After he had eaten his dinner, Fred accompanied his father to the barn to assist him about the work, then fed his fowls and Annie’s lamb, after which he returned to the house, eager to hear grandpa’s account of the exhibition.

“I dare say,” began the old gentleman, “that your mother can remember more about it than I can.  The owner of the canaries was a Frenchman, who had for many years devoted himself to the business of educating birds.  There were a great number of them, some of which were over twenty years old.

“During the exhibition the canaries were arranged in order at one end of the stage, and came forward as they were called by name.

“One of them, whose name, I think, was Major, was dressed in a tiny suit of military uniform.  He had a chapeau on his head and a sword in his claw:  after sitting upright for some time, Major, at the word of command, freed himself from his dress, and flew to his cage.

“Another came forward with a slender stick in his claws.  This he put between his legs, and holding his head down, suffered himself to be turned round and round, as if he were being roasted.”

Annie was listening in open-mouthed wonder to these astonishing feats.  “O grandpa!” she exclaimed, “I hope there was no fire there.”

“No, of course not,” cried Fred; “but what did the others do, grandpa?”

“I can think of but two more feats, my dear.  Several of them came out together and practised some gymnastic exercises.”

“What are those?” inquired Annie.

“They balanced themselves over sticks, head downwards, with their legs and tails in the air; or on a rope, and were swung backward and forward.

“The last feat was perhaps the most wonderful of either.  A bright little fellow came out, and taking his place on the platform, was shot at, and fell down, pretending to be dead.  He lay quite still and motionless; and presently one of his companions came forward with a little mite of a wheelbarrow, as Annie would say, and wheeled him away.”

“How very funny!” exclaimed Fred.

“See, grandpa, how very fast it rains,” said the little girl; “but I like rainy weather, when you will tell us such beautiful stories.”

At this moment Mrs. Symmes joined their party.  She had in her hand a pan of beans, which she was going to pick over before they were baked.

Fred jumped up and took them from her.  “Annie and I can do them, mother,” he said, “and you can sew while you hear grandpa’s stories.”

“That’s right, my boy,” said the old gentleman.  “Help your mother all you can.”

The children were soon seated at their work, and their mother at her mending.  “Now, dear grandpa, we’re all ready for you to begin.”

“Really, my dear,” he answered, pleasantly, “you are hungry after stories.”

“I like yours,” said the child, “because they’re always true.”

“Well, let me think with what I shall begin.  Have I ever told you how fast birds can fly?”

“No, sir.”

“It is perfectly astonishing,” he added, “with what rapidity they dart through the air.  Not many years ago, a large number of carrier pigeons were taken from Holland to London.  They had been trained to carry messages by attaching a small paper bag to their wing.  If taken from any particular place and let loose, they will find their way back again.  These birds were set at liberty in London at half past four in the morning, and reached their home in Holland, a distance of three hundred miles, by noon of the same day.  One of them, a great favorite, named Napoleon, entered his dove-cote at a quarter past ten, having flown fifty miles in an hour.

“Another pigeon from Ballinasloe, in Ireland, belonging to a gentleman by the name of Bernard, was let loose at eleven o’clock in the forenoon, with a note appended to it, directing dinner to be ready at Castle Bernard at a given time, as he purposed being home that day.  The message reached its destination, which was twenty-three miles distant, in eleven minutes, being at the rate of one hundred and twenty-five and a half miles an hour.”

“I had no idea that they could fly so fast,” remarked Mrs. Symmes.

“These are by no means remarkable cases,” added grandpa.  “The eagle has been supposed to fly one hundred and forty miles an hour; and a bird by the name of swift, one hundred and eighty.  But the most extraordinary that I ever heard, was of a titlark who alighted on board a vessel from Liverpool, when thirteen hundred miles from the nearest main land, and nine hundred miles from a wild and barren island.  Sea birds retain their position upon the wing for a wonderful length of time.”