ckatoos.

When Mabel was told that she must go to England, almost the first words
which she sobbed out were, "May I take Bobby?"

"Of course, darling," said her papa; "Bobby shall go with you."

But on the morning when Katuka and her young mistress sailed, lo, Bobby
was nowhere to be found! He had been stolen in his cage from the
veranda, and carried away during the night, by some straggling native;
and poor little Mabel was obliged to go away with a new grief weighing
down her tender, childish heart. All through the long voyage, she
missed and mourned for her lost pet, and, when she reached London, her
good grandmamma could give her nothing that would quite take its place.

Everybody was kind to the lonely little girl, and much was done to make
her well and happy. Every day her grandmamma or her good ayah took her
to drive or walk in Hyde Park, or Kensington Gardens, or out on the
open, breezy heaths; and Mabel soon grew better, healthier, and
stronger, and a soft color stole into her pale cheeks, and deepened and
brightened, day by day, like the flush of an opening rose.

Mabel dearly loved her kind English friends, but there were sometimes
chill wintry days, or dull rainy evenings, when she was very homesick,
and cried to see again her far-off Indian home, her papa and mamma, and
little baby-brother.

At such times, she would often say to her kind ayah, who wept with her,
"Ah, Katuka, if I only had poor Bobby here, it would be some
consolation."

One day, when Mabel had been about six months in England, her
grandmamma took her to the Zoological Gardens. She was greatly
interested in seeing the animals, though she shrank away with a shudder
from the tigers, of whom she had heard fearful stories in India. At
last, they entered a long, beautiful gallery, all hung with bright
gilded cages of gorgeous birds, mostly parrots, of many different
species. As Mabel walked slowly along, admiring the pretty chattering
creatures, but sadly remembering her lost Bobby, and thinking that no
one of all these was half so beautiful as he, suddenly she heard, from
a cage just before her, a joyous familiar cry: "Good morning, Miss
Mabel!--come to bring Bobby dinner? Poor Bobby hungry!"

With a cry of delight, Mabel sprang forward and flung her arms about
the cage, and kissed the crimson-tuffed head of a pretty cockatoo,
thrust through the bars--Bobby's head--for it was indeed her own dear
lost bird!

Sir John Howard, Mab