THE ZOO IN A FROST 
7 
thriven at the Zoo. Four out of six had died at the 
date at which this visit was made, and only one is now 
left in the Gardens. 
The demeanour of the inmates of the artificially- 
warmed houses ought not to differ greatly in frost, 
as the ordinary temperature is nominally preserved. 
In the Elephant and Antelope Houses such a day as 
that which we describe has little effect beyond giving 
an added briskness of demeanour to such creatures 
as are not, like the elephant and rhinoceros, too bulky 
and majestic to be exhilarated by mere accidents of 
temperature. 
The Antelope House is redolent with a delicious 
perfume of the finest hay, and its graceful inmates 
nibble at their fragrant breakfast with the same 
dainty selectness which marks their habits at meals 
on less appetizing days. Many of the larger kinds, 
lying in their neat stalls, look like some glorified 
form of Oriental cattle. The eland, couched placidly 
on a bed of golden straw, with its satin-like biscuit- 
coloured skin gathered into soft little wrinkles at the 
folded joints, and its dark full eye turned to gaze 
mildly at the visitors, seems a type of what the 
domesticated antelope should be, shielded from the 
weather, eating artificially prepared food, lying on the 
straw of civilization, and dependent for its food on the 
stockman’s punctuality. The only creature which 
showed some effects of the exhilaration in the frosty 
air was the beautiful little Nagore antelope, the only 
living specimen, we believe, of this rare animal now 
