I lately saw a notice on some tumble-down premises near Southampton,
"Pay and bane stiks for sale." Another notice, not too happily
composed, is to be seen at a Forest village; after the owner's name,
"Carpenter, builder and undertaker--_repairs neatly executed_."
The neighbour referred to was exercised in his mind as to my position
in various unwelcome parochial offices, but I was completely mystified
when he told me that he had read in history of a King Alfred, but had
never heard of a King Arthur. I did not grasp the force of his remark,
possibly because King Arthur was a familiar character to me, until I
was nearly at my own door, when it dawned upon me to my intense
enjoyment. If the reader fails, like me, to see the point, let him
turn to the title-page of this book, and read the name of the writer.
The only real objection to peacocks, under ordinary conditions, is the
discordance of their cries, especially in thundery weather, when they
scream in answer to every thunder-clap. Cock pheasants, relatives of
the peacock, crow loudly at any unusual noise; and I have known them
expostulate at the report of a gun; they took flight, after running to
a safe distance, and their crow appeared to be in the nature of a
challenge or defiance, just as a barn-door cock will exult if you give
him the idea that he has driven you away.
Pages:
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357