than other robbers of grain whose feathers are more homely. The name by which these parroquets are usually known is Twenty-eight, on account of their cry resembling a repetition of those two numerals. As cage birds they are much valued, are soon tamed, and easily taught to whistle; I have heard a Twenty-eight that could even manage a few bars of the "Prairie flower."
Bright as the Twenty-eights are their plumage is but plain compared with that of another parroquet called the Rosella, which, like the former, is barely so large as an English blackbird, excepting for the greater length of tail. Of these last parroquets, the breast and throat are of a deep brilliant red, the cheeks yellow, and the back and wings of green mingled with dark blue. A pomegranate-tree with half-a-dozen Rosellas perched amongst its shining leaves, and ripening fruit, looks like an illuminated initial vignette in an old missal. I had often seen these gay little creatures in our garden; nay, I am sorry to say that they had formed a part of the many natural curiosities brought in by our cat, for whom very highly-coloured prey seemed to have an especial attraction; but my first intimate acquaintance with the Rosellas commenced with one that a native brought me, freshly taken from the nest. I had never before had the care of a half-fledged orphan bird, and for the sake of keeping it warm I often carried it in my gown-pocket, and allowed it to sleep in the same receptacle when the dress was hung up at night. Thus I saved my bird's life, and lengthened my own by the habits of early rising which the chirps of my nestling forced upon me, making sleep impossible after the sun was risen.
