Other differences might be pointed out; but the foregoing embrace the more fundamental and striking. Enough, moreover, has probably been said to show that it is to wing-structures and wing-movements the aëronaut must direct his attention, if he would learn “the way of an eagle in the air,” and if he would rise upon the whirlwind in accordance with natural laws. _The Wing at all times thoroughly under control._--The wing is moveable in all parts, and can be wielded intelligently even to its extremity; a circumstance which enables the insect, bat, and bird to rise upon the air and tread it as a master--to subjugate it in fact. The wing, no doubt, abstracts an upward and onward recoil from the air, but in doing this it exercises a selective and controlling power; it seizes one current, evades another, and creates a third; it feels and paws the air as a quadruped would feel and paw a treacherous yielding surface. It is not difficult to comprehend why this should be so. If the flying creature is living, endowed with volition, and capable of directing its own course, it is surely more reasonable to suppose that it transmits to its travelling surfaces the peculiar movements necessary to progression, than that those movements should be the result of impact from fortuitous currents which it has no means of regulating. That the bird, _e.g._ requires to control the wing, and that the wing requires to be in a condition to obey the behests of the will of the bird, is pretty evident from the fact that most of our domestic fowls can fly for considerable distances when they are young and when their wings are flexible; whereas when they are old and the wings stiff, they either do not fly at all or only for short distances, and with great difficulty. This is particularly the case with tame swans. This remark also holds true of the steamer or race-horse duck (_Anas brachyptera_), the younger specimens of which only are volant. In older birds the wings become too rigid and the bodies too heavy for flight. Who that has watched a sea-mew struggling bravely with the storm, could doubt for an instant that the wings and feathers of the wings are under control? The whole bird is an embodiment of animation and power. The intelligent active eye, the easy, graceful, oscillation of the head and neck, the folding or partial folding of one or both wings, nay more, the slight tremor or quiver of the individual feathers of parts of the wings so rapid, that only an experienced eye can detect it, all confirm the belief that the living wing has not only the power of directing, controlling, and utilizing natural currents, but of creating and utilizing artificial ones. But for this power, what would enable the bat and bird to rise and fly in a calm, or steer their course in a gale? It is erroneous to suppose that anything is left to chance where living organisms are concerned, or that animals endowed with volition and travelling surfaces should be denied the privilege