In the hall-way, the old birds could not reach the young to feed them, but they would fly in and through the house; this they did for several days, and then, apparently, they abandoned our locality and their young altogether. As we thought the old birds would not return, we again placed the cage outside the house, in its first position, but on one occasion we failed to entirely cover the cage with the mosquito-bar; and that very evening, at the usual feeding-time, about dusk, both old birds were seen, for the first time since their departure. Each bird had food or poison in its beak, and each was seen feeding it to the young birds; and then they flew away and did not return. Not suspecting any danger to the young birds, we allowed the cage to remain in the same place all night. Next morning early, we found one young bird dead in the cage, and the other barely alive, reeling and dazed as if under the influence of a poisonous weed or narcotic. Within a few hours, it too was dead. I am sorry that I lost two very beautiful birds; and I think the parent-birds poisoned the young captives, as the old birds were not seen by us again. Shall not the verdict be "guilty" instead of "not guilty"? Decide the question, Dear Jack. Yours truly, LOUISE A-----. No, thank you! You can't persuade me to be the judge in _such_ a case. For if I should undertake to decide the question of guilt, I'd be sure to point out the fact that in every instance the poisoned birds were in cages, not in nests. And then you wise human folk would be sure to say that that wasn't a fair way of stating the case, or that I was prejudiced. And perhaps I am. I'm neither a bird nor a human being, you see; I'm only Jack-in-the-Pulpit. So settle this matter for yourselves. A LIVING ISLAND. DEAR JACK: The alligator is not in any way an attractive animal. On the contrary, it is about as repellant in looks and disposition as any living creature very well can be. And yet in one respect, at least, it is to be envied: It can go through life without ever needing a dentist, unless it be to eat him; for it never keeps its teeth long enough to give them any chance to decay or ache or get out of order in any way. When an alligator's tooth is worn out or broken or in need of any kind of repair, it drops out, and, behold! a new one is ready to take its place. But I hardly need say that the alligator's teeth are a joy only to itself.