They are
links in a chain, and branches on the tree of life, with their roots in
a past inconceivably remote; and but for our action they would continue
to flourish, reaching outward to an equally distant future, blossoming
into higher and more beautiful forms, and gladdening innumerable
generations of our descendants. But we think nothing of all this: we
must give full scope to our passion for taking life, though by so doing
we "ruin the great work of time;" not in the sense in which the poet
used those words, but in one truer, and wider, and infinitely sadder.
Only when this sporting rage has spent itself, when there are no longer
any animals of the larger kinds remaining, the loss we are now
inflicting on this our heritage, in which we have a life-interest only,
will be rightly appreciated. It is hardly to be supposed or hoped that
posterity will feel satisfied with our monographs of extinct species,
and the few crumbling bones and faded feathers, which may possibly
survive half a dozen centuries in some happily-placed museum. On the
contrary, such dreary mementoes will only serve to remind them of their
loss; and if they remember us at all, it will only be to hate our
memory, and our age--this enlightened, scientific, humanitarian age,
which should have for a motto "Let us slay all noble and beautiful
things, for tomorrow we die."
CHAPTER II.
THE PUMA, OB LION OF AMERICA.
The Puma has been singularly unfortunate in its biographers.
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