Hugh Lofting
One day John Dolittle was walking alone in the Tuileries Gardens. He had been asked to come to France by some French naturalists who wished to consult him on certain new features to be added to the zoo in the Jardin des Plantes. The Doctor knew Paris well and loved it. To his way of thinking it was the perfect city—or would be, if it were not so difficult to get a bath there.
It had been raining all day, but now the sun was shining, and the gardens, fresh and wet, looked very beautiful. As the Doctor passed one of the many shrubberies he came upon a sparrow wallowing in a puddle in the middle of the gravel path.
“Why, I declare!” he muttered to himself, hurrying forward. “It’s Cheapside!”
The small bird, evidently quite accustomed to human traffic, was far too busy with his bathing to notice anyone’s approach.
“How do you do, Cheapside?” said the Doctor in sparrow language. “Who on earth would ever have thought of finding you here?”
The sparrow stopped his fluttering and wallowing and looked up through the water that ran down in big drops off his tousled head-feathers.
“Jiminy Crickets!” he exclaimed. “It’s the Doc himself!”
“‘HOW DO YOU DO, CHEAPSIDE?’ SAID THE DOCTOR IN SPARROW LANGUAGE”