BIRD-STORIES.
[To ?HZ EDITOR OF THZ " EIPICCTATOR."] SIE,—It is not fair for cats and dogs to carry off all the glory. Allow me to tell two stories from ray own personal experience -of gratitude in a goose, of humour in a raven. I was walking one day with a friend through his poultry-yard, when a goose
hurried up to him, fondly rubbed its neck against his trousers, and followed him about everywhere. He told me that he had -once rescued it from being done to death by its feathered bipeds because it had a broken wing. Could any unfeathered biped have shown greater affection ? May we not say with Wordsworth :— " Alas ! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning."
And now for the raven. I had been taking duty lately in the Tower for my friend the chaplain, when my slumbers were disturbed by the raucous croaking of a venerable raven of unknown antiquity, but, by all accounts, the oldest inhabitant there. By his jaunty hopping about under cannons and shady trees, he clearly shows that he considers the entire precincts to have been provided for his comfort by a grateful nation. On returning one day from lunching with the Governor, to whom I complained of his sleep-destroying noises, I found my gentleman perched on the back of a garden-chair. I solemnly admonished him of his offences against the Church. He listened calmly without sound or movement. When I concluded my homily, he turned up his right eye to me and deliberately winked. I fled.—I am, St. Mary's Vicarage, Charing Cross Road, December 15th.
Previous page
