up two flights of stairs, and locate them temporarily in your back
drawing-room, augurs at least for a good start to your undertaking.
That three should have escaped, and, after severely kicking the Vicar,
who happened to be dining with you, terrified the whole neighbourhood,
and effected an entrance into an adjacent public-house, where they
appear to have done a good deal of damage to the glass and crockery,
upsetting a ten-gallon cask of gin, and frightening the barmaid into
a fit of hysterics, being only finally captured by the device of
getting a coal-sack over their heads, was, after all, but a slight
_contretemps_, and not one to be taken into account when measured
against the grand fact that you have got _all your birds safely lodged
for the night_. A little arnica, and a fortnight in bed, will, in all
probability, set the Vicar all right. With regard to their food, we
should advise you to continue the tinned lobster and muffins, which
they seem to relish. You appear to be alarmed at their swallowing the
tins. There is no occasion for any anxiety on this point, the tin,
doubtless, serving as the proverbial "digestive" pebble with which
all birds, we believe, accompany a hearty meal. We fear we cannot
enlighten you as to how you make your profits out of an ostrich-farm;
but, speaking at random, we should say they would probably arise by
pulling the feathers out of the tails of the birds and selling them to
Court Milliners. Your idea of trying them in harness in a Hansom seems
to have something in it. Turn it over, by all means. Meantime, get
a Shilling Handbook on the Management of the Ostrich. We think you
will have to cover in your garden with a tarpaulin as you suggest.
You cannot expect the fifty birds to stay for ever in your back
drawing-room; and the fact that you mention, of their having already
kicked down and eaten one folding-door, is significant. They will be
escaping from your balcony all over the neighbourhood if you do not
take care to secure them; and as they seem fresh, very aggressive, and