ow." Modern
biology has, I believe, confirmed this observation. She spent much of
her time at the Zoo, and it was thought that it would be an advantage if
she could be permanently resident there. But although she was not unlike
a flamingo in the face, and I had some interest with the man who
supplies the fish for the sea-lions, no vacant cage could be found. An
offer to let her share one with the cassowary--_missionara
timbuctana_--was refused.

I must now speak of another sister, Caramel, though I do so with grief.
However, there is a skeleton in every fold--I mean to say, a black sheep
in every cupboard. She was undeniably beautiful, and had a romantic
postcard face. Her figure was perfect. Her intelligence was C 3. In a
weak moment she accepted a thinking part in a revue at the "Frivolity,"
and her career ended, as might have been expected, in a shocking
_mesalliance_. She married the Marquis of Beanstrite, and has more than
once appeared on the back page of the "Daily Mail," but that is not
everything. She never sees anything of me now, and it brings the tears
to my eyes when I think what she is missing.

My brothers were all of them sportsmen, but they were seldom at home.
They seemed to feel that they were wanted elsewhere, and they generally
were. You ask any policeman in the Kentish Town district, mentioning my
name, and he will tell you.

There were seventy-three of us all together, of whom eighty-four
survive, including myself. And yet dear papa sometimes seems a little
irritable--I wonder why.

My mamma was quite different from my papa. They were not even of the
same sex. But that so often happens, don't you think?

My father had a curious fancy for naming all his sons after subsequent
winners of the Derby. No doubt it will be said that this is not always
practical; nor is it--the Derby is occasionally won by a gee-gee of the
sex which I have myself adopted, and in those cases the name is
unsuitable for a boy. But if it could be generally done, it would
absolutely preclude any betting on one of our classic races; it would
probably also preclude the race. After all, we do have to be moral in
the intervals, and reclaim factory-girls in the dinner-hour. But I fear
it will never happen--so few men have dear papa's wonderful foresight.

Spearmint, my eldest surviving brother, came much under the influence of
Alexis Chopitoff, and entered the same profession. Simple and
unassuming, no one would have supposed