148 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



THE OLD DRESS COAT. 



A PABODT ON GEN. ALBERT PIKE'S "OLD CANOE." 



Where cobwebs are thick and ceiling low, 

 And the dusty floor looks dark below, 

 Where trunks and boxes in lonely pride 

 Are gloomily ranged 'round the rough wall side; 

 Where pictures hang that are old and dim, 

 Where old hats lay devoid of brim,- 

 Where the past over all in dust is wrote, 

 Hangs on a nail the old dress-coat. 



The well-worn tails are idly dropped, 

 Like a sea-bird's wing that the storm hath stopped, 

 And down from the shoulders, one by one, 

 Hang the threadbare arms whose work is done ; 

 While busily back and forth between 

 The spiders stretch their silver screen, 

 And tbeir struggling victims wearily tote 

 Across the breast of the old dress-coat. 



The glossy cloth that a luster gave 



Rots slowly away to its hidden grave; 



The green mildew creeps o'er its decay, 



Hiding the moldering past away 



Like the hand that plants o'er the tomb a flower, 



Or the ivy that mantles a fallen tower, 



While fading colors, once remote, 



Throw their somber hue3 o'er the old dress-coat. 



The heaving breasts are dead and still, 



But the light winds play with the flaps at will; 



And lazily swinging its shabby tail 



It floats its length from a rusty nail, 



Like a pendulum moving the hands of time, 



That meet and part at the noon-tide chime, 



And the arms together kindly float, 



As if to greet o'er the old dress-coat. 



Oh, many a time in the olden day 

 I've brushed its folds and dust away, 

 And decked myself for the evening ball, 

 Where the dance was wild, and love ruled all; 

 And laughed as I whirled in the giddy dance, 

 At the girls' sly look and admiring glance, 

 And felt youth's music's sweetest note, 

 As I sauntered along in my fine dress-coat. 



But now, as I turn from its moldering pride, 



And look in the broken glass at its side, 



The face that I see is graver grown, 



And the laugh that I hear has a soberer tone, 



And the form that gave it such graceful swinsjB 



Hath bowed 'neath the weight of sterner things; 



But I love to think of the happy hours 



I danced in my coat 'mid music and flowers, 



Ere the steps of time in its rude march smote, 



And crushed the pride of my old dress-coat. 



— Anonymous. 



Imong the ^irdz and j^txste. 



— ♦ — 



YOU are attracted to the place by the outside show. In 

 the bulk windows you see innumerable cages, inhab- 

 ited by canaries, who hop about within their narrow homes 

 with incessant motion. If you approach nearer to the win- 

 dow, and if your ear is fine and you can separate the noises 

 of Chatham street — muffle, as it were, the rumble of the 

 street car, the din and rattle of the carts and wagons, you 

 will distinguish no end of twitter coming from the estab- 

 lishment in question. Sometimes this chorus, if a streak 

 of sunshine slides mto the store, rises in volume of 

 chirps until it sounds like a band of liny piccolos— then 

 again it ceases, and there comes a clatter, a din of squeaks, 

 saw-edge-sharpening sounds; the parrots taking hand in 

 the bird orchestra. Lured by the sounds— melodious, dis- 

 cordant, or otherwise— and having some business with the 

 proprietor, we enter the bird-store. The twitter is, if any- 

 thing, a trifle too intense, and as if enraged at our pres- 

 ence, all the parrots commence wrangling, disputing, and 

 objurgating in the most approved primary-meeting manner, 

 until the tympanums of our ears fairly ache. 



Mr. Charles Reiche, the Noah of all this ark of birds, 

 welcomes us, and, "wanting to know, you know," we ask 

 no end of questions, to all of which the good natured Noah 

 replies. If Jamrach is the grand wild animal purveyor 

 of England, Mr. Reiche occupies the same position in 

 America. 



We watch a couple of assistants packing up most a gross 

 of canary birds, each in a separate cage, going off by ex- 

 press. The cages are all piled one above the other, and a 

 long stick run through the wicker work to hold them to- 

 gether. So tame are the birds that they scarcely flutter. 

