ners found something to praise in my brute strength, and in the speed with which I worked. There were never politer people than the peasantry of the Italian Alps. Valvognian farming strikes the stranger as being like gardening-the careful tending of small beds and single plants. The contadine find time also for a little flower culture. Poppies, lupins, larkspurs, flox, stocks, geraniums, sunflowers, all kinds of chrysanthemums, marigolds, carnations, and many other blossoms, are here brighter in color, handsomer, sweeter scented, than ever they grow north of the Alps. The contadine make great friends with their cows, and the little beasts are responsive. Each has her name. I know a "Spain," "Italia," "Sardinia," and "France" among the cattle. "Bianca," "Bella," "Bellina," are common names. As they are driven out to pasture, and constantly guarded, they become real pets. When addressed by name, and adjured to "come here" (off the neighbor's land), to "go there" (up steps to a scrap of grazing-ground on a little rocky table, or, harder still, down steps into their stable), “not to steal the beans," "not to tread down the winter oats," they understand and obey. In the cold weather, part of the story devoted to the cows is separated from the rest by a wooden settle, a railing, or a row of chairs; and this partitioned portion becomes the living-room of the family. The cooking-stove is there, "for," said a contadina, "a fire, in any case, there must be for the cow in the hard weather;" and it is evidently felt that the cattle are wholesome, warm, agreeable neighbors-company of which to be fond and proud. An eight-year-old boy, taking his pleasure in the Valle Vogna, had caught the local feeling regarding the kine, for when leaving Casa Janzo he went up to each of the cows belonging to the hotel keeper, and said, kissing good-bye to them, one by one: "To-day I am going away, Valsesia! To-day I am going away, Rosa!"-and so on through the whole file of dairy cattle. CLARE SOREL STRONG. From The Cornhill Magazine. HOW TO SEE THE ZOO. From the early days when George IV. presented his wild animals at Windsor Castle and the Tower to the new Zoological Gardens, the menagerie in Regent's Park has aimed at being something more than a collection of live specimens kept for the benefit of the learned society whose headquarters are in Hanover Square. The original founders of the Zoo-men like Sir Stamford Raffles and Sir Humphry Davy-believed that by importing wild species and showing them to the public they could encourage serious efforts at To-day natural history is valued for its acclimatization. own sake; and the society endeavors to exhibit its collections in the most attractive form, and with a degree of public spirit which justifies its claim to be a national institution. On the other hand, the growth of the menagerie, which now usually contains some twenty-five hundred creatures, and covers thirty-one acres of ground, makes the question of how to see the Zoo less easy to answer than when the grounds were confined to one corner of Regent's Park. The Middle Garden, cut off from this by the road, and the North Garden, divided from the Middle Garden by the canal crossed only by a single bridge at one end, are isolated by artificial barriers, and can only be explored separately, and without refer ence to the contents of the large Southern Garden. Those who have a definite object in visiting the Zoo can usually obtain the necessary information at the entrance. The "location" of any new specimens is always known to the gate-keepers, and a reference to the plan in the guidebook shows the way. But the pleasantest form of a visit to the Zoo is to wander at large, equipped with adequate knowledge of its geography, and to use it like a big library on a wet day, for sipping and tasting, glancing at all that is attractive and leaving out the dull volumes. There is a small side gate leading from the Broad Walk straight into the gardens near the south corner. This is within two minutes' walk of the lionhouse, the cattle sheds, the reptilehouse, the seals, wolves, and many of the deer, and the visitor gets among objects of interest without preface or waste of time. If he turn to the left on entering, he finds himself at once in contact with one of the earliest successes of the Gardens, the pheasantries, and a few yards beyond is the latest and best innovation, the new reptile-house. The left of the path is lined with Himalayan and Chinese pheasants, beautiful in themselves, and specially interesting to members of the Zoological Society. The ringed pheasants were acclimatized in 1855, and are now the dominant species in English preserves; and a far larger and more beautiful species, Reeve's pheasant, is breeding in the North, in numbers sufficient for it to be shot like an ordinary game-bird. The first specimens of the Indian species, such as the Amherst pheasant, Monaul, and Impeyan pheasant, were brought from India by the Society in 1855, most of them being forwarded by the Resident at Darjeeling. In the next year a further consignment, including Cheer