was nowhere to be found; it had probably escaped through the aperture of the wound.

I have since learned that it is the custom of fishermen, in some parts of England, when they catch a shark, dog-fish, grampus, porpoise, or other enemy who is apt to damage their nets, to put the poor beast’s eyes out. I trust, however, this custom is not universally prevalent among our fishermen. It is an un-English action and, if they were spoken to quietly and properly on the subject, I am sure these poor but honest fellows would leave off this horrid, cruel custom, which I dare say

owes its origin to some queer tradition, or piece of folk lore, but it is none the less cruel for that.

Information was, however, obtained from our experiences with this porpoise which may be expressed in the following formula. A living porpoise may travel many miles by railway, with no water, and be sold at Billingsgate; may puff and blow for many hours on a marble slab in Bond Street; may spend a night in some sea-water made by a chemist according to human formula, and not fresh from Nature’s own laboratory may ride in a cart to the Zoological Gardens; may bleed profusely from wounds received on his fins and tail; may receive a scalp wound on the head, and have his eyes put out, and yet survive for many hours.

Mr. Bartlett and myself therefore conceived the greatest hopes that, by perseverance, we should one

clay be enabled to get a live “ sea-pig ” to the Gardens. I consequently wrote to friends at the sea-side, and at the same time put notices in the u public journals ” to request those who had the opportunity would secure a live porpoise, and Mr. Bartlett or myself would come and fetch it up to London.

In answer to one of my letters I received a communication from Mr. Briscoe, of Southsea, who told me that he had placed up on the sea-shore, near Portsmouth, the following:

NOTICE TO SICK POBPOISES.

If Visiting this Beach, their carriage to London will he paid.

A Doctor will be in attendance, and Medicine, in the shape of No end of Grog, will be found. Please land early. Apply to Prank T. Buckland, Regents Parle Barraclcs. 2nd Life Guards.

Unfortunately, no porpoise availed himself of the above advantages; but I received from some kind

poet the following neat distich:

POBCULUS MABINIS E PBOPUNDIS.

Who brought me from the briny wave?

Who with his kindness killed my corpus?

Who found me a fresh-water grave,

And popped me into it? poor porpoise!

Quis me marinis fluctibus abstulit? Vita quis almis artibus expulit? Quis porculo ponti salini Hoc fluviale dedit sepulchrum?

Who stuffed me with his bits of fat? And standing where the eider-duck land,

Who tantalised me with a sprat? Who cut me open, eh? F k B——-d.

Quis mi refersit corpora pinguibus Frustis? quis ora stans anatori& Spe piscis emovit recessu? Viscera quis patefecit? Idem

We had to wait for a porpoise till March the following year, when, on the 14th, I received a telegram from Mr. Dutton, of Eastbourne (who had kindly been looking out for me for some time), that a live porpoise was waiting my arrival on the Brighton beach. I went down to fetch him for the Zoological Gardens, but— When I got there, The beach was bare, And, lo! the poor porpoise was dead.

It appears that the fishermen had seen the reward of 21. offered for a live specimen, and had caught one on Thursday morning in a seine-net, with considerable difficulty. They placed him in a boat which they filled

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with sea-water. He was alive on Thursday night at 12 p.m., but was dead on Friday morning. The men thought some mischievous person had killed him by placing the finger in the blow-hole. So I returned to London sad and porpoiseless.

The third porpoise arrived at the Gardens in October following. On hearing of his arrival, I forthwith hastened to pay my respects. I found our new specimen (about 4 feet long and 33 inches round the chest) in the pond with the sturgeon. The sturgeon seemed terribly jealous of the porpoise being put into his pond, and swam about the bottom, and round and round, looking as savage as a fish can look. He kept at a safe distance from the intruder into his rightful domain; and when the porpoise was at one side of the pond, you might be quite certain that the sturgeon was at exactly

the opposite point in the circle. I expect the poor sturgeon was troubled not only by his visitor flopping round and round like a horse in a mill, and disturbing the water all day with his rudder-like tail, but that he was kept awake at night by the snoring of the porpoise for if his marine visitor made such a noise breathing in the ordinary way during the daytime, what must have been the frightful consequence of his stertorous

breathing at night? This porpoise was much fatigued by his journey. He left Boston, in Lincolnshire, at 7 a.m. in a

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railway train, and he had, on arrival, been nearly eight

hours out of water. Mr. James Martin, of WigtofF, near Boston, sent him down, carefully wrapped up in a wet blanket and surrounded with wet grass. Plenty of water was also sent, and this was from time to time poured on his back, to keep his skin and blow-holes moist.

When placed in the pond, he sailed round and round the margin, with his head half out of water. Mr. Bartlett thought he did this because he was in a strange place, just as a wild bird or beast, when fresh caught,

beats himself against the bars of his cage.

