e, however, downright puzzles; "Mutter-Gottes" was
a combination that no Starling--even a German one, bred up among strong
gutturals and flat labials--could master. He worked hard, however, and
so did Fritz. If life depended upon it, neither of them could have
exerted themselves more zealously; but it was no use. In any other
language, perhaps, Star might have been able to invoke the Virgin, but
here it was out of the question. The nearest approach the poor
fellow could make was something like a cry of "Moerder--Moerder"
(Murder--murder); so unfortunate a change that Fritz abandoned the
lesson with the best grace he could, betaking himself to the concluding
words, which happily presented no such unseemly similitudes.

His success here was such as to obliterate all memory of his former
defeat. Starling made the most astonishing progress, and learned the
words so perfectly, with such accuracy of enunciation, that to hear
him at a little distance any one would say it was some pious Catholic
invoking the Virgin with all his might. The "Huelf uns" was not a mere
exclamation, but a cry for actual aid, so natural as to be perfectly
startling.

So long as the bird's education was incomplete, Fritzerl carefully
screened him from public observation. He had all the susceptibility of
a great artist, who would not let his canvass be looked upon before the
last finishing touch was laid on the picture. No sooner, however, had
full success crowned his teaching, than he proudly displayed him in a
new cage made for the occasion at the door of the Bauer's hut.

It was Sunday, and the villagers were on their way to mass; and what
was their astonishment to hear themselves exhorted as they passed by
the fervent cry of "Maria, huelf uns! Huelf uns, Maria!" Group after group
stood in mute amazement, gazing at the wonderful bird, some blessing
themselves with a pious fervour, others disposed to regard the sounds as
miraculous, and more than either stood in dumb astonishment at this new
specimen of ghostly counsel.

All this while Fritzerl lay hid beneath the window, enjoying his triumph
with a heart full almost to bursting. Never did singing-master listen
to the syren notes of his pupil, while as the _prima donna_ of a
great opera she electrified or entranced a crowded audience, with more
enthusiastic rapture than did Fritz at his Starling's performance. Poor
little fellow! it was not merely vanity gratified by public applause--it
was a hig