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POPULARITY OF NATURAL HISTORY, 
tending for the more effectual spread of a taste for Natural History. The 
thing itself is inherent in every human breast. “ Almost every one,” says Mr, 
Swainson, in the work I have before quoted, “ having the least taste for Natural 
History, will peruse with pleasure a well-written account of an animal whose 
habits and manners, and modes of living are not generally known, although they 
may have no idea of studying Natural History as a science.” But scientific 
Natural History might easily be simplified and rendered more intelligible to all, 
if its professors were less intent upon building systems and discussing wire-drawn 
points, which pass away into obscurity with the current that drew them forth. 
I object not to the learned labours of the closet naturalist, but they cannot be 
sufficiently appreciated if he disregards the humble efforts and toils of those who 
labour in the fields to muster up stores, which may eventually prove of consider¬ 
able utility. Let the systematist aim to attract the popular observer to his cell, 
and he will find his efforts not thrown away in the additional zeal which will 
animate the former when he finds the utility of scientific language. 
Museums in every principal city, if properly arranged ,. and their specimens 
correctly named , may become great auxiliaries in the cause of science, and facilitate 
study greatly to those who may be unable to purchase very expensive books. 
For I must again observe, that if knowledge be gained, it can be of little moment 
whether it be due to the pencil, the graver, or the labelled subject in the cabinet 
or museum. There is no talismanic power in technical language—on the con¬ 
trary, its inadequacy and obscurity often leaves the inquirer in a cloud of doubt, 
and whenever that doubt can be removed, I see no reason why “ easy” facilities 
for the acquisition of knowledge should not be made available. But at any rate, 
if Natural History is to become truly popular, it must not rest like a mere stuffed 
figure—a thing without life or motion, made up of uncouth words, and offering 
only a charm to the anatomist—it must speak in language that all may under¬ 
stand, and present a sacrifice at which all may assist. 
The dignity of science is considered by many to be sacrificed by any attempt 
to soften its asperities, and ornament and imagery are thought inconsistent with 
the plain facts and stern deductions of research and inquiry. In some instances 
this may be correct. But the field of Natural History is placed before Man as a 
charm to diversify the bitter endurances that ever throw their shadows upon 
human life and action. As presented by the Deity it is all enchanting, and Man 
only arrays it in a respulsive dress. Let us try to keep it still in its simplicity 
and purity, with at least some vestiges of life and loveliness—let not all be trans¬ 
formed into dry bones. I desire the popularity of Natural History in its fullest 
extent, and for this reason I urge upon authors the display of its beauties in their 
most attractive dress. 
But then, it is said, we shall only have a race of superficial naturalists who 
