prietor of an eagle. He belonged to us, and we were a
company of soldiers at a frontier post. While I knew him he lived in the
mule-corral, and appeared to me to be at a great disadvantage there.
Somebody had winged him against the face of the brown cliff at whose top
he had been hatched, and he was now accustomed to sit upon a rail in the
corner of the shed, and glare balefully at all intruders in the place he
fancied he owned. He was perhaps fat beyond rule, but his claws were as
long and sharp, and his eye was as relentless, as though still obliged
to follow his natural calling of catching the little New-Mexican
cotton-tail, and swooping down upon horned toads.

His wings measured about five feet from tip to tip, though he was
supposed to have only lately passed the perilous period of his first
moulting, and to be quite young. He was fed with bloody morsels of beef,
and had, when he chose to take it, the freedom of the whole enclosure.
But he was not on good terms with his neighbors, and maintained a very
dignified demeanor toward some fifty mules, a dozen or so of cocks and
hens, and an especially-privileged pig who had the run of the premises
because it had been brought up by hand, and had, for a pig, remarkably
aristocratic ideas. He frowned upon all manner of fellow-creatures who
by accident and unintentionally paid a visit to his majesty. Peg, who
owned a house which she considered her own near his perch, this mansion
being a deal-box turned down, was a special aversion. Peggy was a large
dog, and was herself not a pattern of amiability, especially when she
was the mother of from nine to thirteen puppies, as frequently was the
case; and it was commonly remarked that Aquila was in danger of having
his head bitten off if he interfered with this interesting family, which
he seemed rather foolishly inclined to do. Yet this was not by any means
what became of this Monarch of the Air finally.

If the eagle is one of the striking emblems of power, he is also upon
occasion, as before remarked, a specimen of decided and almost pitiable
imbecility. He cannot even walk. His utmost endeavors in that humble
direction seem to result only in an ungraceful waddle, in which his
claws interfere with his shins, and those of his right foot interfere
with those of his left, and he drags his tail in a most undignified
manner in the dust. Also, his long wing-tips refuse to stay folded in a
proper manner, as each time he stumbles he is