me, and no one else can venture near him if they value their lives.

But to return to my story.

After I had spent some years in the wild beast department at Knowsley, the old earl died, and we buried him with his fathers.

CHAPTER V.

MY EXPERIENCES IN THE ZOÖLOGICAL SOCIETY’S GARDENS, LONDON—ALSO SOME REMARKS ABOUT A STRANGE BIRD, THE APTERYX.

The Earl had left a legacy to the Zoölogical Society of London. He left them the choice of any set of animals or birds they might prefer. Strange to say, the Society chose my favorite Eland antelopes, a beautiful set of five natives of South Africa. As they had been under my care for many years, the Society prevailed upon the succeeding Earl (the present Earl’s father), to allow me to go with the “Elands” to London. This changed the whole course of my life. I was packed off with the Elands to the greatest city in the world, and entered London in 1851 for the first time, under these very peculiar circumstances.

I lived in London at the Zoölogical Gardens most part of my life (about thirty years), during which time I bred, nursed, and raised more foreign birds and animals than any other living man. I had animals from Asia, Africa, Australia, New Zealand, America, Europe, and, in fact, from all parts of the globe. Especially do I wish to remark that I raised a large number of young Eland antelopes. Indeed, I raised over forty of those graceful creatures myself, as well as watching and tending many other wild animals during the same period.

The first specimens I had the pleasure of breeding and raising at the Zoölogical Gardens were a set of birds called the Cassowary. A family of birds belonging to the ostrich order, natives of India, Mexico, Guiana, and the Brazils. It has a short bill, arch-shaped above the base; the cheeks are almost naked; wattles like a rooster; a helmet on the top of the head. The bird is about the size of a middle-aged ostrich. A dark-brown plumage, a little green shade about the head. When fighting with its enemies it uses its legs in the same manner as a pugilist strikes his antagonist, delivering his blows from the hip, just as a man strikes “right out from the shoulder.”

The greatest curiosity of the feathered tribe I am certain, to my mind, is of the ostrich family, and is called the Apteryx, a native of New Zealand.

Of all the feathered tribes that have come within my knowledge perhaps this is the most curious. The covering is half feathers and half hair; the color is dark brown. It is thought by the leading naturalists (and I agree with them), to be the connecting link between the bird and beast. The proboscis is quite at the end of the beak, which is near a foot in length, and is used for boring into the earth, and also as a suction-pipe to draw up snails and worms from below the surface. On the legs and feet are three toes or claws considerably apart. The average weight of the egg of this bird is fourteen and a half ounces, being one-fourth part of the weight of the “beast-bird” itself.

THE APTERYX.

This “beast-bird” was in the Gardens seven years before it required an ounce of water (although a perfect teetotaller).

One morning I found the Apteryx apparently in a bad state of health, and when I called the attention of the professors and scientific men to its condition they all declared that the bird must be old and used up, and they predicted its death accordingly. I put in a word of appeal for the poor creature. I told the professors that, although not certain, it was my impression the bird was simply breeding and engaged in forming an egg, and that in all probability she was not sick at all. My observations were ridiculed, and I was laughed at, yet I persevered in standing by my opinion. As in many other instances, my perseverance was at length rewarded by my being allowed to have my own way. I set to work at once and watched and attended to the Apteryx night and day. The sequel proved that my opinion was the correct one, and to my great joy, and no doubt her relief, she delivered herself of an immense egg.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PECULIAR NATURE AND HABITS OF THE APTERYX—THE STRANGEST OF ALL BIRDS.

When the time of delivery was at hand, I supplied her with water, and she used it freely, as a help to deliver the egg. This was the first water she had used in seven years (being a bird of absorption), and until the time of delivery she never required water at all as a drink.

Seventeen days elapsed from the time I got full control of the bird (dating from the day the professors had given her up), when she was safely delivered of the first egg ever laid on the Island of Great Britain, or in any other country or clime, away from her native wilds.

The female Apteryx produces an egg ready for hatching without ever seeing a male bird.

I may inform my reader that when the female bird produces an egg, one or more of the male birds of the family in the neighborhood at the time of its production, assemble and take charge of the egg. If several eggs are laid by different birds, the males collect them together and take charge of them, until the females of the whole colony have done producing and laying eggs for the season. The male birds then proceed to hatch out the eggs.

There was much contradiction and great argument over my statements in regard to this representative of the feathered tribe of New Zealand. The wise men—scientists and naturalists—“sat in council,” and asserted that I could not possibly know anything about the breeding and hatching of these birds in their native state, as I had never been out of England. This first egg was considered such a wonder that it was decided to send out to New Zealand and bring over some of the chiefs of the various tribes, in order that something might be learned about the manner of production and hatching out of this egg. The chiefs from the Antipodes came to see this great phenomenon, and pronounced their opinion. When they had given in their verdict, I begged to differ with their views, and expressed myself accordingly, and proved that these savages were simply ignoramuses on the subject. It was then decided to send them back to New Zealand in order to bring over a male bird to hatch out the egg, and after much trouble this was accomplished.

The chiefs returned to New Zealand and obtained and shipped to England a male Apteryx. On its arrival he was shown, and immediately took to sitting on and hatching out the egg laid by my female bird. During the time this male bird from New Zealand was sitting on the first egg of my pet Apteryx, he died suddenly, and there was a great investigation as to the cause, but no definite information was gleaned at the time. I carefully examined this dead Apteryx, and although I was not allowed to make a post-mortem examination, I found out the cause. There were a great many mice about the place, and I discovered that they had attacked him while he was sitting on the egg and eaten through his skin and flesh to the bone. No doubt this took away his life. I have never known, heard, or read of greater or more devoted duty on the part of any of God’s creatures than was displayed by this male Apteryx, a stranger from New Zealand, a prisoner, faithfully and tenderly doing the duty nature had ordained it to do, and that even when its vitals were being gnawed out. Such bravery is seldom met with. I may be pardoned for bringing this seeming trivial