A bear, who had worn himself out walking from one end of his cage to
the other, addressed his keeper thus:
"I say, friend, if you don't procure me a shorter cage I shall have to
give up zoology; it is about the most wearing pursuit I ever engaged
in. I favour the advancement of science, but the mechanical part of it
is a trifle severe, and ought to be done by contract."
"You are quite right, my hearty," said the keeper, "it _is_ severe;
and there have been several excellent plans proposed to lighten the
drudgery. Pending the adoption of some of them, you would find a
partial relief in lying down and keeping quiet."
"It won't do--it won't do!" replied the bear, with a mournful shake
of the head, "it's not the orthodox thing. Inaction may do for
professors, collectors, and others connected with the ornamental part
of the noble science; but for _us_, we must keep moving, or zoology
would soon revert to the crude guesses and mistaken theories of the
azoic period. And yet," continued the beast, after the keeper had
gone, "there is something novel and ingenious in what the underling
suggests. I must remember that; and when I have leisure, give it a
trial."
It was noted next day that the noble science had lost an active
apostle, and gained a passive disciple.