HAMLYN'S MENAGERIE MAGAZINE. 
the attention not attracted by the unusually neat, 
clean, and roomy appearance of the cages dis- 
played, and the uncommon shapes and colours of 
the birds which inhabit them. The next window 
is more catching to the eye. Furious Japanese 
figures, squatting Hindoo gods, strange and 
beautiful marine shells, and curious pottery bring 
the pedestrian to a stand, and arouse, a desire to 
explore within. All this outside, however, gives 
small promise of the strange thing-s to be seen 
and learnt behind the scenes. Returning to the 
door by the aviary window, we enter, and find 
ourselves in a bright, clean room, eighteen or 
twenty feet square, properly warmed by a stove 
placed in the centre. The walls, from floor to ceil- 
ing, are fitted with strong and commodious cages, 
in which birds of wonderful voice and hue,, and 
monkeys of grotesque lineament yell, whistle, 
shriek, and chatter. Great and gorgeous parrots 
of rare species flutter and scream, and blinking 
owls screw their heads aside as we pass. But the 
cause in chief of all this commotion is the presence 
of an attendant in shirt-sleeves who., carrying 
with him a basket, is distributing therefrom cer- 
tain eatables much coveted hereabout. Beaked 
heads are thrust between bars, and many a long, 
brown arm reaches downward and forward from 
the monkey-cages, in perilous proximity to the 
eager beaks. In a special cage, standing out from 
the rest, a beautiful black and white lemur sits 
and stretches his neck to* be fondled as the attend- 
ant passes, but shyly hides his faces when we 
strangers approach him. 
Here Mr. Jamrach himself comes to meet us 
— a fine old gentleman, whose many years and 
remarkable experiences have left but small im- 
pression upon him. Coming from Hamburg — 
where his father before him was a trading natura- 
list — he founded the present business in Shadwell 
more than fifty years ago, and here he is still in 
his daily harness, with all the appearance of being 
quite fit for another half-century of work among 
snakes and tigers. His two sons — one of whom 
we shall presently meet — have assisted him in the 
business all their lives. The elder of these, who 
was a widely-known naturalist of great personal 
popularity, died some few years since. 
Mr. Jamrach takes us into a small dusty back 
room, quaint in its shape and quaint in its. con- 
tents. Arms of every kind which is not an ordin- 
ary kind, stand in corners, hang on walls, and 
litter the floors; great two-handed swords of 
mediaeval date and of uncompromisingly English 
aspect stand amid heaps of Maori clubs, African 
spears, and Malay kreeses; on the floor lies, open, 
a deal box filled with rough sheets of tortoise- 
shell, and upon the walls hang several pictures 
and bas-reliefs. Mr. Jamrach picks up by a string 
a dusty piece of metal, flat, three-quarters of an 
inch thick, and of odd shape, rather resembling a 
cheese-cutter. This, we are informed, is a bell. 
or, perhaps more accurately, a gong, and was 
used on the tower of a Burmese temple to sum- 
mon the worshippers. Reaching for a short knob- 
kerry, which bears more than one sign of having 
made things lively on an antipodean skull, Mr. 
Jamrach strikes the uninviting piece of metal upon 
the side in such a way as to cause it to spin, and 
we, for the first time, fully realise what sweet 
music may lie in a bell. The sound is of the 
most startling volume — as loud as that of a good- 
sized church bell, in fact — and dies away very 
slowly and gradually in a prolonged note of indes- 
cribable sweetness. The metal is a peculiar amal- 
gam, silver being the chief ingredient; and, oh ! 
that all English church bells — and, for that matter, 
dinner bells — had the beautiful voice of this quaint 
bit of metal ! 
Then Mr. Jamrach shows us wonderful and 
gorgeous marine shells, of extreme value and 
rarity, and some of a species which he originally 
introduced to men of science, in consequence of 
which it now bears an appalling Latin name end- 
ing with " jamrachus." 
To be continued. 
AN OLD-TIME MENAGERIE. 
Our contemporary, "The Field," has a most 
interesting and well informed article on the late 
George Wombwell. It will be read with pleasure, 
especially by those who take an interest in old 
time concerns appertaining to the Wild Beast 
trade. 
On November 16th, 1850, there passed away 
the celebrated menagerie proprietor, George 
Wombwell, who at one time was such a popular 
favourite at the London fairs, and achieved a 
name for himself which is still remembered. His 
untiring industry and skill kept him at the head 
of the walk of life he chose for very many years. 
He is said to have started earning his living as a 
cobbler in what was then called Monmouth Street, 
Seven Dials. As a boy it is understood that he 
evinced a liking for keeping such ordinary pet 
animals as birds, rabbits, and dogs, but according 
to some accounts, while he was keeping a shoe- 
maker's shop in Soho, he visited the London 
Docks one day, and came across some boa con- 
strictors, part ol a cargo which had just been 
brought into this country. At that time the real 
character of these reptiles was not so well known 
as it is now, and so it is not astonishing to hear 
that these particular snakes were sold for sums 
much below their value. Wombwell, seeing that 
there was money in the idea, bought a pair, and 
