ever she walked about the room it would follow her, and if it saw any one touch her clothes would strike at him with its bill; so that it seemed to be possessed with a spirit of jealousie."* Of the short-tailed parrots, or parrots properly so called (subfamily Psittacina), there are species both in the new and old world. The Parrot of the Amazons,† commonly known as the Green Parrot, and celebrated for its conversational powers, will serve as an example of the American true Parrots. Brilliant as are the talents of this species, its African brother, the Gray Parrot,‡ does not yield to it in eloquence. The cardinal's bird that could repeat the whole of the Apostle's creed, and for which, in the year of God 1500, a hundred gold crowns were paid, is believed to have been of this species; and so was the bird of which M. de la Borde declares that it served as chaplain to a vessel, reciting the prayer to the sailors, and afterwards repeating the rosary "It was a Parrot of orders gray Went forth to tell his beads." The Gray Parrot will breed in captivity under favourable circumstances. Buffon speaks of a pair in France that nestled in a cask with "lots of sawdust"- -no bad representative of a hole in a decayed tree-and produced and brought up their young for five or six successive years. Sticks were placed inside and outside of the barrel, that the gentleman might ascend and descend to the lady in the sawdust whenever he pleased. Nothing could be more amiable than his conduct to her; but it was absolutely necessary to go booted into the room if the visiter wished to go out of it with unwounded legs. Those who have felt the gripe of a parrot's bill will easily understand that it was not likely that any gentleman should enter the sanctuary in silk stockings a second time. Father Labat also gives an account of a pair whose loves were blessed with several broods in Paris. An attempt has been made by some of the parrots in the brilliant collection of the Zoological Society of London to fulfil the great law of nature. We saw one pair of the long-tailed division, very fussy, and busy, and nestifying, and we believe an egg or so made its appearance; "but," as Dr. Johnson said on a more solemn occasion, "nothing came of it."§ * Clusius, his Discourse-Willughby's Translation. Psittacus Amazonicus of anthors. + Psittacus erithacus of Linnæus. § Our recently lost George Coleman used to relate a circumstance connected with this subject, curiously illustrative of the manners and gaieties of his "youthful days." A Lady Reid, a celebrated ornithologist of that time, had, amongst a multitude of birds, a cock maccaw, which, according to her Ladyship's account, and to her infinite surprise, one day laid an egg! The story, told by her Ladyship with perfect gravity, and in the full persuasion of its That parrots will live to a very great age there is no doubt. Le Vaillant saw one that had lived in captivity, or rather in a domesticated state, for ninety-three years. When he saw the ancient it was in the last stage of all. It had been celebrated in its youth for its vigour, its docile and amiable disposition, the alert air with which it would fetch its master's slippers and call the servants,— above all, for its flashes of merriment ;-and there it was, entirely decrepit, lethargic, its sight and memory gone, lingering out existence, and kept alive by biscuit soaked in Madeira wine. Somewhere about the age of sixty it began to lose its memory, and, instead of acquiring any new phrase, it forgot some of those it had learnt, and began to talk a jumble of words. At the age of sixty its moulting became irregulur, the tail became yellow, and afterwards no change of plumage took place. We will now draw upon the same Le Vaillant for the manners of another African species in a state of nature. The Robust Parrot (Pionus Le Vaillantii of Wagler, Psittacus robustus of Latham) haunts the woods of the eastern part of the continent as high as the thirty-second degree of latitude, in the breeding season only, leaving them at the approach of the rainy season, after it has brought up its young, for warmer skies. Å hollow tree is, as usual, the receptacle for the eggs, which are four in number, and about the size of those of a pigeon: both parents share in the pleasing care of incubation. The nestlings are naked when they first quit the eggs, and are soon covered with a grayish down; but their plumage is not complete till six weeks have elapsed, and they keep to the nest a considerable time longer, during which period they are fed from the crop of the old ones, like the pigeons. When the periodical migration takes place, the flocks fly so high that they are lost to the sight, though their call-notes still reach the ear. The history of their day is not uninteresting. At dawn, the whole flock of the district assembles, and with much noise settles on one or more dead trees: there they display their wings to the first rays of the sun, whose rising they seem to hail. They are then drying their plumage charged with the night dews. As soon as they are warmed and dried, they separate into small truth, soon got about town. One day it reached the Cocoa-tree, where, amongst others, Coleman and Francis North (afterwards fourth Earl of Guildford) were dining, at about three o'clock, in May or June; whence, upon obtaining this marvellous information, Coleman, North, and a third-I am not sure that it was not the late accomplished and amiable Sir George Beaumont-issued forth, and proceeded to the top of St. James's street, where, having made for themselves trumpets of twisted paper for the purpose, they gave a flourish, and proclaimed aloud the astounding words "Cock maccaws lay eggs!" and this was repeated in the front of White's; after which they returned to finish their wine, their costume then being that which is now confined to the Court or full dress parties.