A SOLEMN CONVOCATION 383 



would address the meeting, whether to second the 

 motion, or to propose an amendment to it, and his 

 peroration would be received or objected to in like 

 manner. But the most interesting thing about it 

 all was that the twig-bearer seemed to be the 

 president of the assembly. The twig must have 

 been a badge of office, like the spear of the 

 auctioneer at Rome, or his hammer in England. 

 It was like the Speaker's mace or the judge's black 

 cap, a symbol, a something held in reserve. After 

 half an hour, when the business was finished, and, 

 as it would seem, the " noes had it," the president 

 picked up the twig, dissolved the assembly, and, 

 followed by the rank and file, departed, in the 

 opposite direction to that in which they had come, 

 to another rookery, a quarter of a mile away. 



Verily, the rook sees far more than we give him 

 credit for seeing, hears more than we think that he 

 hears, thinks more than we think that he thinks. 

 There are more things within his mental horizon 

 than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Rook 

 language, a language which is so near to us and 

 yet so far off, would, probably, if only we could 

 adequately interpret it, be as well worth knowing 

 as many an African or Polynesian dialect, and 

 might reveal secrets as difficult to decipher but as 



