organisation, it swims like the beaver, and feeds on
water-weeds, thus converting into wholesome
nutriment vegetable substances which are turned
to no account. It is very prolific, and produces
a great quantity of meat, in a short space of
time. It has not yet been known to breed in
Europe; indeed, very few specimens have been
seen here, and M. Saint-Hillaire is not sure
whether the male and female have ever been
found in the same menagerie. He therefore
calls attention to "so precious an animal," and
begs persons who are favourably situated, to
send two or three pairs to Europe; or, better
siill, to domesticate and breed them on the
spot.

Mr. Darwin's account of the capybara, or
water-hog, is much less encouraging—except in
respect to the size of the animal. One which
he shot at Monte Video, weighed ninety-eight
pounds; its length from the end of the snout to
the stump-like tail, was three feet two inches;
its girth three feet eight. These great rodents
occasionally frequent the islands in the mouth
of the Plata, where the water is quite salt,
but they are far more abundant on the borders
of fresh-water lakes and rivers. Near Maldonado,
three or four generally live together. In
the daytime they either lie among the aquatic
plants, or openly feed on the turf plain.

Again, there is the mara (Dolichotis patachonicus)
whose skin is highly esteemed for carpets.
This is a burrowing animal, living sociably in
couples in dry sandy spots, and never near
marshes. The dews afford them sufficient drink.
Their flesh is white, and would be delicious in
the hands of a French cook. M. Saint-Hillaire
insists upon and urges the acclimatation of the
mara, which is not only possible but easy.
Comparable, but superior, to the rabbit, it could
both be bred in the domestic state and also
naturalised as game. He patronises with nearly
equal enthusiasm, the bizcacha, another burrowing
rodent, so interesting for its curious habit
of collecting curiosities at the mouth of its hole.
A gentleman who lost his watch one dark night
found it next morning by searching the
neighbourhood of every bizcacha burrow on his line
of road. The bizcachas feed on roots and
vegetables. In the evening they come out in
numbers, and quietly sit on their haunches at the
mouth of their holes. At such times they are
very tame, and a man on horseback passing by
seems only to present an object for their grave
contemplation. Mr. Darwin testifies that their
flesh, when cooked, is very white and good, but
is seldom used. M. d'Orbiguy was astonished
to see so delicate a dish despised in America.
Why is it so despised? Are bizcachas looked
upon as vermin? Their skins are sent to Buenos
Ayres in considerable numbers. The bizcacha
would thrive perfectly in Europe, and M. Saint-
Hillaire longs for its arrival, to take its place
beside the rabbit.

As a rival to the hog, the tapir is brought
forward, being mute as easy to feed, and
producing an abundance of excellent flesh, with the
additional advantage of serving us a beast of
burden. The Brazilian tapir is eminently
sociable; in default of his own kind, he courts the
company of any animal that falls in his way.
He soon knows and obeys his master, but seems
to require a high temperature, and has not yet
been known to breed in Europe, nor even
captive in America. There is, however, a Columbian
species, which frequents, and is abundant
in, the elevated regions of the Cordilleras. It
attains a weight of from two hundred to two
hundred and fifty pounds, and appears likely
to bear the rigours of our climate, as well as to
make himself generally useful.

The president of the French Acclimatation
Society is a true philosopher, an intrepid horse-
eater, who would accord a fair tasting to
donkey-flesh, and who appreciates even rats
when properly fed; but both he and the
English Acclimatisation Society have one obstacle
before them—popular prejudice—which we fear
will, for a time at least, wall in and imprison
many of their efforts. That universal favourite,
the potato, was but slowly and reluctantly
accepted by the masses. Nothing is more
singular than the diversity of absurd prejudices
which, in most countries, prevent the
inhabitants from taking advantage of nutriment
which lies at their disposal. Every nation
regards the prejudices of other nations, as foolish,
and obstinately persists in its own. By a
strange contradiction, the Christian pities the
Jew and the Mussulman, because they hold
pork in abhorrence, and yet the Christian
repulses the notion of touching horse-flesh. The
Hindoo has an equal horror of beef. Mutton
is by no means a cosmopolitan dish. Calves'
feet, the livers of fowls, and goose giblets, were
formerly thrown away as unfit for human food.
The Russians still abstain from pigeon, through
a religious motive, because it is the emblem of
the Holy. Spirit. The Italians hold the rabbit
in aversion. The French eat on a small scale
frogs, and on a large scale snails, dog-fish, and
sorrel-soup: all of which would be rejected by
the English labourer, even if starving; while
rhubarb, sea-kale, and parsnips, are scarcely yet
appreciated on the great majority of Gallic
tables.

While prejudice retains its sway, our
alimentary resources remain very limited; the
hardest-working class has the sparest diet.
Towards the close of the seventeenth century, the
common people of France ate meat only three
times a year; it is doubted whether their situation
has greatly changed. Prejudice steps in,
whenever innovations are attempted, and puts
its veto on much wholesome food. For instance,
the English Society is seeking an animal of
moderate size, not poultry, nor small pork, nor
white meat, which can be killed and eaten while
good, by an average middle-class family. They
bethought themselves of the wombat, an Australian
rodent that burrows in the earth and feeds
by night; they feared, with reason, that the
million would refuse to eat it. But, for an
animal with the required qualifications, there is
no need to go so far as the antipodes. At hand