“They are found in all the tropical countries,” said Uncle Thomas; “in the West Indies, in Africa, in the Islands of the Pacific and Indian Oceans, and one species is a native of America. There are a great many varieties which are known by the names of Parrots, Macaws, Cockatoos, Parrakeets, Lories, &c., but notwithstanding the favour which is shown to them when domesticated, very little is known of their habits in a wild state. This arises in a great measure from the nature of their places of resort. They chiefly inhabit the luxuriant forests of the tropics, feeding on the nuts and berries, of which there exists an everlasting succession; but so luxuriant is the growth of the vegetable kingdom in these regions, that the forests are in most cases quite impenetrable by man. Many of the most luxuriant, indeed, grow in marshes, so as to be quite inaccessible, and in all of them the exhalations, which are constantly given out by decaying vegetable matter, renders the air pestilent to human beings; and should a traveller attempt to explore them, he would never return to publish the tale of his adventures.” “Do they talk as they fly about in a wild state?” asked Harry. “No,” said Uncle Thomas, “they do not; that is entirely the effect of education. Their native cry is harsh and discordant, and has been not inaptly called a scream. It is their faculty of imitation which enables them to utter words and phrases in tones so like the human voice as to be readily mistaken for it. Many curious stories are told of their powers in this way, and some of them would almost lead us to believe that the creature was endowed with human intelligence. Mr. Jesse was so surprised by what he saw and heard of one at Hampton Court, that he requested the sister of its owner to furnish him with some particulars respecting it. Here they are in her own words:— “As you wished me to write down whatever I could collect about my sister’s wonderful Parrot, I proceed to do so, only premising that I will tell you nothing but what I can vouch for having myself heard. Her laugh is quite extraordinary, and it is impossible to help joining in it oneself, more especially, when in the midst of it she cries out, ‘don’t make me laugh so, I shall die, I shall die,’ and then continues laughing more violently than before. Her crying and sobbing are curious, and if you say ‘Poor Poll, what is the matter?’ she says, ‘So bad, so bad, got such a cold,’ and after crying for some time, will gradually cease, and making a noise like drawing a long breath, say ‘better now,’ and begin to laugh.