54 
NATURE NOTES. 
were urged by one of our readers to reprint from that work the chapter entitled 
“Eyes and no Eyes” — of which Oliver Wendell Holmes says in his recent 
volume, Over the Teacups, “ left a lasting impression upon me, and which I have 
always commended to young people— one may profit by it at any period of life. 
I have never seen anything of the kind half so good.” 
Mr. Morgan has used his eyes to good purpose, and he writes of what he 
knows. ‘ ‘ Seldom,” he says, “ have I turned to books in preparing these sketches ; 
but hardly ever have I ventured to write without renewing my acquaintance with 
the subject in hand, in the country, at the Zoological Gardens, or in the Museum.” 
This is the line which separates the compiler from the observer ; the skeleton 
from the living being ; in many cases, indeed, the false from the true. “ Nature 
never did betray the heart that loved her,” and to those who will take the trouble 
to learn them she unfolds her choicest secrets. 
In this attractive and well illustrated volume — -by the kindness of the pub- 
lisher we give a specimen of the illustrations — Mr. Morgan ranges through the 
animal kingdom, beginning with the lion, out of compliment to his title, “ The 
King of Beasts,” and ending with the oyster. From his first chapter we cite a 
passage which will give a good idea of his style, and will show how the author 
has utilised his opportunities of observation. 
“ The whelps or chits, to use an old term long since diverted, are, like kittens, 
born blind ; but I am informed by the keeper at the Clifton Gardens that their 
eyes are opened after two days instead of nine as with kittens. They are 
delightful, clumsy, kitten-like creatures, and are spotted, the spots not entirely 
disappearing for two years or more. I had an opportunity some little time ago 
of fondling one of these little princes, and letting him mumble my finger in his 
almost toothless mouth. He was really the most engaging little fellow. There 
are generally two or three, but sometimes as many as five in a litter. On one 
occasion a little lion-whelp had tottered forward to the front of the den, and I 
patted his head through the bars. I shall never forget the look which the lioness 
gave me as she rose with the utmost dignity, came forward slowly, look the whelp 
by the scrufT of the neck, and carried it back to the further end of the den. ‘ How 
dare you touch my child ! ’ she seemed to say, or rather to look. But Mr. 
Nettleship, who knows lions and how to paint them, to whom I mentioned this 
fact, observed, ‘ I dare say she was mightily afraid of you, and that was the mean- 
ing of the look.’ So difficult is it to get at the thoughts of animals.” 
Like Mr. Silas Wegg, Mr. Morgan occasionally “drops into poetry.” 
“ Burns has his mouse,” he says, “ Wordsworth his green linnet, Shelley his sky- 
lark, Blake his burning tiger — why may I not in verse apostrophise the bear?” 
And he proceeds to do so, as follows : — 
“Inveterate shuffler! murmurous plantigrade ! 
Why sitt’st thou ever mumbling at thy toes 
Revolving many ills ? What are thy woes ? 
Dost mourn thy missing tail? Or hath it made 
Thee sad that man so meanly hath repaid 
Thy many gifts, the rug that tempts repose. 
The busby, striking terror to his foes. 
But dear (how dear !) to many a nursery-maid ! 
“ Yet are we not ungrateful (take this bun !), 
Still round thy choicest gift fond memory plays. 
Mid sweetest scents of fragrant orange-sprays. 
Ah happy years ! when life had scarce begun. 
Ere baldness came with age. Ah fragrant years ! 
1 thank thee for them. Bruin, through my tears.” 
This attempt “ to throw over the unctuous product of the coiffcuTs laboratory 
(by the vulgar called bear’s grease), the delicate glamour of poesy ” is at least 
ingenious, and shows that Mr. Morgan can be amusing as well as instructive. 
Both young and old will be delighted with his book. 
