ly resembles
that of man, but so more distantly does a frog's, so does Scheuchzer's
fossil amphibian in the museum, so does a squirrel's, so does a
parrot's. Yet, because parrots, squirrels, frogs, and asses have skulls,
a pelvis, and fore-arms, they are _not_ men any more than fish are.
Linnaeus has given the _real_ specific, the _real_ class, order, and
generic character of man, unique as a species, as a genus, as an order,
or as a class, as even the greatest comparative anatomist of England
regards him; "Nosce teipsum:" "[Greek: Gnothi seauton]"--KNOW THYSELF.
Man alone expects a hereafter. He is immortal, and anticipates, hopes
for, or dreads a resurrection. Melancholy it is that he alone, as an
American writer curiously remarks, collects bodies of men of _one_ blood
to fight with each other. He alone can become a _drunkard_.

The reader must leave rhapsody, and may now be reminded, in explanation
of allusions in the following letter, that the arm of Dr Livingstone,
the African traveller, was crushed and crunched by the bite and "chaw"
of a lion. He will also please to notice, that the skeleton of the
gorilla in the museum has the left arm broken by some dreadful accident.
This injury may _possibly_ have been caused by a fall when young, or
more probably by the empoisoned bite of a larger gorilla, or of a
tree-climbing Leopard. So much may be premised before giving a letter,
supposed to be intercepted on its way between the Gaboon and London, and
London and Borneo, opened at St Martin's-le-Grand, and detained as
unpaid.

"I was born in a large baobab tree, on the west coast of Africa, not
very far from Calabar. We gorillas are good time-keepers, rise early and
go to bed early, guided infallibly by the sun. But though our family has
been in existence at least six thousand years, we have no chronology,
and care not a straw about our grandfathers. I suppose I had a
grandmother, but I never took _any_ interest in any but very close
relationships.

"We never toiled for our daily food, and are not idle like these lazy
black fellows who hold their palavers near us, and whom I, for my part,
heartily despise. They cannot climb a tree, as we do, although they can
talk to each other, and make one another slaves. At least they so treat
their countrymen far off where the fine sweet plantains grow, and some
other juicy tit-bits, the memory of which makes my mouth water. These
fellows have ugly wives, not nearly so big-mouthed