amusing to see him following his huge mamma, gazing with wonder at the sights he for the first time witnessed, his infant mind appearing to be especially perplexed at the dresses and bonnets of the ladies. He has, however, all the gentle confidingness so characteristic of his race. The sale of the Knowsley collection, formed by the late Lord Derby, was an important opportunity for adding to the treasures of the Zoological Gardens, and it was not lost sight of. Lord Derby aimed chiefly at the cultivation of antelopes, deer, zebras, llamas, and marsupiata, and at the time of his death there were not less than 1617 specimens, to which 100 acres were assigned. The Earl by his will bequeathed the individuals of one species to the Zoological Society, that species to be named by them. The choice at once fell on the five magnificent Elands which are now in the gardens. We learn from Mr. Gordon Cumming that the eland is by far the largest of all the antelope tribe, exceeding a large ox in size; it also attains an extraordinary condition, being often burdened with a very large amount of fat. Its flesh is most excellent, and besides having a peculiar sweetness, has the advantage of being tender and fit for food the moment the animal is killed. The eland is independent of water, and frequents the borders of the great Kalahari desert in herds varying from ten to one hundred, and it is also generally diffused throughout all the wooded districts of the far interior of Southern Africa. When killed the skin has often the most delicious fragrance of sweet-scented herbs and grass. It is, however, a very rare species, except in the most unfrequented parts, and Mr. Cumming relates his first interview with one, as follows: "At length I observed an old bull eland standing under a tree. He was the first that I had seen, and was a noble specimen, standing about six feet high at the shoulder. Observing us, he made off at a gallop, springing over the trunks of decayed trees that lay across his path; but very soon he reduced his pace to a trot. Spurring my horse, another moment saw me riding hard behind him. Twice in the thickets I lost sight of him, and he very nearly escaped me; but at length the ground improving, I came up with him, and rode within a few yards behind him. Long streaks of foam now streamed from his mouth, and a profuse perspiration had changed his sleek grey coat to an ashy blue. trickled from his large dark eye, and it was plain that the eland's hours were numbered. Pitching my rifle to my shoulder, I let fly at the gallop, and mortally wounded him behind; then spurring my horse, I shot past him on his right side, and discharged my other barrel behind his shoulder, when the eland staggered for a moment, and subsided in the dust." Tears Far happier is the fate of the five fine animals in the gardens. They are in a new building, built especially for the Knowsley quadrupeds, immediately beyond the giraffe house. One of them is wild, and obliged to be railed off from the intrusion of the public. Two Leucoryx antelopes, another very fine species, were purchased at the sale of the Knowsley collection, and one of these has, within the last few weeks, produced a little one,-a curiosity in its way, as being the first ever born in the gardens. In the same compartment are to be found magnificent specimens of the Sing-Sing antelope and harte beeste, two bonte boks, two korinne gazelles, two four-horned antelopes, and a duiker bok,—all from Africa. We may mention that our old acquaintance, the Hippopotamus, has increased enormously in bulk; and having passed well through another winter, there is every reason to believe that he will attain the stupendous size of the full grown of his race. The most interesting object to naturalists in the collection is the Apteryx, though an ordinary observer would wonder what could make it so attractive. As some of our readers may not be acquainted with its peculiarities we will briefly mention them. For our first knowledge of this bird we are indebted to the late Dr. Shaw, to whom a specimen was presented in 1812, having been brought from New Zealand by Captain Barclay. After Dr. Shaw's death, this unique specimen passed into the possession of the late Earl of Derby, and his lordship's being a private collection and no other specimen coming over, the existence of the species was generally doubted by naturalists for more than twenty years, and so remained till Mr. Yarrell fully established its existence in a paper published in the Transactions of the Zoological Society. The apteryx belongs to the family of Struthionidæ,-that which includes the ostrich, emu, and cassowary tribes. But its great peculiarity is that its wings are entirely rudimentary, the fiction of a wing having a strongly hooked claw at its extremity. It is nocturnal in its habits, and feeds on worms; and in relation to this we find a special peculiarity, for it has a long curlewlike bill, with the nostrils at the extreme tip, instead of the base, as usual with birds. This enables it to discover