“See here!” exclaimed Whiskerandos, half pettishly, as we passed a pond with a curious wire-fence all round it. “What a dainty breakfast we should make of some of the delicate young water-fowl, but for the extraordinary care which has been taken to shut us out! We can look in, to be sure, and see our prey, but the ducks do not even flutter, or move a wing, so secure are they that we cannot reach them!”
The season being winter, we were unable to see many animals from tropical climes, whose health would have suffered from exposure to cold. I however regretted this but little. The white bear was shaking his shaggy coat, the wolf pacing uneasily up and down his den, birds pluming their feathers in the dull red light, while the monkeys’ ceaseless jabber sounded from the walls of their prison.
“Whiskerandos,” said I to my guide, “I care little for making acquaintance with cats, whether they be little or big; but if any foreigners of the race of Mus be kept here, might I request you to introduce me to them?”
Whiskerandos pointed with his nose towards a building. “You will find relations there,” he said, “some of the forty-six classes of our race, known by the family likeness in their teeth.[1] For me, I’m going to pay a visit to the monkeys’ house; I’m sure there to find some provision, always a matter of importance to a rat. The door is shut, but I’ll not trouble the keeper to open it for me!” So saying, with wonderful agility he began to climb the building, and soon vanished through a hole in the roof.
Food was to me a subject of at least as great importance as to Whiskerandos. Even my curiosity had to wait attendance on my appetite. I was fortunate, however, in discovering half a bun, which had probably been dropped by some child; and cheered and refreshed I proceeded to the building in which I was to make my affectionate search for distant relations. I carefully examined the walls, till I discovered a hole, probably made by some rat of the place, and through this I entered the house, and proceeded at once with eagerness to a small barred division, from whence a feeble squeak proceeded.
[1)] I am not aware whether the Zoological Gardens at present contain specimens of the curious rats described in the following chapter.
[ CHAPTER VII.]
FINDING RELATIONS.
“Well, this is at length such weather as a creature may live and breathe in! I’ve been half stifled all the autumn with the heat, but now the fresh keen air seems like a breeze from my own dear Lapland!”
“Lapland! oh! there is nothing like Lapland,” said a very dolorous voice in reply. I lifted up my eyes to get a glimpse of the speaker.
Within the cage were two beautiful little Lemmings, (I learnt their name afterwards as well as those of other inhabitants of the place.) They were not much more than half my size, had pointed heads, very short tails, and whiskers uncommonly long. Their coats were black and tawny, but yellowish-white beneath. I heard subsequently that their race inhabit Siberia, Norway, and other cold climes, moving in large bodies like locusts, and like locusts eating up every thing green. But this pair, as was evident from their conversation, had been natives of a country called Lapland.