y other stone, to sharpen our knives.

"When these birds set about building their nests, they choose a clear
spot, and raise it a foot and a half off the ground, upon a heap of
leaves of the palm tree, which they collect together for the purpose.
They only lay one egg, which is very much larger than that of a goose.
The male and female sit by turns, and it does not hatch until after a
period of seven weeks. During the whole period of incubation, or that
they are rearing their young one, which is not capable of providing
for itself until after several months, they will not suffer any bird
of their own kind to approach within 200 paces of their nest; and what
is very singular is, that the male never chases away the females;
only, when he perceives one, he makes, in whirling, his ordinary
noise, to call his companion, which immediately comes and gives chase
to the stranger, and which she does not quit until driven without
their limits. The female does the same and allows the males to be
driven off by her mate. This is a circumstance that we so often
witnessed, that I speak of it with certainty. These combats last
sometimes for a long time, because the stranger only turns off,
without going in a straight line from the nest; nevertheless, the
others never quit until they have chased them away."[17]

[17] Voyage de Francois Leguat, Gentilhomme, Bressan, 1708.

Mr. Thompson finds this evidence strengthened by the facts and
statements of a paper by Mr. Duncan, in the _Zoological Journal_ for
January, 1828; and infers that a bird of corresponding size and
character did actually exist, of which the only remains are a bill and
foot in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, and a foot in the British
Museum, all of which Mr. Thompson examined on his return from the
Mauritius in 1816. The specimen, which in part remains at Oxford, was
originally in the museum of Tradescant, at Lambeth, which was
purchased and removed to Oxford by Dr. Ashmole; the _entire bird_ is
proved to have been in the Museum in 1700; and in a catalogue of the
collection drawn up since 1755, the disappearance of all but the bill
and foot of the Dodo is explained by an order of a meeting of the
visitors in the last-named year. Tradescant, it will be recollected,
was gardener to Charles the Second; and in the portrait of him still
preserved is introduced a Dodo, which belonged to him when alive.
Another painting of the bird, to be seen in the British Museum, is
sta