parture. (The public of the present
day can hardly realise the excitement over this favourite elephant.)
Struggling at the same time to be prominent in this Jumbo worship,
however, the head of a snake appearing suddenly over one's shoulder is
too much for some of us. One after another the visitors vanished as the
snake thrust its head near them, and soon the ingenious lady had the
place and Jumbo to herself.

She was not a professional "snake-charmer," but an eccentric lady of
private means; her pet was large, but harmless. Strange to say, about
the same time a company of Japanese "snake-charmers" were causing a
sensation at a show in the West End of London by their performance with
snakes of a well-known dangerous species. Some of the reptiles they
performed with fell sick--languid and useless for sensational show-work.
They were despatched to the "Zoo" by the manager to be looked
after--possibly the climate affected them. They would not eat anything,
and were gradually pining away, when it was discovered that their
poison-fangs had been extracted, and their mouths were sewn up with
silk. Charming, certainly!

Having lived close to the Zoological Gardens for over twenty years, and
being a Fellow of the Society, I have spent a great deal of enjoyable
time rambling about its ever-interesting collection. The "Zoo" is very
like London itself--one never exhausts its interest. There is always a
surprise in store for those even most intimately acquainted with it. One
suddenly comes across an object of interest that has existed in the
place for years, but one has not happened to pass at the moment that
object appears. How many visitors to the "Zoo," for instance, have ever
seen the beavers at work? To see them, the most interesting animals in
the collection, one has to go very late or very early. Knowing old Mr.
Bartlett as I did, I frequently saw interesting events, and heard from
him interesting tales of the Gardens.

Another letter of mine to the _Times_ took the form of a confession. It
was what was described in the Press as "a humorous, yet withal pathetic
complaint" (December, 1895) respecting the irritating inconvenience
caused by so-called "modern conveniences," which do not always act
satisfactorily. I had been driven to "let off steam" (which is better
accomplished through a pen than with a pencil) by my experience in one
week of the modern inventions which are designed to facilitate business
and to benefit the pu