THE GIRAFFE.

[From a Correspondent.]

The interesting animal you alluded to in your Magazine of 30th June, and which made so unfortunate a journey to England, was an old acquaintance of mine. I happened to be at Malta when it arrived in that island from Egypt. The Governor, Sir F. Ponsonby, provided it with a very pleasant and appropriate lodging in the grounds of the villa of Sant’ Antonio, where I saw it several times with its two African keepers, who had attended it so far. The sultry, dry climate of Malta seemed to agree very well with it. There were no trees on that arid rock tall enough to require the length of his neck—the tallest at Sant’ Antonio were not much higher than its legs, and it was exceedingly pretty to see with what grace the creature bent its long, elastic neck, and brought its small, deer-like head, to play with their topmost branches. It only played with them. The Africans fed him regularly with some sort of dry provender, and when they appeared he was accustomed to show considerable animation; but I never saw it so forgetful of its dignity as to run—on the contrary, it walked up to them with very stately steps. Its eye then was particularly bright and beautiful, and the whole appearance of the animal was indeed very different from what I have heard described after its arrival in England.

The day it was embarked it did not look so well as usual. It was put on board a large, new merchant brig only lately built at Malta. When it was in the hold, with its feet almost on the brig’s keel, it could stretch its neck out of the main hatch-way, and command all the deck with its head. It seemed greatly astonished, but remained as tranquil as possible. I never heard it make the least noise. When the sailors went near it, it drew in its head, but seemed to protrude it with pleasure when its old companions and countrymen, the Africans, approached it.

At Constantinople, on one side of the Hippodrome, there is a menagerie, now very ill provided,—dark, filthy, and much neglected. Some years ago a giraffe was sent from Egypt to enrich the collection of beasts then existing there. Its keeper was accustomed to take it to exercise in the large open square of the Hippodrome, where the Turks used to flock daily in great crowds, to cultivate the acquaintance of the extraordinary quadruped. Seeing how perfectly inoffensive it was, and how domesticated it became, the keeper next used to take it with him on his walks through the city, and wherever the general favourite appeared, a number of friendly hands were held out of the gazebos, or projecting latticed windows, to offer it something to eat. The Turkish women were particularly attentive to it. The generality of the streets at Constantinople are so narrow, that, as it walked along the middle, its neck being inflected to the right or to the left, it could almost touch the houses. After some time, when it came to a house where it had been particularly well treated, if no one was at the window, it would gently tap against the wooden lattice, as though to announce its visit. It was extremely docile and easily directed, but if left to itself, it was observed invariably to take the street in which it had the most or the best friends. This pet of the Turkish capital died a long time before my arrival, but an old servant I had, told me the anecdote.

The old traveller, Marco Polo, says he was told of the existence of camelopards, or giraffes, in the island of Madagascar on the coast of Africa, and in Abyssinia. It does not appear that he saw any specimen, but he describes its principal features very accurately.

C. m