182 
JAMRA CH’S ’ 
weeks makes their transport an easy matter. They 
curl up like a cat in a basket, and if kept quiet and 
in the dark, do not greatly suffer in condition. The 
semi-darkness, and the position of the boxes on the 
floor, make it difficult to see the full beauty of 
the prisoners within. Nor is it desirable to approach 
the roughly-constructed cages too closely. The 
animals at Jamrach’s are not the half-do mesticated 
creatures of the Lion House at the Zoo, but the wild 
and savage denizens of tropical jungles, captured 
but not yet cowed, or even reconciled to the proximity 
of man. As parts of the fronts as well as the sides 
and backs of the cages are boarded over, the visitor 
naturally seeks a view from a point somewhat close 
to the bars — an approach which is at once converted 
into a sudden movement in retreat, as the animal 
inside appears to explode. A crash of claws upon 
the bars, a sharp, throat-splitting blast of growls, and 
a glimpse of white teeth and yellow-green eyes in 
the darkness, is the instantaneous expression of the 
panthers dislike to intrusion. If the shutters are 
removed, and the light admitted, the beautiful creature 
shrinks slowly backward and downward, its soft and 
elastic body slowly contracting and flattening with 
the fluid suppleness of a python’s folds. A pretty pair 
of young African cheetahs in another box spat and 
bared their teeth with a show of high resentment 
which would not have discredited wild beasts of a 
far larger growth, and maintained a bickering sputter 
of repugnance and hostility till the offending gaze 
