Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1894-08-30

the cehtfaAti IJrIl1lQleAo NJ % ...ov.J ~ OF
Boupari. Every race, every element,
, every power of nature, is summed up
for them in some particu ar person or
thing; and on the life OF that person or
| thing depends, as they believe, the
entire health of the species. the Sc
quence of events, the whole order and
succession of natural phenomena.
Felix approached the mysterious
and venerable bird with somewhat in
| cautious fingers. ''It looks very old"
he said, trying to stroke it's head and
neck with a friendly gesture. "You
do we'll, indeed in calling it Methuse-
! lah."
AS he spoke, the bird, alarmed at
! the vague consciousness of hand and
voice which it. did not recognize, and
mindful OF Tu-Kila-Kila's recent at
tack, made vicious peck at the fingers
outstretched to caress it. "Take caren
the Frenchman cried, in a warning
voice. 1.-The patriarchs temper is no
longer what it was sixty or seventy
years ago. He grows old and peevish.
longer the lively little scraps of Ofen-
bach I have taught him. He does
nothing but sit still and humble now
in his own forgotten language. And
he S dreadfully cross so crabbed-mon
| Dleu, what a character. Why, the
| other day, as [ told you, he bit Tu
Kila-Kila himself, the high god of the
| island, with good hard peck, when
that savage tried to touch him; you d
have laughed to see his godship sent
off bleeding to his hut with wounded
finger. [ will confess 1 was by no
means sorry at the sight myself. [ do
not love that god, nor he me; and [
was glad when Methuselah, on whom
he is afraid to revenge himself openly,
gave him nice smart bite for trying
to interfere with him."
Hes very snappish. to be sure"
Felix said, with a smile, trying once
more to push forward one hand to
stroke the bird cautiously. But Me-
thuselah resented all such unauthorized
intrusions. He was growing too old
to put up with strangers. He made
a second vicious attempt to peck at
the hand held out to soothe him, and
screamed, as he did SO. in the discord-
ant and unpleasant voice Of an angry
or frightened parrot.
why, Felix" Muriel put in, taking
him by the arm with girlish gesture
for even the terrors by which they
were surrounded hadn't wholly sue
coed in killing out the woman within
her-''how clumsy you are. You don't
understand one bit how to manage
parrots. | had a parrot of my own at
my aunts in Australia, and l know
their ways and all about them. Just
let me try him. She held out her
soft white hand toward the sulky bird
with fearless, caressing gesture.
Pretty Poll, pretty foll!' she said,
in English, in the conventional tone Of
address to their kind. ''Did the
naughty man 60 and brighten her then?
Was she afraid of his hand? Did Polly
want a lump of sugar?'
On sudden the bird opened its eyes
quickly with an awkward air, and
looked her back in the face, half
blindly, half quizzingly. It preened
its wings for second, and crOOned
with pleasure. Thenit put forward it's
neck, with its head on one side, took
her dainty finger gently between its
beak and tongue, bit it for pure
love with soft, short pressure, and at
once allowed her to stroke its back and
sides with a very pleased ard sur
prised expression. The success of
her skill battered Muriel. There. it
knows me! 1t takes to me at once.
Pretty Poll! Pretty Poll. Come,
Fol, come ana KISS me-.
The bird drew back at the words,
and steadied itself for a moment know
ingly on it's perch. Then it held up
its head, gazed around it with vacant
air, as if suddenly awakened from a
very long sleep, and, opening its
mouth, exclaimed in loud, clear, sharp,
and distinct tones-and in English
pretty Pol. Pretty Poll. Polly
wants buss. Polly wants nice sweet
bit of APPLE
For moment M. Peyron couldn't
imagine what had happened. Felix
looked a. Muriel Muriel looked at
Felix. The Englishman held out both
his hands to her in a wild fervor of
surprise. Muriel took them in her
own, and looked deep into his eyes,
while tears rose suddenly and dropped
down her cheeks, one by one. I'M
checked They couldn't say why,
themselves: they didn't know where
fore; yet this unexpected echo Of their
own tongue, in the mouth Of that
strange and mysterious bird, thrilled
through them instinctively with
strange, unearthly tremor. In some
dim and unexplained way they felt
half unconsciouslv to themselves that
this discovery was, perhaps. the first
clew to the solution of the terrible
secret whose meshes encOmpassed
them.
NJ. Peyron looked on in mute aston
ishment. He had heard the bird re-
peat that strange jargon so often that
it had ceased to have even the posi-
biiity of d meaning for HIM. 1t was
the way of Methuselah- his Ian
guage that he talked; so harsh. so
cultural. Pretty Poll. Pretty Poll.'
he had noticed the bird harp upon
those quaint words again and again.
They were part, no doubt. of that old
primitive and forgotten Pacific Ian
guage the creature had learned in
other days from some earlier bearer of
the name and CHASTITY honors of Tu-
/ hila-kila WHY should these English
seem so profoundly moved by them:
/ ''Mademoiselle doesn't surely un-
/ derstand the barbarous dialect which