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THE GIRAFFE

DEFOE.

THE MAGIC MIRROR. 31 THE GIRAFFE.

The great attraction the queen of the Garden of plants at Paris is the giraffe, to whom I paid frequent visits. She is the only survivor of the three which left Africa much about the same time, and inhabits the large round building in the centre of the menagerie called the Rotonde. Great care is taken to shelter her from the cold, and in the winter she has a kind of hood and cape, which reach the length of her neck, and a body cloth, all made of woollen materials. She is only suffered to walk in her little park when the sun shines upon it, and if care and attention can compensate for the loss of liberty, she ought to be the happiest of her kind. She stands about 12 1-2 feet high, and her skin, with its light brown spots, shines like satin; but I confess I was disappointed with regard to her beauty. She looks best when lying down, or standing perfectly upright, in which posture she is very dignified; but the moment she moves she becomes awkward, in consequence of the disproportion of the hinder parts of her body, and the immense length of her neck; which, instead of being arched, forms an angle with her shoulders. When she gallops, her hind feet advance beyond those in front, and the peculiarity of gait caused by moving the hind and fore feet on the same side, at the same time, is very striking. She has great difficulty in reaching the ground with her mouth, and was obliged to make two efforts to separate her fore legs, before she could reach a cistern placed on the pavement. Her head is of remarkable beauty, and the expression of her full black eyes is mild and affectionate; her tongue is long, black, and pointed. She is extremely gentle, yet full of frolic and animation, and when walking in the menagerie her keeper is obliged to hold her head to prevent her biting off the young branches of the trees. Her great delight, however, is to eat rose leaves, and she devours them with the greatest avidity. The African cows, with humps on their shoulders, who supplied her with milk during her passage to Europe, are as gentle as their nursling, and when feeding her they come and softly push your elbows to have their share. Turning from the giraffe one day, and proceeding a yard or two in order to satisfy them, I suddenly felt something overshadow me, and this was no less than the giraffe, who, without quitting her place, bent her head over mine, and helped herself to the carrots in my hand. Her keeper, named Ati, and from Darfur, is a tall and well proportioned black, and at his own request a little gallery has been erected for him in the stable of his charge, where he sleeps and keeps all his property. When in attendance, he dresses in the turban, vest, and full trowsers of his country; but when he walks to Paris, he assumes the European costume, for in his native garb all the children in the streets recognize him, and calling out, "Ati! Ati! comment va la giraffe?" hurt his consequence. He is to be found every Sunday evening at one of the Guinguettes in the neighbourhood, dancing with all his might, and during the week he devotes his leisure to the acquirement of reading and writing.— From an article by Mrs. Lee, in the Magazine of Natural History.

DEFOE.

DEFOE was born in London in the year 1661, and was educated at a dissenting academy for the ministry. In 1685, he joined in Monmouth's rebellion, and narrowly escaped being made prisoner with the rest of the Duke's followers. He was subsequently sentenced to the pillory, on account of his celebrated pamphlet, called the shortest way with the Dissenters, "and the fine and imprisonment that shortly followed, involved him in distress and difficulty, ever after. He was unfortunate throughout his life, either from a careless and improvident disposition that squanders away its advantages, or a sanguine and restless temper that constantly abandons a successful pursuit for some new and gilded project. He was a man of worth, as well as genius; and though unfortunate, and having to contend all his life with vexations and disappointments, with clamour and the hand of power, yet he did nothing to leave a blot on his name, or to make the world ashamed of the interest they must always feel for him. So long as his "Robinson Crusoe "has the power to charm and fascinate the mind, as long will his name be remembered and his memory respected.

THE MAGIC MIRROR.

BY T. MOORE. ' Come, if thy magic glass have power To call up forms we sigh to see; Show me my love in that rosy bower, Where last she pledged her truth to me. ' The wizard showed his lady bright, Where lone and pale in her bower she lay; True hearted maid, ' said the happy knight, ' She's thinking of one who is far away. But lo! a page, with looks of joy,

Brings tidings to the lady's ear; "Tis, ' said the knight, ' the same bright boy Who used to guide me to my dear. "The lady now, from her favorite tree, Hath, smiling, plucked a rosy flower; Such, ' he exclaimed, ' was the gift that she Each morning sent me from that bower. She gives her page that blooming rose, With looks that say, ' Like lightning fly! "Thus, ' thought the knight, she soothes her woes, By fancying still her true love nigh. ' But the page returns, and oh what a sight For trusty lover's eye to see! Leads to that Lower another knight

As gay, and, alas! as loved as he! 'Such,' quoth the youth, 'is woman's love! "Then darting forth with furious bound, Dashed at the mirror his iron glove, And strew'd it all in fragments round.

MORAL.

Such ill would never have come to pass, Had he ne'er sought that fatal view; The wizard still would have kept his glass, And the knight still thought his lady true.