pheasants, Impeyan pheasants, and three varieties of the Kaleege pheasant, were imported, and the Impeyans and purple Kaleeges laid eggs as soon as they arrived, and hatched their broods in September. Lord Can、 ning was preparing to send a much larger collection over when the Indian Mutiny broke out and gave the governor-general something else to think about. But those at the Zoo increased and multiplied, and became the ancestors of the present European stock, now found in most aviaries and pheasantries, both in scientific collections and at large country houses. The reptile-house, which adjoins the pheas antry, is perhaps the most continuously interesting of all the departments of the menagerie. Perpetual summer reigns there, for the temperature must be maintained at a constant heat both in summer and winter, and as it is solidly built of brick, there is little difficulty in doing this, even in the hardest frosts, The construction and arrangement of the glass cages are also modern and good, and the snakes can be seen to the best advantage both in movement and repose. The larger snakes and lizards are among the most long-lived animals in the Zoo; consequently, the process of change of occupants which is constantly upsetting the calculations of the visitor to some of the houses in the Gardens takes place very slowly, and it is possible to write with confidence not only of what may be seen to-day in the reptile-house, but of what will probably be its population for some time to come. The venomous snakes will always be found at the top of the room, to the left as the visitor enters. Their cages are of special construction, the doors in the iron shutter at the back being placed high up, so that food may be introduced without danger to the keepers, while the doors of the other compartments are on the ground level. Four of these cages are of special interest, containing what are by common consent the most deadly and the most dreaded creatures in the animal creation-the puff-adder, the king cobra, the common Indian cobra, and the rattlesnake. The puff-adder of South Africa is the most repulsive in appearance of all the snakes. One of those in the collection is perhaps the largest ever seen in Europe. Its body is swollen and flattened, of uniform thickness till within a few inches of the end of the tail, which tapers off suddenly to a blunt point. The head is flat, as if it had been crushed, and, though wholly undisturbed in its glass and iron cage, it has a habit of covering its body with dust and shingle, in which it lies absolutely motionless. This state of sluggish repose is the normal condition of this snake. Confident in its powers of offence, it does not move even when it sees man approaching, and its invisibility constitutes one of its chief dangers. The rattlesnakes and cobras are far more interesting from the spectator's point of view. Of the former there are said to be two species in North America, and a third in Guiana and Brazil. Those in the Zoo are of the larger North American species, and though not of the greatest size-Catesby "I thought for a moment it was a rattlesays that in Carolina he saw one nearly snake." eight feet long-they are far thicker and heavier for their length than the cobras. It is as well to ask the keeper to go be hind the cages and disturb these snakes, in order to hear the "rattle." This sound has no exact counterpart in nature, and when once heard, even at the Zoo, is never forgotten. The snakes do not move readily, but if poked up by the keeper's rod they crawl out of reach, and it will be noticed that the end of the tail is slightly raised. The thick glass front deadens any slight noise, such as the shifting of the shingle or the opening of the doors behind, but insensibly there falls on the ear a sound like the rush of water in a hydraulic pipe, or the rattle of a bag of shot poured out upon a dish. The vibrations of the sound are extremely rapid, and it is not in the least apparent that it proceeds from the snake. Those who hear it often look back into the room to localize the sound, and it is not till the eye is fixed on the end of the snake's tail that the source of the rushing noise is seen. The whitey-grey rattle is in intensely rapid motion, not waving to and fro, but quivering as if galvanized. The rattle seems an involuntary accompaniment of anger or agitation on the part of the snake-like the flush of anger on some human faces-and goes on for some time after the disturbing cause has been removed. The way in which this sound gets on the nerves of American explorers was curiously illus trated some years ago at the Zoo. Mr. Anderson, the celebrated traveller and hunter, was sitting with Mr. Bartlett discussing some recent adventures among big game, when a parrot, which was sitting unnoticed in a cage at the back of the room, suddenly woke up, and shook its feathers, as a sleepy parrot does on awakening. No sooner did the sharp rustling sound, coming from behind, fall on the explorer's ear than, with the instinct bred of camp life on the prairies, he sprang up, and away from the noise. "What is