I could not
think my family had been idle, when I saw such a result of their
labours; I was only sorry they had killed the goose, as I wished to be
economical with our poultry.
"Have no uneasiness," said my wife, "this is not from our poultry-yard,
it is a wild goose, killed by Ernest."
"It is a sort of penguin, I believe," said Ernest, "distinguished by
the name of _booby_, and so stupid, that I knocked it down with a stick.
It is web-footed, has a long narrow beak, a little curved downwards. I
have preserved the head and neck for you to examine; it exactly
resembles the penguin of my book of natural history."
I pointed out to him the advantages of study, and was making more
inquiries about the form and habits of the bird, when my wife requested
me to defer my catechism of natural history.
"Ernest has killed the bird," added she; "I received it; we shall eat
it. What more would you have? Let the poor child have the pleasure of
examining and tasting the cocoa-nuts."
"Very well," replied I, "Fritz must teach them how to open them; and we
must not forget the little monkey, who has lost his mother's milk."
"I have tried him," cried Jack, "and he will eat nothing."
I told them he had not yet learnt to eat, and we must feed him with
cocoa-nut milk till we could get something better.
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