gripe of a parrot's bill will easily understand that it was not likely that any gentleman should enter the sanctuary in silk stockings a second time. Father Labat also gives an account of a pair whose loves were blessed with several broods in Paris. An attempt has been made by some of the parrots in the brilliant collection of the Zoological Society of London to fulfil the great law of nature. We saw one pair, of the long-tailed division, very fussy, and busy, and nestifying, and we believe an egg or so made its appearance; "but," as Dr. Johnson said on a more solemn occasion, "nothing came of it. "" That parrots will live to a very great age there is no doubt. Le Vaillant saw one that had lived in captivity, or rather in a domesticated state, for ninety-three years. When he saw the ancient it was in the last stage of all. It had been celebrated in its youth for its vigour, its docile and amiable disposition, the alert air with which it would fetch its master's slippers and call the servants,-above all, for its flashes of merriment; and there it was, entirely decrepit, lethargic, its sight and memory gone, lingering out existence, and kept alive by biscuit soaked in Madeira wine. Somewhere about the age of sixty it began to lose its memory, and, instead of acquiring any new phrase, it forgot some of those it had learnt, and began to talk a jumble of words. At the age of sixty its moulting became irregular, the tail became yellow, and afterwards no further change of plumage took place. We will now draw upon the same Le Vaillant for the manners of another African species in a state of nature. The Robust Parrot (Pionus Le Vaillantii of Wagler, Psittacus robustus of Latham) haunts the woods of the eastern part of the continent as high as the thirty-second degree of latitude, in the breeding season only, leaving them at the approach of the rainy season, after it has brought up its young, for warmer skies. A hollow tree is, as usual, the receptacle for the eggs, which are four in number, and about the size of those of a pigeon both parents share in the pleasing care of incubation. The nestlings are naked when they first quit the eggs, and are soon covered with a grayish down; but their plumage is not complete till six weeks have elapsed, and they keep to the nest a considerable time longer, during which period they are fed from the crop of the old ones, like the pigeons. When the periodical migration takes place, the flocks fly so high that they are lost to the sight, though their call-notes still reach * Our recently lost George Colman used to relate a circumstance connected with this subject, curiously illustrative of the manners and gaieties of his "youthful days." A Lady Reid, a celebrated ornithologist of that time, had, amongst a multitude of birds, a cock maccaw, which, according to her Ladyship's account, and to her infinite surprise, one day laid an egg! The story, told by her Ladyship with perfect gravity, and in the full persuasion of its truth, soon got about town. One day it reached the Cocoa-Tree, where, amongst others, Colman and Francis North (afterwards fourth Earl of Guildford) were dining, at about three o'clock, in May or June; whence, upon obtaining this marvellous information, Colman, North, and a third-I am not sure that it was not the late accomplished and amiable Sir George Beaumont-issued forth, and proceeded to the top of St James's-street. where, having made for themselves trumpets of twisted paper for the purpose, they gave a flourish, and proclaimed aloud the astounding words, "Cock maccaws lay eggs!" and this was repeated in the front of White's; after which they returned to finish their wine,-their costume then being that which is now confined to the Court or full dress parties.-ED. The history of their day is not uninteresting. At dawn, the whole flock of the district assembles, and with much noise settles on one or more dead trees: there they display their wings to the first rays of the sun, whose rising they seem to hail. They are then drying their plumage charged with the night dews. As soon as they are warmed and dried, they separate into small breakfast parties, and fly in quest of their favourite cherry-like fruit, the stone of which they crack, and regale on the kernel. They like to linger over their breakfast, which continues till about ten or eleven o'clock: and the different parties then go to take their bath. The heat is by this time getting intense, and they retire to the deepest shades of the woods to take their siesta. There they remain in profound repose, and all is so still, that the traveller resting beneath a tree shall hear not a sound, though legions of parrots crowd the branches above him. The report of a gun instantly puts to flight the whole flock, screaming most discordantly. When undisturbed, and their period of rest is terminated, they again disperse in small dinner parties, and, after the conclusion of the evening repast, there is a general assembly of all the flocks of the district, and a conversazione of considerable animation: this ended, away they all fly to