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‘ J AMR AC IT S' 
train, loaded with huge iron girders that had been 
improperly packed, and projected from the sides of 
the trucks, passed that in which the tiger was travel- 
ling, and one of the girders struck the cage and 
smashed it to pieces. The tiger was unhurt, but 
the cage fell to pieces round it, and left it sitting on 
the truck like a pigeon when the “trap” is pulled. 
The tiger at once bounded off, and by a strange 
chance alighted almost in the middle of a flock of 
sheep. It knocked down half-a-dozen, and after 
making a meal off one of these, trotted off up the 
line. “The news soon spread,” writes Mr. Jamrach, 
“ and caused the greatest consternation everywhere. 
Fortunately a troop of soldiers happened to be 
quartered at Weedon, and these were called out and 
packed away in a railway train, which followed up the 
tiger at a slow rate, and out of the railway carriage the 
soldiers potted away at the tiger until they killed him. 
My father always considered he had a good claim 
against the Railway Company for damages, but did 
not follow it up, and consequently was a heavy loser.” 
The most troublesome arrival to recapture which 
ever escaped from the “stables” in London was a 
large baboon. It contrived to get clear of its cage 
over-night, and opened the window of the room in 
which it was confined. Thence it leapt on to the roof 
of a house opposite ; “ crawling over the tiles,” says 
a writer to whom Mr. Jamrach told the story, “ it 
ensconced itself among the chimneys, pleased with 
the warmth, and chattered defiance at its pursuers. 
