434 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
use is being made of the material for the older purposes of anatomical 
research, and for the newer purposes of pathology and physiology. 
There remains the fundamental reason for the existence of Mena- 
geries, that they are collections of living animals, and therefore an 
essential material for the study of zoology. Systematic zoology, 
comparative anatomy, and even morphology, the latter the most 
fascinating of all the attempts of the human intellect to recreate 
nature within the categories of the human mind, have their reason 
and their justification in the existence of living animals under con- 
ditions in which we can cbserve them. And this leads me to a 
remark which ought to be a truism, but which, unfortunately, is still 
far from being a truism. The essential difference between a zoological 
museum and a menagerie is that in the latter the animals are alive. 
The former takes its value from its completeness, from the number of 
rare species of which it has examples, and from the extent to which 
its collections are properly classified and arranged. The value of a 
menagerie is not its zoological completeness, not the number of rare 
animals that at any moment it may contain, not even the extent to 
which it is duly labelled and systematically arranged, but the success 
with which it displays its inhabitants as living creatures under con- 
ditions in which they can exercise at least some of their vital activities. 
The old ideal of a long series of dens or cages in which repre- 
sentatives of kindred species could mope opposite their labels is 
surely but slowly disappearing. It is a museum arrangement, and 
not an arrangement for living animals. The old ideal by which the 
energy and the funds of a Menagerie were devoted in the first place 
to obtaining species ‘‘new to the collection ” or ‘“‘new to science” is 
surely but slowly disappearing. It is the instinct of a collector, the 
craving of a systematist, but is misplaced in those who have the 
charge of living animals. Certainly we like to have many species, to 
have rare species, and even to have new species represented in our 
Menageries. But what we are learning to like most of all is to have 
the examples of the species we possess, whether these be new or old, 
housed in such a way that they can live long, and live happily, and 
live under conditions in which their natural habits, instincts, move- 
ments, and routine of life can be studied by the naturalist and enjoyed 
by the lover of animals. 
Slowly the new conditions are creeping in, most slowly in the 
older institutions hampered by lack of space, cumbered with old and 
costly buildings, oppressed by the habits of long years and the tra- 
ditions established by men who none the less are justly famous in the 
history of zoological science. Space, open air, scrupulous attention 
to hygiene and diet, the provision of some attempt at natural 
environment are receiving attention that they have never received 
before. You will see the signs of the change in Washington and 
New York, in London and Berlin, in Antwerp and Rotterdam, and in 
all the Gardens of Germany. It was begun simultaneously, or at 
least independently, in many places, and under the inspiration of 
many men. Itis, I think, part of a general process in which civilised 
man is replacing the old hard curiosity about nature by an attempt 
