hat I shall do, sir, now you're come back — I shall speak my mind, which is, that me or that bird packs off this very afternoon!"
I need not add that Forncett caught eagerly at the suggestion, and that the parrot went back, as he came, by the carrier that day.
Common report says that Polly, like the phoenix, sees out its century; but from fifty to eighty years is the term of its natural life.
Le Valliant, the celebrated naturalist, describes an octogenarian gray parrot he saw at Amsterdam; it was decrepit and doting like a very old man, had lost both sight and memory, and was kept alive with biscuits dipped in Madeira.
After sixty, its memory began to fail, and it lost its words by degrees, returning to its native jackdaw note.
At sixty-five, its moult became irregular; the tail feathers dwindled, and were replaced by dull yellow instead of red. After this change the bird never renewed its plumage.
Three conditions are essential to Polly's health and comfort — warmth, pr