take their second bath; and there they may be seen on the margin of the limpid pool, for no water that is not "clear as diamond-spark" will please them, scattering the water-drops over their plumage with their heads and wings, and playfully rolling over each other in all the wantonness of an unchecked game of romps. This finished, they again seek the leafless trees on which they sat at sunrise, and dress and preen their feathers in its parting rays. Then, as the shades of evening close around, they fly off in pairs, each couple retiring to its own roosting-place, where they repose till dawn. There is a smaller race of short-tailed parrots (Agapornis), the lovebirds as they are called, from the affectionate attachment which exists between the male and female. There certainly are instances to the contrary, but the death of one is generally followed by that of the other. A glass placed at right angles with the perch has been used with success in reconciling the survivor to life, by the delusion produced by its own image. The Lories, in all their oriental richness, and the Cockatoos,† with their lofty crests and docile disposition, form two very interesting groups. The latter inhabit the woods of the Indian islands principally. In the former, the bill is comparatively weak; in the latter it is strong and robust. Most of our readers will remember the favourite cockatoo of George the Fourth; the bird was the very pink of politeness. Other forms crowd on us, but we are warned. Our eye has just fallen on a pretty drawing from one of the Pompeian arabesques, of a grasshopper in a car, driving a parakeet-true; we have been" speaking parrot" more than enough, and must make room for our betters, referring those of our readers who are not by this time in a balmy state of oblivion, and who may wish to make their eyes acquainted with the varieties of this beautiful family, to their portraits by Barraband and by Lear, the Reynolds and the Lawrence of the Psittacidæ. Genus Lorius. + Subfamily Plyctolophina, Vigors. (58 THE LATE GEORGE COLMAN. WHEN a fellow, even if he have no fellow, hath written, been written about, and seen acted, both long and often, it is not easy to say anything new on his head: mere dates and facts seem rather emblems of its baldness than its brains. My theme's own "Random Records" furnish particulars of his early career; I shall repeat none that do not seem to bear on his disposition and fate. His grandfather, Francis, was connected by marriage with our noblesse, bequeathing to his successors a zest for aristocratic associations and indulgences, much loyalty, and some unworldly carelessness. The improvident suffer enough for their faults while living; when they are gone-when the too trusting friend, too hospitable host, can err no more- "the rest is silence" with all generous minds. George Colman the Elder, born at Florence, is celebrated as the author of the "Jealous Wife," the translator of Terence: thus his son, boru on the 21st of October, 1762, inherited legacies more valuable than those above-named-genius and classic taste. The latter, education matured; the former unfitted him for the dry study of the law; his cordial, jovial nature revolted at its sordid attributes, rather lawlessly, in every respect. It appears his first marriage was unhappy. As playwright and manager, too, he had many mortifications: the patronage of the late King and the Duke of York contributed to neutralize some of these; while his home was cheered by a congenial, a faithful friend the admired Mistress Gibbs, now his widow. By her he leaves a son, Edmund, old enough, though he may never remind her of his father's talent, to emulate his kindness while avoiding his defects. This solace, with every aid that fortune can add, it is to be hoped she will enjoy those who know her feel that she deserves it. I am not of the number; but have heard traits of her character, the considerate delicacy of which did her the more honour for being masked in smiles; but from the Euphrosyne her poet apostrophized I must now return to himself. In my own "Night-Gown and Slippers," with his in my hand, did I exorcise the proverbial gloom of November, till my sides felt splitting; my exhausted lungs respired fitfully and deeply; my eyes, dazzled by so much wit, ran over on the page whose fires they could not quench. Just then a friend joined me, with the news that "George Colman the Younger," bowing to his own "old sand-man, Time," was, at last, "a grave man." Well, thanks to his ever living spirit, there I had, ready made, the only sighs, tears, and aches that would not "sully a heart so brilliantly light." "To weep would do thy glory wrong: Thou shalt not be deplored." I would speak of the Great George, 74, now launched for immortality, as a poet and a moralist, who needs and merits championship. His romantic and comparatively serious dramas, such as the" Iron Chest" and "Mountaineers," teem with power and pathos, relieved by essentially droll incidents, intrinsically lively characters. His domestic comedies are even more poetical, though written in prose.