Jasper Republican, Volume 1, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 January 1875 — THE TALKING BIRD. [ARTICLE]

THE TALKING BIRD.

A bird bo very remarkable for its powers of speech is about to be described that it will be well to premise that the sketch to be offered is perfectly true — not the least a fiction—and furnishes an interesting addition to the curiosities of natural history. The subject of the narrative is a parrot which belongs to Mr. Peter Truefitt, photographer, Edinburgh, and may be seen in that gentleman’s establishment at 65 Princes street by any respectable lady or gentleman who may wish to make its acquaintance. lam grateful to Mr. Truefitt for his kindness in authorizing me to make this statement, because it will save me "from being suspected of inventing the story of the bird’s extraordinary talkativeness. I became acquainted with Mr. Truefitt in the summer of 1873, and having occasion to visit him one Saturday afternoon was invited to drink tea with the family. The only other stranger present was a Mr. P , who, like myself, had called on business. Mr. P was a Spiritualist, and of Spiritualism in his conversation there was no end. He told us of having been present at a seance in London the previous week and could assure us that he had seen a human body pass horizontally through the air from one room to another without any support save that given to it by the “spirits.” “What!” I exclaimed, “a human body pass through the air horizontally without any support!” Mr. P quietly answered: “ I have said so.” There was silence for a moment; and then a voice— I hear it yet—quiet, grave, solemn, but intensely satirical, uttered these words: “My conscience!” I turned round and found, to my astonishment, that the speaker who had so suddenly and unexpectedly introduced himself was a parrot, which, after having thus expressed itself, sat on the lower part of its cage, with its head on one side, looking straight across the table at Mr. P——. “ Wonderful!” I ejaculated. Mr. P. trembled, but could not keep his eyes from the parrot. “Eh, you rascal,” laid Poll, “go to the kitchen. You’re a Fenian. That’s what I say.” And having thus delivered itself it sprang into its ring, and shouted at the pitch of its voice: “Ring the bell, ring the bell.” Mr. P became pale, rose to his feet, called for his hat and umbrella, and finally said “ good-by,” and took his departure. He did not long survive this fright. Peace be with his ashes! As the reader may suppose, I was at once an admirer of Poll. I had heard parrots in a cracked voice endeavor to say “ Pretty Pollbut what other parrots had attempted this parrot had achieved, and having been assured that what he had said was nothing to what he could say, I was determined to interview him. This determination I made known to Mr. Truefitt, who invited me to spend the following Monday with him. According appointment I went early and was ushered into the diningroom by the servant. Breakfast was set, but, with the exception of Mrs. Truefitt, no one had come down stairs. Poll was in his usual place, and appeared to be very much excited.. I got out my pock-et-book and pencil to be ready. “ We’ll take our seats at the table, said Mrs. Truefitt; and we had no sooner done so than Poll perched on one of the bars which ran across his cage, and looking toward the door of the room shouted in a sound, clear, distinct voice: “ Peter, come to breakfast. Polly wants his breakfast. Quick, you rascal.” It being summer-time there was no coal in the grate, but, lifting the poker, Mrs. Truefitt made a feint of stirring the fire, when the parrot, in a most pathetic voice, said: “Is it very cold?” When Mr. Truefitt entered the room Poll more than surprised me by bowing most gracefully and saying: “Good-morning, Mr. Truefitt; I hope you are well.” But when the auntie of the family appeared the joy of the bird was unbounded. “ Auntie,” he said, “ comment vous, portez-rxms t What news in the Scotsman this morning? Come and kiss me, auntie. Come and kiss me, darling. Kiss me, then. Oh, kiss me!” This was uttered in a most affectionate voice. I felt astounded, and could scarcely believe my own eyes and

