“The eventful day at length arrived. Dinner was served. The lady so managed matters that her daughter was seated next to her admirer. Operas and balls were talked of; every thing was in apple-pie order; the soup and fish course had passed away, and a haunch of venison was announced, ambiguously stated to be from the park of a noble friend—the real fact being that it was purchased from a butcher who had it from his lordship’s keeper. During the interval that took place before its appearance, John was despatched for the Champagne. The company waited, but neither venison, nor champagne, nor servant appeared. A dead silence ensued—a silence that was agony to the lady. Minutes were added to minutes. The good old citizen rose from his chair, and rang the bell; it tingled in the ears of the company for a while, but its tingling was fruitless. The suspense became fearful. ‘What a pretty Parrot you have got,’ said the young gentleman at last, in despair. ‘He is a very pretty bird indeed!’ said the lady of the house, ‘and a very intelligent fellow too, I assure you. What have you to say for yourself, Poll?’ ‘Becky! Becky! the Pig’s liver and a pot of beer! quick, quick, make haste!’ cried the Parrot. ‘The horrid sailors teach the creatures to be so vulgar,’ said the young lady, in a die-away tone.—‘Becky! Becky!’ cried the Parrot, ‘the Pig’s liver! quick, quick! Becky, Becky!’ And having been once roused from his lethargy he continued to bawl out the same words at the top of his voice, till, to the inexpressible horror of the good lady and her fair daughter, and the no less irrepressible mirth of the three youths, the great slip-shod country wench entered the room, her left arm embracing an ample dish of smoking-hot fried pigs liver, and her right hand swinging a creaming pewter pot full of beer! ‘Lucky indeed it was that I had it ready, Ma’am,’ she said, as she set the dish and pot down before her mistress with a self-satisfied air that seemed to crave applause; ‘for Jowler, the big watch-dog, has runned away wi’ the leg of carrion, an’ Mounseer wi’ the white night-cap, and t’other chap wi’ the flour on his head, will ha’ enough ado to catch un!’” The whole of Uncle Thomas’s little audience burst out in an uncontrollable fit of laughing as he concluded this story, and it was not without a feeling of deep regret that they heard from him that it was now necessary to bring his Tales about Birds to a conclusion. He told them, however, that at no distant period he hoped once more to have the pleasure of their company to listen to a new series of Stories which he had in preparation, and they then bade him good night. THE END. Clarke, Printers, Silver Street, Falcon Square. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ BINGLEY’S ILLUSTRATED BOOKS FOR CHILDREN, Uniform with the present Volume.