she was very much discomposed by the fragments
flying in all directions, but still she would not, quit her chosen
locality; she soon observed that a bell rang whenever a train was about
to be fired, and that, at the notice, the workmen retired to safe
positions. In a few days, when she heard the bell, she quitted her
exposed situation, and flew down to where the workmen sheltered
themselves, dropping close to their feet. There she would remain until
the explosion had taken place, and then return to her nest. The
workmen, observing this, narrated it to their employers, and it was also
told to visitors who came to view the quarry.

The visitors naturally expressed a wish to witness so curious a specimen
of intellect; but, as the rock could not always be ready to be blasted
when visitors came, the bell was rung instead, and, for a few times,
answered the same purpose. The thrush flew down close to where they
stood; but she perceived that she was trifled with, and it interfered
with her process of incubation: the consequence was, that afterwards,
when the bell was rung, she would peep over the ledge to ascertain if
the workmen did retreat, and if they did not, she would remain where she
was, probably saying to herself, "No, no, gentlemen; I'm not to be
roused off my eggs merely for your amusement."

Some birds have a great deal of humour in them, particularly the raven.
One that belonged to me was the most mischievous and amusing creature I
ever met with. He would get into the flower-garden, go to the beds
where the gardener had sowed a great variety of seeds, with sticks put
in the ground with labels, and then he would amuse himself with pulling
up every stick, and laying them in heaps of ten or twelve on the path.
This used to irritate the old gardener very much, who would drive him
away. The raven knew that he ought not to do it, or he would not have
done it. He would soon return to his mischief, and when the gardener
again chased him (the old man could not walk very fast), the raven would
keep just clear of the rake or hoc in his hand, dancing back before him,
and singing as plain as a man could, "Tol de rol de rol; tol de rol de
rol!" with all kinds of mimicking gestures. The bird is alive now, and
continues the same meritorious practice whenever he can find an
opportunity.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

June, Steam-boat Princess Victoria.
It certainly appears that the moti