We hoped that the porpoise would soon find out that he had come into the hands of friends, and that he would be well treated; and we trusted that in a day or two he would begin to feed, and take example from the good behaviour of his comrade the sturgeon.

The respirations, or blowings, of this porpoise were something between a cough and a sneeze; elegantly described by a cabman as u one cold catched on the top of t’other.” The jet of air he sent forth from his blow-hole, as in the first porpoise, felt warm to the

hand. I had, however, only one fear—the porpoise did not open his eyes once all the time I was looking at him otherwise, he seemed in perfect health; but we did not like to bother and disturb him by examining them.

I wrote a short notice in the “ Times” to call the

attention of the public to this porpoise in the sturgeon’s pond, thinking that there was a good chance of his

living. It seems a very curious thing, but it is a fad that all the live porpoises that we have had at the Gardens have done very well, and shown every possible sign of good health and longevity till I wrote to the “ Times ” to give notice to the public of their arrival. The notice being 'published, the various porpoises have invariably had their spite out against me by dying immediately, and this without due notice to their lawful act on the part ofproprietors—a most unwarrantable beasts about whose well-being we all cared so much and took so much trouble. This third porpoise (from Lincolnshire) was no exception to the above rule, for he lived several days, and then immediately he was announced in the “ fashionable arrivals” columns in the daily papers he died forthwith, and thus disappointed many a visitor who came expressly to the Gardens to see him.

Among the disappointed visitors was the late lamented Mr. Thackeray, who in “Punch”* a few days afterwards published the following admirable

Seo “ Punch,” October 31, 1863. Thenco copied into the “Times,”

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304 thackeray’s elegy on the porpoise.

ELEGY ON THE POEPOISE.

EY THE STURGEON.

Dead is lie? Yes, and wasn’t I glad when they carried away his corpus A great, black, oily, wallowing, wallopping, plunging, ponderous porpus. What call had Mr. Frank Buckland, which I don’t deny his kindness, To take and shove into my basin a porpoise troubled with blindness? I think it was like his impudence, and p’raps a little

beyond, To poke a blundering brute like that in a gentlefish’s private pond Did he know as I am the king of fish, and written down in histories As meat for his master, that is to say, for Victoria the

Queen, his mistress? And, if right was done, I shouldn’t be here, but be

sent in a water parcel To swim about in a marble tank in the gardings of

Windsor Castle. And them as forgets the laws of the land which is made to rule and control, And keeps a royal fish to themselves, may find themselves in a hole.

Thackeray’s elegy on the porpoise. 305

Is a king like me, I humbly ask, to be put in a trumpery puddle, For Fellows to walk about and spy, and talk Zoological muddle? And swells to come for a Sunday lounge, with French

Italians, and Germans, Which would better become to stop at home and think of the morning sermons. And then of a Monday to be used in a more obnoxious manner— Stared at by rags and tags, and bobtails as all come

in for a tanner. And me, the king of fish, indeed, which it’s treating

china like delf, Mr. Kingfisher Buckland, Sir, I think, you might be ashamed of yourself. And then I can’t be left alone, but you come and

stick in a big Blind, blustering, snorting, oily beast, which is only an

old sea pig. I’m heartily glad he’s dead, the pig; I was pleased to my very marrow, To see the keeper wheel him away in that dirty old garding barrow. And thought it was not flattering, last Sunday as ever

were,

SER. III. x

306 Thackeray’s elegy on the porpoise.

To hear the swells as had read the 11 Times ” come

rushing up for a stare, And crying bother the Sturgeon, it’s the Porpus I want to see, And going away in a state of huff, because there was only me. It was pleasant (and kings have right divine to feel a

little malicious) To see ’em sent to behold his cops in the barrow behind the fish-house. So when Mr. Buckland next obtains a porpoise as wants a surgeon, Perhaps he wont insert that pig beside of a royal

sturgeon. I’ve heard the tench is a cunning fish, and effects a

perfect cure Of other fish put into his pond, which he’s welcome to do I’m sure; But don’t bring sick porpoises up to me, I’m kin to

the old sea devil, And though a king, I’m not inclined to be touching

fish for the evil.

Besides, a porpus isn’t a fish, but a highly-developed man-improved, of course, with a tail and fins, on the famous

Westiges plan— The Phocaenor Rondoletii, though his scent in sultry

weather

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Was not like Rondoletia nor Frangipanni neither But that is neither here nor there, and, as I previously

said, From the bottom of both my heart and pond, I’m glad

the porpoise is dead. The Sturgeon. Boyal Zoological Gardens,

The elegy quoted above did our porpoise cause an immense amount of good, for it caused residents at the seaside to be quite anxious to get a live specimen for us, and both Mr. Bartlett and myself held ourselves in readiness to start at any moment to any place at a reasonable distance in the United Kingdom, if only we could be certain of our object, viz. a live porpoise for

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