ears. Nor would be cease repeating the latter sentence until the auntie approached him and wishediiim good-morn-ing. What surprised ore most was the appropriateness of the bird's words to the circumstances. Of course this was the result of training; but how could a bird, not possessed of reasoning faculty, be trained to know not only how to articulate certain words, bnt when to articulate them 7 This was the question which puzzled me. For example, when the cups were being filled he looked gravely down to the table and asked: “Are ye wantin’ yer tea?” and when we began to eat he imitated the smacking of lips, and asked: “Is it nice? Is t good—very good?” And after he had partaken of some dainty which Mrs. Truefltt gave him he again imitated the smacking of lips and pronounced it “good, good, nice, nice, very nice.” The fact jf this appropriateness says much fjr Mrs. Truefltt, his sole and exclusive teacher; bat I confess that I have always felt a difficulty about it. We had salmon for breakfast, and, some one having asked if it was good, Poll said: “Fine, fine; taste it, taste it;” and again imitated the smacking of lips, as if he were tasting it himself. During the half hour or so we sat at breakfast he seemed to know that I was there.to hear him and report; at least—which is not a usual thing with him so early in the day—he kept dancing about the cage, ai t firing off snch sentences as the following: “ Mamma, Polly is going to school. Mamma, he’s going to college to learn to be a doctor. Yes, my pretty bird—yes.” Here he would pause a little, and then start another theme. Sometimes he shouted like a mariner: “ What ship ? what Bhip, ahoy? Mate, there’s a man overboard, of the royal navy.” This last sentence he articulated most admirably. Then he was a baronet, and a candidate for the suffrages of a constituency. “ Vote,” he cried, “ for Sir Polly Truefltt. lam a member. Maj. Polly Truefltt, of the British army.” And that he was interested in passing events was evident from the fact that he asked Mr. Truefltt the following question: “Peter, have you seen the great Shah?” Then, as if he wished me to understand that he was not altogether ignorant of literature, he quoted: “ Lay on, Macduff, and " coward be he who first cries, Hold, enough!” “ A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!” “Richard is himself again!” He repeated several other quotations, which I neglected to take down, but I remember that at the close he very emphatically, and with a dash of pride, pronounced the author’s name —“Shakespeare”—and shook his head, as much as to say that he knew what he was about. After a little silence he said in a woesome manner: “Poor papa, poor papa; he is up among the little stars ” This he had picked up after the death of the late Mr. Truefltt, who was very fond of him. He repeated this several times; and then, naming a terrier that once belonged to the family, he said, mournfully, “Poor Blucher, poor Blucher! Blucher is dead;” then sharply, “ but Blucher was only a dog;” and very proudly, “ but Polly is a good, good, good little boy. Ah, Jock” —this to the new dog —“ you are a bad boy. Go to the kitchen, sir. You are a bad boy—yes, yes.”

After breakfast I was left alone with the parrot, but not long. An old gentlemen called to see Mr. Truefitt in his studio. He had a boy with him about eight years of age, who was put into the dining-room to wait until the old gentleman came down stairs. The boy sat down on the seat nearest the door, directly opposite Poll’s cage. A few moments of silence occurred, and then Poll, pulling himself up, addressed the little stranger thus: “John, attend to your master. John, fetch me a cigar. John, a glass of beer with the chill off. John, put the horses to the carriage; Polly wants a drive in the gardens with Lady Polly. John, brush my coat; quick, you rascal!” At the conclusion of this speech, which was delivered with an air of authority, the poor little fellow, whose name happened to be John, was nearly frightened out of his wits, and leaving the room he disappeared up stairs, screaming, “ Grandpa, the bird in the room has been speaking to me!” When the old gentleman came down he would see this wonderful bird; and he had no sooner made his appearance in the dining-room than Poll very sharply asked: “ What’s your name, sir?” The old gentleman literally sank into a chair. “My name,” continued the parrot, answering his own question—“my name is pretty Polly Truefitt, seventytwo Princes street” (the number of a previous house). “I’m a Volunteer; Capt. Polly Truefitt, first Highland company. What corps are you?” Then putting himself into the attitude of a drillsergeant he unburdened himself in the following manner: “Attention! Dress. Eyes front. Shoulder arms.” (The reader will excuse Polly’s order.) “ Fix bayonets. Rear rank, take open order; right about face; quick, march! Hooray, hurrah for the Prince of Wales! Sergeantmajor, right wheel. Make ready, make ready—present fire.” He then continued for some time shouting “ toot-oot-oot,” etc., in imitation of firing of rifles. The old gentleman was thunderstruck, and no wonder, for Poll’s pronunciation while delivering himself of these words of drill, the inflection of his voice and entire attitude are so perfect that a captain of volunteers told me that the first time he heard him at it he was waiting for Mr. Truefitt in the adjoining drawingroom, and could scarcely believe, even after the truth was made known to him, but that Mr. Truefitt, being a Volunteer, had engaged a drill instructor to post him up for the evening. “ Indeed,” he

