MONGOLS AT HOME 155 



have been born a naturalist. A sportsman shoots a deer 

 and takes its head; later, it hangs above his fireplace 

 or in the trophy room. If he be one of imagination, in 

 years to come it will bring back to him the feel of the 

 morning air, the fragrance of the pine trees, and the 

 wild thrill of exultation as the buck went down. But 

 it is a memory picture only and limited to himself. The 

 mounted head can never bring to others the smallest 

 part of the joy he felt and the scene he saw. 



The naturalist shares his pleasure and, after all, it is 

 largely that which counts. When the group is con- 

 structed in the Museum under his direction he can see 

 reproduced with fidelity and in minutest detail this hid- 

 den corner of the world. He can share with thousands 

 of city dwellers the joy of his hunt and teach them some- 

 thing of the animals he loves and the lands they call 

 their own. 



To his scientific training he owes another source of 

 pleasure. Every animal is a step in the solution of some 

 one of nature's problems. Perhaps it is a new discovery, 

 a species unknown to science. Asia is full of such sur- 

 prises I have already found many. Be the specimen 

 large or small, if it has fallen to your trap or rifle, there 

 is the thrill of knowing that you have traced one more 

 small line on the white portion of nature's map. 



While I was gazing at the fallen buck Tserin Dorchy 

 stood like a statue on the hilltop, scanning the forest and 

 valley with the hope that my shot had disturbed another 

 animal. In a few moments he came down to me. The 

 old man had lost some of his accustomed calm and, with 