worms deep in the earth without the aid of sight; the bill is plunged in, a fine fat worm smelt, and, greatly to his astonishment, is dragged out and bolted before he is well awake. The favourite haunts of the apteryx are localities in New Zealand covered with dense beds of fern, among which it conceals itself, and when hard pressed by dogs, with which it is usually hunted, it takes refuge in crevices of rocks, hollow trees, and deep holes, in which latter it makes its nest of dried fern and deposits its eggs. It is much prized among the natives, for its soft hair-like plumage is well adapted for the dresses of the chiefs; and it is also used for the construction of artificial flies, with the use of which the New Zealanders are well acquainted. The apteryx at the gardens passes the day in a sort of hutch filled with hay, in which it loves to bury itself, coming out at night and digging in the preserve of worms kept in a heap of mould for its especial sport and delectment. The bird is to be found in a small building at the extremity of the gardens beyond the giraffe-house. The grand aviary at the extremity of the gardens, on the left of the main entrance, was one of the happiest conceptions of Mr. Mitchell. There, almost as free as in nature, may be seen the rarest birds. First in rarity and interest are the Bower bird, and the Talegalla, or moundraising bird, from Australia,-the first specimens ever brought to this country. The bower birds are so called from their habit of erecting bowers of twigs and short branches, which they adorn with scraps of shells, pebbles, feathers, and other bright objects, the arrangement continually undergoing alteration. These are their courting-grounds, in which the male displays all his powers of pleasing, to gain the favour of his mate. There were a pair sent over to the gardens, but the female is dead, and the survivor may be seen disconsolately hopping about the fragments of an imperfect bower, which he has not the heart to complete. picking up a shell or twig mechanically, but dropping it again, for of what use are his talents in decoration, if his loved mate is not there to admire ? A brilliant green trogon has been given him for company, but bowers are quite lost upon her. The pair of Talegallas are in fine condition, the male sporting his yellow wattles and deep-red neck. The nidification of this bird is very remarkable. It collects together a great heap of decaying vegetables, sometimes as much as equals three or four cartloads; the heap being accumulated, and time allowed for sufficient heat to be engendered, the eggs are deposited in the centre, not side by side, but distant about twelve inches from each other, and buried at nearly an arm's length, perfectly upright, with the large end upwards. They are covered up as they are laid, and allowed to remain until hatched, and the young bird leaves the egg fully fledged, and able to take care of itself. Mr. Gould mentious having seen one of these birds in the garden of a gentleman at Sidney, which had for two successive years collected an immense mass of materials. The borders, lawn, and shrubbery, over which it was allowed to range, presented the appearance of having been regularly swept, from the bird having scratched to one common centre everything that lay upon the surface. The mound in this case was three feet and a half high, and ten feet across. We have watched with interest the proceedings of the birds at the gardens. Their mode of proceeding is not to scratch quickly, like domestic fowls, but stretching a leg before them as far as they could reach, they grasped as it were a quantity of material and threw it back, always working towards a common centre, whereby a mass was collected in a marvellously short time. At this season the aviary rings with harmony, for there are collected birds from all parts, many of whom are now either building their nests or sitting on their eggs. We may mention the rock thrush of Germany, the Indigo birds of North America, the wild canary, the Baltimore oriole, grass parrakeets from Australia, bronze-wing pigeons and crested pigeons from Australia, crowned pigeons from Java, red-billed pigeons from Senegal, curassows from South America, quails from California, the whydah bird from South Africa, frankolins from the same, tinamoos from South America, and a host of others too numerous to mention. These constitute a most happy family, and their habits may be studied, and movements watched with interest and advantage, by the artist and the naturalist. This is no small boon, for there are few who, like Humboldt or Gould, would go to the uttermost parts of the earth to study the natural history of the country, but there are many who, prompted by strong instincts, yearn after nature, though their lot is cast in this huge smoky city. To such, the gardens are indeed a blessing, and it is an especially pleasant relief to the mind or the head, when oppressed with business or fatigued with work, to turn to this grand aviary, and watch the actions and listen