263 
FIDO FIDES. 
Fido and I have been companions so many years that we 
have learnt each other's language, and have succeeded in 
establishing between us a telegraphic system, as a re¬ 
source upon occasions when language is of no avail. We 
are just now enjoying the warmth of the fire, and the light 
of the lamp, quite ready for fun, if either should give the 
hint; yet sedate and quiet, and mutually thoughtful. Fido 
has serious objections to the noise the birds make. He 
dares not attempt to put a stop to it. He bears with it 
for my sake; but I know, by his looks, that he wishes 
the birds were fast asleep, as they were an hour ago, 
when all was quiet, and we were taking tea together 
in the lower room. There is a drop of bitterness in the 
cup of life given to every creature, and the drop in Fido's 
cup is to see my attention divided when the birds wake 
up at lamp light, and make a polyglot fuss and clatter. 
Old Poll is exercising her lungs in selling bonnet boxes, 
and calling me an “ Old Silly." The canaries are sing¬ 
ing lustily one against the other, having enjoyed an hour's 
nap in the dark, during tea-time. “ Trot," the sulphur- 
crested cockatoo, has taken his usual license of springing 
on my shoulder, and tapping his great black horny beak 
