One of the most notable efforts at educating Pussy has been made recently by a Russian, Prince Krapotkine. This gentleman’s revolutionary sentiments landed him one day in a prison, where he had plenty of leisure to educate anything he could find. The anything in this case proved to be the prison cat. His fellow-prisoner, M. Emile Gautier, being already educated, was a disinterested observer of the experiment. He reports among other things, that Pussy became very expert at the game of hide-and-seek. He adds: “I ought to tell you, besides, that Nature has ornamented my head with a luxurious mass of hair. Krapotkine, on the other hand, is extremely bald.... It has often happened when playing with her, that she softly passed her paw over our respective heads, as if to ascertain that her eyes did not deceive her. This inspection concluded, and the visual notions confirmed by touch, her physiognomy took the air of comic surprise. The variety of sensations perplexed her. Nearly every evening the scene was gone through, to our great edification, as you may imagine.” [Illustration: A CAT WITH A CONSCIENCE. (_One of Prof. Bonnetty’s Troupe._)] The birds which act with these different troupes have been comparatively unimportant, except in connection with their feline companions. Nevertheless, birds, too, can be trained, and are. There is a charming pathetic story of a little Sardinian, Francesco Micheli, who turned his liking for birds to account in earning money for his family. He trained sparrows, thrushes, linnets, canaries--whatever feathered creature came within his reach. Some he taught to pipe simple tunes, others to play hide-and-seek with his white Angora cat; a nest of young partridges, under his teaching, embraced the military profession, learned to drill, hold little swords, fire off little cannon, pretend to be killed, and then come to life again. One of these intelligent partridges, Rosolotta, grieved with a human grief when her dear master died, and is said--like “Greyfriars’ Bobby”--to have watched over his grave so long as she lived. [Illustration: “TELL ME THY SECRET, BEPPO.” (_The Roman Bird Girl._)] I was reminded of this little Sardinian and his pets by a scene I witnessed one morning in Rome. A crowd of people had gathered near the broad base of the Antonine column, watching the performance of four pigeons and three canaries. The little maid with the pigeons was charming--and so were they--as she bid them tell her their secrets, and in response they fluttered up her shoulders, and cooed into her ear. But the true interest of the entertainment--its dramatic part--began with the canaries. The little actors were sitting in a row on top of their cage, demurely waiting for orders. Their mistress talked to them meanwhile, now praising their talents, now admiring their beauty, they following each motion of her lips with keen, inquisitive glances.