It is quite a mistake to imagine that animals do not enjoy killing, as we—that is to say, as some of us—do. On the contrary, every creature experiences a natural pleasure in doing that which it excels in doing, and when this excellence consists in any form of destruction, we have the very type of the sportsman amongst ourselves. Thus many predaceous animals will always kill more than they can devour, if the opportunity for their doing so should occur. The stock instance given is the tiger, but under the requisite conditions it would probably be the same with all the Felidæ. They evidently find a pleasure in killing their prey, independent of that which follows when they feast upon its carcass. The same story is told by all those whose hen-house has suffered through the depredations of foxes; in fact, numberless instances are to be found of this love of killing, for its own sake, in animals formed to kill, but so scattered about in all sorts of books that it would take a long while to collect a good list of them. Now, the sword-fish is so swift and so deadly, and the sea is so full of creatures which it could, without any difficulty, despatch, that I cannot help thinking it is more the pleasure of repeatedly stabbing the huge whale, and seeing the blood rush out, which induces it to attack it, than the anticipations of a feast. It is just the same with the thresher, and I have, myself, very little doubt that these two go whale-hunting, just as people go elephant-shooting, and find the same sort of excitement in it. What is curious is that men who are accustomed to harpoon whales, and never have the smallest sympathy with them whilst doing so, become quite pitiful when they see them being killed in this way, and they never seem to think themselves at all like the sword-fish and threshers. The whale, no doubt, classes them all together, but it may think the harpooners the worst of the band.