Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-11-22
MICKEY AND THE MACAW.

It was growing dusk 1n the gorgeous room. The bars of gold that had laid on the floor when the sun crept in at high noon had faded away. There was a deserted air about the place that told the mistress was away. The red roses she left in the Indian bowl were faded, and there was dust on the gay little bisque figure of Love that stood at the side of tho mirror. He was kissing his hands with the same merry gesture, but no one could see in the dusk that four fingers off each hand were gone. No one but the macawi He had bitten them off He had stepped slyly into these unexplored regions and had been having high jinks. The head of the Spanish muleteer lay on the ground like gay ball.
 The bird stepped gingerly about, and looked for new mischief to do. Montmor- ency Jackson the new waiter, had heard the crash, and now opened the door rather tim idly He was superstitious, and had no knowledge of the ways of the strange bird. ''Got to get dat debbil back to him roost," said Monty. "How gwine do it, blame # knowl"
 He moved cautiously amid the gold and white chairs, easels and fancy tables, while the bird kept Q fierce eye on him.
 It did not retreat; it was ready for attack. It made dash at his heels, crying:
 "Nigger, nigger, niggerr'
 
 said Monty. Reckon I jess wait till Polly come home. She know de ways of dat buhd ob Satan better"
 So Monty went out, forgetting to shut the door carefully, and the macaw followed in a few moments, and stepped out into garden. Intoxicated with liberty he went farther. The sun and the spring together made even Shantytown beautiful. Tho fresh green grass was toothsome to the nimble goat that sprang from rock to rock. Knots of white daisies starred the emerald sod, and gold but tons of buttercups gleamed richly every where, as if some spendthrift had scattered his wealth broadcast.
 Mickey Driscolrs blue eyes were dim, and bis little freckled face was very sad.
 'Yis, me bye," the mother was saying sadly, as she rubbed away in the steaming suds, and held up one of Mickey's shirts to see if it was white enough, ''the crathur has to go know yell miss tho milk av her, but yer poor father won't do O hans turn for month yet, and Nan must be sold"
 Nan was browsing on an old newspaper just then, but seemed to have an eye on the speaker, and came nearer as though to hear | more.
 ''It's the drugs does be running away wid the money, bad cess to it., said Mrs. Driscoll "ar' the more he does be takin' the worse he is."
 But there's places where ye can git loads and lashin's of medicines for nothin'," said Mickey, with gleam in his blue eyes. ''I know; I seen one t'other y-dissipashuns, ] think they calls em.'
 "Oh, no, Mickey; that's not it, sure" said Mrs. Driscoll, with O sad smile. But how is it that ye don't lave a button on yer shirts2"
 ''Mother," cried Mickey, ''don't sell Nar ;,,5or ,;-,+ 1o >;,>i
 1T wont," said Mrs Driscou. ''Sure she's loike one av the family. See her now attn av that old Trybune wid all the relish in the wurruld, the crathur. She's larnt manner: wonderful, and niver toouches the wash now since she swallyed me bist white aprin bu that was in the lasht winter, poor crathurl'
 Mickey wandered out rather forlornly, fol want had crept into the poor little homo ane made itself felt. Nan followed him, bu something came up in his throat, and chokeo him when he tried to speak to her. He stooc leaning on the deserted pig pen, which hae now no pig in it. Hard questions surget through his small mind. His father hat worked so hard, and his mother did not vast her time gossiping at the neighbors as som did, and yet now they had scarcely enougl to eat, and Nan, poor Nan, had to gol
 ''rm goin' to earn that money meself," sai, Mickey, strengthening himself and lookin, flercely about him. "Im s years old"
 As he spoke out loud he heard a quce voice behind him cry shrilly, "Shut up."
 He started and his heart beat fast. Tn words seemed to come from the inside of tn pig pen.
 But Mickey looked all around him. It di not sound like Patsy Flynn's voice, yet h searched the rocks for that red heade urchin He was hiding behind one of them no doubt.
 ''Id loike to hit somebody" Mickey saic as he went back to his place and leane against the pig pen. kicking at stone wit his coppertoed shoe.
 "Oh, give us rest,' said the voice withi ], the pig pen.
 Mickey turned and looked. Then with startled cry he ran to the house.
 sMother, mother" he cried, his eyes lated and his hair standing up on his heae "come quick and seel There's somethin alive in the pig pen"
 "Is it O pig, Mickey, darlin'q" cried tl poor woman, thinking perhaps a miracle ha been worked for her, or that some good s. maritan had been moved to give her pre- ent.
 IA pig with feathers! Oh, motheri an talks-sure it speaks like a Christian" erie Mickey, shivering.
 The mother hurried on breathlessly. , 'Sure it's a burrud, ," she said ln a momen D. ''an' be the token, Oi'm thinking Dive see the loike in show. Arrah, Mickey, II boy, it's O great foind now But lux at u fierce eye av it, and the grano feather , Sure it's a grandee among the burruds, an has the air av an imperor"
 The macaw eyed the two people sternly. moved toward them, and they fell back
 "CaH it, Mickey, agra" said the mother.
 s'An' what will be afther callin' ita' askT /. Mickey, taking up stick, at which u - macaw looked with fire in his eye.
 ''Thim wan's I seen was parrots, but th is quare an different D she said "Whin talks so iligant, perhaps it can tell us name"
 A scissors grinder stopped in the road ju then, and Mickey called him.
 "Say," he cried, ''what's the name of tt burrud, dun no2' IS The man stopped the whir of his wheel al went over to the pen.
 ttDot D said he in broken Fnplish Gtdot V