AS VAIN AS A PEACOCK.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR.'J SIR,—We have read your correspondent's letter about his peacock in last week's Spectator with much interest. Our favourite and much-petted peacock can be kept happy any length of time looking at his reflection in the window-pane or in a looking-glass. He comes in daily to tea, making no mistake about the hour. and spends much time en route in gazing at himself as he appears in the glass of the French windows by which he enters the room. One side of our garden is bounded by a public footpath, which we reach by a stile. On Sunday afternoon this path is greatly frequented, and our bird takes up his position on the top of the stile in good time on that afternoon, but seldom on other days (he hears voices, no doubt), to hear himself admired by the passers-by. He hangs his tail over the fence to the hest advantage ; he knows his name, and will stand still a long time or show off his tail for warm words of admiration. He eats from our hands, and if we forget him for a minute he will snatch the cake or bread before it can reach our own months. If I am sewing and do not speak to him when he comes into the room, he will gently put his bead quite close, almost touching ray ring or needle, for he likes bright things, till I have to give up working and talk to him as with a small child whom one is afraid of pricking. His mood varies towards our two hens, sometimes being patronisingly affectionate, sometimes rather tyrannical ; in the nesting season he roosts by himself in a separate tree, and does not bestow the slightest attention on them when they sit or when their chicks are hatched out. On the other hand, they eat or wander about unconcerned when he spreads his tail and demands their admiration in the spring. Often they will not give him one glance in half-an-hour. They get behind him so as not to see him, and he is kept perpetually turning and twisting. I may add that another younger peacock attends the "kitchen breakfast and tea with great punctuality, occupying a position on the table,—at least, so I am told. If I call my children to come in from the garden to bed, my own particular peacock will help at once by uttering his cry, which is more far-reaching than anything I can do. Earlier in the day he
is less talkative.—I am, Sir, &c., W. B.
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