'Well, no,' said Cyril; 'in fact, I don't think I ever saw any
portrait of you but that one, but I can read you something about
yourself, if you like.'

The Phoenix nodded, and Cyril went off and fetched Volume X of the
old Encyclopedia, and on page 246 he found the following:--

'Phoenix - in ornithology, a fabulous bird of antiquity.'

'Antiquity is quite correct,' said the Phoenix, 'but
fabulous--well, do I look it?'

Every one shook its head. Cyril went on--


'The ancients speak of this bird as single, or the only one of its
kind.'

'That's right enough,' said the Phoenix.

'They describe it as about the size of an eagle.'

'Eagles are of different sizes,' said the Phoenix; 'it's not at all
a good description.'

All the children were kneeling on the hearthrug, to be as near the
Phoenix as possible.

'You'll boil your brains,' it said. 'Look out, I'm nearly cool
now;' and with a whirr of golden wings it fluttered from the fender