2 The American Naturalist. [January, 
Another bird of paradise is not inaptly called the Incom- 
parable, for it is wondrously attired, yet this designation too 
might as fittingly to bestowed upon almost any species where 
each is conspicuous for some particular charm. But in one 
respect at least this paragon (Paradisea gularis) presents a 
decided contrast to other genera—in the structure or appear- 
ance of the tail. In place of long floating plumes or bewilder- 
ing maze of drooping feathers with the wire filaments pro- 
jecting far beyond, there are true tail-feathers much prolonged 
and broadening somewhat toward the extremities. As a 
further mark of distinction in addition to the dispropor- 
tionately long and peculiarly shaped tail, the Incomparable 
bears on its head a double crest of velvety feathers which flash 
and glitter, requiring only the light to bring out all the colours 
from their dull depths. The same may be said of the scales 
of copper and gold on the throat and breast. Equally gorgeous 
though without the scintillating reflections is the glossy ap- 
parel of the body and tail. The whole plumage in fact “ glows 
with an effulgence ot varied hues that almost baffle descrip- 
tion.” 
To support this wealth of colour and feathers nature has fur- 
nished a pair of strong, substantial legs, very serviceable in- 
deed for grasping branches of trees, but far from shapely. 
Large, ugly feet and legs, however, are the common heritage 
of all the birds of paradise, the only parts visible where the 
useful has predominated over the ornamental. This is 
eminently true of Paradisea apoda whose descriptive, scientific 
appellation is decidedly a misnomer. Let us not, however, 
now that we are convinced that Apoda has legs, cast the term 
aside, for the pretty fiction it commemorates is worth retaining. 
This lovely bird is almost too well known to require more than 
a brief notice. It was the first of its kind to become a familiar 
and admired object in museums as it had long been an article 
of commerce. This fact may have arisen partly from its 
abundance, its supreme beauty or the accessibility of the 
regions it inhabited. The specimens we see in cabinets, well 
mounted as they often are and carefully preserved, are dim and 
lustreless beside the living creatures as they flash in all the 
