_December 3._ This morning I made sketches of all the parts of the Platypus[135] for William Gregg, who is to deliver a lecture on this curious animal. To-day and yesterday have been rainy, dismal indeed; very dismal is an English December. I am working very hard, writing constantly. The greater part of this day was spent at the Athenaeum; many visitors, but no subscribers. _December 4._ Again at the library and had one subscriber. A letter from Charles Bonaparte tells me he has decided not to reside in America, but in Florence; this I much regret. I have been reading the "Travels of the Marquis de Chastelleux" in our country, which contains very valuable and correct facts. _December 10._ Mr. Atherton, a relation of friend Selby's, took breakfast with me, and then conducted me to see a very beautiful bird (alive) of the Eagle kind, from the Andes.[136] It is quite unknown to me; about the size of the Bird of Washington, much shorter in the wings, larger talons and longer claws, with erected feathers, in the form of a fan, on the head. The bill was dark blue, the crest yellow, upper part of the body dark brown; so was the whole head and neck, as well as the tail and vent, but the belly and breast were white. I soon perceived that it was a young bird; its cry resembled that of almost every Eagle, but was weaker in sound on account of its tender age, not exceeding ten months. Were I to give it a name, it would be the _Imperial Crowned Eagle_. It was fed on raw beef, and occasionally a live fowl by way of a treat to the by-standers, who, it seems, always take much pleasure in cruel acts. The moment I saw this magnificent bird I wished to own it, to send it as a present to the Zoological Gardens. I received a letter from Thomas Sully telling me in the most frank and generous manner that I have been severely handled in one of the Philadelphia newspapers. The editor calls all I said in my papers read before the different societies in Edinburgh "a pack of lies." Friend Sully is most heartily indignant, but with me my motto is: "_Le temps decouvrira la verite._" It is, however, hard that a poor man like me, who has been so devotedly intent on bringing forth facts of curious force, should be brought before the world as a liar by a man who doubtless knows little of the inhabitants of the forests on the Schuylkill, much less of those elsewhere. It is both unjust and ungenerous, but I forgive him. I shall keep up a good heart, trust to my God, attend to my work with industry and care, and in time outlive these trifles.