THE VULTURE. 45 



by a current of wind. Either of these suggestions 

 may be adopted in the present instance, because 

 the dogs, which had no tainted footsteps to guide 

 them, still found that which insured their discovery 

 of the carrion. 



The sad experiment of putting out the poor vul- 

 ture's eyes fills me with distressing emotions. The 

 supposed fact of the tortured captive not smelling 

 his favourite food, when placed within an inch of his 

 nostrils, forces us to conclude, either that nature 

 had not intended that his beautifully developed 

 organs of scent should be of the least service to him, 

 or that the intensity of pain totally incapacitated 

 the lone prisoner from touching food. I am of the 

 latter opinion. Unquestionably the pain caused by 

 the dreadful operation rendered the miserable suf- 

 ferer indifferent to all kind of sustenance. I myself 

 have been unable to eat when in the gripes ; and 

 I once knew an old owl which died of sheer want, 

 rather than swallow any thing in captivity. What 

 would the American philosophers think of me, had 

 I got this owl's demise well authenticated by the 

 signatures of divers scientific men, and then de- 

 spatched it across the Atlantic, in order to prove 

 that owls do not secure their prey by means of their 

 feet, because, forsooth, the incarcerated owl in 

 question never once struck her talons into the food 

 which had been placed within an inch of them. 



Nothing can show more forcibly the utter fallacy 

 of the American experiments, than the attack of the 

 vultures on the coarse painting which represented 

 a " sheep skinned and cut up." Till I had read the 



