ns, and be utterly unrecognizable for the
same creature. It is evident to all bird students that feathers are as
surely an "index of the mind" as are tails in cat and dog, and the
manners and expression of this family would be a study of absorbing
interest.

Not to mention the birds already familiar in books, there are a few
interesting peculiarities of some of the late discoveries, and the
possible varieties are by no means exhausted, so that each new traveler
who penetrates into their chosen home will doubtless have opportunity to
see his own name Latinized into dignity and bestowed upon some brilliant
and hitherto unknown bird, having a new disposition of plumage, or a
color more beautiful--if conceivable--than any before. One of the most
attractive of the recent additions to the list was made by Signor
D'Albertis, and named for him _Drepanoris Albertisi_. In a letter to a
Sydney newspaper he tells the story of the discovery, which occurred
while he was living in a Papuan mansion built upon the trunks of trees,
and reached by means of a long ladder. From this unique residence he
made excursions into the mountains, and, among other things, had the
good fortune to see two curious episodes in the life of the Six-shafted
Bird of Paradise. He found this bird--which is not new to science--to be
a noisy and solitary fellow, roaming the thick woods alone, dining upon
figs and other fruits, and indulging in the strange habit of "dusting"
itself like a city sparrow. Happily he saw the whole operation.
Selecting a suitable spot, the beautiful bird first cleared away the
grass and leaves, and while the eager observer was wondering what all
this preparation portended, suddenly flung itself to the ground, and
rolled its rich plumage in the dust, fluttered the wings, elevated and
depressed the six plumes on its head, and otherwise appeared to enjoy
itself extremely. At another time the traveler witnessed a second
uncommon scene in the deep interior of the forest. A bird of the same
species alighted upon the ground, and after peering in every direction,
either to make sure of being unobserved, or to discover an enemy or a
friend, began a most singular performance, waving the six long plumes of
the head, raising and lowering a small tuft of silvery white feathers
over its beak, elevating a glittering crest on its neck, and spreading
and drawing back the long feathers on its sides, every movement entirely
changing its apparent shape.