THE RABBIT. 47 



wings, and the large round tuft of golden hairs upon the end of 

 its body, robs itself of the latter adornment after it has laid its 

 eggs, and shelters the future brood with an elegant thatch, com- 

 posed of those downy hairs. Yet there is no self-sacrifice in- 

 volved in the act, which is as purely instinctive as that of laying 

 the eggs ; and I do not believe that the insect has the least idea 

 of the future prospects of the eggs, or possesses any foreknowl- 

 edge of the snow and bitter frost of the coming winter. Even if 

 she did know that she was depriving herself of a natural adorn- 

 ment for the sake of her offspring, the act would lose little of its 

 instinctive character, and may find a parallel in humanity, when a 

 fond mother devotes the once-cherished robes of her bridehood to 

 her babe, and feels the keenest enjoyment in wrapping the costly 

 furs and sheeny satins around its little limbs. 



So with the ordinary incubation of birds. Didactic writers are 

 in the habit of holding up for our admiration the conduct of the 

 bird who leaves all her accustomed pleasures, and submits to a 

 voluntary imprisonment in her nest until her eggs are hatched. 

 These writers are entirely wrong, inasmuch as they assign to the 

 lower animals certain attributes which belong only to man. I do 

 not intend to depreciate in any way the faculties of the animal 

 creation. On the contrary, I believe that the lower animals are 

 endowed with gifts more extended than we generally suppose. 

 But, as has already been remarked, we must not judge them by 

 our own standard ; and, instead of elevating them to our position, 

 we should try to lower ourselves to theirs. By doing so there is 

 nothing derogatory to the pre-eminence of human nature. "We 

 know that the best schoolmaster is not merely he who is the best 

 scholar, but he who possesses the faculty of descending from his 

 lofty elevation, of identifying himself with his pupils, and, for the 

 time, sharing their ignorance, and so placing himself in their po- 

 sition. In like manner, the best naturalist is not necessarily he 

 who has read the most about animals, nor he who attributes to 

 them the feelings which he himself would experience in similar 

 situations, but he who can divest himself, for the nonce, of his su- 

 periority, and conjecture the thoughts which would enter the lim- 

 ited minds of the creatures with which he is brought in contact. 



Suppose, for example, that I am training a dog, which happens 

 to be the case at present. If I were to judge the motives of that 

 dog by my own ideas, I should fall into grievous errors, and fail 

 entirely in my object. At present the animal commits various 



