hs at the sportsman, wishes him farewell,
and leaves him confused and watching her flight with his eyes.

Not far from the northern regions there is a country where life goes on
as in the early ages, the inhabitants being profoundly ignorant. I speak
now of the human creatures. The animals are indeed surprisingly
enlightened; for they can construct works which stop the ravages of
swollen torrents and make communication possible from bank to bank. The
structures are safe and lasting, being founded upon wood over which is
laid a bed of mortar. The beavers are the engineers. Each one works. The
task is common to all, and the old ones see that the young ones do not
shirk their labour. There are many taskmasters directing and urging.

To such a colony of cunning amphibians the republic of Plato itself
would be but an apprentice affair. The beavers erect their houses for
the winter time, and make bridges of marvellous construction for passing
over the ponds; whilst the human folk who live there, though this
wonderful work is always before their eyes, can but cross the water by
swimming.

That these beavers are nothing but bodies without minds nothing will
make me believe. But here is something better still. Listen to this
recital which I had from a king great in fame and glory. This king,
defender of the northern world, whom I now cite, is my guarantee: a
prince beloved of the goddess of Victory. His name alone is a bulwark
against the empire of the Turks. I speak of the Polish king.[9] A king,
it is understood, can never lie.

He says, then, that upon the frontiers of his kingdom there are animals
that have always been at war among themselves, their passion for
fighting having been handed down from father to son. These animals, he
explains, are allied to the fox. Never has the science of war been more
skilfully pursued among men than it is pursued by these beasts, not even
in our present century. They have their advanced out-posts, their
sentinels and spies; their ambuscades, their expedients, and a thousand
other inventions of the pernicious and accursed science Warfare, a hag
born, herself, of Styx,[10] but giving birth to heroes.

Properly to sing of the battles of these four-footed warriors Homer
should return from beyond the shores of Acheron.[11] Ah! could he but do
so, and bring with him too the rival of old Epicurus,[12] what would the
latter say as to the examples I have narrated? He would say only what I
hav