n. I'll tell you what he reminds me of--those little statues
that men use for decorating fields. He opens the window, and throws
a lot of things out upon the lawn, and then he dances and sings. It's
awfully interesting, and you can see it all from the yew tree."

That, I am convinced, is how the Club came to fix upon the tree next my
window. I have had the satisfaction of denying them the exhibition they
anticipated, and I cheer myself with the hope that they have visited
their disappointment upon their misleader.

There is a difference between Rook Clubs and ours. In our clubs the
respectable members arrive early, and leave at a reasonable hour; in
Rook Clubs, it would appear, this principle is reversed. The Mad Hatter
would have liked this Club--it would have been a club after his own
heart. It opens at half-past two in the morning, and the first to
arrive are the most disreputable members. In Rook-land the rowdy-dowdy,
randy-dandy, rollicky-ranky boys get up very early in the morning and go
to bed in the afternoon. Towards dawn, the older, more orderly members
drop in for reasonable talk, and the Club becomes more respectable. The
tree closes about six. For the first two hours, however, the goings-on
are disgraceful. The proceedings, as often as not, open with a fight. If
no two gentlemen can be found to oblige with a fight, the next noisiest
thing to fall back upon is held to be a song. It is no satisfaction to
me to be told that rooks cannot sing. _I_ know that, without the trouble
of referring to the natural history book. It is the rook who does not
know it; HE thinks he can; and as a matter of fact, he does. You can
criticize his singing, you can call it what you like, but you can't stop
it--at least, that is my experience. The song selected is sure to be
one with a chorus. Towards the end it becomes mainly chorus, unless the
soloist be an extra powerful bird, determined to insist upon his rights.

The President knows nothing of this Club. He gets up himself about
seven--three hours after all the others have finished breakfast--and
then fusses round under the impression that he is waking up the colony,
the fat-headed old fool. He is the poorest thing in Presidents I have
ever heard of. A South American Republic would supply a better article.
The rooks themselves, the married majority, fathers of families,
respectable nestholders, are as indignant as I am. I hear complaints
from all quarters.

Reflection comes