THE PEA-FOWL. 



223 



THE PEACOCK. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THE PEA-FOWL. 



WE are not going to narrate the natural his- 

 tory of the peacock. It has been done over and 

 over again ; and although proverbial philosophy 

 has taught us that "a good story can not be 

 told too often," another equally wise saw, with 

 the sharpest possible teeth, has assured us that 

 "too much of one thing is good for nothing." 

 All we propose to do is to gossip about the pea- 

 cock. 



Oh ! a gay gallant is the peacock as he struts 

 about in the morning sun, first one side, then 

 the other, proud of his bright, beautiful coat, 

 resplendent in the light ; his sharp eyes looking 



about as if he courted praise and felt that he 

 deserved it; his form so graceful, as his long 

 tail sweeps the ground like the train of a count- 

 ess, or as he sometimes stands before his less- 

 endowed brother, and spreads that tail of his in 

 a semicircle, all bright and gay, gleaming with 

 its black discs and circles of gold. 



Proudly, indeed, the peacock moves along, as 

 though he were the very king of birds ; proudly 

 he extends that glittering tail of his, brightly 

 jeweled, as it seems in the glory of the sun- 

 shine. But he is only beautiful to the eye. 

 What poet can sing in praise of the peacock? 



