wagging his tail. There was no mistaking suchlanguage. Any one could understand his meaning. Even one of those_strange people, who hate dogs_, would have understood him. Mary did,anyhow, and followed Blucher at once. On trotted the honest fellow,keeping Mary trotting too, and many an anxious glance he cast over hisshoulder to her, saying plainly enough, `Don't you think you couldmanage to run just a _leetle_ faster?' Through many a devious path heled her, and Mary was getting very tired, yet fear for her father kepther up. After a walk, or rather run, of fully half an hour, honestBlucher brought the daughter to the father's side.
"He was lying on the cold ground, insensible and helpless, struck downby that dreadful disease--paralysis. But for the sagacity andintelligence of his faithful dog, death from cold and exposure wouldcertainly have ended his sufferings ere morning dawned. But Blucher'swork was not yet over for the night, for no sooner did he see Marykneeling down by her father's side, than he started off home again atfull speed, and in less than half an hour was back once more,accompanied by two of the servants.
"The rest of this dog's history can be told in very few words, and I amsorry it had so tragic an ending.
"During all the illness which supervened on the paralysis, Blucher couldseldom, if ever, be prevailed on to leave his master's bedside, andevery one who approached the patient was eyed with extreme suspicion. Ithink I have already mentioned that Mary was no great favourite withBlucher, and Mary, if she reads these lines, must excuse me for saying,I believe it was her own fault, for if you are half frightened at a doghe always thinks you harbour some ill-will to him, and would do him aninjury if you could. However, one day poor Mary came running in greathaste to her father's bedside. Most incautious haste as it turned out,for the dog sprang up at once and bit her in the leg. For this, honestBlucher was _condemned to death_. I think, taking into considerationhis former services, and the great love he bore to his afflicted master,he might have been forgiven just for this once.
"That his friends afterwards repented of their rashness I do not doubt,for they have erected a monument over his grave. This monument tellshow faithfully he served his master, and how he loved him, and saved hislife, and although fifty years have passed since its erection, it stillstands to mark the spot where faithful Blucher lies."
CHAPTER NINE.
TEA ON THE LAWN, AND THE STORY OF A STARLING.
"Thy spangled breast bright sprinkled specks adorn, Each plume imbibes the rosy-tinted morn."
"Sit down, Frank," said I; "my wife and Ida will be here presently. Itis so pleasant to have tea out of doors."
"Yes," said Frank, "especially such tea as this. But," he added,fishing a flower-spray from his cup with his spoon, "I do not wantjasmine in mine."
"Good wine needs no bush," I remarked.
"Nor good tea no scent," said my friend.
"Although, Frank, the Chinese do scent some of their Souchongs withjasmine, the _Jasminum Sambuc_."
"Oh! dear uncle," cried Ida, "don't talk Latin. Maggie the magpie willbe doing it next."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the pie called Maggie, who was very busy in thebottom of her cage. I never, by the way, heard any bird or human beinglaugh in such a cuttingly tantalising way as that magpie did.
It was a sneering laugh, which made you feel that the remark you hadjust made previously was ridiculously absurd. As she laughed she kepton pegging away at whatever she was doing.
"Go on," she seemed to say. "I am listening to all you are saying, butI really can't help laughing, even with my mouth full. Ha! ha! ha!"
"Well, Ida dear," I said, "I certainly shall not talk Latin if there bethe slightest chance of that impudent bird catching it up. Is thisbetter?
"`My slight and slender jasmine tree, That bloomest on my border tower, Thou art more dearly loved by me Than all the wealth of fairy bower. I ask not, while I near thee dwell, Arabia's spice or Syria's rose; Thy light festoons more freshly smell, Thy virgin white more freshly glows.'"
"And now," said my wife, "what about the story?"
"Yes, tea and a tale," cried Frank.
"Do you know," I replied, "that the starling is the best of all talkingpets? And I do wonder why people don't keep them more often than theydo?"
