214 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA 



probably hold his tongue about a combat of that 

 brutal kind, but all the same he would gladly 

 remember how in some strange, unaccountable 

 way he suddenly became possessed of the daring, 

 quickness, and certitude necessary to hold his 

 wily, desperate foe in check, to escape its fangs 

 and claws, and finally to overcome it. Above all, 

 he would remember the keen feeling of savage 

 joy experienced in the contest. This would make 

 all ordinary sport seem insipid; to kill a rat in 

 some natural way would seem better to him than 

 to murder elephants scientifically from a safe dis- 

 tance. The feeling occasionally bursts out in the 

 Story of My Heart: "To shoot with a gun is noth- 

 ing. . . . Give me an iron mace that I may crush 

 the savage beast and hammer him down. A spear 

 to thrust him through with, so that I may feel the 

 long blade enter, and the push of the shaft." 

 And more in the same strain, shocking to some, 

 perhaps, but showing that gentle Richard Jeffe- 

 ries had in him some of the elements of a fine 

 barbarian. 



But it is in childhood and boyhood, when in- 

 stincts are nearest to the surface, and ready when 

 occasion serves to spring into activity. Inherited 

 second nature is weakest then ; and habit has not 

 progressed far in weaving its fine network of re- 

 straining influences over the primitive nature. 

 The network is continually being strengthened in 

 the individual's life, and, in the end he is cased, 

 like the caterpillar, in an impervious cocoon ; only, 



