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Updated: June 24, 2025
But this is your life and that is Pan-at-lee's and even now as you read this Pan-at-lee may be sitting upon the edge of the recess of Om-at's cave while the ja and jato roar from the gorge below and from the ridge above, and the Kor-ul-lul threaten upon the south and the Ho-don from the Valley of Jad-ben-Otho far below, for Pan-at-lee still lives and preens her silky coat of jet beneath the tropical moonlight of Pal-ul-don.
It has on its tail a pot of cosmetic, a bottle of hair-oil, a fatty gland from which the beak obtains an ointment wherewith it preens the feathers one by one and renders them impermeable to moisture. A great expender of energy by reason of the exigencies of flight, it is essentially, chilly creature that it is, better-adapted than any other to the retention of heat.
"Where is Mallare who fancied himself a madman? Who sought to climb over his senses and found himself impaled by a tower of Babel? Where are his angers, his disgusts that were the noble shadows thrown by his egoism to blot out a world? Ballad of rhetorical questions. My vanity preens itself with reminiscences. I smile. I am depressed and content. Answers whisper. Mallare is on his feet.
The course of procedure is somewhat as follows: At dawn it arrives and for a while utters its song, preens its feathers, or searches for food; then it vanishes, rising into the air and flying in one fixed direction as far as the eye can follow, until it becomes a speck upon the horizon and is ultimately lost to view.
For he belonged to a class that has ever owned inordinate power in Ireland: the class of the middlemen with roots in either camp a grandam, who, perchance, still softens her clay on the old cabin hearth, while a son preens it with his betters in Trinity College.
If any person other than Salih touches it, an incredible quantity of green cud is instantly let loose over their turbans; but at the approach of Salih it emits a purring noise, preens its head for the nose-strap ornamented with a bunch of palmlike plumes, and playfully pretends not to want the bersim which the little black Sphinx thrusts down its throat in handfuls.
He took one steady look at King and then at the prisoners before he returned King's salute. "Good!" he said. And then, as if that were not enough: "Excellent! Don't let 'em out, though, to chew the rag with people on the platform. Keep 'em in!" "They're locked in, sir." "Excellent! Come and walk up and down with me." Death roosts in the Khyber while he preens his wings! Native Proverb
No, my little immortal does not touch the earth; he hangs suspended by that long bill, which just tethers him to its flowers. Now and then he will let down the little black tendrils of legs and feet on some bare twig, and there be rests and preens those already smooth plumules with the long slender bodkin you lent him.
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