148 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
———————oOOoeeeeeeeeeeeeeoeoeolElEleleleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee  eeeSSeeSsSes 

THE OLD DRESS COAT. 
—_—¢———. 
4 PARODY ON GEN. ALBERT PIKE’S “OLD CANOB."’ 
——— eee 
Where cobwebs are thick and ceiling low, 
And the dusty floor looks dark below, 
Where trunks and boxes in lonely pride 
Are gloomily ranged ‘round the rough wall side; 
Where pictures hang that are old and dim, 
Where old hats lay devoid of brim, 
Where the past over all in dust is wrote, 
Hangs on a nail the old dress-coat. 
The well-worn tails are idly dropped, 
Like a sea-bird’s wing that the storm hath stopped, 
And down from the shoulders, one by one, 
Hang the threadbare arms whose work is done; 
While busily back and forth between 
The spiders stretch their silver screen, 
And their struggling victims wearily tote 
Across the breast of the old dress-coat. 
The glossy cloth that a luster gave 
Rots slowly away to its hidden grave; 
The green mildew creeps o’er its decay, 
Hiding the moldering past away 
Like the hand that plants o’er the tomb a flower, 
Or the ivy that mantles a fallen tower, 
While fading colors, once remote, 
Throw their somber hues o’er the old dress-coat. 
The heaving breasts are dead and still, 
But the light winds play with the flaps at will; 
And lazily swinging its shabby tail 
It floats its length from a rusty nail, 
Like a pendulum moving the hands of time, 
That meet and part at the noon-tide chime, 
And the arms together kindly float, 
As if to greet o’er the old dress-coat. 
Oh, many a time in the olden day 
I've brushed its folds and dust away, 
And decked myself for the evening ball, 
Where the dance was wild, and love ruled all; 
And laughed as I whirled in the giddy dance, 
At the girls’ sly look and admiring glance, 
And felt youth’s music’s sweetest note, 
As I sauntered along in my fine dress-coat. 
But now, as I turn from its‘moldering pride, 
And look in the broken glass at its side, 
The face that I see is graver grown, 
And the laugh that I hear has a soberer tone, 
And the form that gave it such graceful swings 
Hath bowed ‘neath the weight of sterner things; 
But I love to think of the happy hours 
I danced in my coat ’mid music and flowers, 
Ere the steps of time in its rude march smote, 
And crushed the pride of my old dress-coat. 
— Anonymous. 
mong the Birds and Beasts. 
Veen are attracted to the place by the outside show. In 
the bulk windows you see innumerable cages, inhab- 
ited by canaries, who hop about within their narrow homes 
with incessant motion. If youapproach nearer to the win- 
dow, and if your ear is fine and youcan separate the noises 
of Chatham street—mufile, as it were, the rumble of the 
street car, the din and rattle of the carts and wagons, you 
will distinguish no end of twitter coming from the estab- 
lishment in question. Sometimes this chorus, if a streak 
of sunshine slides into the store, rises in volume of 
chirps until it sounds like a band of tiny piccolos—the® 
again it ceases, and there comes a clatter, a din of squeaks, 
saw-edge-sharpening sounds; the parrots taking hand in 
the bird orchestra. Lured by the sounds—melodious, dis- 
cordant, or otherwise—and having some business with the 
proprietor, we enter the bird-store. The twitter is, if any- 
thing, a trifle too intense, and as if enraged at our pres- 
ence, all the parrots commence wrangling, disputing, and 
objurgating in the most approved primary-meeting manner, 
until the tympanums of our ears fairly ache. 
Mr. Charles Reiche, the Noah of all this ark of birds, 
welcomes us, and, ‘‘wanting to know, you know,” we ask 
no end of questions, to all of which the good natured Noah 
replies. If Jamrach is the grand wild animal purveyor 
of England, Mr. Reiche occupies the same position in 
America. 
We watch a couple of assistants packing up most a gross 
of canary birds, each ina separate cage, going off by ex- 
press. The cages are all piled one above the other, and a 
long stick run through the wicker work to hold them to- 
gether. So tame are the birds that they scarcely flutter. 
