went in myself, and his prattle unmistakably betrayed his gladness at
being no longer alone.

Is there not in this an act of real intelligence? While alone, the
parrot entertained himself by talking; but when he heard a sound he
hoped at first to see some one come; and when no one answered him, he
raised his voice, as a person would do who calls, and, getting no
reply, cried out louder and louder till he was heard and answered. The
meaning of the differences of intonation is as evident in this case as
in that of the drunken man. A parrot raised in the South had learned
to swear in the local _patois_. Being fond of coffee, he was sometimes
given a spoonful, which he would come awkwardly up to the table to
drink with his master. One day the master, not thinking of his bird,
had already added cognac to his coffee, and gave the parrot the
accustomed spoonful. The parrot took a swallow of it, and, in his
surprise at the novel taste, raised his head and repeated the oath in
a tone that excited laughter in all who were present. The cause of his
surprise being discovered, he was soothed, and then took his usual
ration with evident signs of contentment. The mimicry of language in
this case clearly represented the shade of the new impression he felt.

Jaco is very timid. In the evening, when he is put to roost in a close
and dark room, he is afraid of the shadow of his perch that is cast by
the light we carry in our hand; he eyes it, and utters a low cry,
which stops when the candle is blown out and he cannot see the shadow
any longer. He stands in dread of blows in the bottom of his cage,
because, having a wing broken, he cannot fly, and is afraid of
falling. Feeling his weakness, his language has a different tone from
the usual one. Large birds flying in the sky above him annoy him
greatly, and we can all tell by his voice when such a bird is near or