oes in good work. "Hooded Crows Tracking a Widgeon," and
"Wounded Tern," fallen by its eggs, were two other clever groups--said
to be "copyright," though how on earth such things can be copyright I
do not know, especially as not one of the things exhibited could be
called original; indeed, everything I saw at the "Fisheries," with the
exception of the osprey mentioned above, had been done over and over
again by German, French, and English artists.

The work of these "copyright" groups--excepting the foliage, which was
rather "stiff"--was, however, very clean and nice, and favourably
compared with work by other taxidermists, many of whose "pieces"--as
the Americans say--should have been refused on the score of
pretentious incompetence.

There was one detestable exhibit, all the more grievous as being
professional. No wonder that people, seeing this sort of thing, should
laugh at fish and bird "stuffing." As I looked and wondered, I felt
that a first-class assortment of injurious epithets applied to such
"work" would have relieved my perturbed spirit.

This digression puts me in mind of another, and that is to warn the
amateur not to "know too much," and think he has nothing to learn
directly he can set up a bird or mammal, or anything else, in a fairly
respectable manner. The people who know everything, and imagine they
cannot be taught, are just the people who know very little and who
will never learn more. "Duffers" they are, and "duffers" they will be,
to the end of their days. Every sensible man, even should he rival
Methusaleh--which heaven forfend!--must be learning Art (even should
he teach) all his life.

Make haste to learn, therefore, from anyone who can give you a hint,
and don't set yourself up (or down) in some obscure country town and
fancy you are great. Come out into the world, measure yourself against
the best, criticise your own work as if it were a stranger's. Be
honest, and say, "That man's work knocks mine into a cocked hat," and
then go home miserable, but determined to beat that man's work or
perish in the attempt. Never sneak! If you see first-class work by
anyone, go boldly and say, "Sir, I am an amateur," or, "I am a young
professional," as the case may be. "Your work interests and delights
me. May I look around?" Doubtless, the person addressed will be
flattered by your appreciation, and, unless narrow-minded, will
exchange views with you to your benefit.

Let us return to our theme. Amon