168 THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



Can you put yourselves in the position of either of 

 these creatures — moving on all-fours, on wings, or by 

 the aid of a membraneous tail and fins, and without 

 arms, and imagine how strange the arms of a man 

 must look ? Suppose yourself with your arms tucked 

 to your sides under the fur of an animal ; something 

 of the idea may be gathered by putting on a cloak 

 without sleeves or armholes. At once it will be 

 apparent how helpless all creatures are in comparison 

 with man. It is true that apes are an exception ; yet 

 their arms are also legs, and they are deficient in the 

 power of the thumb. Man may be defined as an 

 animal with arms. While the creatures of the field 

 or the water have no cause to fear him they do not 

 observe him, but the moment they learn that he is 

 bent on their destruction they watch him narrowly, 

 and his arms are, above all, the part which alarms 

 them. To them these limbs are men's weapons — 

 his tusks, and tusks which strike and wound afar. 

 From these proceed an invisible force which can 

 destroy where it would seem the intervening distance 

 alone would afibrd safety. The sharp shot, the keen 

 hook, the lacerating wire, the spear — everything which 

 kills or wounds, comes in some manner or other from 

 the arms, down to the stone or the primitive knob- 

 kerrie. Consequently animals, birds, and fishes not 

 only in our own, but in the wildest countries, have 

 learned to watch and to dread man's arms. He raises 

 his arms, and in an instant there shoots forth a bright 

 fiash of fiame, and before the swift wings can beat the 

 air again the partridge is dashed to the ground. 



So long as a gun is carried under the arm — that is, 



