I, personally, long cherished a belief in these panegyrics. I used to think: After all, it really is a grand idea! “Seized him and ... pardoned!” Pardoned! That was what really fascinated me. Whom did he pardon? A mouse! A miserable mouse! And then I would rush off to some one of my poetical friends to tell him of this new act of magnanimity on the part of the Eagle. And my poetical friend would strike an attitude, breathe hard for a moment, and then ... would become affected with the sea-sickness of versification. One day, though, the idea occurred to me: What did the Eagle “pardon” in the mouse? All that the mouse had done was to run across the road on its own private business; and the Eagle saw it, swooped, squeezed it half to death, and ... pardoned it! Why in the world did the Eagle pardon the mouse and not the mouse the Eagle? Well, I began to look about me and take notice of things; and the more I saw, the more muddled I got. There certainly was something askew about the whole business. In the first place, it is evident that the Eagle does not catch mice for the purpose of pardoning them. In the next place, even if the Eagle did pardon the mouse, I cannot help thinking that it would have been still better if he had taken no interest in its affairs at all. And, finally, in the third place, granted he is an Eagle—an Arch-eagle for that matter—all the same he’s a bird. Indeed, he is so essentially a bird that, even for a policeman, a comparison with him can be considered complimentary only in virtue of a misunderstanding. My present opinion concerning Eagles is as follows:—Eagles are Eagles—and that is the long and short of the matter. They are simply carnivora, birds of prey; but, it is true, they have this justification: that Nature herself made them anti-vegetarians. As they are, moreover, powerful, long-sighted, agile, and merciless, it is perfectly natural that, whenever they appear, the entire feathered kingdom does its best to hide itself away. This is simply the effect of terror, and not at all of admiration, as the poets maintain. Eagles habitually live in solitary and inaccessible places; never exchange bread-and-salt with any one;[60] but live by robbery; and, when not engaged in burgling, go to sleep. There turned up, however, a certain Eagle who grew sick of living in solitude. So one day he said to his mate: “It’s a fearful bore to live in this fashion, _tête-à-tête_; if one does nothing but gaze at the sun the whole day long, it muddles one’s head.”