"They are difficult to rear, are they not?"
"Somewhat, Frank, when young, as my story will show."
"These," I continued, "are some kindly directions I have written aboutthe treatment of these charming birds."
"Dear me!" cried the magpie.
"Hold your tongue, Maggie," I said, "or you'll go into the house, cageand all."
Maggie laughed sneeringly, and all throughout the story she keptinterrupting me with impudent remarks, which quite spoiled the effect ofmy eloquence.
_The Starling's Cage_.--This should be as large and as roomy aspossible, or else the bird will break his tail and lose other feathers,to the great detriment of his plumage and beauty. The cage may be awicker-work one, or simply wire, but the bars must not be too wide.However much liberty you allow Master Dick in your presence, during yourabsence it will generally be as well to have him inside hisdwelling-place; let the fastening of its door, then, be one which hecannot pick. Any ordinary wire fastening is of no use; the starlingwill find the cue to it in a single day. Tin dishes for the bird's foodwill be found best, and they must be well shipped, or else he willspeedily tear them down. A large porcelain water fountain should beplaced outside the cage; he will try to bathe even in this, and I hardlyknow how it can be prevented. Starlings are very fond of splashingabout in the water, and ought to have a bath on the kitchen floor everyday, unless you give them a proper bathing cage. After the bath placehim in the sun or near the fire to dry and preen himself.
_Cleanliness_.--This is most essential. The cage and his feeding anddrinking utensils should be washed every day. The drawers beneath mustbe taken out, cleaned, washed, and _dried_ before being put back, and alittle rough gravel scattered over the bottom of it. If you would wishyour bird to enjoy proper health--and without that he will never be agood speaker or musician--keep all his surroundings dry and sweet, andnever leave yesterday's food for to-day's consumption.
_Food_.--Do not give the bird salt food, but a little of anything elsethat is going can always be allowed him. Perhaps bread soaked in water,the water squeezed out, and a little new milk poured over, forms thebest staple of diet. But, in addition to this, shreds of raw meatshould be given, garden worms, slugs, etc. Carry him round the room onyour finger, stopping when you see a fly on the wall or a picture-frame,and holding the starling near it. He will thus soon learn to catch hisown flies, and take such delight in this kind of stalking that, as soonas he can speak, he will pester you with his importunities to be thuscarried round.
White fish these birds are very fond of, and also fresh salmon. Fruitshould be given to them now and then, a fig being considered by them anespecial delicacy. A little chickweed or other green food is alsorelished. This may be placed on the top of the cage. Finallystarlings, no matter how well you feed them, will not thrive withoutplenty of exercise. The male bird is the better talker, and more activeand saucy, as well as more beautiful and graceful in shape and plumage.Be assured the bird is very young before purchasing it.
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MY STARLING "DICK."
I feel very lonely now since my starling is gone. I could not bear tolook upon his empty cage, his bath and playthings, so I have had themall stowed away; but the bird will dwell in my memory for many a day.The way in which that starling managed to insinuate itself into my heartand entwine its affections with mine, I can never rightly tell; and itis only now when it is gone that I really know how much it is possiblefor a human creature to love a little bird. The creature was nearlyalways with me, talking to me, whistling to me, or even doing mischiefin a small way, to amuse me; and to throw down my pen, straighten myback, and have a romp with "Dick," was often the
best relaxation I couldhave had.
The rearing of a nest of starlings is always a very difficult task, andI found it peculiarly so. In fact, one young starling would requirehalf-a-dozen servants at least to attend it. I was not master of thosestarlings, not a bit of it; they were masters of me. I had to get outof bed and stuff them with food at three o'clock every morning. Theylived in a bandbox in a closet off my bedroom. I had to get up again atfour o'clock to feed them, again at five, and again at six; in fact, Isaw more sunrises during the infancy of that nest of starlings than everI did before or since. By day, and all day long, I stuffed them, and atintervals the servant relieved me of that duty. In fact, it was prettynear all
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