a 
THE NIGHT. li 
First, the fatal need of the stomach, which shackles all 
\ of us, but which especially persecutes that living flame, that 
devouring fire, the bird, which is forced incessantly to | 
renew itself, to seek, to wander, to forget, condemned, without hope 
of relief, to the barren mobility of its too changeful impressions. 
The other fatal necessity is that of night, of slumber, hours of 
shadow and ambush, when his wing is broken or eaptured, or, while 
defenceless, he loses the power of flight, streneth, and licht. 
When we speak of light, we mean safety for all creatures. 
It is the guarantee of life for man and the animal ; it is, as it 
were, the serene, calm, and reassuring smile, the privilege of Nature. 
It puts an end to the sombre terrors which pursue us in the shadows, 
to the not unfounded fears, and to the torment also of cruel dreams— 
to the troublous thoughts which avitate and overthrow the soul. 
In the security of civil association which has existed for so long 
a period, man can scarcely comprehend the agonies of savage life 
during these hours that Nature leaves it defenceless, when her terrible 
impartiality opens the way to death no less legitimate than life. Jn 
vain you reproach her. She tells the bird that the owl also has a 
right to live. She replies to man: “I must feed my lions.” 
Read in books of travels the panic of unfortunate castaways lost 
in the solitudes of Africa, of the miserable fugitive slave who only 
escapes the barbarity of man to fall into the hands of a barharous 
nature. What tortures, as soon as at sunset the lion’s ill-omened 
scouts, the wolves and jackals, begin to prowl, accompanying him at 
a distance, preceding him to scent his prey, or following him like 
ghouls! They whine in your ears: ‘To-morrow we shall seek thy 
bones!” But, O horror! see here, at but two paces distant! He 
