THE PEACOCK 281 



sultry, far-away lands slowly dying in this northern island, 

 where mist and rain and cloud too often shut out every 

 glimpse of the sun. 



But true it is that no one has seen the Peacock in his 

 glory who has not seen him at home in the tangled 

 forests of India and Ceylon, of Burmah and the Malay 

 Peninsula, and the spice-scented island of Java. There 

 we can picture him greeting the dawn with his hoarse 

 kok-kok-kok, from the high tree-boughs where he and his 

 wives have roosted through the dark but noisy hours of 

 the tropical night ; or running to and fro in the long 

 grass, as if on urgent business ; or invading with forty or 

 fifty of his fellows the cultivated patches near the village, 

 where, perhaps, some sheet of yellow mustard bloom sets 

 off the glittering blue of their breasts and the glory of 

 their sweeping trains. 



