full speed. In about two hours and a-half we ran into the London Bridge Station, and right glad I was, for I was tired enough, sponging and watching the creature so

incessantly. Mr. Bartlett had sent a light cart with a fast trotting horse for us; we therefore whipped the porpoise, box and all, into the cart, and away we went through the London streets like a fire- engine going to a fire. When we got to Cumberland Market, Regent’s Park, I was lighting my pipe, when I dropped by accident, a vesuvian on the porpoise’s back; this made him jump up and roll round in his wooden cage like a “jack-in-the box.” “ He’s a-going, sir! he’s a-going!” said the driver. “No, he is not a-going,” said I. “ You go along smartly with the cart, and attend to the horse; leave the porpoise tome. You have not got many yards to go now.”

Arrived at the Zoological Gardens, we drove straight to the reservoir, where the water was deeper than the sturgeon’s pond—we did not want another poetical jobation in the columns of “ Punch” and the “ Times ” from the royal fish for intruding on his privacy. The big reservoir would be a much better place, we thought, and so we drove the cart as near as we could to its “ veryedge. We then lifted out our porpoise—he wTas bad,” and breathing much too fast to please me: wt carried him up the reservoir, Bartlett at his head and I at his tail, and let him slip slowly down the bank, tail foremost, into the water. It was pitch dark, and I could hardly see what I was about. The mud was up to one’s knees, and it was raining hard and very

cold. I knew, however, by the splash that the porpoise was all right in the water. We then sat down and watched our friend by the help of the policeman’s lantern, and in about half an hour he seemed so much better (though occasionally turning over and showing his white sides), that we went away to bed quite tired out.

The next morning I was much pleased to hear that our porpoise was doing very well, and seemed better. Both Mr. Bartlett and I agreed that he was weak from want of food, but how to feed him was the difficulty. Mr. Bartlett suggested a fish tied by string to a pole. I, immediately acting on this idea, sent for my jack trolling-rod, line, and spinning-tackle, then, taking a fresh herring tied it by the tail to a fine bit of thin silk, and attached the other end of the silk to the

hooks. I thenspinning-tackle—of course without any judiciously spun the herring right in front of the porpoise’s nose. To our great delight, he took it in a moment, with a snap like a jack, and sailed away with it in his mouth. I gave him plenty of line (as in gorge-bait fishing for jack), and he ran it out famously. 1 gave him some three or four minutes’ time, and then jerked suddenly upon the line. Mr. Bartlett’s plan acted admirably, and just as we wanted it to act, for the silk broke short off, and the herring remained in the porpoise’s mouth. The porpoise then chumped and gnawed at the fish but could not swallow it, he was

too weak to get it down, and dropped it to the bottom of the pond. We then cut a smaller bit of herring; he attempted to gorge this also, but, as with the larger fish, he could not swallow, and dropped even this little bit. We then tried with a small live carp, which we tied with thin silk on by the tail in the same way as the herring. Strange to say, he would not attempt to bite at the carp, as though he knew it was not a salt-water, but a iresh-water fish and u no good ” to him.

The porpoise took seven or eight baits of different kinds from us in this way, but not one would he swallow; he dropped them all after munching them a bit between his teeth. Upon consultation, therefore, we determined, that as the beast was too weak to swallow of its own accord, that we would help him; so I got down by a ladder into the reservoir, and, catching the porpoise by the fin as he passed, watched my opportunity, and pushed a herring with my hand right down into his stomach; he scored my hand with his teeth, but I did not care about that. For a minute or two after I had given him the herring he seemed better, but he very soon showed that his supper did not agree with him, for he began to flutter his tail and dance about at the top of the water.

After sundry efforts, he made a spring, spat up the herring, and then—ungrateful wretch! after all the trouble and labour we had bestowed upon him, turned

up his fins and died right off. The cause of his death was, I believe, the herring sticking in his throat as he ejected it from his stomach, and so suffocating him. If he had left it in his stomach where I put it I don’t think he would have died. Dr. Sclater, Mr. Bartlett, and myself, were all, of course, very sorry that this porpoise should so suddenly have taken leave of us in this offhand manner. Never* theless, we intend to persevere, and have alive porpoise one of these days at the Gardens. We have now gained many minor experiences, and the proper food of these curious water mammalia, and we intend to persevere till we succeed, for we now know perfectly how the transport is to be managed.

The events described above in the transport of this porpoise to London were, shortly afterwards, put (unknown to myself) into verse by a friend, Edward Byley, Esq., ofLeatherhead; and one Saturday morning I was much astonished and amused to find in the columns of “ The Field ” the following lines, which I trust will amuse the reader as much as they did myself:

FRANK BUCKLAND’S PORPOISE.

