Quadrupeds. 1811 



parents. The ages of the two adult polar bears in the Zoological 

 Gardens are not certainly known, but both animals have been for 

 many years inhabitants of their present limited enclosure. The female 

 — the smaller of the two — is an old friend of mine, of nearly sixteen 

 years' standing. The male is a good deal larger, and is a fine repre- 

 sentative of the species ; it was captured in Barrow's Straits by some 

 adventurous whalers in 1850, and was brought to England, secured, it 

 is said, in a cask. The process of incarceration must have been a 

 difficult one, and the capture of such an animal, grown up, as it had, 

 amid the wild regions of the icy north, may be recorded as no mean 

 triumph of man over the brute creation. On this animal's introduction 

 to its present domicile, it evinced the most praiseworthy desire for 

 freedom, and climbed about the strong iron railings of its enclosure 

 with a skill and perseverance such as only an apprenticeship on 

 icebergs could have enabled it to exhibit. Its efforts to escape were 

 unceasing; so that extra precautions were necessary to secure the 

 animal in its den, and it was only when an open iron roofing had 

 been fitted, besides the incurved spikes already terminating the top of 

 the high railings, that the imprisoned bear could be induced to sub- 

 mit to its fate. The difficulties usually attending the first meeting of 

 two savage animals in a confined space were not wanting when this 

 male bear was introduced into the den already occupied by his future 

 companion. 



After being accustomed for a few days to look at one another 

 through an iron grating they were both allowed the free run of the 

 enclosure, and then ensued a most animated and snarling discussion 

 about Might versus Right — physical force against priority of occupa- 

 tion. Fortunately the dispute did not terminate in blows. Each 

 animal soon took up its position in an opposite corner; and if one 

 attempted to move a growl from the other cautioned it to be quiet; it 

 was evidently "Touch me if you dare" on both sides. After a time 

 the two bears would advance towards one another, snarl, and then 

 retire to their corners, the stranger always moving backward, and 

 presenting a firm front to his supposed enemy ; the female, confident 

 in her right of place, would turn and walk away in her usual manner, 

 contenting herself with sidelong glances at her companion. At last, 

 however, peace was declared (except at dinner-time), and, companions 

 in misfortune, they now appeared as happy together as if they had 

 never quarrelled. The retrograde movements of the male bear, 

 originating in suspicion, have, however, been confirmed into a habit; 

 and, without any reference to the position of his mate, after pacing 



