Ere taking leave of my readers, I must say a few words as to introducing animals of different species to each other. A very brief notice, comprised under one or two heads, will suffice. First, let each animal be perfectly and individually under your control. Secondly, do not put the strangers into the same cage all at once, but put them into a cage partitioned by an iron railing, in which leave them for a few weeks, until you begin to perceive that they have made each other’s acquaintance, and may be trusted together; and do you enter the cage with them when first brought together, and visit the least symptom of hostility with instant and effective chastisement. They should not at first be left together entirely, but only for an hour or two each day while it is convenient to you to attend. By and bye, when they become sufficiently familiarized, you need be under no apprehension. When two animals have been brought together, it will be comparatively easy and safe to introduce a third, then a fourth, and so on; the safety increasing in proportion to their numbers. Make it also your business to select your animals with judgment. To an old leopard introduce a young lion, for instance, because the leopard will, in consequence of the youth of his new acquaintance, crow over him, and aid you in subduing him. This advantage, to be gained by observing dissimilarity of ages, is by no means to be overlooked, as it is a powerful agent in the work of domestication and association of the different species of animals. When one animal is of a timid kind—the natural prey probably of the other, which latter is fierce and powerful—you have nothing to do but to make the more powerful animal afraid of its timid and defenceless companion. This may be done in various modes, just as the time or opportunities may suggest. A simple illustration may serve. Take a young cat and put her into a cage. Take a rat’s or a mouse’s skin, and fill it with hot scalding bran; throw it to the cat, and when she runs at it, take hold of her and thrust the hot skin into her mouth; keep it there for a minute till she is well burned, and you have rendered that cat ever afterwards harmless towards mice, at least towards such as you may introduce to her; a wild one which she met with at large might fare differently, though I hardly think she would even attempt to injure it. Treat a bird-skin in this manner, and, after the scalding, tie it for a while around puss’s neck, and you have secured your aviary from molestation. Sometimes the first experiment of this kind is not successful. When such is the case, however, be not disheartened, but repeat it; and one or two such inflictions cannot fail being effective. You may thus have cats, rats, mice, birds, &c., &c., all in one cage; a curiosity I have often beheld, and which I have myself succeeded in forming in the manner I have described.
Let not the reader who may endeavour to put the above rules in practice be disheartened by a little difficulty at starting. The power of nature is strong, and it is not until after a long and severe course of training that art can expect to overcome it. Let, therefore, the experimenter ever bear in mind the extraordinary force of nature, and the vast labour necessary to keep it in abeyance; and in order that he should do so, I shall tell him the following anecdote:—
“Cecco maintained that nature was more potent than art, while Dante asserted the contrary. To prove his principle the great Italian bard referred to his cat, which by repeated practice he had taught to hold a candle in its paw while he supped or read. Cecco desired to witness the experiment, and came not unprepared for his purpose. When Dante’s cat was performing its part, Cecco lifted up the lid of a pot which he had filled with mice; the creature of art instantly showed the weakness of a talent merely acquired, and, dropping the candle, sprang on the mice with all its instinctive propensity. Dante was himself disconcerted; and it was adjudged that the advocate for the occult principle of natural faculties had gained his cause.” Bear this anecdote therefore in mind. Do not forget the power of natural instinct, even over the most careful artificial training; and let it be your anxious care to keep far distant every circumstance that might provoke the awakening of the one, or tend to shake or to subvert the influence of the other.
This short sketch has, I trust, given my readers an insight into the mode by which Van Amburgh and his rivals perform their wonders; and I can assure them, that by following the principles I have here laid down, they may themselves, if they choose, equal in their own private menageries the performances of those public exhibitors.
H. D. R.
Philosophy.—Philosophy can add to our happiness in no other manner but by diminishing our misery: it should not pretend to increase our present stock, but make us economists of what we are possessed of. The great source of calamity lies in regret or anticipation; he therefore is most wise who thinks of the present alone, regardless of the past or future. This is impossible to a man of pleasure; it is difficult to the man of business, and is in some degree attainable by the philosopher. Happy were we all born philosophers—all born with a talent of thus dissipating our own cares by spreading them upon all mankind.—Goldsmith.
There are but two means in the world of gaining by other men—by being either agreeable or useful.
Artificial modesty disparages a woman’s real virtue as much as the use of paint does the natural complexion.
It is a common fault never to be satisfied with our fortune, nor dissatisfied with our understanding.—Rochefoucault.
A prison is a grave to bury men alive.—Mynshul.