the matter?" asked his host. "Oh, it is only your bird, I see," replied the traveller: The cobras are almost as beautifulMedusa's head was beautiful in its way-as the puff-adders are hideous. The Indian cobras vary much in tint. The Hindoos say that the light-colored cobras are "high-caste" snakes. Some of those at the Zoo must be very "high caste," for when they are irritated, and coil, spread their hoods, and prepare to strike, the hood is almost white, and the "spectacle" mark a bright mauve. The writer has seen three of these snakes, all erect at the same time and striking at the keeper's rod. The blow is delivered downwards, like the peck of some long-necked bird. Cobra tradition, as we now hear it, is so entirely derived from Indian sources that it is sometimes forgotten that they are also common in Africa. There are South African cobras at the Zoo, as well as Cleopatra's asp, which is a miniature cobra, and can expend its hood like the Indian species. The "asps," or horned cerastes, are kept in small glass boxes on the stands to the left of the entrance to the snake-house, and mimic exactly the color of the sand on which they lie. The danger from venomous snakesmainly the different species of cobra in North Africa-seems to have presented the same difficulty to the Romans, when they occupied these once populous provinces, as it does now to the government of India. Lucan, in the "Pharsalia," says that when the army of Cato was encamped in Africa, in the final struggle with Cæsar after the murder of Pompey, the deaths from poisonous snakes caused much discouragement among the troops. The aid of a native race, called the Psylli, who were professional snake-charmers, was called in to protect the legionaries. They marched round the camp chanting mystic songs, and then ordered fires to be lighted at night round the lines. When the men were bitten they used charms, but also sucked the wounds and anointed them with saliva. They themselves were proof against snakebite, a fact which is now believed to be true of several of these "snake-healing' tribes, who swallow the poison, and obtain protection by internal inoculation. It would be interesting to know whether the descendants of the Psylli are still living near Tunis, for the snakes themselves have survived in numbers. The tribe had clearly existed from the days of Moses and the Pharaoh of the Exodus till those of Cæsar, and was well known to Pliny, Celsus, and Lucan. The great “king cobra,” in the cage next to the puff-adder, lives entirely on snakes caught for it in England. The greater number come from Hampshire, where they are captured by the last of the English snake-charmers, "Brusher" Mills, the adder-catcher of the New Forest, for whom the advent of the king cobra at the Zoo has opened up a profitable market for the disposal of the common snakes, which he catches when adder-hunting. The boas, pythons, and harmless snakes occupy the whole length of the wall opposite the entrance. Apart from their size, and the interesting fact that one of the boas ate his companion a year ago, there are two points of exceptional interest to be noted in a visit to these snakes - the extreme beauty of the coloring of the boas and pythons when they have newly shed their skin, and the method of movement of the great snakes when climbing. Neither admits of adequate description in words; but inquiry should always be made of the keepers whether any specimen has newly shed its skin; and if a boa has a fit of tree-climbing-the pythons are less addicted to this exercise-it is perhaps better worth observing than any sight in the Zoo except the submarine flight of the diving birds. The snakes are never fed in public; but many of the lizards, large and small, and the manatee in the tank, should be observed when at meals. The keepers are usually willing to show a sensible visitor the cameleons catching a fly, or the big monitor lizard swallowing an egg, and neither is a sight to be missed. Another creature, a large water-turtle known as Temminck's Snapper. is most interesting before its meals. When it feels hungry it opens its mouth. From the muddy-colored tongue little projections like leeches or mud-worms project and wave about, as an inducement to small fish to swim into its jaws in the hopes of a meal. This natural fish-trap is the most complete equipment for getting an easy living possessed by any animal, and is lazier than even the methods of the Mussulman paradise, where the trees grow with the tops downwards that "true believers" may not have the trouble of climbing them to pick the fruit. The reptile-house is as well worth a separate visit at our Zoo as is the aquarium at that of Amsterdam. The above notes by no means cover its attractions; the smaller snakes, the iguanas, the heloderm or poisonous lizard, the Surinam toads with egghatching apparatus on their backs, and the collection of tropical frogs of astonishing forms and colors, from the toad of La Plata, which looks like a lump of mud covered with duckweed, eats live birds, and is said to poison horses by its bite, to the tiny green tree-frogs, are