“Perhaps the most celebrated Parrot,” continued Uncle Thomas, “whose sayings and doings figure in history, is one—a blue Macaw—which belonged to the late Dr. Thornton, who bought it for fifteen guineas, to grace his museum. When in a confined exhibition-room in Bond-street, where it was kept chained by the leg, it made those screaming noises so offensive in its tribe, and seemed sulky and unhappy; but being brought to the doctor’s house (his botanical exhibition having closed), from motives of humanity, the chain was removed that confined it to its perch. At first its feet were so cramped, and the muscles so much weakened from long disuse, that it could not walk. It tottered at every step, and appeared, in a few minutes only, greatly fatigued. Its liberated feet, however, soon acquired uncommon agility, its plumage grew more resplendent, and it became completely happy. It no longer indulged in screams of discontent, and all its gestures denoted gratitude. Its food, was now changed, it breakfasted with the family, having toast and butter; and dined upon potatoes, hard dumplings, with fruit occasionally after dinner. Like other Parrots, it never drank. Its sense of smell was uncommonly quick. It soon learned to know the time of meals, which it marked by a continued agitation of the wings, and anxiously running up and down its pole. “When it received food it half opened its wings, and contracted the pupils of its eyes, and uttered a pleasing note of thankfulness. If it got any food of which it was not very fond, it held it in his left foot, and having eaten a little, threw the rest down; but if the food was nice and abundant, it carefully conveyed it to its tin reservoir, and left for another repast that which it could not immediately consume. It soon forgot its barbarous sounds, and imitated words; and for hours together amused itself by saying, ‘Poll,’—‘Macaw,’—‘Turn him out,’—‘Pretty fellow,’—‘Saucy fellow,’—‘What’s o’clock,’ laughing, and calling out the names of the doctor’s children. If any of them were hurt, it gave the first alarm; nor did it desist until they were attended to. The doctor’s son, observing the sagacity of this bird, undertook to instruct it. He taught it at the word of command to descend from its perch and stand upon his finger; then, by another order, it turned itself downwards, and hung upon the fore-finger by one foot, although the body was swung about with considerable violence. Being asked how a bad person should be served? it seized its master’s finger, suspended itself by its bill, like one hanging. At the command of its master it extended his wings to show their beauty. It would then fan the spectators with his wings; it was next put on the ground, and walked as readily backwards as forwards, with its two toes in front, and two behind. It would then clamber like a sailor up the mizen-mast and with its two open mandibles embraced its perch, which was nearly two inches in thickness. Placed there, it was