ce, took it under a toe, and tried to
wrench the head off; failing in this, she passed it through her beak
back and forth as she did a worm, evidently to reduce it to a softer
condition. Finding the pin intractable, she dropped it, and turned her
attention to the paper; tearing off bits, peeping under it, and
constantly worrying the peace-loving owner, until a roof of enameled
cloth, securely fastened by sewing, was provided for him.

The only one in the room whom the unlovely bird found it impossible to
annoy was the oriole he saw in the looking-glass, and he never gave up
trying to reduce even him to a proper state of meekness. Whenever he
caught sight of his reflection he was furious: he strode across the
lower support, bowing and posturing; then flew up against the glass,
touching it with breast and claws, and beating his wings against it.
Failing, of course, to seize the enemy, he peered eagerly behind the
mirror, then returned with fresh rage to the charge in front. After a
while I placed the glass at such an angle that he could not see himself
from below. Instantly he alighted on a basket that hung conveniently
near, ran to the end where he could stretch around and see his face,
then to the other end from which he could look behind, uttering at the
same time a loud cry. This also he kept up till I removed the basket. A
day or two later, the discovery of a hand-glass standing on a table gave
opportunity for a repetition of the performance. He attitudinized,
drooped his wings, beat against it, hopped quite over it, touched the
glass many times with his beak, and at last circled round and round,
going into a rage whenever he reached the front, and springing suddenly
around, as if to seize the elusive enemy behind. It was a strange
exhibition of passion, very droll if it had not been painful to see.
After that the glasses were covered.

[Illustration: THE ENEMY IN THE GLASS--THE ORCHARD ORIOLE]

[Sidenote: _GYMNASTICS ON THE ROOF._]

Repose of manner was unknown to the orchard oriole; he could never wait
a moment for anything. If he wanted to bathe, he plumped into the
dish, whether it were empty or not; thus he often surprised a more
dignified bird by bouncing in beside him and splashing as though no one
else were in sight. In fact, the bath was a constant subject of dispute;
he was very fond of it, and the sound of dashing water was always
irresistibly tempting to him. If he were shut into his cage with no
othe