I am, Sir, &c., H. J. C.
A PARROT DETECTIVE.
[To TRY EDITOR Or THE " Srzenaos."] SiR,—One night last week Bailiff Maclean got home about ten o'clock, and looking round his room, missed his parrot. Taking another look, he spied a scantily clothed figure crouching in a corner. " Who are you P " said Maclean. " A policeman," said the figure. " A policeman," said Maclean, speaking in the native language, and very nervous lest the man should turn upon him with a knife ; "you're not a policeman; you're a thief" (djulor). Suddenly from a dark corner came shrill and unearthly shrieks of " Djulor ! djulor ! " The man made for the door, but only to rush into the arms of a policeman who had been roused by theories of " Djulor !" It seems to me that the man had entered only just before Maclean, and had commenced operations by putting the parrot in a corner. So the man was removed to the police- station, carrying on his head Polly' in her cage as principal witness. Yesterday morning the thief was brought before the District Commissioner ; but Polly' was not required to give evidence, as at the sight of the bird the man pleaded guilty. The bird remained all the morning perched on the dock-rail, where it had climbed from its cage, and it was noticeable that the only person it bit was another thief. The Acting Commissioner of Police is anxious to enlist Polly for the detective force.—I am, Sir, &c.,
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