hich is
not the most elegant object a person can meet with on a long day's
journey; only a German pig would be an English greyhound in symmetry by
the side of him. The Ant-Eater is as hairy as a goat, and all along the
ridge of his neck he carries a long frill of hair that stands upright,
short and thick, like a long plate-brush turned upside down. Then the
hair falls down his front legs, taking the form of a pair of black
top-boots. These front legs look at first like hoofs, for the nails, the
length of which any woman of spirit would envy, are turned underneath,
and the noise he makes in walking upon them sounds exactly as if he had
got clogs on. His snout, also, is extremely peculiar, being admirably
adapted, from its length and narrowness, for getting the marrow out of a
marrow-bone. It is longer than any cucumber reared by a penny-a-liner,
only gradually tapering towards the end, in which is enclosed the
tongue, to which it seems to act as a sort of case.

This case is made of bone; and, really, when the tongue issues from it,
it looks like some very fine surgical instrument that had shot out of
its case upon a spring being touched. We hardly know what to compare the
snout to, unless it is a very long and thin strawberry pottle, that some
wicked boys have been tying over his mouth. This strawberry pottle is
his only feature, for his eyes are so small that they are rather eyelet
holes than eyes; but then, in its great bounty it more than balances,
and leaves a large surplus over, for the miserable poverty of his other
features. We know of no other animal that could be so easily led by the
nose. As for his coat, the hair on it takes various colours. You remark
a long stripe of red running by the side of a long stripe of black or
yellow. The colours, on his breast particularly, are as distinct, and
the lines as sharply marked, as the different-coloured grains you see
arranged in a seedsman's window. The poor animal looks remarkably
stupid, but happy. He wanders about his cage in a very inquiring manner,
looking for his blessed ants, whom he cannot find anywhere, and making
with his claws the noise of a French peasant walking in wooden shoes. He
leads a very fashionable life, being up generally all night, and
sleeping all day. There his accomplishments seem to begin and end; for
he does not sing, nor bray, nor bark, nor low, nor whistle, nor make any
noise whatever, except the one with his toe-nails, which must be
part