REMINISCENCES FROM THE MELBOURNE ZOO. 
207 
shook beneath their feet and with its movement and their noise it was 
like the long reverberation of rolling thunder. 
These were happy times for the two lovers, and their antics made 
great sport for the keepers. Then their first calf came, and they 
assumed the most grotesque airs of dignity. It was time to give up all 
such youthful exhibitions of happiness. They had not only to remember 
that they were parents, but had the additional weight of honor to carry 
in the knowledge that they were parents of the first baby bison ever 
born in Australia. Their assumption of grown-up seriousness was very 
funny, but unfortunately this quaint family life lasted only for three or 
four months. The mother took ill and died suddenly; and all the color 
and beauty and joy went out of life for the poor widower. He refused 
to take notice of anything or anybody. The baby was nothing to him 
now its mother was gone, and he would not look at it. In the next 
paddock were some Zebus, or Indian cattle, and it was thought that if 
they could be placed with him it might cheer him somewhat and relieve 
his terrible loneliness. But they could put anything with him for all 
he cared; it made no difference to him as long as he was free to wrap 
himself up in his grief. The poor little orphan tried to get some of 
the sympathy she so badly needed from the newcomers, but they would 
not be bothered with her; and then she again began to appeal to her 
father. For some time she rubbed herself against him gently without 
eliciting the smallest response, but he did not repel her, and so she found 
courage to persist. At last he seemed to realise that she was fretting 
for the same lost treasure as himself. Once the ice was broken this 
bond of union quickly drew them close together, and then he adopted 
little forlorn Topsy in reality. They became inseparables. She grew 
better in health, and he in spirits, and to this day they live for and with 
each other. It can hardly be said that Silas has reared her as well as 
her mother could have done, for if ever there was an understudy for 
poor “Tops,” who “jus’ growed,” it is this latest Topsy whose lack of 
mothering shows in every movement and in every line. But still she 
has found her father’s love a big compensation, and one is just the 
other’s shadow, so close are they to each other the livelong day. He is 
so devoted to her that the second wife, bought for him from Wirth’s 
circus, has good reason to complain of being entirely neglected and kept 
determinedly in the cold. She is tolerated by father and daughter, but 
they give her distinctly to understand that they can get along very well 
without her. She never obtrudes her presence, and seems to have come 
to the philosophic conclusion that she must wait until Topsy is quite 
off her father’s hands before she can hope for her proper place in the 
family life. 
