STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. 265 



say that lie seems to be too well aware of his 

 beauty himself. He struts among his com- 

 panions — I beg pardon of all military men in 

 general, and sundrj^ pompous ones in particu- 

 lar — like a general at the head of his brigade. 

 But his voice ! The ravings of a screech owl 

 are more tolerable than this music. I doubt if 

 there is a bird on the face of the globe that 

 could scream a more frightful solo. And yet 

 he seems to consider himself a most excellent 

 singer. Doubtless he supposes that nearly all 

 the world are charmed with his soft, melodious 

 notes, and that, if any of them are not so 

 charmed, it is owing, unfortunately for them, 

 to their education having been neglected, so 

 that they have no musical taste. That is the 

 way with pride, all the world over. It is not 

 confined to any country, or to any race of the 

 animal creation, or to either sex. The peacock 

 is not the only creature that is vain of his 

 beauty and his accomplishments. You can 

 find this same vanity, if you search for it with 

 sufficient care, in men and women, and boys 

 and girls. But it is a foolish thing, wherever 

 you meet with it. True merit is not often 

 found in company with pride and vanity. I 

 have generally found, in my acquaintance with 

 mankind, that those people were proudest who 



23 



