little book, I am praying to the Lord to make it the means of persuading
many young readers to be merciful; and that their good example will
persuade many more, who may not see the book; and so good will be done,
greater than you now think.

I have a cockatoo. A friend brought him from India, and a funny bird he
is, but terribly noisy. He soon began to bark like Fid, and to growl
like Bronti; to cackle like the hens, and to imitate every loud noise
that he heard. We hoped, if he had a good teacher, he would learn to
sing, instead of making such a riot, as he whistles uncommonly well
after his master. So we went to buy a Canary bird, and you may be sure
we bought two; for it is very cruel to shut up a bird alone in a cage.
The cockatoo is not in a cage, but on a stand, dancing and chattering
all day. We put our canaries into a very large cage, with a good-sized
pan of fresh water every day, clean gravel, and plenty of seed. Nothing
could be happier, or tamer, than these little things; but one day the
hen got at some green paper, which she pecked at through the wires, and
the stuff that coloured it killed her at once. We got another directly
in her place, and there they are in the sunshine, on a table close by
me, splashing the paper on which I write with the water; for they
delight to plunge into it, till they are wet in every feather. Nothing
is more necessary to animals and birds than plenty of fresh water. My
pigeons have a pan of it to wash in, and it wants changing several times
a day; and you do not know how much birds in confinement suffer if that
is neglected. A glass hung outside, if always kept full, is good to
drink out of; but a bath _in_ the cage is the great luxury.

Perhaps you will ask, Has the cockatoo learned to sing? No, I am sorry
to say, he is as noisy as ever, and not at all musical. We keep him
quiet by giving him sticks to break, and knotted cord to untie; and when