to the songs of its feathered inhabitants. A most valuable ornithological acquisition was purchased at the Knowsley sale, in the four Black-necked Swans, which are the first ever brought to Europe. The Roman poet selected as the most improbable thing in nature a black swan : "Rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno." We are indebted to Australia for dispelling this belief, but there were few if any persons who expected that such a novelty as a snow-white swan, with a head and neck of the deepest jet, would be discovered Though exceedingly rare, they have been found in the River Plate and Chili, and now for the first time we have the opportunity of seeing them in our land. It is highly probable that these identical birds may be the progenitors of the race in this country, and that in fifty years they will be comparatively a common though choice ornament of our parks and lakes. These four swans are at present near the camel house, but an ornamental piece of water is being prepared for them, near to where the humming-bird house stood last year. We have not attempted to do more than to glance at the most striking points now presented by the gardens. But to every one who wishes to pass an hour rationally, agreeably, and instructively, we say, turn your steps thither, and you will be amply repaid. LOVE AND LAW. Two Lovers bright and full of glee, As ever Cupid made, Came in a panting haste to me, To ask my Legal aid; "We come," they said, "as Lovers true, To a learned man of Law, How happy we should be, if you Our Settlements would draw." Scarce three short months had rolled away Of Hymen's sunny weather, Ere back they came, one rainy day, They came-but not together; Our Settlements of course; You'll make us happier still, if you Will draw up our DIVORCE." CHARLES DE LA PRYME. THE MIDNIGHT MASS. AN EPISODE IN THE HISTORY OF THE REIGN OF TERROR. ABOUT eight o'clock on the night of the 22nd of January, 1793, while the Reign of Terror was still at its height in Paris, an old woman descended the rapid eminence in that city, which terminates before the Church of St. Laurent. The snow had fallen so heavily during the whole day, that the sound of footsteps was sarcely audible. The streets were deserted; and the fear that silence naturally inspires, was increased by the general terror which then assailed France. The old woman passed on her way, without perceiving a living soul in the streets; her feeble sight preventing her from observing in the distance, by the lamp-light, several foot passengers, who flitted like shadows over the vast space of the Faubourg, through which she was proceeding. She walked on courageously through the solitude, as if her age were a talisman which could shield her from every calamity. No sooner, however, had she passed the Rue des Morts, than she thought she heard the firm and heavy footsteps of a man walking behind her. It struck her that she had not heard this sound for the first time. Trembling at the idea of being followed, she quickened her pace, to confirm her suspicions by the rays of light which proceeded from an adjacent shop. As soon as she had reached it, she abruptly turned her head, and perceived, through the fog, the outline of a human form. This indistinct vision was enough she shuddered violently the moment she saw it-doubting not that the stranger had followed her from the moment she had quitted home. But the desire to escape from a spy soon renewed her courage, and she quickened her pace, vainly thinking that, by such means, she could escape from a man necessarily much more active than herself. After running for some minutes, she arrived at a pastry-cook's shop -entered-and sank, rather than sat down, on a chair which stood before the counter. The moment she raised the latch of the door, a woman in the shop looked quickly through the windows towards the street; and, observing the old lady, immediately opened a drawer in the counter, as if to take out something which she had to deliver to her. Not only did the gestures and expression of the young woman show her desire to be quickly relieved of the new-comer, as of a person whom it was not safe to welcome; but she also let slip a few words of impatience at finding the drawer empty. Regardless of the old lady's presence, she unceremoniously quitted the counter, retired to an inner apartment, and called her husband, who at once obeyed the summons. "Where have you placed the ?” inquired she, with a mysterious air, glancing towards the visitor, instead of finishing the sentence. Although the pastrycook could only perceive the large hood of black silk, ornamented with bows of violet-coloured ribbon, which formed the old lady's head-dress, he at once cast a significant look at his wife, as much as to say-" Could you think me careless enough to leave what you ask for, in such a place as the shop!" and then hurriedly disappeared. Surprised at the silence and immobility of the stranger lady, the young woman approached her; and, on beholding her face, experienced VOL. XXXI. Ꮓ Ꮓ |