a distant future this primitive cloak was gradually to be replaced by
cloth, the product of our industry. But under a mild sky the
traditional fig-leaf, the screen of modesty, was for a long while
sufficient. Among peoples remote from civilization, it still suffices
in our day, together with its ornamental complement, the fish-bone
through the cartilage of the nose, the red feather in the hair, the
string round the loins. We must not forget the smear of rancid butter,
which serves to keep off the Mosquito and reminds us of the unguent
employed by the grub that dreads the Tachina.

In the first rank of the animals protected against the bite of the
atmosphere without the intervention of a handicraft are those which go
clad in hair, dressed free of cost in fleeces, furs or pelts. Some of
these natural coats are magnificent, surpassing our downiest velvets
in softness.

Despite the progress of weaving, man is still jealous of them. To-day,
as in the ages when he sheltered under a rock, he values furs greatly
for the winter. At all seasons he holds them in high esteem as
ornamental accessories; he glories in sewing on his attire a shred of
some wretched flayed beast. The ermine of kings and judges, the white
rabbit-tails with which the university graduate adorns his left
shoulder on solemn occasions carry us back in thought to the age of
the cave-dwellers.

Moreover, the fleecy animals still clothe us in a less primitive
fashion. Our woollens are made of hairs interlaced. Ever since the
beginning, without hoping to find anything better, man has clothed
himself at the expense of the hairy orders of creation.

The bird, a more active producer of heat, whose maintenance is a more
delicate matter, covers itself with feathers, which overlap evenly,
and puts round its body a thick cushion of air on a bed of down. It
has on its tail a pot of cosmetic, a bottle of hair-oil, a fatty gland
from which the beak obtains an ointment wherewith it preens the
feathers one by one and renders them impermeable to moisture. A great
expender of energy by reason of the exigencies of flight, it is
essentially, chilly creature that it is, better-adapted than any other
to the retention of heat.

For the slow-moving reptile the scales suffice, preserving it from
hurtful contacts, but playing hardly any part as a bulwark against
changes of temperature.

In its liquid environment, which is far more constant than the air,
the fish requires no mor