added, “I never heard a drill-sergeant whose articulation was to be compared to that of the parrot.” After this effort, of having done a good morning’s work, Poll wished us “goodby," and leaping into his ring said no more until the one o’clock enn, which is fired from the castle, went off; when, ronsing himself up, he made the room ring by crying, “ One o’clock ! one o’clock! Polly wants his dinner. Jeanie, lay the cloth. Polly wants his dinner, with a glass of sherry;” and ceased not until the cloth was laid and the dinner set. It will be necessary to pass over the afternoon performances of this wonderful bird, as a description of them would take up too much space. In the evening four ladies were present, and among them, a clergyman’s wife, who was more than delighted with Poll’s singing. As if certain that he would be desired to sing, he made'the following request to himself: “Poll,” he said, “sing a pretty song \o the ladies;” then coughing, like a nervous young lady about to entertain a party, he sang the following verses, giving to each its appropriate tune: ‘Oh, dear! what can the matter be? Jockey stays long at the fair; He promised to bay me a bunch of bine ribbons To tie np my bonnie brown hair.” “For Poll’s a jolly good fellow, Pqll’s a jolly good fellow, Poll’s a jolly good fellow. Which nobody can deny.” “ Down among the coals, Down among the coals, Polly is a clever chap, Down among the coals.” “ I wish I was a swell, A-rovlng down Pall-Mall, Upon the street to spread my feet, I wish I was a swell, Don’t I? rather!"

He sang other verses during the evening, such as “ Charlie is my darling,” but, of course, substituting “ Polly” for “ Charlie;” “Upin a balloon, boys;” “My dear boys, my dear boys, he is a pal o’ mine;” and “ Champagne Charley is my name, up to every little game, my boys;” and amused, and delighted us all by dancing to one or two of his tunes. His singing of “ Polly’s a jolly good fellow” was inimitable; but when asked to repeat it by the clergyman’s wif# he very sharply told her to “go to the kitchen.” That he objected to being encored was evident, so we allowed him to sing, dance, speak, laugh or be silent, just as he pleased. Polly is a capital laugher. He bends and unbends, and does it so heartily that it is difficult to believe that he is not consciously amused. Then he cries, too, most mournfully, and generally indulges in it when he hears anyene speaking in piteous tones. When the company had dispersed on the evening in question he looked as if aware that he had shown himself off to some advantage, and indeed went the length of saying, “Poll is a very pretty bird He’s a good little boy.” When drawing near to the later hours he interrupted an interesting conversation by saying, “Are you not going to your little beddies? Polly is going to his beddie. Yes. Goodnight, good-night.” He then leaped into his ring, and retired for the night, evidently highly satisfied with the day’s performance.

I am certain that I have not recorded the half of what I heard Poll say, but enough has been quoted to show that he is a most wonderful bird. A lady offered twenty guineas for him lately and was astonished to find that a hundred guineas would not buy him. The last time I saw him he distinctly pronounced my name after hearing it a few times. He then wished the Duke of Edinburgh much joy, and informed me that he was proud to have the honor of the acquaintance of the Prince of Wales. Indeed, he seems to be extremely fond of this future King, and an anecdote illustrative of this trait in. his character may very appropriately conclude this paper. When His Royal Highness, accompanied by his beautiful Princess, was in Edinburgh laying the foundation-stone of the new Infirmary, the royal procession passed along Princess street and halted for a few minutes opposite Mr. Truefitt’s window, which was open for the occasion. A maiden lady of democratic principles was heard to say very ostentatiously that the people of Edinburgh were very foolish in making such an ado about two common mortals like themselves. Some one very politely told her to hold her tongue, but she would not be put down until Poll, who was brought to the open window, fairly silenced her by shouting until the procession moved on, “Hurrah for the Prince of Wales!” That sentence was the bird’s latest acquirement, and all who heard him were unanimous in saying that he made the best possible use of it. Poll’s linguistic accomplishments clearly show to what extraordinary lengths a bird can- be taught to speak, not by mere_note, but with a wonderful degree of rationality and adaptation to circumstances.—Chambers’ Journal.

—“Now, then,”- said a physician, cheerily, to a patient, “ you have got along far enough to indulge in a little animal food, and ” “ No, you don’t, Doctor,” interrupted the patient; “ I’ve suflered enough on your gruel and slops, and I'd starve sooner than begin on hay and oats.” . —The Medical and Surgical Reporter says: “Dr. D. H. L. Hogg, of Texas, writes us that he has found liquor calcis (water of lime) very useful as a mouthwash. It improves the gums and prevents the toothache. He has used it in private practice and personally.” An Arkansas grocer has been sent to the Penitentiary for six years for shooting a man who “ kept helping himself to the crackers,”