|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 28
Betty busied herself in fixing it comfortably for me, and was full of
kind attentions. She begged me many times not to get frightened when
the cover would be put on my cage. The hood was necessary when I was
traveling, but Uncle Dan would be sitting right near me all the time
and would be very good to me. She further assured me that I would find
the motion of the cars delightful, and that all I would have to do was
to sit on my perch and munch my seed and have a good time. How jolly
it would be to go whizzing past fences and over bridges and through
tunnels and towns and never know it, she said. She also charged me
particularly not to be scared when I would hear an occasional horrible
shriek and a rumbling like thunder, as if the day of judgment was at
hand. I must remember it was only the locomotive, and it was obliged
to do those disagreeable things to make the cars go faster'n, faster'n,
faster'n------
How much faster I did not have time to find out, for Uncle Dan just
then called to get me. A light cover with a hole in the top was
slipped over my cage, and I started on my journey. Of my trip, of
course, I knew nothing. Part of the way we rode in a wagon through the
country to the station where we took the train, but as Uncle Dan did
not remove my cover in the railway car the time spent on the journey
was almost a blank to me.
Right glad was I, after what seemed a long, long time of jarring and
jolting, to find the cage once more swinging from his hand and to hear
the click of his boot heels on the pavements as we went through the
streets of the town where Polly lived.
CHAPTER X
A NEW HOME
Should it happen that the last egret is shot and the last bird of
paradise is snared to adorn a lady's dress, then--then I would not like
to be a woman for all that earth could hold.--_Herbert O. Ward._
When at last my covering was removed I found myself in a large, long
room, which I afterward learned was a millinery store. In fact the
store was the front part of the family residence, the living rooms
being behind and upstairs over it. My cage was hung near the wide
doorway at the end of the apartment and my new mistress at once ran to
fill my cup with fresh water and bring me a supply of clean millet.
After I had refreshed myself I began to look about me and study my
strange surroundings.
My new home was so unlike the little log house in the South from which
I had come that it was many days before I could accustom myself to the
clatter of voices which buzzed monotonously all day through the store.
From ten o'clock in the morning, if the day were fine, till three in
the afternoon, the din at times was almost deafening; for it was the
busy season and customers were constantly coming and going, not all of
them to buy, merely to look over the ribbons and tumble up the goods,
as I heard the tired clerks say complainingly more than once.
Numerous glass cases were placed near the walls, and running cross-wise
were a counter and shelves much frequented by ladies who stood eagerly
examining the array of bright gauzes, the glittering buckles, the
flowers and plumes displayed there. And what a chattering they kept
up! What a stir and a hubbub they made! So many "Oh-h's" and
"Ah-h's," so many "How lovely's," and other ecstatic exclamations, were
mingled with their conversation as was quite bewildering. In time,
however, I became accustomed to this and discovered it was simply a way
ladies have of expressing their approval of things in general. Around
the glass cases which held the trimmed hats the women buzzed like a
swarm of flies, their volubility assuming a more emphatic character as
they gazed within at the fashionable headgear placed on long steel
wires. Almost every hat held one, or a part of one, of my slaughtered
race. Frequently there were parts of two or three varieties on one
hat--a tail of one kind, a wing of another, or a head of a different
species. The ends of the world had been searched to make this
patchwork of blood. The women raved over the cruel display; they
gloated over our beauty; but they cared nothing for the pathetic story
the hats told of rifled nests and motherless young.
My new owner was a soft-voiced, gentle child, from whom I soon found I
had nothing to fear. She was most careful to keep my cage in order and
never neglected to feed me. Unlike her little friend Betty, she never
allowed her sports or pleasures to interfere with this duty. Often her
playmates came for a romp in the garden behind the store, but she did
not join them till she had first attended to my wants. I was fond of
having her talk to me, for her voice was sweet and kind, and the little
terms of endearment she often used were very pleasing and made me feel
she was my true friend. She once tried to pet me by stroking my
feathers, but I did not like it. Although I knew she did not mean to
hurt me, the motion of her hand made me nervous. Instead of
persisting, she only said reproachfully, as she put me back on my perch:
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|