-See " John Bull"-Mary Thornbury and her father, contrasting those fashionable clothes-pegs, the Honourable Tom and his lady; or, in the "Heir at Law," Cicely Homespun and her brother, standing, in Nature's nobleness, between the street vulgarity of the Duberleys and the pedant sophistication of Pangloss. Are not these things of truth and beauty, shaming those created rustics of novels and the stage, who sentimentalize over "neglected wild flowers," or, when insulted, cry,— "Avaunt, Perfidious! Miscreant, begone!" Through all his plays an honest aim was visible: their language touched the heart but to improve it. Let us leave them to the admiring gratitude of audiences yet to be, and deal with his other works. Though, with the generosity of true genius, he complimented Peter Pindar, how far was George Dr. Wolcot's superior! Examine his works now! How few lines would wring a laugh! As the objects of their presumptuous personalities died off, their popularity died too. Colman wrote for all time. He was a sounder, a far cleaner philosopher than Swift, a truer, because a more modest, voluptuary than Prior. He did not, like Sterne, bid the "lights of science" phosphorize corrup tion he was much more elegant than Smollett or Fielding; nay, the naughtiest passage he ever penned is fitter for feminine perusal than Richardson's "Pamela" and "Clarissa." Colman sought not, like Byron, to make error resistless,—to sneer down virtue and religion ;above all, he was ever gallant. He wrote of woman (though justly, as to the foibles of her heart and mind) "like a thankful and reverend youth." How differently the self-excited Childe treated her, the reader may judge for himself; and, as he turns with manly scorn from some passages of "Don Juan," let him confess-nay, "tell both his wife and his daughter"-that the bard of "Broad Grins" was a moral man! Like Hogarth, he could not satirize vice and folly without showing their deformity. (Could Shakspeare, Milton, Pope, or Young give foul things fair names?) Colman did not so frequently as his painting prototype admit the terribly grotesque into his pictures; but, like him, loved to set off, by traits of feeling and of goodness, the artificial, superficial, sensual, selfish, and ridiculous characteristics of those "tiny souls Who wriggle through the mud in shoals." He was the open foe to pretence, hypocrisy, and humbug; not merely, as some squeamish persons who never read him, think to this day, a man who had a knack of rhyming, in odd irregular metres, and on improper topics; on the contrary, there are but few lines of Colman which violate propriety, the very worst the innocent might safely read. "The good men, who know what iniquity means," who are familiar with all the conventional cant of the mess-table, the slang of the lobbies,—they may make mischief of phrases in themselves quite harmless. Were there no dirtier minds than Colman's in the world, who need deny that they had read him? Shakspeare is perused by chaste eyes without the aid of Bowdler's spectacles. Colman, with parental benevolence, decries the perusal of Lane and Newman romances for young maidens. Tom, Dick, and Will are chattering over the embers of the alehouse fire; Will rises in declamation, and saith, It is your own fault if an absurd image rises to your mental vision at Tom's quaint reply: "assuredly, the meaning is good." Good, sternly good, too, is the comparison of enervated bodies with the minds of reading débauchées. Its fine old English taste is glorious! Then, in that tale which shows "a fiend of low degree," is not gaming held up to execration? Does not even a poor dog instruct us ? "Ah, man! the brute creation see, Thy constancy oft needs a spur; Are found in every bob-tail cur !” The gardener, hero of this ballad "Pruned his passions, running wild. And grafted true love on his heart. His heroine, the cook, was "Pure as heaven's own snowy flake." The "Newcastle Apothecary" is so unexceptionable, that schoolboys used to recite it at their breakings up; so did they "Lodgings for Single Gentlemen," and part of the "Elder Brother." En passant, let me say that Colman's quizzes against the medical fraternity have a healthful tendency; for if people would cease to consider sickness interesting, they might strive to avoid, or, at worst, conceal it. A liberal amende, however, is made to the sons of Galen, when our author assures the invalid who wishes to revive, that "E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed." He transports his readers back to the age of chivalry, in the " Knight and the Friar." "In our Fifth Harry's reign, when 'twas the fashion To thump the French, poor creatures! to excess, (Here's a hit at another sin!) In Harry's reign-but, let me to my song, Sir Thomas Erpingham, a gallant Knight, Resolving very lustily to fight, And teach the Frenchmen how to dance Without a fiddle. * This poem was written, or published, before the days of Wellington's victories. Roses were not emblems of faction, cries the critic, till the reign of Henry VI. Pooh! this is a figure, uot an anachronism. |