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To her great surprise, however, on looking at that interesting bird, she discovered that he was weeping copiously, and wiping with an elaborate lace handkerchief, which had evidently been concealed about his person, the tears which trickled slowly down his great beak. "What's the matter, poor goosey, goosey, gander?" said Fidge, sympathetically. "Don't!" snapped the Dodo, crossly.
"Don't beat about the bush. Are you A. B. C., or are you not?" demanded the Dodo. "Yes, I am, but " "Very well, then, I've come to take the situation, and I'll just draw my first week's salary at once, if you please." "But," said the gentleman, with an amused smile, "I must see some of your work first. Perkins, bring the typewriter!" The boy brought the instrument, and placed it on a small table.
"He looks like a pretty big bird," said Dodo. "How long is he? Is there only one in his family?" "He has a brother called the Whip-poor-will, that we should meet very soon." The Nighthawk Length ten inches. Mottled black and rusty above. Barred on the under parts with black and white or buff.
"It was in the geraniums by the dining-room window, eating the seed I tipped out of my Canary's cage when I cleaned it," continued Dodo. "Mammy Bun said it was a Blue Canary, but Nat said it couldn't be, and I forgot to ask about it." "Are you going to tell us about many more birds in the Finch family, Uncle Roy?" "Not now.
"Olive and I have planned to take the six-seated surrey, with a hamper of good things to eat, and drive down to the sandy shore where the river broadens into salt water. There is a house on the bay where we can have our dinner, and the meadows and marshes are full of birds don't quite smother me, Dodo!
"Why didn't you say, Dodo, because there has to be something for the feathers to stick into?" said Nat decidedly. "You both have very good reasons," said the Doctor. "The plumage of the wings grows out from the skin, just as feathers grow from any other part of the body, only the large ones are fastened to the bones, so that they stay tight in their proper places.
"Oh, get in, and you'll see," said the man, unceremoniously, pushing the bird into the lift, and getting in after him. He pulled the rope, and up they went, the Dodo sinking to the ground with a ridiculous sprawl as the lift ascended. "Oh! Oh! Stop!" he screamed, shrilly.
His most important and largest work, the six folio volumes of his "Biblia Americana," pursued by "Strange Frowns of Heaven" could not find a publisher and still is unprinted. Cotton Mather survived his own era, his congenial atmosphere, and, whether he was conscious of it or not, was indeed, as Dexter called him, a literary dodo, an isolated relic of early fantastic methods of composition.
In addition to this person, occasionally seen flitting about in a dingy white cap, there was a man to wait at table and open the door a man, Dodo said, with the face of a sulky codfish; and a hawk-nosed, hollow-cheeked woman to "do the rooms" and act as maid to the ladies, none of the three having brought a maid of her own.
The dodo was in existence fifty years ago, the moa about a hundred years ago. These great birds, together with others, such as the epiornis and palapteryx, have disappeared, not through the ordinary course of nature, but by the hand of man. Even in our hemisphere they may yet be found.
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