And in fact he brought me “Scenes from the Public and Private Life of Animals,” and the “Adventures of Three Old Sailors,” both adorned with illustrations. The latter volume was in a sad condition, the stitches loose, the leaves falling out, and the end entirely gone as well as the cover. It must have been translated from the English and its humour perplexed me. Those three sailors, who had escaped from shipwreck, landed on a desert island where they were pursued by a tiger. They climbed a tree, by way of refuge from the ferocious creature, and the picture showed them clinging to the trunk perched one above the other, with hair standing on end, eyes staring, toes curled up. The wild beast was springing up toward them, it was easy to see that with a little exertion he would have them. Then with fierce resolution inspired by the most imperative necessity, the two uppermost bore down with all their weight upon the lowermost one, in order to force him to let go, hoping that this prize would suffice to satisfy the assailant’s fury. And while bearing down with all their might they addressed to their unhappy companion the most touching words of parting: “Good-bye, Jeremiah” (such was his unpropitious name), “we will go and console your poor father and your betrothed.” But Jeremiah, like Rachel, refused to be comforted, and stiffened himself, to cling the tighter. Accustomed as I was to tales of heroism I was much displeased with these traitorous friends. “Scenes in the Life of Animals” appeared to me to have more sense. It was a motley collection such as all old-time libraries prided themselves on containing. Grandville’s vignettes revealed to me traces of animal characteristics in men, whom till then I had thought of only as in the image of God. The animals in the book were dressed like men and women and looked like them. I soon became accustomed to this treatment, the disguises were so natural! Here were the nightingale as a postman, the dog as a lackey, the rabbit as a petty subaltern employe, and there were the vulture as a landed proprietor, the lion as an old beau, the turkey as a banker, the ass as an academician. The centipedes were playing the piano for a young lady dancing on the tight rope, while the cricket was making a trumpet of the carolla of the bindweed. The chameleon, as a deputy, mounted the tribune to state that he was proud and happy to be always of everybody’s opinion. The shark and the saw-fish had on surgeons’ blouses, and frankly declared, “We are going to cut muscles, saw bones--in a word, heal the sick.” The wolf, having murdered a sheep, is reading in his prison the _Idylls_ of Mme Deshoulières, while celebrity comes to him under the form of a complaint sold by hawkers, to be sung to the air of _Fualdès_: Hearken, Woodpeckers and Ducks, Jays and Turkeys, Crows and Rooks; The story of a frightful crime Worthy of Harpies, in their time. Who performed the direful act? A wolf, indelicate, in fact.