The cages are deftly cleaned, an extra quantity of seed put 
in the feed cups, their water is replenished, a couple of 
thick pieces of paper are wrapped around the city of cages, 
and off they go on their journey. It is mid-day, and they 
will be in Boston or Cincinnati some time to-morrow, as 
“fresh as birds,” of course, and ready to send forth their 
sweet carol in, we trust, some gentle lady’s drawing-room. 
If we only could travel this way, and to the same destina- 
tion! 
The canary bird trade, Mr. Reiche informs us, is a con- 
stantly increasing one. Twenty-six years ago 1,000 birds 
in @ year was a large quantity of birds to dispose of to-day 
Mr. Reiche imports and sells 80,000 canaries, and can 
hardly keep up with the demand. They all come from the 
Hartz mountains, and are bred by the mining population, 
who increase their means by rearing this pretty bird. 
Every German steamer brings about 2,500 birds, and there 
is an attendant who crosses and cares for these feathered: 
passengers. The loss seems quite trifling, not being more 
than eight per cent. Mr. Reiche sends canaries to San 
Francisco, Valparaiso, Lima, and to the whole of South 
America. Crowded together in a large cage were those 

pretty birds, the Rice Bunting. Nothing can be primmer 
than the appearance of this bird, with its prettily tinted 
plumage and its white ears. They seem to be fond of each 
other’s society, as they cluster close together on the perches, 
which rise one above another, huddling together, and look- 
ing like so many little ladies, with white caps on, all seated 
in the boxes of a theatre. 
Parrots were in quantity. There was the chattering, so- 
cial green parrot (Chrysotis festivus), a festive “‘cuss,” un- 
doubtedly, and the gray one (Psittacus orythacus), rather 
more demure, scratching his head, and many beautifully 
colored parrots, all radiant in the most delicately tinted 
plumage. A pretty bird was the African widow bird, a 
tiny creature, covered with fine dark feathers, and having 
a gloriously long tail, dead black, about ten times as long 
Here were 
as his body, hanging pendulous from him, 
English thrushes and bull-finches, with a true Whitechapel 
look, awaiting purchasers, and gaudy pheasants, the Golden, 
shining like a bit or jeweler’s work, the more quiet Silver, 
and the demure English pheasant. 
nondescript ducks and a pair of black swans, and last, 
but not least, a magnificent specimen of the crowned 
This bird, the most glorious of 
the pigeon tribe, is of a delectable blue, is as large almost 
as a peacock, and has his head surmounted by an aigrette of 
He comes from Java, New Guinea, and 
pigeon, (Guara coronata). 
the finest feathers. 
the Moluccas, and is a royal bird. 
How long we might have remained in Mr. Reiche’s avi- 
ary we do not know, but we were startled by looking 
through a glass window, when we saw in an amusing way, 
the living contest of the Laocoon repeated, only in this 
case it was a row between one of Mr. Reiche’s men and an 
alligator. His Uglyship, all mouth and squirming tail, was 
refusing (and with a great show of reason and good sense 
on his part) to be placed in a wooden, coffin-like looking 
box. Though his destination was Europe, and his passage 
had been taken, he was vigorously protesting against ex- 
patriation, and asserting the right of a true born American. 
How he squirmed and wriggled, and he had to be pinned 
down to the ground with a wooden fork, before the stout 
German could induce him to enter his travelling apartment, 
and at last, when inveigled in as far as head and body 
went, how he lashed his tail outside, and hissed, snapped, 
and spluttered. 
‘““We are always sending alligators abroad, to amateurs 
and zoological societies. Neat creatures for certain kinds 
of aquariums. Mostly come from Florida, and are easily 
obtained. I shall ship about a dozen assorted sizes abroad 
this month. They will reach their destination in good 
order.” Just as Mr. Reiche had concluded, we were startled 
by feeling something or somebody inserting what we took 
to be an arm into our pocket. It was not the monkeys, 
who were chattering in their cages opposite. Who could 
it be? Turning around we faced a little elephant, who, 
with his proboscis, was examining our coat tail pocket. 
