ean the `nimble Peter,' do you not, papa?"

This inquiry was put by Leon, who had read about the animal under this
name, and had read many false stories of it, even in the works of the
great Buffon.

"Yes," replied Don Pablo; "it goes by that name sometimes, on account of
its sluggish habits and slow motions. For the same reason the English
call it `sloth,' and it is known among naturalists as _bradypus_. There
are two or three species, but all with very similar habits, though, as
usual, the French classifiers have separated them into distinct genera."

"Why, Buffon says," rejoined Leon, "that it is the most miserable
creature in the world; that it can scarcely get from tree to tree; that
some remain in the same tree all their lives, or, that when one has
eaten all the leaves off a tree, it drops to the ground, to save itself
the trouble of getting down by the trunk, and, that when on the ground
it cannot move a yard in an hour! Is all this true?"

"Totally untrue. It is true the ai does not move rapidly over the
ground, but the ground is not its proper place, no more than it is that
of the orang-outang, or other tree-monkeys. Its conformation shows that
nature intended it for an inhabitant of the trees, where it can move
about with sufficient ease to procure its food. On the branches it is
quite at home, or, rather, I should say, _under_ the branches, for,
unlike the squirrels and monkeys, it travels along the under sides of
the horizontal limbs, with its back downward. This it can do with ease,
by means of its great curving claws, which are large enough to span the
thickest boughs. In this position, with a long neck of _nine
vertebrae_,--the only animal which has that number,--it can reach the
leaves on all sides of it; and, when not feeding, this is its natural
position of repose. Its remaining during its whole life in one tree, or
suffering itself to fall from the branches, are romances of the early
Spanish voyagers, to which Monsieur Buffon gave too much credit. The ai
does not descend to the ground at all when it can help it, but passes
from one tree to another by means of the outspreading branches.
Sometimes, when these do not meet, it has cunning enough to wait for a
windy day, and then, taking advantage of some branch blown nearer by the
wind, it grasps it and passes to the next tree. As it requires no
drink, and can live without any other food than the leaves of the
cecropia, of course it remains