure by marching 
up and down with his feathers all roughed up, and cooing very 
loudly until the thing was removed. 
When the weather was warm. Birdie, as my pigeon was 
called, used to live chiefly in our large old-fashioned garden, and 
when I used to call him, as I often did, he used to come as fast 
as his little legs could carry him. Sometimes he used to come 
and look for me, and it was the funniest thing to see him looking 
first in one room and then in the other with his head on one side 
and the wisest look in his eye until he spied me, and then he 
would march up and jump on my foot and begin to prune his 
feathers. It was my custom to kiss Birdie and talk to him if I 
went into the kitchen when he was there, and if by any chance 
I forgot to notice him, he used to get very angry and walk up 
and down his bench, bowing his head and cooing in a very loud 
voice, and he would never be quiet until I went back and kissed 
him, and then he would seem quite contented and settle himself 
on his one little red leg and tuck the other up comfortably 
amongst his feathers and pout himself out in the funniest way. 
Birdie was extremely jealous, and he never could bear me to pet 
any other animal but himself. I remember one afternoon Birdie 
was asleep on his bench with his head tucked under his wing, 
when I brought another pet into the kitchen and sat down and 
began to kiss it. I was suddenly roused by hearing a great 
noise going on, and looking down I saw Birdie in a perfect fury 
standing at my foot with every feather on end. I could not 
think at first what could be the matter with him, but guessing 
it might be jealousy I put the other animal down and picked 
him up, and immediately he became sweet-tempered and ceased 
storming. 
I had Birdie for two years, and then a strange cat found its 
way into our garden and killed him, leaving nothing but his two 
dear little red feet as a proof of his sad fate. 
COMPANIONS IN SOLITUDE. 
,N opening the door of my little cottage and passing 
through into the garden, the eye is at once arrested 
by a very fine specimen of the American flowering 
currant, pink from base to summit with blossom. 
This bush is of exceptional size, the height being ten feet or 
thereabouts, and a circumference taken right round the spread- 
ing twigs and branches, about four and twenty feet. Almost 
