The Springdale news., 1889-10-04
A MISPLACED PARROT.
The Mischief Wrought by One
 Feathered Friend.

f there is one thing Tn this world 1 hate it is a parrot. Had Edgar Poe known my experiences he would have called his famous poem "The Parrot. ' No raven was ever such "bird or fiend, in my case, as was gray parrot. My wrongs are all revivified by that execrated phrase. Maledie- ton on the race.
 l was always an enthusiastic ass in one thing. Ny cynical friend Badger who. on the strength of having once (probably during the temporary in- sanity of the sab-editor left in charge) got an article which he said was original into the Searifer. sets up for T satirist, says "one thing is nced- less limitation. Let that pass. My enthusiasm took the form of volunteer ing to execute commissions for ladies' Of course l speak of my salad days And were l frivolous like Badger l might add, a pretty mess my salad turned out But so it was. And when d man is in love he very frequently be- comes a greater fool than Carlyle could have imagined. And 1 was in love-deeply and devotedly, with every prospect of happiness-till an accursed fowl ruined all my chences.
 What d pretty creature Alice Hill stone was, Tall and rounded, hands and feet like an Andalusian' s, eyes of the darkest brown, hair raven-hued. lips like cherries and a walk like Junos' l saw her and loved her. And she loved me. At any rate she said she did when 1 got her and that old witch of mother of hers a card for Lady liighflyer, s dance, through young Highayer having borrowed my half years salary to pay his account after the Derby day, and my representing. like an ass again, this card would be quid pro quo, and, indeed, from then till now it is the only liquidation Of the debt he has ever suggested or will suggest
 Mrs. Hillstone was well off but vul- gar. Not in society; they lived in Bloomsbury in big gaudily-furnished house and had as commonplace a set of stupid acquaintances as q man could well do penanee by associating with. But Alice made up for all. 1 was in a government office of rather an exclu- sive kind (and that's about all 1 have to thank my influential relatives for), and had the entree to some good houses.
 l spent most of my spare time at Bloomsbury, and dined there very often, anduring the conversation of Mrs. Hill- stone late husband s city friends and the vulgarities of their ostentatious wives and daughters till l really won dered l wasn't turned into a commer- cial man. 1 hated-oh how 1 hatedl the very name of the bank rate of alder men. of s'warm' people, of floating companies par, and all the rest of it. None of them knew any thing about the opera, the Academy, tie scandals of the day or the society papers. And l knew nothing of their jargon and hated their odor of money. But Alice, the incomparable, was like violet amid nettles, and l knew she ultimately would inherit the Bloomsbury and other houses, to say nothing of some consols, for l had examined the pro- bate of the defunct Hillstone's will-a fact which kept to myself, however.
 We'll, things went on very satisfac- rily, when one day to my sorrow the conversation turned on birds. and Mrs Hillstone said she had heard of won derful parrot from one of her city friends which the owner would no part with Somewhere in the wilds o Bethnal Green this individual lived and had refused offers innumerable fo bis peerless bird; and Mir. Philton, continued my prospective mother-in law, I'd give any thing if ; could 'av such a bird. Moneys bbieck. yol