140 
ALMOST HUMAN 
GIRAFFES 
A WIDOW’S GRIEF. 
At the time of writing there is but one giraffe in all Australia, and 
that is at the Melbourne Zoo. Rosie is a great favorite with all comers. 
“Say,” said a contemplative farmer, “what a bail we’d need if our cows 
had necks like that!” Her incredible height is somehow forgotten in her 
kindly willingness to stoop to conquer, and although she finds it somewhat 
difficult to reach down to the hands of little children as they timidly offer 
her peanuts through the wire-netted fence, her patience is inexhaustible, 
and she manages to stoop by spreading out her front legs and thus reduc- 
ing the distance between her and insignificant mortals. Like Queenie, the 
elephant, Rosie has a devoted slave. There never was a more spoiled 
baby in marble halls than this giraffe at the Zoo. Her keeper, who 
is seen in the accompanying photograph, is named Sam Tospell, and he 
devotes his waking hours to her and sometimes his dreams. Should 
a thunderstorm arise by night, Sam dresses as fast as he can make his 
fingers move, and gets down to the house where Rosie is sure to be 
found crouching in a corner, terrified by the awful noise. Throughout 
the storm he stays by her side and she gradually ceases quaking, in her 
trust that he will save her from any harm. She never makes the 
slightest sound, but her dumb entreaties, and the big tears that glisten 
on her long eyelashes and rain down her cheeks are more eloquent than 
any appeal to the ear. She trembles so painfully, and draws so close 
to her friend when afraid, that it would be a relief to him if she could 
express her fears in sound. Although she is tame as tame can be, yet 
she is not to be trifled with, and few besides her keeper would care to 
invade her territory. If she approves of visitors to her house, she will 
condescend to eat from their hands and then hold down her head for 
patting; but if she docs not like their looks, her front hoof comes up 
instantly, and care must be taken to avoid a regrettable accident. She 
tolerates the staff — she knows they are necessary evils — but she wor- 
ships her keeper, whom she regards as her personal property, and who 
cannot move about the gardens without her consent. 
When she came to the gardens first, she was accompanied by a 
very handsome consort. He was so strong and chivalrous that he became 
an immediate favorite. The pair were brought out by a member of 
