you have a bargain, sir. A sulphur-crested
cockatoo—two guineas—mind your fingers,
sir; that lot is spiteful. The next lot—an
armadillo—what shall I say for the armadillo,
gentlemen? Ten shillings?— thirty?—
yes, that's more like its value. A pair of
flying squirrels—one pound—cheap as things
go. Now for the snakes." There were only
five snakes for sale, and these all boa-
constrictors; one came from South America, the
others all from India. The Yankee was
bought for five guineas, the others at prices
varying from two to four pounds.

The sale was a peripatetic one, and the
auctioneer, having descended from his chair,
we all followed submissively a man, who
carried the chair in one hand and rang a bell
with the other. Suddenly the bell ceased;
the chair was pitched opposite the aviary,
and business began again.

During our short walk we had time to look
about us at the company. There were about
five hundred people present, who consisted of
regular animal-dealers (very properly
represented by Mr. Jamrack of Ratcliff Highway,
the greatest animal merchant in the world),
of proprietors of shows, both great and
small, from the Messrs. Wombwell, who own
not less than five travelling menageries, to
your scantily clad man who owns the penny
show, and who has just bought the smallest
and the cheapest of the boa-constrictors, to
be shown to gaping villagers at country
fairs.

Then we noticed, as the morning papers
say, many London bird-stuffers, who came to
see if they could pick up something whereon
to show their dexterity in taxidermy; also a
deputation from the Regent's Park Gardens
(now triumphant), as well as from the natural
history department of the Crystal Palace.
Lastly, many who, like ourselves, came to
learn the value of an elephant or a lion.
This crowd of naturalists, therefore, halted
in front of the hawk's cage, the occupier of
which was shortly sold for one pound seven
shillings. Then came two Indian falcons,
two pounds ten shillings each. Then, a pair
of white (or rather whity-brown) storks,—
they sold for sixteen shillings; but lately
they were sold in Leadenhall Market at two
shillings and sixpence each; so somebody
was present who evidently did not know the
value of storks. A black stork (being like
another black bird well known to school-
boys, a rare bird) brought two pounds six
shillings. Then followed lot fifty-seven, a
pelican, a very amiable, or else a very
hungry bird, for he kept jabbering with his
great bill at the numerous gloves held out to
him, and endeavouring to swallow them.
Here a spirited competition began, and the
bird was at length knocked down for eighteen
guineas. In Egypt, a friend informs me,
he lately bought a much finer bird for two
shillings, which makes me think seriously of
speculating in pelicans. The reason why a
pelican sells well is, that he is a good show-
bird, and a good attractor of pennies. He is
probably at this time shut up in some small
cage, inside a house upon wheels, never again
to behold his native wilderness: or, according
to the showman, his master, pluck blood
from his breast to feed his young ones.

The raven (talks well) was not put up for
sale. May-be he had talked his master
into keeping him; for he was the only lot
advertised that was not put up for sale,
except an Indian leopard who had died since
his name was put in print. Next came the
monkeys. Great was the rush to the monkey-
house, which was speedily filled, but as
speedily emptied again; for Mr. Stevens
wisely took up his position outside, under
cover of the wooden guns of one of the
Sebastopol batteries. But though the folks
were so anxious to see the monkeys, they did
not seem equally anxious to buy; for the
biddings were few and far between. The
first lot was a Rhesus monkey—a fine name
for an ugly creature. He was sold for twelve
shillings, as also were two more of a similar
species. Then followed divers sorts of
monkeys rejoicing in divers names, such as
bonnet, green sooty, macague, et cetera; but
none of them fetched more than ten shillings
each; and one of the customers wanted Mr.
Stevens to give him an organ into the bargain.
Another wanted his monkey—a great
savage Barbary ape—delivered immediately,
which Mr. S. said he really could not undertake
to do, but he would be happy to receive
the money for him on the spot.

Lot eighty-three—a Russian cat—was
looked forward to with anxiety by sundry
persons present. but it turned out to be a
very ordinary-looking cat, very like a common
English black cat. Besides which, it
was kept in a cage, which did not promise
well for future domesticity by the fire-side
of the enemies of its country: so it was sold
for the sum of ten shillings.

It was getting cold, and we all ran off after
the bell and the chair, to the opposite side of
the gardens. Here, two jackals were the
first sold—twenty-four shillings the two.
Then a pair of porcupines—good show
animals again—eight pounds fifteen shillings.
Then an Indian goat, one four-horned sheep,
and one Indian sheep—only two guineas the
three; cheap, at that rate, even as mutton.
Then followed a red hind (who nearly
devoured our catalogue while we were looking
another way), for two pounds ten shillings.
Then followed the sale of six eagles, namely,
two golden eagles. a wedge-tailed eagle, a sea
eagle, and two from Chili. These sold at
prices varying from two pounds to thirteen
shillings: and some of the lot, if I mistake
not, are by this time full of hay and tow,
with glass eyes in their heads.

Now came the five bears,—the first one
certainly as fine a specimen of a brown
bear as we ever saw, sold for only six