He was a chubby little elephant, about three years old, and 
was as tame asa dog. At the word of command he hoisted 
up his trunk, rolled up his lip, and showed his nascent 
tusks, about an inch beyond the gum. ‘What is he worth,” 
we asked. ‘‘Five thousand dollars, and cheap at that. In 
a year or two, as he grows, he will adda couple of thou- 
sand dollars to his price. Look at my kangaroo—a nice 
little fellow. He is worth $75. If he wasa great kanga- 
roo $1,000 would not be out of the way. There is a pen of 
peccaries, quite tame and gentle, and over there you will 
see a pair of Japanese hogs.” 
“How is the lion market ?” we asked. 
“Quite brisk, though it is at the end of the season. We 
have four on hand. Prices of animals do not vary much, 
though it is in the spring, for exhibition purposes, that the 
real demand sets in. A good African lion, with a full 
mane, would bring $5,000. A lioness is not quite so desir- 
able; you may quote her at $2,500. Tigers—royal Ben- 
gals—are always wanted. Ihave two very fine specimens; 
cheap at $5,000.” 
“How do you procure your stock ?” we asked. 
“A good many animals are bred abroad in European 
zoological societies. We buy from them, or exchange with 
them, and can mostly find what we want in London. But 
I have a regular set of men employed in Africa to find ani- 
mals forme. Now here is a letter from a party I have out 
there, in Cassela, somewhere on the White Nile. They are 
after hippopotami and ostriches. I could sell all ithe hip- 
potami I could get. It is among the most valuable of 
rare animals. There was a good specimen here some nine 
years ago, and he was rented out for $25,000 a year. If my 
party goes further south they may get for mea giraffe or 
so. A fair camel-leopard would be worth $5,000. The 
head of the party reports to me that Mr. Charles Reiche, 
on the 15th of June last, was the possessor of quite a coop 
of ostriches—some fourteen, I believe, Birds of small size 
are not very expensive. My agent tells me he has bought 
some for about a dollar—about the price of a chicken in 
Washington market. The head of the party is a German, 
and he says they will want a caravan of a hundred camels 
to bring them out of the desert, with the animals they have 
caught or purchased. The prices I ask may seem to you 
high, but you must bear in mind the risk we run. You 
can’t rate the figures on a rhinoceros the same as you would 
forahorse. It’s pretty much of a lottery. Some years 
ago I must have spent $25,000 on a single expedition. The 
head of the party used to draw on me from the middle of 
Ethiopia £1,000 drafts. I believe he did get quite a num- 
ber of fine animals together, only he went into the show 
business himself, on his own account with my animals. 
The last I heard of him was that he had my caravan in 
Here, too, were strange 
Australia, and beyond the reach of the law. Then it may 
be a risky business at times, for this reason. Though you 
may corner the animal market, yet you may glut it with 
certain beasts. Some two years ago all the zoological 
gardens which sell wild beasts, and the African hunters, got 
long on zebras and gnus, and you couldn’t give them away. 
They were not worth more than donkeys. The market has 
recovered, however, and zebras are now in fair demand. 
T have besides that party in Africa another one constantly 
in South America. They stay about the neighborhood of 
Para, and pick up pumas, jaguars, tapirs, monkeys, and 
boas forme. The snake line of business is always good. 
They are mostly in demand for side show entertainments. 
