“I do not think that occurred often,” replied Herodotus smiling. “I did not see it, that I can tell thee.”
“And what next, Herodotus?” urged Harry. “I love these animal stories.”
“Hast thou heard of the phœnix?”
“No,” said Harry, “I can’t say I have. Was it animal, vegetable, or mineral?”
“It was a bird,” replied the Greek; “a sacred bird, which I have never seen save on pictures. That is not surprising, for the Egyptians say it comes but once in five hundred years, when the old phœnix dies. Its feathers are partly red and partly golden, and it resembles an eagle.”
“Five hundred years,” mused Harry. “That’s a good innings.”
“I have heard a strange story of the phœnix, which I fear me is not true. I was told that it journeys from Arabia with the body of its parent, which it places in the Temple of the Sun. And the manner of bringing it is this. It makes a large ball of myrrh (which is a spice thou knowest), as heavy as it can carry. Then it hollows it out, places the parent’s body inside, plasters the hole up, and bears the ball along to Egypt.”
“It does sound rather like a fairy tale,” said Harry. “Now I come to think of it, I do believe I’ve heard of the phœnix. I think Father once told me about a red and gold bird that made its own funeral pile—I think he called it—and then set fire to it, and was burnt up, singing all the time, and then came to life again out of the ashes. Can I be dreaming?”
“Nay,” replied Herodotus, “I, too, have heard that story.”
“And I’ve seen a picture of some Fire Insurance thing with a phœnix on it, I believe. Can you just draw me a picture of it?”
Herodotus took out his waxen tablets and stilus, and drew a rough sketch.
“Yes, that’s it,” cried Harry. “You know a fire insurance is a place where you pay some money every year, and if your house is burnt down they pay you, so it’s a jolly good trade mark to have a phœnix.”
“Yes,” replied Herodotus, who seemed rather mystified at Harry’s strange description!
“Any more animals?” asked Harry.
“Winged serpents, I was told, had lived in Egypt, and I myself journeyed to Buto to see if this were true. There I was shown ribs and back-bones without number at the entrance to a narrow pass in the
