204 BEAUTIFUL BIRDS 
And, in the second place, this poor bird is so shot 
and killed and persecuted for these beautiful feathers 
of his, that, unless you were to get your mother to 
make that promise about him, there would soon be 
no such thing as a White Egret left in the world. 
He and his feathers would both be gone. 
But now, perhaps, you will say that if “fine 
feathers make fine birds,” then beautiful feathers 
must make beautiful birds, too, and so the White 
Feret must be a beautiful bird. Oh, yes, Heme 
You are quite right. I did not mean that he was not 
a beautiful bird at all. All I meant was that he was 
not quite so beautiful as the Birds of Paradise and 
the Humming-birds, and birds like that—birds that 
look as if they had flown into a jeweller’s shop, and 
then flown out again with all the best part of the 
jewellery upon them. Whether he is not as beau- 
tiful as some of the other birds we have talked about 
—but I will not say which, for fear of offending 
them—that I am not quite so sure of; but, at any 
rate, he is beautiful. 
Oh, yes, he is quite a beautiful bird, is the White 
Egret; and now I will describe him to you. I shall 
not have any colours to tell you about, because he is 
all white—which of course you will have guessed 
from his name—but you know how beautiful white 
can be. You will not have forgotten the little 
