THE POPE AND THE PARROT.

M. Climent Cannel, tells the following story: "A French gentleman, M. —, was travelling in Italy, accompanied by his wife, who carried with her a pet parrot- On coming to the frontier of the Sim= States, an official demanded their passports, and, after asking them what they were going to do at Bonn, die., he espied the parrot. 'Ah, you have a parrot, I see. Does it talk?' Of course it does." What does it say?' What does that signify?' Sir,' said the official, sternly, this is no joking matter. Parrots sometimes use very improper language—seditious words, even." Interrogate the bird, then,' was the answer.. The official accordingly endeavoured to make it speak, but not a word would it utter, perhaps because it was fatigued, or did not understand Italian. At last the head official said, Well, there is only one way of arranging this business ; you must write down the phrases your parrot can say, and de- clare on your own responsibility that it can say nothing else. That done, I will give you a pass for it. There was no alternative, so the gentleman made the .declaration required, and went his way. M. — related this story to a nume- rous auditory, and at the same time he showed the parrot's pass to those who wished to see that singular document, which cost him a scndo (4s. 6d.)." SING, Muse, as your votaries sit at their claret, Of the prince of good fellows, our heretic parrot, And how at Rome's frontier, a few months ago,

He astonished the sergeant and chef de bureau. From the day that we started he always had been The noisiest of parrots that ever was seen ; At Nice, bit a pilgrim who asked for relief, In the boat at Marseilles called the captain a thief; While driving to Genoa repeatedly said He wished the conductor and horses were dead.

At Fiesole snapped at an acolyte's shoes, 'Told a sentry at Venice to go to the deuce; But the worst of all tricks, since we brought him from home, Was the trick that he played at the barrier of Rome. Our passports were vised—we hoped we were through, When an evil fiend moved him to scream "Cockatoo !"

Cried the officer, ? Whew ! Does this bird parlez-vous ?"

Maladetto ladrone ! It never will do,

To let pass into Rome a profane cockatoo. Close the gates. Hold the horses. By stole and by cope, No parrots come in but with leave of the Pope. Who knows but the bird in some street might be heard Letting fall some abandoned and profligate word Cockatoos, it is said, commit strange indiscretions By unholy and even seditious expressions. It is hardly a week since a bird with a beak, Down at Tivoli said that the Pope was a sneak. He was brought to court-martial, and shot for his follies By our brave grenadiers in a couple of volleys. But the mischief was done when the words had been said, 'Though the thief of a fowl before evening was dead.

Our duty is plain. Signor Parrots will choose

The freedom each Roman enjoys, to abuse ; Good ! a pass is required from all cockatoos.

" Eccellenza," said we, "by his eye you may see, This bird is not one of those birds who make free.

He never forgets that a line must be drawn Between eminent persons and heretic spawn. No follower be of Kossuth and his minions; If he has a dislike, 'tis to Liberal opinions.

His look of devotion is 'quite bond fide,

And he keeps all Church rules, but the fasting on Friday. You should hear him at night, as he roosts on his perch, Blessing over by name the big wigs of the Church. All bishops and priests in his thoughts have a part, Though perhaps Antonelli is nearest his heart. Even now, while we talk, he is wholly wrapt up, Not in thinking, as we, where to-night we may sap. You may see by his look, as he sits on his shelf, He is quoting the Fathers himself to himself. Of all indiscretion his language is pure, And he never has sworn—except once at Calmar.

So fond of the clew, so constant at mass— Come, come, -swellenza, this parrot may pass ?"

" Diavolo ! No" said the chef de bureau. "What saint of a bird is vouchsafed us below? Santa Madre di Dio ! he seems to combine A beak with the soul of a Christian divine. By way of surprise, has he dropped from the skies, Some Apostle or Patriarch sent in disguise? St. Anthony once took the form of a pheasant. We want such another sight sadly at present. Since these cursed revolutions we scarcely have had A single phenomenon down, good or bad. Heaven grants to our Pope, it may be, lest he mope, In this holiest of Parrots a symbol of Hope. St. Joseph ! The parrot may pass if he please ; Our Church is in need of good Christians like these. The law will require, for fear of abuses, Just a list of the words that his reverence uses. And—as matter of form----a mere note, so to speak, Of the length of his claw, and the cut of his beak. Good ! 'Person, rotund. Hair, the colour of ochre. Byes, piercing. Nose, prominent. Beard, mediocre.' The passport is yonder. No need of delay. A moment will serve—Signor Parrot, this way."

Sing Muse, of what happened, if haply you know, While our Parrot was gone with the chef de bureau. This alone can we say, that we saw him depart, With one claw on his perch, and one claw on his heart, In pious reflection so rapt and secure, With an air so devout, and a look so demure, That the soldiers all knew as they carried him through, Never was such a pious and good cockatoo. He waved them his blessing—his beak in the air— Next closed both his eyes, as though buried in prayer. Then gave all about him, while turning the corner One glance in rebuke of each scoffer and scorner. While we lingered outside, 'twas in vain that we tried What was passing within by a guess to decide. But the state of affairs, and the stir on the stairs, Made us think that he had up the sentries to prayers, And though we saw nothing, we judged by the sound He was blessing the Pope and the Cardinals round.

Our parrot came back with his passport at last, "Pass strangers—pass Parrot !" The barrier was past. As we drove through the gate he sat quiet and still, With a wink of his eye, and a twist of his bill. Till we entered the town he was pious enough, Then his language and manner grew noisy and rough, He laughed and he sang, and he screamed and lie crew, Till you scarcely had known 'twas the same cockatoo, And indeed I may mention that after the way That he spoke of the Pope for the rest of that day, I only will say— That the sergeant was right about birds' indiscretions, And that Parrots do use THE MOST AWFUL EXPRESSIONS!