Air—“The King of the Cannibal Islands.’*

Oh I have you heard the news of late, About a mighty fish so great? If you’ve not ’tis in my pate—

Why Buckland’s got a Porpoise! The telegraph a message bore From Messrs. Minter and Earnshaw, Which duly reached Frank Buckland’s door From Folkestone—“ We’ve a fish on shore! 5 So off on Monday morning set Frank Buckland and Signor Bartlett, That they, if possible, might get

Alive—Frank Buckland’s Porpoise.

Fishery, fleshery, fowlery, jig,

Rum-tum-toodlum, little or big,

For whether a moa, a porpoise, or pig ’Tis all the same to Buckland.

Arrived at Folkestone, in a tank They found Sir Porpoise, lean and lank,

fBut still alive—how glad was Frank

To see his darling Porpoise. To get him home, “ that was the rub,” So they had made a kind of tub

;

Stuffed full of blankets—but no grub, Nor any kind of drink was substituted for the lack of sea, From which unkindly they took he, That Londoners might come and see

Frank Buckland’s darling Porpoise.

Fishery, fleshery, &c.

Ensconced within the railway van Sat Tennant, the Society’s man, With marine water in a can,

And sponge for Buckland’s Porpoise. Frank Buckland too was there, u in course,” His kind attentions to disburse; ’Twas lucky the fish had such a nurse, For he, ere long, was u taken worse.” The cause soon caught Frank Buckland’s eye, And he the sponge began to ply, For the porpoise he was “ werry dry ”

About his nose and corpus.

Fishery, fleshery, &c.

Arrived in town, through streets they start Friend Bartlett he had sent a cart

In order to perform his part

To carry away the Porpoise.

Said Frank, u This journey is no joke.

I’m tired, so I’ll have a smo^e

But in his hasi© the msee broke

(Enough a parson to provoke);

It hissing, sparkling, fell, alack 9

Ere he could save it, in a crack,

And, sad to say, it burnt the back

Of his own darling Porpoise.

Fishery, fleshery, &c*

No joys are e’er without their woes—

With fish, as with us, I suppose—

So thinks Frank Buckland as he goes,

For the porpoise was a raving.

Ye gods! what can the matter be?

The water’s tinged with blood, d’ye see!

This funny fish has had a spree,

And’s trying now to humbug me!

Thus thought Frank—before they start,

What remedy can I impart? When, said the man who drove the cart, “ He’s cut hisself a shavinV’

Fishery, fleshery,

The Gardens’ gate they quickly gain,

Wet through, with the monster of the main;

But whether there’s snow, or hail, or rain,

Frank doesn’t care two “ fardens.”

SER. III. v

They place him in the reservoir, And gave him herrings, three or four,

But he couldn’t swallow—his throat was sore,

! Frank Buckland mourns—his pet’s no more

So, fishermen all, I hope you’ll strive

Another porpoise to “ catch alive,”

That Buckland may at last contrive

To have one in the Gardens. Wadding.

(See Appendix. Further information about porpoises; with hints as to the catching a porpoise with hook and line, &c,, will be found in the Appendix.")

323

THE TURKISH WOLF-DOG-, “ ARSLAN.”

In May 1863, I received the following letter from my triend Sir Edmund Hornby, at that time judge of H.B.M. Consular Court at Constantinople w I have obtained a dog for you. He is a splendid animal of the Koordish breed, and was procured from the district of Erzenhiern from the shepherds. He is ten months old. His father guards a flock of two hundred sheep against any wolves, and has killed several. His name is ‘ Arslan,’ which means in Turkish 1 the Lion.’ “ He is very fierce to other dogs, and, young as he is, has already killed several. He is difficult to tie up, on account of the size of his neck, and would be much more mild if left untied; but then I would not give much for the life of anyone who bullied him, or who came uninvited or unintroduced into your room, or who attempted to garotte his master. “ He is accustomed to cold, and prefers it to heat, as his coat shows. His ears are cut in order not to get them lacerated when fighting wolves, hyenas, the panther or black leopard, &c.” Y 2

Having received Sir Edmund’s letter, I was all impatience to receive the dog. The ship “ Scotia,” on board which he was placed at Constantinople, arrived, alter a protracted voyage, at Liverpool. At length, by the aid of a great deal of writing and telegraphing, the dog was one morning announced in a Parcels’ Delivery cart.* On my first introduction to him he was not over agreeable. No amount of verbal “ soft sawder,” jt offerings of meat, bones, water, milk, &c., would get a wag out of his tail; and I was obliged to call a

brother officer, learned in dogs, into consultation as to what should be done with him. We agreed that the best thing would be to leave him alone, and show him we were friends, not enemies. We led him quietly about the barrack-yard, and in a few hours he found out that we were kindly disposed towards him, and ultimately we were the best of friends.

I thought at first that my dog might possibly show some of the wonderful guiding instinct of the English shepherd dog, but experience shows that he does not. He is possessed of great quickness of sight and hearing, and will sit quietly for hours together simply watching. This, I understand from Lord Strangford, to whom I have shown him, is exactly his character. Pie does not

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