cratch on the thigh.
[Illustration: THE CONVENTION OF ANIMALS.]
Allow me, in concluding these stories about lions, to recite one from
the French. It is fabulous, as you will perceive; but fables are not to
be despised. The design of the fable is to illustrate the truth that in
a community, every one may be more or less useful. "War having been
declared between two nations of animals (for, notwithstanding their
instinct, they are as foolish as men), the lion issued a proclamation of
the fact to his subjects, and ordered them to appear in person at his
camp. Among the great number of animals that obeyed the orders of their
sovereign, were some asses and hares. Each animal offered his services
for the campaign. The elephant agreed to transport the baggage of the
army. The bear took it upon him to make the assaults. The fox proposed
to manage the ruses and the stratagems. The monkey promised to amuse the
enemy by his tricks. 'Sire,' said the horse, 'send back the asses; they
are too lazy--and the hares; they are too timid, and subject to too
frequent alarms.' 'By no means,' said the king of the animals; 'our army
would not be complete without these. The asses will serve for
trumpeters, and the hares will make excellent couriers.'"
[Illustration: THE GALAGO.]
The Galago.
From a recent English periodical, I have obtained some interesting facts
in relation to an animal to which naturalists have given the name of the
Galago. In the picture on the opposite page you have a portrait of the
animal, drawn from life. He is a very singular looking fellow, as you
perceive. Not long ago he was brought to England from Zanguebar, in
Africa. The specimen, now being exhibited in London, is the first of
this race of quadrupeds which has ever been introduced from its native
country into any part of Europe, and it is exciting a great deal of
interest among naturalists. Very little is known of the genus to which
the animal belongs, all its species being found only in the barbarous
countries, very little known, on the eastern coast of Africa. They all
climb upon trees, like the squirrel. Their habits are strictly
nocturnal. They never venture from their retreats while the faintest
gleam of daylight is visible; but at the approach of night they become
exceedingly active, springing from tree to tree with all the dexterity
of the squirrel. In the day time, they remain, for the most part, in the
holes of decayed trees. Their food i
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