 The cages are deftly cleaned, an extra quantity of seed put 

 in the feed cups, their water is replenished, a couple of 

 thick pieces of paper are wrapped around the city of cages, 

 and off they go on their journey. It is mid-day, and they 

 will be in Boston or Cincinnati some time to-morrow, as 

 "fresh as birds," of course, and ready to send forth their 

 sweet carol in, we trust, some gentle lady's drawing-room. 

 If we only could travel this way, and to the same destina- 

 tion! 



The canary bird trade, Mr. Reiche informs us, is a con- 

 stantly increasing one. Twenty-six years ago 1,000 birds 

 in a year was a large quantity of birds to dispose of to-day 

 Mr. Reiche imports and sells 80,000 canaries, and can 

 hardly keep up with the demand. They all come from the 

 Hartz mountains, and are bred by the mining population, 

 who increase their means by rearing this pretty bird. 

 Every German steamer brings about 2,500 birds, and there 

 is an attendant who crosses and cares for these feathered 

 passengers. The loss seems quite trifling, not being more 

 than eight per cent. Mr. Reiche sends canaries to San 

 Francisco, Valparaiso, Lima, and to the whole of South 

 America. Crowded together in a large cage were those 



pretty birds, the Rice Bunting. Nothing can be primmer 

 than the appearance of this bird, with its prettily tinted 

 plumage and its white ears. They seem to be fond of each 

 other's society, as they cluster close together on the perches, 

 which rise one above another, huddling together, and look- 

 ing like so many little ladies, with white caps on, all seated 

 in the boxes of a theatre. 



Parrots were in quantity. There was the chattering, so- 

 cial green parrot (Vhrysotis festivus), a festive "cuss," un- 

 doubtedly, and the gray one (Psittacus orythacus), rather 

 more demure, scratching his head, and many beautifully 

 colored parrots, all radiant in the most delicately tinted 

 plumage. A pretty bird was the African widow bird, a 

 tiny creature, covered with fine dark feathers, and having 

 a gloriously long tail, dead black, about ten times as long 

 as his body, hanging pendulous from him. Here were 

 English thrushes and bull-finches, with a true Whitechapel 

 look, awaiting purchasers, and gaudy pheasants, the Golden, 

 shining like a bit or jeweler's work, the more quiet Silver, 

 and the demure English pheasant. Here, too, were strange 

 nondescript ducks and a pair of black swans, and last, 

 but not least, a magnificent specimen of the crowned 

 pigeon, (Ghtara coronata). This bird, the most glorious of 

 the pigeon tribe, is of a delectable blue, is as large almost 

 as a peacock, and has his head surmounted by an aigrette of 

 the finest feathers. He comes from Java, New Guinea, and 

 the Moluccas, and is a royal bird. 



How long we might have remained in Mr. Reiche's avi- 

 ary we do- not know, but we were startled by looking 

 through a glass window, when we saw in an amusing way, 

 the living contest of the Laocoon repeated, only in this 

 case it was a row between one of Mr. Reiche's men and an 

 alligator. His Uglyship, all mouth and squirming tail, was 

 refusing (and with a great show of reason and good sense 

 on his part) to be placed in a wooden, coffin-like looking 

 box. Though his destination was Europe, and his passage 

 had been taken, he was vigorously protesting against ex- 

 patriation, and asserting the right of a true born American. 

 How he squirmed and wriggled, and he had to be«pnned 

 down to the ground with a wooden fork, before the stout 

 German could induce him to enter his travelling apartment, 

 and at last, when inveigled in as far as head and body 

 went, how he lashed his tail outside, and hissed, snapped, 

 and spluttered. 



"We are always sending alligators abroad, to amateurs 

 and zoological societies. Neat creatures for certain kinds 

 of aquariums. Mostly come from Florida, and are easily 

 obtained. I shall ship about a dozen assorted sizes abroad 

 this month. They will reach their destination in good 

 order." Just as Mr. Reiche had concluded, we were startled 

 by feeling something or somebody inserting what we took 

 to be an arm into our pocket. It was not the monkeys, 

 who were chattering in their cages opposite. Who could 

 it be ? Turning around we faced a little elephant, who, 

 with his proboscis, was examining our coat tail pocket. 

