made of the Turtle, and in all cases, as an example of constancy and affection.
So Florizel, in addressing Perdita (Winter's Tale), thus speaks ;
"But come ; our dance, I pray:
Your hand, my Perdita : so turtles pair,
That never mean to part."
Of the truth of this alleged attachment on the part of the turtle for its mate, I have never had an opportunity of satisfying myself; though it has ever been a favourite theme for the poet and the moralist. Fur- ther on we have the following comparison of a widow to a turtle that has lost its mate ;
"I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough ; and there
My mate, that's never to be found again.
Lament, till I am lost."
Of the peculiar formation of the digestive organs of the Cohimbidas the poet was evidently aware, as we find from the words of Hamlet.
"But I am pigeon-livered, and lack gall
To make oppression bitter."
The absence of the gall-bladder in these birds seems to be com- pensated for by the extraordinary development of the crop, by the aid of which, the food becomes so thoroughly digested before it enters the intestine, that the gall is rendered unnecessary — the crop is also use- ful to macerate the food for its young, and being (unhke that of other birds) capable of great distension by air received through the wind- pipe, the bird is able, by expelling this, to bring up with it the softened food into the bill of the young one waiting to receive it.
This peculiar absence of the gall-bladder has given rise to the expression, with reference to men, of an easy and supine tempera- ment, that they have " no more gall than a pigeon."
The birds I will next notice are the Nightingale and the Lark. None seem more worthy of the poet's lay," but how a woman with- out a tongue should be transformed to so delightful a songster as the former, according to the story of Tereus and Philomela, I am at a loss to say. Its sweet and plaintive song has gained for it universal admiration, in spite of its plain and unpretending appearance.
"Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Time my distresses and record my woes."—Two Gentlemen of Verona.
