Bluegrass.
Madam, with your permission,—upon the first streak of dawn our common meadow-lark has been known to climb the heavenly vaults above this magnificent star of ours like a morning-glory of song.
Whetstone.
Professor Scythe, explain.
Scythe [examining the birds with his glass].
Leaving, for a moment, grave mysteries of the deep upon the floor of the abysmal sea, we ascend to trace in the flight of a simple bird its name and family. The wings of the bird are the pre-Adamite forefeet of an animal which, through ceaseless efforts of evolution, became crowned with feathers. From the movements of these feathered forefeet we can tell all about the bird. Now, Mayor Whetstone, take this glass. [He gives glass to Whetstone, who follows the movements of the bird with it.] Now watch closely the parabola of dip or curve of flight that puts it in the great family of web-footed water-fowls. See the unwavering scoop, the practiced and web-footed ease with which it grazes a wave. We have before us a genuine sea-gull.
Whetstone.
Major, put that in the Eagle, and see how it looks in print. Something’s bitten me! it must be one of your sea-fleas.
[Looking up his sleeve.
Bluegrass.