He had great
pretensions to wisdom, talked something of astrology and the moon, and
hinted at the dark sciences; he was grievously given to metaphysics,
and the prince found his prosings even more ponderous than those of
the sage Eben Bonabben.
Then there was a bat, that hung all day by his heels in the dark
corner of a vault, but sallied out in slipshod style at twilight.
He, however, had but twilight ideas on all subjects, derided things of
which he had taken but an imperfect view, and seemed to take delight
in nothing.
Besides these there was a swallow, with whom the prince was at first
much taken. He was a smart talker, but restless, bustling, and for
ever on the wing; seldom remaining long enough for any continued
conversation. He turned out in the end to be a mere smatterer, who did
but skim over the surface of things, pretending to know every thing,
but knowing nothing thoroughly.
These were the only feathered associates with whom the prince had
any opportunity of exercising his newly acquired language; the tower
was too high for any other birds to frequent it. He soon grew weary of
his new acquaintances, whose conversation spoke so little to the head,
and nothing to the heart; and gradually relapsed into his
loneliness. A winter passed away, spring opened with all its bloom and
verdure and breathing sweetness, and the happy time arrived for
birds to pair and build their nests.
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