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THE FIRST FLUTTERINGS 

 OF THE WING. 





There is never a man, unlettered, ignorant, exhausted, 

 '^f ^X "^-ensible, ^vho can deny himself a sentiment of rever- 

 .|£.^2-^ ence I might almost say of terror, on entering the 

 ^Ir^^ ^ halls of our Museum of Natural History. 



No foreign collection,, as far as my knowledge ex- 



wti ■• 



^ &^^ 1 <^ends, produces this impression. 

 i?^' Others, undoubtedly, as the superb museum of 



"^ J Leyden, are richer in particular branches; but none are 



more complete, none more harmonious. This sublime harmony 

 M is felt instinctively; it imposes and seizes on the mind. The 

 "^ inattentive traveUer, the chance visitor, is unwillingly affected; 

 he pauses, and he dreams. In the presence of this vast enigma, of 

 this immense hieroglyph which for the first time is displayed before 

 him, he may consider himself fortunate if he can read a character or 



