P.S.--We walk three miles to Sunday-school.
We never hear of people who walk miles to day or Sunday school without
feeling ashamed of ourselves, because, sometimes we think it hard to
have to walk a few blocks on some such errand. A prairie fire must be a
magnificent sight.
* * * * *
I want to tell you about my Polly. We bought him in New Orleans,
and not knowing his birthday, we set it at the 1st of May. At first
he would not talk at all; he was very cross, and would not let us
touch him. One night my sister began to play on the piano and sing;
Polly began to sing also, in a little low voice. Papa threw a
newspaper at him, and said, "You old humbug, you could sing all the
time."
I will tell you some of the things he says. Of course he can say,
"Polly wants a cracker," and "Pretty Poll." He can say "Hurrah,
Polly!" My name is Estelle, and when I come into the dining-room in
the morning he will say "Stella" just as plain. There was a crowd
of children standing at our gate one day, and they said, "Polly,
can we come in?" and he said, "Come along."
Our Polly's name is Jack, but we never call him that. He had a
fight with a dog once. The dog was coming up to him, and he just
put up his wings and flew screaming to the dog. The dog did not
stop to fight, but ran for his life.
Polly is very tame now, and will get on my hand and talk to me.
That is all I have to say about Polly at present.