REMINISCENCES FROM THE MELBOURNE ZOO. 
15 
chain in one hand, so as not to go too far, he would throw a complete 
back somersault, and he never once failed to land again on that tiny 
platform. This he would do repeatedly. When he saw the people 
had tired of this fun, and were moving on to admire his mates, he had 
one trick up his sleeve that never failed to bring them rushing back to 
him. He would descend to the ground, and run up the pole from the 
other side, artfully drawing the chain over the back of his platform. 
Gripping it tightly about six inches from his collar, he would then pretend 
to do the same back somersault, but this time deliberately missed the 
platform, and came down dangling at the end of about three feet of chain 
just like a man hanging himself. There he would hang perfectly still, 
with legs stretched out, and one arm by his side, as if he were dead. The 
only thing a close observer might have wondered at was that one hand 
was still holding firmly to the chain near the collar, so that there could 
be no strangling grip about the neck. Of course everybody was deceived, 
and, with horrified screams of “He’s killed himself!” “He’s dead!” 
they would rush back to watch him. When he felt that he had caused 
a sufficiently great sensation, he would fling himself back on his platform, 
and then, rising once more upon his hind legs, he would wave his chain 
in the air and cry “Ya-hoo! ya-hoo!” Thus he laughed at the success 
of his greatest trick, knowing that nothing his companions could do had 
a chance of eclipsing him in public favor. One day, however, he was 
not successful. His hand must have slipped, for when the people cried 
“He’s killed himself!” there was no doubt about their truthfulness. His 
neck was broken, and a really dead baboon swung loosely on the end of 
the chain. 
A FEARFUL APPARITION. 
All that remains of Jacko to-day is his stuffed skin in the Melbourne 
Museum. He outlived both of his companions, and made history before 
his death. He could throw a somersault as well as Jacob,, but he would 
never do it on his pole. He preferred gyrating on the ground, and time 
after time he would go round and round the base of his pole, back- 
somersaulting like an acrobat. When he tired of this demonstration 
he would assume the attitude of a beggar, and, standing in a slouching 
kind of way, would hold out his hand for presents, which, naturally, 
he never failed to get. 
After the death of his two mates, it was decided to remove him 
from the large paddock where he had lived for so long, and put him in 
a smaller enclosure where the polar bears are now. To make the 
foundation for his pole, the keepers utilised a quantity of large, white 
