ich I became acquainted. He lived in an old
picture-book, and would nowadays be considered quite out of fashion by
up-to-date ostriches, having webbed feet and an improper number of toes.
I like to believe that feet of this sort were popular among ostriches at
that time, being loath to destroy early beliefs. From the same cause, I
have other little private superstitions about the ostrich; there was no
ostrich, so far as I can remember, in my Noah's ark, whence I derive my
conviction that the species cannot have existed at the time of the
Deluge, but has been evolved, in the succeeding centuries, by a gradual
approach and assimilation of the several characteristics of the camel
and the goose.

The two ostriches here, at the Zoo, have no pet names bestowed on them
by the keepers. This is inconvenient, not to say unfair. They have been
placed, it will be observed, in the stables hitherto occupied by the
late lamented giraffes. It is a striking and notable instance of care
and the sense of fitness of things on the part of the Society. These
stables, they probably reflected, have all along been fitted with
tenants twenty feet high--queer tenants, which were often called
camelopards. We can't replace these with similar tenants, unfortunately,
but we will do our best with animals as high as possible and with all
available neck; and they shall be camel-geese. And here they are; a few
feet short, unavoidably, but as high as possible; quite the equivalent
of the giraffes so far as concerns the camel, and as much superior as
one may consider a goose to a leopard. And here you may stand and watch
them, or sit. And you may watch, if you please, for the coming of the
giraffes which the Society are now anxious to buy, or for the wandering
wraiths of those dead, dispossessed, and indignant. Meantime inventing
names for the two camel-geese--let us say Atkinson and Pontius Pilate.

[Illustration: ATKINSON DOZES.]

[Illustration: HIGH KICKS.]

I like to stand by Atkinson till he dozes. Atkinson is a fine, big
fellow, and when he squats down his head is in a convenient position for
observation. Presently he gapes; then his eyes shut, and his beak
droops--just a very little. Then the beak droops a little more, and
signs of insecurity appear about the neck. Very soon a distinct
departure from the vertical is visible in that neck; it melts down
ruinously till almost past recovery, and then suddenly springs erect,
carrying an open-eyed hea