336 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. 



Ignorant persons, and no less those naturalists who study natural 

 history in books only, acknowledge the differences existing between 

 species, but believe that the actions and labours of the individuals of 

 a species invariably correspond. Such a view is possible when you 

 have only seen things from above and afar, in a sublime generality. 

 But when the naturalist takes in hand his pilgi'im's staff — when, as 

 a modest, resolute, indefatigable pilgrim of Nature, he assumes his 

 shoes of iron — all things change their aspect : he sees, notes, com- 

 pares numerous individual works in the labours of each species, seizes 

 their points of difference, and soon arrives at the conclusion which 

 logic had already suggested,- — that, in truth, no one tiling Tesenibles 

 another. In those works which appear identical to inexperienced 

 eyes, a Wilson and an Audubon have detected the diversities of an art 

 very variable — according to means and places, according to the 

 characters and talents of the artists — in a spontaneous infinity. So 

 extensive is the region of liberty, fancy, and ingegno. 



Let us hope that our collections will bring together several 

 specimens of each species, arranged and classified according to the 

 talent and progress of the individual, recording as near as may be the 

 a^e of the birds which constructed the nests. 



If these boundless diversities do not result from unrestrained activ- 

 ity and personal spontaneity, if you wish to refer them all to an iden- 

 tical instinct, you must, to support so miraculous a theory, make us 

 believe another miracle : that this instinct, although identical, pos- 

 sesses the singular elasticity of accommodating and proportioning 

 itself to a variety of circumstances which are incessantly changing, to 

 an infinity of hazardous chances. 



What, then, will be the case if we find, in the history of animals, 

 such an act of pretended instinct as supposes a resistance to that very 

 course our instinctive nature would apparently desire ? Wliat wiU 

 you say to the wounded elephant spoken of by Fouche d'Obsonville ? 



That judicious traveller, so utterly disinclined to romantic ten- 

 dencies, saw an elephant in India, which, having been wounded in 

 battle, went daily to the hospital that his wound might be dressed. 