 He was a chubby little elephant, about three years old, and 

 was as tame as a dog. At the word of command he hoisted 

 up his trunk, rolled up his lip, and showed his nascent 

 tusks, about an inch beyond the gum. ."What is he worth," 

 we asked. "Five thousand dollars, and cheap at that. In 

 a year or two, as he grows, he will add a couple of thou- 

 sand dollars to his price. Look at my kangaroo — a nice 

 little fellow. He is worth $75. If he was a great kanga- 

 roo $1,000 would not be out of the way. There is a pen of 

 peccaries, quite tame and gentle, and over there you will 

 see a pair of Japanese hogs." 



"How is the lion market ?" we asked. 

 "Quite bris^ though it is at the end of the season. We 

 have four on hand. Prices of animals do not vary much, 

 though it is in the spring, for exhibition purposes, that the 

 real demand sets in. A good African lion, with a full 

 mane, would bring $5,000. A lioness is not quite so desir- 

 able; you may quote her at $2,500. Tigers — royal Ben- 

 gals — are always wanted. I have two very fine specimens; 

 cheap at $5,000." 



' 'How do you procure your stock ?" we asked. 

 "A good many animals are bred abroad in European 

 zoological societies. We buy from them, or exchange with 

 them, and can mostly find what we want in London. But 

 I have a regular set of men employed in Africa to find ani- 

 mals for me. Now here is a letter from a party I have out 

 there, in Cassela, somewhere on the White Nile. They are 

 after hippopotami and ostriches. I could sell all ^the hip- 

 potami I could get. It is among the most valuable of 

 rare animals. There was a good specimen here some nine 

 years ago, and he was rented out for $25,000 a year. If my 

 party goes further south they may get for me a giraffe or 

 so. A fair camel-leopard would, be worth $5,000. The 

 head of the party reports to me "that Mr. Charles Reiche, 

 on the 15th of June last, was the possessor of quite a coop 

 of ostriches — some fourteen, I believe. Birds of small size 

 are not very expensive. My agent tells me he has bought 

 some for about a dollar — about the price of a chicken in 

 Washington market. The head of the party is a German, 

 and he says they will want a caravan of a hundred camels 

 to bring them out of the desert, with the animals they have 

 caught or purchased. The prices I ask may seem to you 

 high, but you must bear in mind the risk we run. You 

 can't rate the figures on a rhinoceros the same as you would 

 for a horse. It's pretty much of a lottery. Some years 

 ago I must have spent $25,000 on a single expedition. The 

 head of the party used to draw on me from the middle of 

 Ethiopia £1,000 drafts. I believe he did get quite a num- 

 ber of fine animals together, only he went into the show 

 business himself, on his own account with my animals. 

 The last I heard of him was that he had my caravan in 



Australia, and beyond the reach of the law. Then it. may 

 be a risky business at times, for this reason. Though you 

 may corner the animal market, yet you may glut it with 

 certain beasts. Some two years ago all the zoological 

 gardens which sell wild beasts, and the African hunters, got 

 long on zebras and gnus, and you couldn't give them away. 

 They were not worth more than donkeys. The market has 

 recovered, however, and zebras are now in fair demand. 

 I have besides that party in Africa another one constantly 

 in South America. They stay about the neighborhood of 

 Para, and pick up pumas, jaguars, tapirs, monkeys, and 

 boas for me. The snake line of business is always good. 

 They are mostly in demand for side show entertainments. 

 A good big snake fetches $500. I begged and begged for a 

 big one as thick around as my thigh, a fellow who would 

 breakfast on a goat, which I saw abroad this year, and 

 offered $750 for him, but was refused. Monkeys are al- 

 ways wanted; supply equal to the demand. A show starts 

 out with a dozen of monkeys, happy family, and that kind 

 of thing, and are always losing some of them. The price 

 for monkeys varies. These little fellows," and Mr. Reiche 

 pointed to a cage full, "are worth $10. There is a $25 one, 

 and I have got as much as $750 for one. The showrnai 

 called him a gorilla — which he was not. But you knov 

 these stage people often take names they have no right tc 

 Here are two nice leopards; don't go too near them; the; 

 are not to be trusted. Fifteen hundred dollars each is th, 

 value fixed on them. " Just then something shot past m 

 across the floor, scampered over a bale of hay, and boltec 

 into a corner. Whatever it was it went like a flash. Was 

 it a wildcat ? We looked for an elevation to scramble on. 

