Not a little surprised at his own eloquence, the bird of night stepped back to his place with tottering limbs. Thereupon the jays and yellowhammers began a hoot of derision, which was quickly drowned by the protests of the mother birds trembling for their young; and then the old raven, rising slowly to his feet, folded up his glasses, coughed, croaked, and, inspired apparently by the general sense of justice, summed up as follows--
"You, Sir Owl, you have done wrong in crying out over loud; but you, young Turtle-dove, you have done a far graver wrong by haling an innocent prisoner to the bar. You therefore will pay the fine to which you would have had your neighbours condemned, and the costs of the trial to boot. Moreover, I will take this opportunity to do an act of justice, and extend a hand of brotherly affection to our honoured friend the owl, who is henceforth to be treated with proper consideration and respect, or I will know the reason why."
Little by little the audience dispersed, the swarm of birds scattered into space, and the raven's rock was left to its former solitude.
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. Edinburgh & London
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End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Birds and Beasts, by Camille Lemonnier