160 DEATH. 
eulogizes the eagle for his temperance. He does not eat at all, says he. 
The truth is, that when his prey is large, he feasts himself on the spot, 
and carries but a small portion to 
his family. The king of the air, 
says he again, disdains small ani- 
mals. But observation points to a 
directly opposite conclusion. The 
ordinary eagle attacks with eagerness 
the most timid of beings, the hare; 
the spotted eagle assails the duck. 
The booted eagle has a preference for 
field mice and house mice, and eats 
them so greedily that he swallows 
them without killing them. The 
bald-headed eagle, or pygargo, will 
frequently slay his own young, and 
often drives them from the nest be- 
fore they can support themselves. 
Near Havre I have observed one 
instance of truly royal nobility, and, 
above all, of sobriety, in an eagle. 
A bird, captured at sea, but which 
has fallen into far too kindly hands 
in a butcher's house, is so gorged 
with an abundance of food obtained 
without fighting, that he appears to 
regret nothing. A Falstaff of an 
eagle, he grows fat, and cares no 
longer for the chase, or the plains 
of heaven. If he no longer fixedly 
eyes the sun, he watches the kitchen, 
and for a titbit allows the children 
to drag him by the tail. 
If rank is to be decided by strength, the first place must not 