A good big snake fetches $500. I begged and begged for a 
big one as thick around as my thigh, a fellow who would 
breakfast ona goat, which I saw abroad this year, and 
offered $750 for him, but was refused. Monkeys are al- 
ways wanted; supply equal to the demand. A show starts 
out with a dozen of monkeys, happy family, and that kind 
of thing, and are always losing some of them. The price 
for monkeys varies. These little fellows,” and Mr. Reiche 
pointed to a cage full, ‘‘are worth $10. There is a $25 one, 
and I have got as much as $750 for one. The showmai 
called him a gorilla—which he was not. But you knoy 
these stage people often take names they have no right te 
Here are two nice leopards; don’t go too near them; the; 
are not to be trusted. Fifteen hundred dollars each is th 
value fixed on them.” Just then something shot past us 
across the floor, scampered over a bale of hay, and boltec 
into a corner. Whatever it was it went like a flash. Was 
it a wildcat ? We looked for an elevation to scramble on, 
to be out of harm’s way. Presently up ran two men ané 
made for the cornet, and captured the ,animal after no ené 
of Scuffling and fur flying. ‘‘You need not be afraid,” saié 
Mr. Reiche, quite encouragingly, ‘‘it is only an English 
hare. ,He will break loose every chance he gets. Now we 
have him in the cage again; pray notice his eyes; they are 
just like those of a human being. I imported a dozen for 
the Central Park last year, and they are doing pretty well. 
This one goes out to the Park to-morrow. Call here next 
week and I will show you some elk, and bears, and some 
whooping cranes, from Nebraska.” 
“You seem to have a very universal kind of business,” 
we remarked. 
“Quite so. It is wonderful how the taste has setin. Of 
course the bulk of the wild animals goes into the show 
business. Mr. Barnum has spent millions of dollars ir 
buying animals, and, by the way, he isa man to do busi 
ness with. Just as likely as not he may come in here to 
morrow and spend $50,000 with me in animals, and think 
no more about it than an ordinary person would when giv- 
ing a $10 bill for a black and tan terrier. But it is not only 
the show people who buy. There are various zoologicel 
societies starting up in various sections of the United 
States who are commencing to purchase animals. Then 
many private gentlemen are not only bird fanciers, but 
want game birds and animals to stock their grounds with. 
I get orders now from all parts of the Union. The bus:- 
ness commenced with a pair of canary birds, and has been 
developing ever since.” 
‘““How would you like to try and get one of those Rusr- 
sian mastodons they say are now ranging about in the 
Ural mountains ?” we inquired. 
“Have no faith inthem. Don’t believe that any creature 
of that kind exists. If it had, Jamrach, or the firm of C. 
Reiche & Brother, of New York, and Alfeld, Hanover, 
would have had them for sale,” 
Though inclined ourselves to be somewhat speculative, 
we are forced to declare that Mr. Reiche’s argument agains - 
the existence of the Siberian mastodon had its weight. 
“We have”—continued Mr. Reiche, patting the baby ele- 
phant, who in return was affectionately inserting his pre- 
boscis between the proprietor’s shirt collar and his neck— 
‘“‘we have some very funny correspondents at times. We 
have letters from all parts of the United States about ani- 
mals, and offers to sell them to us. A man sees a bear in the 
woods, and writes us to ask what we will give for him. 
Now the bear is in the wilds, ranging around, and the man 
wants to sell him in that way, before he is even trapped. 
We do business on the principle of not selling your bear 
skin before your bear is caught.” e 
“That is a sound maxim,” we replied. 
don’t your animals escape sometimes ?” 
“Of course they do, and give us trouble, but we are used 
to that kind of thing, and use the utmost precaution with 
the really dangerous animals.” 
“For instance,” we asked, ‘‘if those two leopards were to 
break bonds and range around the City Hall and Printing 
House Square, it would make quite a sensation, would it 
not ?” ‘ 
“Something of that kind happened to J amrach,” replied 
Mr. Reiche. ‘‘A tiger broke loose, promenaded London, 
and gobbled up a little boy. Jamrach went for that tiger 
with a crowbar, and after quite a lively fight made the tiger 
drop the boy, and eventually drove the animal back into his 
den. The child was not hurt.” 
“What was the sequel ?” we inquired. 
“Oh, the lawyers got hold of the matter, and Jamrach 
had to pay some £300 damages, which shows that Jamrach 
could fight a tiger, but not a lawyer.” 
a 
—The most appalling case ot deafness, outside of an 
asylum, was that of an old lady who lives just across the 
street from a navy-yard. The other day they fired a salute 
of twenty-one guns, The old lady was observed to start 
and listen as the last gun was fired, and then she exclaimed, 
“Come in!” 
“But, Mr. Reiche, 






