The Palace in the (Pig-pen 
fact, but personality, — personality of a kind and quan- 
tity, sufficient to make the pig-pen a decent and re- 
spectable neighborhood. 
Phoebe is altogether more than his surroundings. 
Every time I go to feed the pig, he lights upon a post 
near by and says to me: “It’s what you are! Not 
what you do, but how you do it!’ — with a launch 
into the air, a whirl, an unerring snap at a cabbage 
butterfly, and an easy drop to the post again, by way 
of illustration. “Not where you live, but how you 
live there; not the feathers you wear, but how you 
wear them, — it is what you are that counts!” 
There is a difference between being a “character” 
and having one. “Jim” Crow is a character, largely 
because he has so little. That is why he is “Jim.” 
My pheebe lives over the pig, but he has no nick- 
name like the crow. I cannot feel familiar with a 
bird of his air and carriage, who faces the world so 
squarely, who settles upon a stake as if he owned it, 
who lives a prince in my pig-pen. 
Look at him! How alert, able, free! Notice the 
limber drop of his tail, the ready energy it suggests. 
By that one sign you would know the bird had force. 
He is afraid of nothing, not even the cold, and he 
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