-THEODORE E. HOOK. breakfast parties, and fly in quest of their favourite cherry-like fruit, the stones of which they crack, and regale on the kernel. They like to linger over their breakfast, which continues till about ten or eleven o'clock; and the different parties then go to take their bath. The heat by this time is getting intense, and they retire to the deepest shades of the woods to take their siesta. There they remain in profound repose, and all is so still, that the traveller resting beneath a tree shall not hear a sound, though legions of parrots crowd the branches above him. The report of a gun instantly puts to flight the whole flock, screaming most discordantly. When undisturbed, and their period of rest is terminated, they again disperse in small dinner parties, and, after the conclusion of the evening repast, there is a general assembly of all the flocks of the district, and a conversazione of considerable animation; this ended, away they all fly to take their second bath; and there they may be seen on the margin of the limpid pool, for no water that is not "clear as diamond-spark" will please them, scattering the water-drops over their plumage with their heads and wings, and playfully rolling over each other in all the wantonness of an unchecked game of romps. This finished, they again seek the leafless trees on which they sat at sunrise, and dress and preen their feathers in its parting rays. Then, as the shades of evening close around, they fly off in pairs, each couple retiring to its own roosting-place, where they repose till dawn. There is a smaller race of short-tailed parrots (Agapornis) the love-birds as they are called, from the affectionate attachment which exists between the male and female. There certainly are instances to the contrary, but the death of one is generally followed by that of the other. A glass placed at right angles with the perch has been used with success in reconciling the survivor to life, by the delusion produced by its own image. The Lories,* in all their oriental richness, and the Cockatoos,t with their lofty crests and docile disposition, form two very interesting groups. The latter inhabit the woods of the Indian islands principally. In the former, the bill is comparatively weak; in the latter it is strong and robust. Most of our readers will remember the favourite cockatoo of George the Fourth; the bird was the very pink of politeness. Other forms crowd upon us, but we are warned. Our eye has just fallen on a pretty drawing from one of the Pompeian arabesques, of a grasshopper in a car, driving a parakeet-true; we have been "speaking parrot" more than enough, and must refer * Genus Lorius. } Subfamily Plyctolophina, Vigors. those of our readers who are not by this time in a balmy state of oblivion, and who may wish to make their eyes acquainted with the varieties of this beautiful family, to their portraits by Barraband and by Lear, the Reynolds and the Lawrence of the Psittacidæ. MERCY on us! turkey again! We grant the infliction. All the world has supped full of turkey. We are aware that the martyr who reads these lines may have been very recently and very intimately acquainted with the bird plain, roasted, boiled, grilled, devilled-aux truffes et à la broche-en daube-asa galantine, as a blanquette, and as a marinade; that he has probably not omitted to amuse himself with the cuisses et ailes à la sauce Robert, and with the ailerons piqués et glacés en haricots, en fricassée de poulets, à la Sainte-Ménéhoulde, en chipolata ou à la financière, and en matelotte to say nothing of playing with the remains of the goodly fowl served as a hachis à la reine. One word more only on this part of the subject, as advice for the future to neophytes: it is given with all the oracular gravity that distinguishes a high priest of Comus. "Quand il est gras et dans la nouveauté, on le sert à la broche, piqué ou bardé. Quand il est vieux, on ne l'emploie que pour daube ou galantine à la gelée. La dinde est plus délicate que le dindon." All this we devoutly admit-to this amiable dictation of Le Cuisinier des Cuisiniers we bow; but when the great gastronomer asserts ex cathedrâ, that we owe this bird to the Jesuits, qui l'ont apporté de l'Inde en Europe, we, with all humility, but with modest firmness, demur to his natural history. The eloquent and learned author of Tabella cibaria, though he leaves their origin in doubt, says that turkeys were known in Europe before the institution of Loyola's order. But whence was the turkey imported into Britain-into Europe -and thence spread over a great portion of the globe? "Ceux qui pensent que les Cocs d'Inde n'ayent ésté cogneuz des anciens sont trompéz. Car Varro, Columelle, et Pline monstrent evidemment qu'ils estoyent de leur temps aussi communs es mestairies Romaines, qu'ils sont maintenant es nostres: lesquels ils nommoyent de nom Grec Meleagrides et de nom Latin Gibberas, &c. Varro dit en ceste sorte, Gibberæ quas Meleagrides Græci apellant, &c. Ceste chose est conforme à ce que Pline en éscrit au vingt-sixièsme chapitre du dixièsme livre de l'histoire naturelle. Meleagrides (dit-il) hoc est Gallinarum genus Gibberum variis sparsum plumis, &c. Pourquoy il est facile à prouver que nostre Coc d'Inde est Gibbera Gallina, ou Meleagris." These be bold words: they come, too, from that father of ornithology, Pierre Belon du Mans, and he who wrote them was a man who saw through more than one fable that had passed current down to his time. Moreover, Aldrovandi and others speak, if possible, still more determinedly. But, as we once heard an advocate compendiously say, when hard pressed by a host of adverse cases, which were not very good law-they are all wrong together. Take our word for it, reader, Apicius never tasted a turkey; that excellent bird never graced the Apollo chamber of Lucullus; nor could all the wealth, nor all the power of the Cæsars have placed one on the Imperial board. The Meleagris of the ancients was the guinea-hen of our poultryyards," Simple Susan's" guinea-hen. If any one doubt this, let him read the description of Athenæus, and give us his attention for a few minutes. Taking Clitus Milesius, a disciple of Aristotle, as his guide, Athenæus notices the small and naked head, the hard crest surmounting it like a peg or nail, the small gills hanging from the cheeks, the peculiarly spotted plumage, the spurless legs, and the similarity of the sexes.* The descriptions of Varrot and Plinyt are equally conclusive. To go into a detail of all the worthies who drew their pens upon each side of this question, which has caused so much ink-shed, would be tedious; the notice of one or two will suffice, "That these birds," says Willughby, "were the Meleagrides of the ancients, as also their Gallinæ Africanæ, and Numidicæ guttatæ, Aldrovandus takes much pains to prove. In England they are called Turkeys, because they are thought to have been first brought to us out of Turkey." Ray knew better, and, in his Synopsis, indicated the native country of the bird. But the progress of a debate which has long been settled is not very entertaining and those who would wish to see the case well argued are referred to Pennant, who, bringing much learning, and an ample knowledge of natural history to the discussion, may be considered as having given the coup de grace to the antiquarian * Deipn. 655. Hist. Mund. Lib. x. c. 62. † Lib. iii. c. 9. |