THE CANARY EXHIBITION.
After he had eaten his dinner, Fred accompanied his father to the barn
to assist him about the work, then fed his fowls and Annie's lamb, after
which he returned to the house, eager to hear grandpa's account of the
exhibition.
"I dare say," began the old gentleman, "that your mother can remember
more about it than I can. The owner of the canaries was a Frenchman, who
had for many years devoted himself to the business of educating birds.
There were a great number of them, some of which were over twenty years
old.
"During the exhibition the canaries were arranged in order at one end of
the stage, and came forward as they were called by name.
"One of them, whose name, I think, was Major, was dressed in a tiny suit
of military uniform. He had a chapeau on his head and a sword in his
claw: after sitting upright for some time, Major, at the word of
command, freed himself from his dress, and flew to his cage.
"Another came forward with a slender stick in his claws. This he put
between his legs, and holding his head down, suffered himself to be
turned round and round, as if he were being roasted."
Annie was listening in open-mouthed wonder to these astonishing feats.
"O grandpa!" she exclaimed, "I hope there was no fire there."
"No, of course not," cried Fred; "but what did the others do, grandpa?"
"I can think of but two more feats, my dear. Several of them came out
together and practised some gymnastic exercises."
"What are those?" inquired Annie.
"They balanced themselves over sticks, head downwards, with their legs
and tails in the air; or on a rope, and were swung backward and forward.
"The last feat was perhaps the most wonderful of either. A bright little
fellow came out, and taking his place on the platform, was shot at,
and fell down, pretending to be dead. He lay quite still and motionless;
and presently one of his companions came forward with a little mite of a
wheelbarrow, as Annie would say, and wheeled him away."
"How very funny!" exclaimed Fred.
"See, grandpa, how very fast it rains," said the little girl; "but I
like rainy weather, when you will tell us such beautiful stories."
At this moment Mrs. Symmes joined their party. She had in her hand a pan
of beans, which she was going to pick over before they were baked.
Fred jumped up and took them from her. "Annie and I can do them,
mother," he said, "and you can sew while you hear grandpa's stories."
"That's right, my boy," said the old gentleman. "Help your mother all
you can."
The children were soon seated at their work, and their mother at her
mending. "Now, dear grandpa, we're all ready for you to begin."
"Really, my dear," he answered, pleasantly, "you are hungry after
stories."
"I like yours," said the child, "because they're always true."
"Well, let me think with what I shall begin. Have I ever told you how
fast birds can fly?"
"No, sir."
"It is perfectly astonishing," he added, "with what rapidity they dart
through the air. Not many years ago, a large number of carrier pigeons
were taken from Holland to London. They had been trained to carry
messages by attaching a small paper bag to their wing. If taken from
any particular place and let loose, they will find their way back again.
These birds were set at liberty in London at half past four in the
morning, and reached their home in Holland, a distance of three hundred
miles, by noon of the same day. One of them, a great favorite, named
Napoleon, entered his dove-cote at a quarter past ten, having flown
fifty miles in an hour.
"Another pigeon from Ballinasloe, in Ireland, belonging to a gentleman
by the name of Bernard, was let loose at eleven o'clock in the forenoon,
with a note appended to it, directing dinner to be ready at Castle
Bernard at a given time, as he purposed being home that day. The message
reached its destination, which was twenty-three miles distant, in eleven
minutes, being at the rate of one hundred and twenty-five and a half
miles an hour."
"I had no idea that they could fly so fast," remarked Mrs. Symmes.
"These are by no means remarkable cases," added grandpa. "The eagle has
been supposed to fly one hundred and forty miles an hour; and a bird by
the name of swift, one hundred and eighty. But the most extraordinary
that I ever heard, was of a titlark who alighted on board a vessel from
Liverpool, when thirteen hundred miles from the nearest main land, and
nine hundred miles from a wild and barren island. Sea birds retain their
position upon the wing for a wonderful length of time."