[Illustration: SALLY. (_Zoölogical Gardens, London._)] A greater physiologist, Professor Agassiz, would not have pets. He must experiment, and he said that when he came to feel for an animal the affection of intimacy, experiment became impossible. And then, when it was a question of experiment, a good fortune, peculiar to himself, attended him--whatever he wanted was sure to turn up, whether a rare specimen or common one; whether bird or insect, fish or reptile. Birds, indeed, were his familiar friends, and he had a faculty of taming them not unlike that of Madame George Sand. Snakes, too, were friendly; and I have myself seen him put his hand in the water, and a little fish move tranquilly back and forth between his outspread fingers. If he had lived in the time of those great primeval creatures--mammoths, pterodactyls, and the like--he certainly would have been on friendly terms with them. It may be said in passing that the first skeleton of a pterodactyl ever seen was discovered by an English woman--Mary Anning of Lyme-Regis. She became a capital geologist, and made many important “finds.” Her assistant, although devoted, and, to her, invaluable, is not so well known, being only--a little dog! He was, so long as he lived, the companion of her walks; and when she found a valuable specimen embedded in the rocks, would stand guard until she could get it removed, sharing faithfully in her toil, and grudging her none of the glory. Very little appreciated in general are pigs! Pork is one thing, the pig another. The merits of pork are well understood; the merits of Piggy doubtful. Charles Lamb could sing with delicious enthusiasm the praises of roast pig--that “young and tender suckling, under a moon old, guiltless as yet of the sty”; but if he had been asked to take Piggy, unroasted, alive, into his good graces, he probably would have declined with a shrug. But still, to a degree, the pig is appreciated. Jerrold’s sketch, called “The Manager’s Pig,” had a foundation in fact. The manager of a London theater, anxious for novelty, had a play written expressly to bring a pig upon the stage. It was very successful, and after a run of forty nights, it was suggested that the principal actor should be prepared for the manager’s table, and the other actors invited to partake. Whether this was done I cannot learn. A poor reward, indeed, for Piggy--the glory of being eaten!