The Vermont Watchman

A Bright Bird.

English starlings are interesting birds. They can be taught to speak, and very distinctly, too. A certain starling, the property of a barber, had been taught to carry on a dialogue, as follows:

"Who are you?" "I'm Joe," the bird would reply. "Where are you from?" "From Pimlico," would be the quick answer. "Who is your master?" "The barber." "What brought you here?" "Bad company," the wise bird would reply. Now it came to pass one day that the starling escaped from his cage and flew away to enjoy his liberty. The barber was in despair. Joe was the life of the shop; many a customer came attracted by the fame of the bird, and the barber saw his receipts falling off. Then, too, he loved the bird, which had proved so apt a pupil. But all efforts to find the stray bird were in vain. Meanwhile Joe had been enjoying life on his own account. A few days passed very pleasantly, and then, alas! he fell into the snare of the fowler, literally. A man lived a few miles from the barber's home, who made the snaring of birds his business. Some birds he stuffed and sold. Others again he sold to the hotels near by, to be served up in delicate tid-bits to fastidious guests. Much to his surprise, Joe found himself one day in the fowler's net, in company with a large number of birds as frightened as himself. The fowler began drawing out the birds, one after another, and wringing their necks. Joe saw that his turn was coming, and something must be done. It was clear that the fowler would not ask questions, so Joe piped out: "I'm Joe!" "Hey! what's that?" cried the fowler. "I'm Joe," repeated the bird. "The mischief you are!" said the astonished fowler. "What brought you here?" "Bad company," said Joe promptly. It is needless to say that Joe's neck was not wrung, and that he was soon restored to his rejoicing master, the barber.—The Young Churchman.