pths of the forest. This bower
is built of twigs, and, when completed, is an oblong, sugar-loaf-like
structure, open at both ends. The bird decorates his dancing hall (for
he comes here to perform love-dances during the courting season) with
bright-colored rags, shells, pebbles, bones, etc.

I once saw a pair of bower birds in captivity (they were owned by Mr.
George Hahn of St. Louis), which constructed the dance hall from
materials furnished by their owner.

The love of personal cleanliness is, probably, the root and beginning of
much that is aesthetic among the lower animals.

When quite a small lad, one of the first lessons set down in my
copy-book, after I had graduated in "pot-hooks and hangers," was the
trite old saw, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." My Yankee governess,
a tall, angular spinster, from Maine, made the meaning of this copy
clear to my infant mind, pointing her remarks by calling attention to
the Kentucky real estate which had found a resting-place beneath my
finger-nails, and which seemed to decorate them with perpetual badges of
mourning. I have never forgotten that lesson and firmly believe in its
truth.

The love of cleanliness seems to be inherent in the lower animals, with
but few exceptions. We have all noticed the cat, the dog, the squirrel,
the monkey, and the birds at toilet-making; and we know that they spend
a large portion of their time in cleansing and beautifying their bodies.
Some of them are dependent on their own ministrations, while others are
greatly assisted by humble little servants, whose only remuneration is
domicile, the cast-off clothing, or the garbage and refuse from their
host's table.

For instance, the common domestic fowl is greatly assisted in its toilet
by certain little animals belonging to the family _Liothe_. These little
creatures carefully scrape away and eat the scarf-skin, and other
epidermal debris that would otherwise impair the health of their
hosts.[70] Some of the fish family are entirely dependent on the
ministrations of mutualists, as these little hygienic servitors are
called, in matters of the toilet. Notably, the gilt catfish, which would
undoubtedly die if deprived of its mutualist, the _Gyropeltes_. This
remarkable little creature does not live on the body of its host, but
swims free in the water, and only seeks him when it is hungry. The skin
of the gilt catfish secretes a thick, glairy, mucous exudate, which, if
left to itself, would im