ng fact,' said I,
wondering if I might believe him. He appeared to fall into a reverie
while I jotted down the sparrow story, and it occurred to me that
perhaps I ought to offer my distinguished guest some refreshment; but,
when I modestly alluded to it, he said, with an aldermanic air, 'No,
thank you; I've just dined at the Parker House.'

Now, I really could _not_ swallow that; and so plainly betrayed my
incredulity, that the eagle explained. 'The savoury smells which rise to
my nostrils from that excellent hotel, with an occasional sniff from the
Tremont, are quite sufficient to satisfy my appetite; for, having no
stomach, I don't need much food, and I drink nothing but water.'

'I wish others would follow your example in that latter habit,' said I,
respectfully, for I was beginning to see that there was something in my
bird, though he _was_ hollow. 'Will you allow me to ask if the other
statues in the city fly by night?'

'They promenade in the parks; and occasionally have social gatherings,
when they discuss politics, education, medicine, or any of the subjects
in which they are interested. Ah! we have grand times when you are all
asleep. It quite repays me for being obliged to make an owl of myself.'

'Do the statues come from the shops to these parties?' I asked,
resolving to take a late walk the next moonlight night.

'Sometimes; but they get lazy and delicate, living in close, warm
places. We laugh at cold and bad weather, and are so strong and hearty
that I shouldn't be surprised if I saw Webster and Everett flying round
the Common on the new-fashioned velocipedes, for they believed in
exercise. Goethe and Schiller often step over from De Vries's window, to
flirt with the goddesses, who come down from their niches on
Horticultural Hall. Nice, robust young women are Pomona and Flora. If
your niminy-piminy girls could see them run, they would stop tilting
through the streets, and learn that the true Grecian Bend is the line of
beauty always found in straight shoulders, well-opened chest, and an
upright figure, firmly planted on active feet.'

'In your rambles don't you find a great deal of misery?' said I, to
change the subject, for he was evidently old-fashioned in his notions.

'Many sad sights!' And he shook his head with a sigh; then added,
briskly, 'But there is a deal of charity in our city, and it does its
work beautifully. By the by, I heard of a very sweet charity the other
day,--a church whose S