ain; its quickness of movement,
swift flight, and never-tiring activity, all show the working of its
inner mind; but more than that, it seems to be capable of something akin
to reasoning. Richard sometimes dropped a piece of meat on his sanded
floor, and I have often seen him take it up and well rinse it in his
water, till the sand was cleansed away, and then he would swallow it;
and a dry piece of meat he would moisten in the same way. Now this
involved a good deal of mental intuition, and I often wondered whether
he found out that water would remove the sand by accident, or by a
process of thought; in either case, it showed cleverness and
adaptability. So also with the processes of opening the door of his
cage. He had first to prize up the latch with his beak to a certain
height, and then by sudden sharp pecks send it clear of the hasp; then
descend to the floor, and by straight pecks send the door open. If he
could not get the door to open thus, he understood at once that the
latch was not clear of the hasp, so he went back to his perch and pecked
at it until he saw it fall down, and then he knew all was right.

When the second summer of Richard's life came round, some young
starlings were obtained, as we much wished to rear a hen as a mate for
Richard in the following year. These birds were placed in a cage in the
same room with him, as we hoped he would prove their tutor, and save us
the trouble of teaching them. But no; Richard evidently felt profoundly
jealous of these intruders, and day after day remained perfectly dumb
and out of temper. This went on for a week, and then fearing he might
lose his talking powers, I was obliged to remove them and pay special
attention to him, to soothe his ruffled feelings. He did not begin to
talk until more than a week had passed by, evidently resolving to mark
in this way his extreme displeasure at others being admitted to share
our friendship--a curious instance of innate jealousy in a bird's mind.

For more than five years Richard was a source of constant pleasure and
amusement, and was so much a part of my home-life that when anything
unusual happened, in the way of a garden-party or a change in daily
events from any cause, one's first thought was to provide for his
comfort being undisturbed. I confess I dreaded the thought of his
growing old, and could not bear to look on to the time when I must learn
to do without his sweet, cheering little voice and pleasant
companionsh