Mourner the Dove and Cuckoo 



"Hello, Mourner !" he cried. "What under the 

 sun are you doing in there ? Are you getting your 

 breakfast?" 



"Hardly, Peter; hardly," cooed Mourner in the 

 softest of voices. " I've had my breakfast and now 

 I'm picking up a little gravel for my digestion." 

 He picked up a tiny pebble and swallowed it. 



"Well, of all things ! " cried Peter. "You must 

 be crazy. The idea of thinking that gravel is going 

 to help your digestion. I should say the chances 

 are that it will work just the other way." 



Mourner laughed. It was the softest of little 

 cooing laughs, very pleasant to hear. "I see that 

 as usual you are judging others by yourself," said 

 he. "You ought to know by this time that you 

 can do nothing more foolish. I haven't the least 

 doubt that a breakfast of gravel would give you 

 the worst kind of a stomach-ache. But you are 

 you and I am I, and there is all the difference in the 

 world. You know I eat grain and hard seeds. 

 Not having any teeth I have to swallow them 

 whole. One part of my stomach is called a gizzard 

 and its duty is to grind and crush my food so that 

 it may be digested. Tiny pebbles and gravel 

 help grind the food and so aid digestion. I think 

 I've got enough now for this morning, and it is time 

 for a dust bath. There is a dusty spot over in the 

 lane where I take a dust bath every day." 

 [255] 



