THERE was once a Banker who taught his Parrot the speech of men. The
Parrot made such progress that he was soon able to take part in any
conversation, and he astonished every one by his intelligence.
One day a Parson came by the Parrot.
"My respects to your Reverence," said the Parrot.
The Parson looked all round him, he looked down at his feet, he looked
up into the sky; but no one could he see who might have spoken to him.
He could not make it out; he thought it must have been a ghost. Then the
Parrot spoke again. "It was I who saluted you," said he. The Parrot was
close to the Parson's ear, and now at length the Parson saw him. The
Parrot went on--
"O reverend Sir, you teach men how to get free from the chains of their
sins. May it please you to tell me how to escape from this cage?"
This was a practical question, but the Parson's advice was not usually
asked on such points. He did not know what to say.
"I fear I can be of no use to you," said he, "but I will consult my
Solicitor."
The Parson went to see his Solicitor, and paid him six and eightpence.
He might have bought the Parrot, cage and all, for half that; but, as I
said, he was not a practical man. When he told the Solicitor what
business he came about, the Solicitor said nothing at all, but fell down
in a faint.
"What can I have said to make him faint?" the Parson thought. "Perhaps
it is the hot weather." He poured water over the Solicitor's face, and
by-and-by the Solicitor came to.
The Parson was much distressed at having thrown away six and eightpence;
but he knew it would be of no use asking the Solicitor to give any of it
back, so he did not try. He went back to the Parrot and said--
"Dearly beloved bird, I much regret having no information to give you
which may be of use. The fact is, no sooner did I put your question to
my worthy Solicitor, than he fell down in a dead faint."
"Oh," said the Parrot, "many thanks, Parson."
The Parson went away to the parish meeting. When he had gone, the Parrot
stretched himself out on the bottom of his cage, and shut his eyes, and
cocked up his feet in the air.
By-and-by the Banker came in, and saw his Parrot lying on his back, with
his feet pointing to the sky.
"Poor Poll," said he, "you're dead, my pretty Poll."
He opened the door of the cage, and took
out the bird, and laid him on the
ground. Immediately the Parrot
opened his wings and
flew away.
[Illustration]