 to be out of harm's way. Presently up ran two men anc 

 made for the corner, and captured the n animal after no end 

 of scuffling and fur flying. "You need not be afraid," said 

 Mr. Reiche, quite encouragingly, "it is only an English 

 hare. He will break loose every chance he gets. Now we 

 have him in the cage again; pray notice his eyes; they are 

 just like those of a human being. I imported a dozen for 

 the Central Park last year, and they are doing pretty well. 

 This one goes out to the Park to-morrow. Call here next 

 week and I will show you some elk, and bears, and some 

 whooping cranes, from Nebraska." 



"You seem to have a very universal kind of business," 

 we remarked. 



"Quite so. It is wonderful how the taste has set in. Of 

 course the bulk of the wild animals goes into the show 

 business. Mr. Barnum has spent millions of dollars ir 

 buying animals, and, by the way, he is a man to do busi 

 ness with. Just as likely as not he may come in here to 

 morrow and spend $50,000 with me in animals, and think 

 no more about it than an ordinary person would when giv- 

 ing a $10 bill for a black and tan terrier. But it is not only 

 the show people who buy. There are various zoologicsl 

 societies starting up in various sections of the United 

 States who are commencing to purchase animals. Then 

 many private gentlemen are not only bird fanciers, but 

 want game birds and animals to stock their grounds with. 

 I get orders now from all parts of the Union. The bus: - 

 ness commenced with a pair of canary birds, and has been 

 developing ever since." 



"How would you like to try and get one of those Rus- 

 sian mastodons they say are now ranging about in the 

 Ural mountains ?" we inquired. 



"Have no faith in them. Don't believe that any creatui e 

 of that kind exists. If it had, Jamrach, or the firm of C. 

 Reiche & Brother, of New York, and Alfeld, Hanover, 

 would have had them for sale." 



Though inclined ourselves to be somewhat speculative; 

 we are forced to declare that Mr. Reiche's argument agains ; 

 the existence of the Siberian mastodon had its weight. 



"We have" — continued Mr. Reiche, patting the baby ele- 

 phant, who in return was affectionately inserting his pro- 

 boscis between the proprietor's shirt collar and his neck— - 

 "we have some very funny correspondents at times. We 

 have letters from all parts of the United States about ani- 

 mals, and offers to sell them to us. A man sees a bear in the 

 woods, and writes us to ask what we will give for him. 

 Now the bear is in the wilds, ranging around, and the man 

 wants to sell him in that way, before he is even trapped. 

 We do business on the principle of not selling your bear 

 skin before your bear is caught." 



"That is a sound maxim," we replied. "But, Mr. Reiche, 

 don't your animals escape sometimes ?" 



"Of course they do, and give us trouble, but we are used 

 to that kind of thing, and" use the utmost precaution with 

 the really dangerous animals." 



"For instance," we asked, "if those two leopards were to 

 break bonds and range around the City Hall and Printing 

 House Square, it would make quite a sensation, would it 

 not ?" 



"Something of that kind happened to Jamrach," replied 

 Mr. Reiche. "A tiger broke loose, promenaded London, 

 and gobbled up a little boy. Jamrach went for that tiger 

 with a crowbar, and after quite a lively fight made the tiger 

 drop the boy, and eventually drove the animal back into his 

 den. The child was not hurt." 



"What was the sequel ?" we inquired. 



' 'Oh, the lawyers got hold of the matter, and Jamrach 

 had to pay some £800 damages, which shows that Jamrach 

 could fight a tiger, but not a lawyer." 



— The most appalling case ot deafness, outside of an 

 asylum, was that of an old lady who lives just across the 

 street from a navy-yard. The other day they fired a salute 

 of twenty-one guns. The old lady was observed to_ start 

 and listen as the last gun was fired, and then she exclaimed, 

 "Come in!" 



