The Giraffe.
eaving our friends the squirrels, to whom we have certainly devoted quite sufficient attention, we pass along to quite a different race of animals—that of the giraffe or camelopard. This is a noble-looking animal, as you see plainly enough by the engraving. The tongue of the giraffe is exquisitely contrived for grasping. In its native deserts, the animal uses it to hook down branches which are beyond the reach of its muzzle; and in the menagerie at Regent's Park, many a fair lady has been robbed of the artificial flowers which adorned her bonnet, by the nimble and filching tongue of the rare object of her admiration. When attacked, notwithstanding the natural defence of horns and hoofs, the camelopard always seeks escape in flight, and will not turn to do battle except at the last extremity. In such cases, he sometimes makes a successful defence by striking out his powerful armed feet; and the king of beasts is frequently repelled and disabled by the wounds which the giraffe has thus inflicted with his hoofs. His horns are also used with effect, and a side-long sweep of his neck sometimes does fatal execution.
Some years ago, a giraffe was sent from Egypt to Constantinople. His keeper used to exercise him in an open square, where the Turks flocked daily, in great crowds, to see the extraordinary animal. Seeing how inoffensive he was, and how domestic he became, the keeper took the animal with him through the city; and wherever he appeared, a number of friendly hands were held out of the latticed windows, to offer him something to eat. When he came to a house where he had been well treated, if no one was at the window, he would tap gently against the wooden lattice, as if to announce his visit. He was extremely docile and affectionate; and if left to himself, he always frequented the streets where he had the most and best friends.