performance, but have a vivid recollection of the concluding part, when the wooden framework came to grief, and with it the two jack-pudding snobs. It was a relief to know that both escaped serious accidents, one having broken his pate, the other only his shins.
Then came the accomplished parrot, who flourished his miniature sword, with his beak of course, bent his bow and shot his arrows, and, what is more amazing still,loaded his tiny cannon with gunpowder, lit the touch and—fired! The feathery hero wrought wonders. The skill of a British general is nothing to the versatile genius of this gymnast, archer and artillery soldier. Indeed, that parrot is a genius! May this record immortalise thee, O Prince of Popinjays!
The rhinoceroses gave each other very warm reception. About this time last year, when His Excellency Harun-Al Raseid[1] graced the sáth-mari, these sulky warriors would not close, though every gentle persuasion—such as poking into their eyes, nose, and other tender parts, the long-pointed bhálo[2]—was exhausted. Lord Hinchinbrook was more fortunate. Old Rhinos fought
