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I have succeeded far beyond my expectations with Taffy and Little Billee. It hurt me very much to be obliged to punish Taffy when he would spring at Little Billee, as Taffy and I had been devoted to each other for two years; still I did not want him to kill my baby bird. One day Little Billee was sitting on my knee dressing his feathers and going through all sorts of antics, while Taffy sat a few feet away gazing at him with longing eyes. I called to my maid to bring Taffy and hold him on her lap, and then let Little Billee peck and bite his paws, ears, and nose, and a more astonished cat I never saw. After we let Taffy go he was found sitting on the cellar stairs in a most dejected way rubbing his nose with his paw. For several days we did the same thing until Taffy was afraid at sight of Little Billee. One morning Taffy came to bed with me, and lay on my arm while Little Billee sat on my shoulder. Soon Taffy put his chin on my chin, and Little Billee came and sat close to my cheek. Finally Taffy became so sleepy he turned over, went fast asleep, and Little Billee hopped down on his back, and we lay that way for some time. Since then almost every day Taffy will lie on my lap, and Little Billee will sit on his head, back, or on my knee and dress his feathers. One day Little Billee had the impertinence, while I had them both on my lap, to reach out and peck Taffy in the eye. That was a little more than Taffy could endure, and he reached out his paw and struck at him. For over a week I could not get Little Billee to go near him, but now they are very good friends.

Little Billee enjoys going down into the parlors to see visitors, but he gives them to understand, the first thing, they may look but they must not touch. He will entertain them by hopping all over me, kissing me in the mouth and chirping at the top of his voice. When it begins to get dark Little Billee does not want to be off from me a minute. If I have him down stairs and put him on the floor he will hop and fly after me from room to room. The other day I left him in the front parlor on a plant jar and went into the dining-room and was gone some little time. When I came back there was no Little Billee to be found. I called him by name and peeped to him, but I could not get an answer. As I went upstairs I called, "Where is my Little Billee?" And he said, chirp, chirp, chirp; and I found him in my room eating his seeds and as happy as possible.

Since then every day when he gets tired of the parlors he goes upstairs, for he seems to think my room is his home. One day I watched him to see how he went. He hopped from step to step. When he reached the top he flew into my room and lighted on the top of his cage.

Little Billee is certainly not color-blind, for he notices every little change in my dress no matter how slight it is. He had seen me for weeks in only my robe de nuit, and wrapper. It was pitiable to see him the first time he saw me gowned in a white skirt and blue waist. I had to lie down when I had finished dressing and Little Billee came over to the bed as usual and asked me to take him. I put down my hand, he hopped on my finger, but when he looked up and saw the blue sleeve away he went as if he had been shot out of a cannon. He tried several times but his courage always failed. At last he gave up and went and sat in a chair across the room, and it was two days before he really liked the change. Next I tried a pink waist with the white skirt, but that seemed even worse to him, which seemed very strange, as he had seen me for days in a pink and white wrapper.

My numerous friends will vouch for the veracity of the story, as they all think Little Billee is the most wonderful bird they have ever seen. I only hope my little sketch, told just as the things have come to me, will give similar pleasure to other invalids.