Part 16 (1/2)

”'What's the krect thing to do, polly?' i says, says i; 'shall us kick or shall us bolt?'

”'Come straight on, ye hold fool,' says polly pea-blossom, says she.

”Gee up, says i, and away ye goes!

”Which i must now dror to a klose, dobbin, and which i does hope you'll allers have a good home and good shoes, dobbin, till you're marched to the knacker's. Gee up and away ye goes!--

”Good-bye, dobbin, polly's gone to sleep, and master is a-playin' the fiddle so soft and low like, in the meadow beyant yonder, which it allers does make me think o' what the parson's old pony once told me, dobbin, o' a land where old hosses were taken to arter they were shot and their shoes taken off, a land o' green meadows, dobbin, and a sweet quiet river a-rollin' by, and long rows o' wavin' pollards like, with nothing to do all day, no 'arness to wear, no bit to hurt or rein to gall. Think o' that, dobbin. Good-bye, dobbin--there goes the moosic again, so sweet and tremblin' and sobbin'-like. i'm goin' to listen and dream.

”Yours kindly,--

”Poor old Corn-flower.”

III.

From Polly the c.o.c.katoo to d.i.c.k the Starling.

”Dear d.i.c.k,--If you weren't the cleverest starling that ever talked or flew, with a coat all s.h.i.+ny with crimson and blue, I wouldn't waste a tail feather in writing to you.

”You must know, d.i.c.k, that there are two Pollys on this wandering expedition, Polly the mare, Polly Pea-blossom, and Polly the pretty c.o.c.katoo, that's me, though however master could have thought of making me G.o.dmother to an old mare, goodness only knows. Ha! ha! ha! it makes me laugh to think of it.

”They do say that I'm the happiest, and the prettiest, and the merriest bird, that ever yet was born, and I won't be five till next birthday, though what I shall be before I am a hundred is more than I can think.

”Yes, I'll live to a hundred, c.o.c.katoos all do; then my body will drop off the perch, and my soul will go into something else--ha! ha! ha!

Wouldn't you laugh too, if you had to live for a hundred years?

”All that time in a cage, with only a run out once a day, and a row with the cat! Yes, all that time, and why not? What's the odds so long as you're happy? Ha! ha! ha!

”I confess I do dream sometimes of the wild dark forest lands of Australia, and I think at times I would like to lead a life of freedom away in the woods yonder, just as the rooks and the pigeons do. Dash my bill! d.i.c.k, but I would make it warm for some of them in the woods--ha!

ha! ha!

”Sometimes when the sparrows--they are cheeky enough for anything--come close to my cage, I give vent to what master calls my war-cry, and they almost drop dead with fright.

”'Scray!' that's my war-cry, and it is louder than a railway whistle, and shriller than a bagpipe.

”'Scray! Scray! Scray--ay--ay!'

”That's it again.

”Master has just pitched a 'Bradshaw' at my cage. I'll tear that 'Bradshaw' to bits first chance I have.

”Master says my war-cry is the worst of me. It is so startling, he says.

”That's just where it is--what would be the use of a war-cry if it weren't startling? Eh, d.i.c.k?

”Now out in the Australian jungles, this war-cry is the only defence we poor c.o.c.katoos have against the venomous snakes.

”The snakes come gliding up the tree.