Little 
Bird Friends. 
(42) 
THE BIRD WORLD. 
as high as he can, says “ Tweet ” again, 
and then breaks into the little chromatic 
scale, letting himself gradually down 
with the music, till when he finishes with 
“ Winnie ” he is down in the bunch 
again. In a few seconds this perform¬ 
ance is repeated, and then once again. 
The Waxbills in all their ways are most 
quaint little people. Scrap has no song, 
only one note, rather high, and, con¬ 
sidering his size, very loud. I hear it 
every day, for he does his best, though 
this is all he can contribute to the tre 
mendous hymn of praise that, like a 
cloud of incense, rises every morning to 
the Great King from His little bird- 
children all over the world. 
From Beneath India!s Burning Sun. 
Midget and Tottie were born beneath 
the burning sun of India. In one sense 
this is not, of course, a foreign country, 
because it is now under our King’s rule, 
and is part of the British Empire. But 
naturally and geographically it is 
foreign. Here among palms, bamboos, 
and the sweet-scented magnolia flowers 
live a colony of Avadavats. The little 
nests are made in the tall, tangled 
grasses, and here the tiny eggs are laid, 
looking like sugar-plums. Tottie laid 
several eggs in her rush nest, when my 
Waxbills had a cage to themselves, so I 
know what they are like. She did not 
think of sitting on them, and it would 
have been no good, as our climate is not 
nearly hot enough for them to hatch. 
The eggs are, of course, extremely small, 
and more round than those of most 
birds, with the shells white and waxy- 
looking, and so qlear that the yellow 
yolk shows through. I think the babies, 
when they first leave the nest, must be 
very sweet. There are thousands of 
these little birds in India flying about in 
flocks. They mostly live in the torrid 
zone, not travelling much farther north 
than Calcutta. A friend of mine who 
had been living there told me that it was 
a pretty sight to see a row of forty or 
fifty of them sitting squeezed up together 
on the rigging of a large merchant ship 
in the harbour. 
If the River Ganges could speak it 
could tell us many a horrid tale. A 
gieat many years ago, before India was 
under British rule, it was the custom to 
throw a great many of the little girl- 
babies into the river. Here, too, they 
had the practice of burning alive the 
widow, young or old, of any man who 
died. Indeed, the woman herself was 
only too eager to be put to death in this 
horrible manner. There was also held 
every year a heathen festival, when the 
large Car of Juggernaut was dragged 
through the streets, and hundreds of 
poor mistaken people flung themselves 
on the ground, and were crushed to 
death under the wheels, thinking so to 
please the cruel gods they worshipped. 
Now, of course, all this kind of thing is 
against the law, and is prevented as 
much as possible, but I am afraid it is 
by no means given up yet. The upper 
class of Hindoos are very handsome, 
although they are nearly black, and 
many are very clever, intellectual men. 
The long Hours of Darkness. 
Near the Equator, of course, the days 
and nights are almost of equal lengths, 
and this is one trouble the Avadavats 
have when they come to our northern 
country, with its long winter nights. My 
little couple have a good supper about 
four o’clock. Then darkness falls, and 
they go to sleep. But daylight will not 
appear till nearly eight. Their tiny 
bodies begin to cry out for another meal 
long before this. So when I go to my 
room at night, I let the light shine upon 
the cage, and down they fly, take another 
supper, and up to bed again. Then 
about six o’clock there is a plaintive call 
for breakfast. Again light is given to 
them, and an early pinch of seed par¬ 
taken of. Another nap, and they are 
ready for breakfast, when the sun rises 
at last. The beautiful summer days 
that we enjoy so much are too long for 
the little folk, and a “ siesta ” of two or 
three hours is taken about noon, the 
heads being tucked under the feathers as 
at night. 
Scrap , the Ethiopian. 
Scrap came from N.E. Africa, 
anciently called Ethiopia. It used to 
