THE ZOO IN A FROST 
3 
cold of the capybara, a gigantic water guinea-pig 
from the warm rivers of Brazil, is not easy to explain. 
Two of these quaint creatures had left their snug 
sleeping apartments, and were stepping gaily among 
pools of half-frozen water and broken ice. One had 
gained an extra coat by burrowing in its straw and 
then emerging with a pile upon its back ; and, when 
this fell off, retired and shuffled on another pile ; but 
the other seemed quite content to sit without pro- 
tection in the sunniest corner of its enclosure. The 
whole colony of porcupines (six in number), which, 
like most semi-nocturnal animals, are very loath to 
appear in public during the day unless enticed by 
food of a more than usually tempting character, were 
abroad and in the highest spirits, erecting and rattling 
their quills, and sitting up to inspect their visitors 
like gigantic rabbits. It is difficult to conceive that 
a coat of quills can impart much warmth to its 
wearer ; but towards Christmas the quaint black-and- 
white garment of the porcupine has almost the appear- 
ance of a mantle of stiff feathers ; and the crest on 
the head and shoulders, sloping backwards along the 
spine, combines, with the black face and Roman nose, 
to suggest a comical resemblance between the fully- 
fledged porcupine and one of Buffalo Bill’s Sioux 
warriors in full costume of eagles’ plumes. 
During the first cold of winter the plumage of the 
birds and the coats of the fur-bearing animals in the 
Zoo are hardly inferior to those of their wild kindred. 
Both the eagle and the American bison are in con- 