in many respects as interesting as the poisonous snakes or the giant constrictors. Close to the reptile-house are the lionhouse, the cattle sheds, the wolves and foxes' cages, and further along the southern boundary the sea-lion and seals, the sea-gulls' pond, and the "piggery," the home of the wild boars, whom the writer never willingly misses seeing and presenting with some food. In visiting the cattle sheds, it is as well to ask Waterman, the keeper of the cattle, what young animals are in the stables, behind the main line of stalls and yards. Recently the interesting experiments in hybridizing wild cattle, which marked the early days of the Zoo, have been renewed, and a curious cross between the bull yak and zebu cow obtained. It was a shaggy black creature. in which the yak features and fur predominated. Young yaks, which sell for 30%. apiece, trotting oxen, young buffalos, and other wild cattle may generally be seen in the beautifully clean stalls, piled with clover hay and strewn with fine sawdust. The purebred Chartley bull was killed by Lord Ferrers's orders, but his descendants, bred from the wild white cattle of Bangor, are always to be seen at close quarters in the inner stable. The bull, which would take a first prize at any show, is not so mild as he looks. Last winter he attacked his keeper when he was in the yard, jumping "all-fours off," and then charging him. Though he nimbly climbed the railings, he was helped over the last foot or so by the bull's broad muzzle. Seen in this way the cattle sheds remind one of some Norfolk stock farm, with wild creatures in place of shorthorns and Jerseys. Waterman is an ideally good stockkeeper, and not only manages all his varied cattle-buffalo, bison, gayals, yaks, and hybrids-with great skill and sympathy, but also has much interesting information as to their tempers, habits, and suitability for domestication. The great loss in this part of the collection is the death of the giant aurochs, the European bison, which has not yet been replaced. He was a primeval giant, far larger than the American bull bison which survived him. Those who desire to see the latter with his "buffalo robe" on must go in the winter. In summer the back and sides are nearly bare of fur, and the mane thin and shabby. The lion-house is so well arranged for the exhibition of its inmates that there are almost no difficulties in the way of observing them, but on the rare occasions on which any of the Felida have cubs at the Zoo, they are very jealous of visitors and nearly always make the cubs stay in the sleeping den until the Gardens are closed. The old puma who had a family last year used to do this, only bringing the cubs out to play and climb after closing time. If permission can be had to go into the passage behind the cages, the cubs may then be seen through the peephole in the shutter behind, lying at a distance of a few feet. The cubs do not know they are being watched, and behave like kittens in a basket. Those who have time should sit and watch the movements and at titudes of the lions when out in their summer cages. They constantly assume poses grander than any that sculptors have yet attributed to them. The writer has seen Mr. Gambier Bolton, F.R.S., the celebrated photographer of wild animals, sitting there by the hour, with his camera beside him, to photograph each new and characteristic attitude. To watch Mr. Gambier Bolton is to learn how to see the Zoo from another point of view than that common to ordinary or even scientific visitors. He is concerned, not with the habits, but with the form, appearance, and attitudes of animals. He has studied them in captivity in every Zoo in Europe and America, and after visiting their haunts when wild in India and the Straits Settlements, has now departed for Central Africa, armed with his camera, for a like purpose. In photographing the Zoo lions Mr. Bolton steps lightly on to the iron rail which surrounds the outdoor cages, holds the camera under his right arm, and raises the left hand, at the same time making a slight "chirp," which seems to interest the ears of any one of the Felidæ, and to make them look animated. Before concluding this brief notice of how a crack photographer sees the Zoo, it is worth mentioning that it is as well to measure the reach of a tiger's claws before putting one's head under the camera-curtain. Mr. Gambier Bolton has one of these, rather a smart plush curtain, lined with silk, with a hole through it. The puncture is neatly inked round on the inner side, and marked "Tiger's claw, San Francisco." The tiger reached out between the bars, and struck his claw through, about two inches from Mr. Bolton's forehead. Not being a photographer, the writer generally amuses himself by experi ments on cats, large and small, with lavender water spilt on cotton wool. Some of the lions and leopards are cer tain to show the greatest delight in the scent. On the last occasion on which the writer tried the experiment, he was accompanied by a venerable prelate of the Church of England, not less accomplished as a naturalist and in the |