"What a handsome bird!" exclaimed they. "Is it much hurt? Let us tame it and let it run about with the fowls." "Its plumage is much more brilliant than that of the dead one," remarked Fritz. "Yes," said Ernest, "this is a full grown bird, while yours is younger; it is some years before they reach perfection. See what long active legs it has, like those of a stork, while with its great webbed feet it can swim faster than a goose. Earth, air, or water is all the same to the flamingo; it is equally at home in any one of the three." "Well," said Fritz, "let us take the dead one to mother and get her to introduce it to the other element, and see what it will make of that; if it is young and tender, as you say, it should make a delicious roast." Fritz and Ernest then carried the birds and bamboos to the tree, while I proceeded to cut my reeds. I chose those which had flowered, knowing that they were harder, and having cut a sufficient quantity of these, I selected one or two of the tallest canes I could find to assist me in measuring the height of the tree. I then bound them together and returned to my family. "Do you mean to keep this great hungry bird Fritz has brought?" said my wife, "it is another mouth to feed, remember, and provisions are still scarce." "Luckily," I replied, "the flamingo will not eat grain like our poultry, but will be quite satisfied with insects, fish, and little crabs, which it will pick up for itself. Pray reassure yourself, therefore, and let me see to the poor bird's wound." So saying, I procured some wine and butter and anointed the wing, which though hurt was not broken. I bound it up, and then took the bird to the stream, where I fastened it by a long cord to a stake and left it to shift for itself. In a few days the wound was healed, and the bird, subdued by kind treatment, became rapidly tame. While I was thus employed my sons were endeavoring to ascertain the height of the lowest branch of the tree from the ground. They had fastened together the long reeds I had brought, and were trying to measure the distance with them, but in vain; they soon found that were the rods ten times their length they could not touch the branch. "Hullo, my boys," I said, when I discovered what they were about, "that is not the way to set to work. Geometry will simplify the operation considerably; with its help the altitude of the highest mountains are ascertained. We may, therefore, easily find the height of the branch."