ir
sleeping-rooms--with no brutal showmen to molest them, and no Van
Amburgh to make them afraid--and seemed really very well to do,
good-humored, and contented. Even the polar bear, who had a quiet,
shady retreat, seemed to be taking matters coolly, instead of panting
and lolling and tumbling about in the old uncomfortable way.

The zebras looked almost amiable, and the hyenas respectable, while the
poor camels wore a far less woe-begone expression than those
long-suffering animals are expected to wear. As for the monkeys, apes,
and ourang-outangs, they were the noisiest, jolliest, most frolicsome
set of creatures you can imagine.

In a yard by themselves, we saw several giraffes, who appeared to be
having a pleasant gossipping time, overlooking the affairs of all their
neighbors. It seemed to me that if they could put their necks
together, they would reach almost as high as Jack's famous bean-stalk
climbed.

Very curious sights to me were the rhinoceros and hippopotamus, both of
whom I saw luxuriating in great vats of muddy water. This hippopotamus
is an enormous animal, very clumsy in his motions, and rather indolent
in his habits. He has an Arab keeper, of whom he is so fond that he
will take food from no one else--will not even sleep away from him.
The Arab is said to return his fat friend's affection, and by no means
objects to him as a bedfellow.

A strange, piteous-looking creature was the seal, that I saw stretched
on a rock at the edge of a little pond. Its eyes were large and dark
and sad--so like human eyes, that I shuddered as I looked at them; for
it almost seemed that the poor, helpless seal itself was a human form,
bound and pinioned, and flung down there to die.

I have no fancy for serpents--indeed, to tell the truth, I detest and
fear them--so, I did not visit that department.

Among the birds, I was most amused by the large collection of parrots.
When I entered the gallery in which they are kept, I was almost crazed
by the confusion of tongues. There were scores of parrots, parroquets,
macaws, and cockatoos, all chattering and laughing and screaming
together. It was like a village school just let out, or a large party
of gossiping ladies over their tea.

No two were alike, except in name--for the majority were Pollies. Some
were ugly, yet were vain enough to call themselves "pretty;" and some
were beautiful, and sleek, and plump, though they piteously declared
themselves "poor," and