THE FASHIONABLE ZOOLOGICAL STAR.
We are sorry to see that the Zoological Gardens have lately got into the "Star system." Not content with a good working company of bears and monkeys, they must have particular "Stars" to bring the million in. Some time ago it was a hippopotamus, who made all London run after him. Then there was the baby elephant, who was a source of great interest to mothers. After them followed a chimpanzee, and a serpent-charmer, and a whole forest-full of humming-birds, and we cannot recollect what else. All of them, however, were great attractions in their way; in fact, it may be said that the animals lately have completely taken the shine out of the actors. As the theatres have gradually become more empty, the Zoological Gardens have perceptibly become more crowded. What actor, recently, has had anything like the success that for a whole season ran panting, pushing and squeezing after the Hippopotamus? It was a fight of parasols to get near him—it was a joy greater than that of a new gown. To have seen him! What is the reason of this strange preference? Is it because the public prefer Nature to Art?—or is it because the actors speak, and the animals do not?
However, the "Star system" is not likely to be so ruinous here as at most places of entertainment. We need not say that the Zoological Stars receive no salaries, beyond their board and lodging; and they are not likely to ruin their managers with salaries like those. They are paid regularly every day at the usual feeding hour, and we have not heard of an instance of any animal, no matter how popular he may have been, having struck for more beans, or refusing to make his appearance unless he had a double allowance of paunches.
The latest "Star" at this establishment is the Giant Ant-Eater—that is to say, if you can call him a Star at all, for, with a tail like his, he is much more like a comet. It is indeed a tail!—so long is it, that you imagine it must have been originally published in four-and-twenty numbers, and that they are here all bound up together. And a pretty thick volume it makes too! Daniel O'Connell's "tail" must have been a wisp of straw compared to it. It hangs like a small willow tree—only instead of being green, it is a dark badger colour, and, in texture, resembles some of the long brushes we have seen made of Indian grass. It is as flexible as a party-politician, for it can be turned at will to any side. What is the use of such a tail it would be difficult to say, though as far as that goes, you might as well ask what was the use of a lady's bonnet, for the one is not worn more at the back than the other. When the Ant-Eater lies down to sleep, he throws this voluminous tail, like a Scotch plaid, round him, and we have no doubt it keeps him very warm. So, you see, it is of some use after all; and, for what we know, as he comes from a very warm climate, the Ant-Eater may use his tail in the summer to fan himself with. We are told that he is met with in the plains of the Brazils; but, from his habit of spreading his thick hedge of a tail all over his body, we should say that he was much oftener found in the Bush. In fact, it is a complete furs-bush—extending out nearly to the same length as his body. He is a curious animal, take him altogether. In shape he reminds you somewhat of a German pig, which 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 particularly disagreeable during the night to the poor Chimpanzee who lives in the next cage to him. We tried very hard to dive into the Ant-Eater's thoughts; but, with all our diving, could not bring up any satisfactory proof whether the beast was aware of the great popularity he had suddenly rushed into. Like Byron, we suppose he awoke one morning, and found himself famous. Let him not be too conceited, for "Stars" rise and fall at the Zoological just as quickly as at other places.
"Missus has sent some new-laid Ants' Eggs for the Mummy-cough-ague Jewbeater." [Myrmecophaga Jubata. Anglice: Ant-Eater.]