ncle Joseph say that, though I did not think he
would be able to help me much; and so as to lose no time we began at
once to think the matter out, and uncle said _yes_ to all I proposed to
do, which was his idea of helping me; for he said I drove in the nails
and he clinched them.

After a bit of thinking I came to the conclusion that I have since
learned was the very best one I could have arrived at, that the proper
thing to do was to fix on Polly's wire legs as neatly made a body as I
could, and then to stick the feathers all over it in their proper
places. But then what was the body to be made of? Clay or putty could
be easily moulded into shape, but they would be too heavy. Papier-mache
would have been the thing, but I did not know how to make it, so at last
I decided to cut out a body from a piece of wood.

"The very thing, Nat," said my uncle. "Stop a minute, my boy, till I've
lit my pipe, and then we'll begin."

I waited till my uncle said he was ready, and then we did begin, that is
to say, he went on smoking while I sawed off a piece of wood that I
thought would do.

I need not tell you all about that task; how laboriously I carved away
day after day at that piece of wood with my pocket-knife, breaking one
in the work; how I mounted the piece of wood at last on wires, and then
proceeded, by the help of a little glue-pot that my uncle bought on
purpose, to stick Polly's feathers on again. By the way, I think I
fastened on her wings with tin tacks. It was a very, very long job; but
at every stage my uncle sat and expressed his approval, and every spare
hour was spent in the tool-house, where I patiently worked away.

I grew very tired of my task, but felt that I must finish it, and I have
often thought since what a splendid lesson it proved.

And so I worked on and on, sticking little patches of skin here,
feathers there, and I am afraid making such blunders as would have
driven a naturalist frantic, for I am sure that patches of feathers that
belonged to the breast were stuck on the back, and smooth back feathers
ornamented Polly's breast. The head was tolerably complete, so that was
allowed to hang on the nail in the wall, where it seemed to watch the
process of putting together again; but the tail was terrible, and often
made me feel ready to give up in despair.

But here my uncle really did help me, for when ever he saw me out of
heart and tired he used to say:

"Suppose we give up now for a b