230 
ALMOST HUMAN 
relation. Still, the city dweller would feel very lonely without some 
kind of bird, and if it were not for the impertinent little sparrow and 
the charming mynah, who would brighten our lot by reminding us of 
places where the birds sing all day long? 
The skylark and the English robin were introduced here by this 
Society. Unfortunately the skylark seems to prefer New Zealand to 
this climate, for it has thrived there much better than here. We have 
been deprived of the delight of listening to its glorious song: we have 
been saved the sin of eating lark pies. 
The Acclimatisation Society had nothing to do with the importation 
of either rabbits or foxes, and feels proud of itself for having a clean 
sheet in that respect. Once upon a time there was a colony of over one 
hundred silver grey rabbits at the gardens, but they were in an en- 
closure especially prepared for them with rabbit proof fencing running 
right down to the clay bottom of the soil. So they did not manage to get 
away and set up separate establishments. They gradually died out, 
which was a pity, because their fur was both handsome and valuable. 
HALF-PAST THREE 
One afternoon a lady went up to a gardener who was industriously 
digging near the lions’ cages, and she said: 
“Do you know when the lions are fed?” 
“I do,” answered the man civilly, as he went on with his work. 
The lady, thinking he had not heard her aright, repeated her ques- 
tion. 
“I do,” came the answer again. 
She waited a few seconds, and then asked: 
“Did you hear what I said?” 
“I did,” came the reply, without the least suspicion of incivility and 
without a second’s pause in his work. 
“Then I think you are a very impertinent man!” she said, with very 
evident anger. 
“And why?” asked the gardener, as he looked at her in surprise. 
“You asked me a civil question and I gave you a civil answer!” 
“I asked you if you knew what time the lions were fed!” came the 
heated retort. 
