“Penguin,” said my lady friend who had first addressed me, and who appeared to be the queen, but who, I afterwards learned, was only a laughing Gull. “You do not know what you are asking, you may, however, profit by experience. It shall never be said that such an elegant Penguin received a denial.” She then gave me a flip with her wing which sent me reeling into the midst of the group, another did the same, and they all followed suit, flipping me about, first to one side, then to another. This was sport! As soon as I could get the words out, I shouted, “Stop! you are killing me.” “Bah!” said they, “we are only beginning, hah! hah! Keep him warm. Keep the ball rolling.” The sport began anew, and with such vigour that I soon fell to the ground thoroughly humbled and exhausted. The Gull who had first called me Penguin, and who had taken the lead in maltreating me, noticing my prostration, reproached herself for her conduct. “Forgive us, my poor Penguin. You do not seem to relish our rollicking style, yet it is our nature, so pray do not blame us if you are hurt.” She then came forward and bent over me with such a tender look, that, in spite of what she had just done, she seemed for the moment perfectly beautiful and good. But pity often comes of self-love, and is nothing more than regret for harshness. What I mistook for the dawn of affection was only {61} sorrow for having done wrong. Thus, as soon as she saw me comforted, away she flew with her companions. This sudden flight so startled me, that it was impossible to find a single word or gesture to prevent it, and again I was alone. From that moment solitude seemed insupportable. [Illustration] IV. To tell the truth, I was blindly in love, and savage at having done {62} nothing to win a bride so beautiful. Why did I not exercise my blandishments? While pondering these things I wandered to the edge of a pool of water. It was placid and clear, reflecting only the blue heaven, until, bending down to dip and cool my fevered beak, I beheld my own image, and nearly choked as the picture of my unsightly proportions flashed on my mind. I left the mirror, and soon by reason of vanity forgot what manner of bird I was. Sleepless nights and miserable days became my portion. Eagerly I listened to the whisperings of the wind, thinking that I heard the gentle sound of that lovely spirit of the air descending to soothe my troubled heart. Vain thought! she never came, and worse luck, my appetite had gone with her. My only solace was the sea. There was something in the mournful voice of its waves, as they broke on the great rocks, that soothed me in my saddest hours. There was something in its immeasurable depth typical of the grief which overwhelmed me.