A QUESTION OF BEAUTY.


"What about the peacock and the crane?" your Aunt Amy asked, not
disposed to let slip any opportunity of hearing a story.

"Oh, that's something very, very old--why, my grandmother used to tell
about it. You know the crane thinks he has got a pretty tail, and I'm
not saying anything against it, for it is handsome; but this crane my
grandmother used to tell about, had the idea that he was the finest
looking bird who ever came out of an egg. He went around making a good
deal of such talk as that, and one day he met with a peacock for the
first time. Strangely enough, he had never heard about such a bird, so
he strutted back and forth as usual, and after they had talked a while
of the weather, and all that sort of thing, Mr. Crane said:

[Illustration: As Mr. Peacock spread his tail, Mr. Crane flew off in
disgust]

"'People tell me I am one of the handsomest birds that ever lived.
There's nothing in this world that quite comes up to my tail feathers,
and that much I can say without risk of being thought vain.'

"'You have some very pretty feathers,' Mr. Peacock said, keeping his own
tail folded up so it couldn't be seen very well. 'But do you really
think they are more beautiful than can be found on any other bird?'