something, and, of course, when it settles down on its roost,
they grasp that tight and hold it fast till morning. But to birds that
do not perch this mechanism is only an encumbrance, so many of them,
like the plovers, abolish the hind toe entirely, and the prince of all
two-legged runners, the ostrich, has got rid of one of the front toes
also, retaining only two.

[Illustration: THESE BEASTS ARE ALL CLODHOPPERS, AND THEIR FEET ARE
HOBNAILED BOOTS.]

To a man who thinks, it is very interesting to observe that beasts have
been led along gradually in the very same direction. All the common
beasts, such as cats, dogs, rats, stoats, and so on, have five ordinary
toes. On the hind feet there may be only four. But as soon as we come to
those that feed on grass and leaves, standing or walking all the while,
we find that the feet are shod with hoofs instead of being tipped with
claws. First the five toes, though clubbed together, have each a
separate hoof, as in the elephant; then the hippopotamus follows with
four toes, and the rhinoceros with practically three. These beasts are
all clodhoppers, and their feet are hobnailed boots. The more active
deer and all cattle keep only two toes for practical purposes, though
stumps of two more remain. Finally, the horse gathers all its foot into
one boot, and becomes the champion runner of the world.

It is not without significance that this degeneracy of the feet goes
with a decline in the brain, whether as cause or effect I will not
pretend to know. These hoofed beasts have shallow natures and live
shallow lives. They eat what is spread by Nature before their noses,
have no homes, and do nothing but feed and fight with each other. The
elephant is a notable exception, but then the nose of the elephant,
becoming a hand, has redeemed its mind. As for the horse, whatever its
admirers may say, it is just a great ass. There is a lesson in all this:
"from him that hath not shall be taken even that which he hath."

There is another dull beast which, from the point of view of the mere
systematist, seems as far removed from those that wear hoofs as it could
be, but the philosopher, considering the point at which it has arrived,
rather than the route by which it got there, will class it with them,
for its idea of life is just theirs turned topsy-turvy. The nails of the
sloth, instead of being hammered into hoofs on the hard ground, have
grown long and curved, like those of a caged bird, an