London Zoological Gardens they seem to enjoy life in a
moderate way, though probably they miss the freedom of the immense
plains of Australia. They are not much run after by the visitors,
though the "sheds" in the Regent's Park collection are always quite
accessible. Why this should be so it is difficult to explain, for the
kangaroos have many points of remarkable interest. Their keeper tells
me that he does not agree with the opinion that they are
unintelligent creatures. Though not so docile and smart as other
inmates of the Gardens, he has succeeded in training the great
kangaroo to perform several tricks. They all recognise him readily,
and do what he tells them. He entered the shed for the purpose of
fetching the female kangaroo out of the house, so that I might see
the baby kangaroo in its mother's pouch. But it so happened that the
father was standing against the door-grating, and he had to be
reasoned with before he would retire to allow the gate to be opened.
But he ultimately obeyed his keeper's instructions. Then he was
bidden to seat himself upright upon his huge tail; and this he did,
remaining quite motionless till he was released by word of command.
The keeper then affected to bestow upon him a gentle cuff on the
head, but each time the hand approached, the head was smartly ducked
under, and the blow thus avoided. On his part, he attempted to give
the keeper a kick, quite in a playful way, but the latter held
himself at arms' length, and so the kangaroo's legs merely brushed
the keeper's coat. On going into the house at the back of the shed,
the mother kangaroo--addressed familiarly "Now, old lady"--was
ordered to come out into the open, and in a few moments the big
animal in two or three graceful bounds appeared in front of the shed,
her little one popping its head out of the pouch, and looking
supremely indifferent about its mother's hops. The kangaroos are not
costly animals to support, and, though their food consists of grain
and some kinds of green stuff, they are rather partial to the bits of
biscuit and bun which visitors offer indiscriminately to every animal
in the Zoo--under the notion that this is the staple food of the
various inmates, of flesh-eaters and grain-eaters alike.

Sydney Smith hit off the distinguishing features of this creature in
his own peculiar style. By a sort of happy exaggeration he described
it as "a monstrous animal, as tall as a grenadier, with the head of a
rabbit, a ta