The horns of the Giraffe, small as they are, and muffled with skin and hair, are by no means the insignificant weapons they seem. We have seen them wielded by the males against each other with fearful and reckless force; and we know that they are the natural arms of the Giraffe, most dreaded by the keeper of the present living Giraffes in the Zoological Gardens, because they are most commonly and suddenly put in use. The Giraffe does not butt by depressing and suddenly elevating the head, like the deer, ox, or sheep; but strikes the callous obtuse extremities of the horns against the object of his attack, with a sidelong sweep of the neck. The Giraffe has a peculiarly awkward manner of trotting, as it moves both the legs on one side at the same time. In galloping, the Giraffe separates its hind legs widely, and at each stride brings them far forward on each side of the fore feet; in this way the animal makes rapid progress, although its appearance is rather extraordinary, and the stones cast backwards by the force of the hind feet not unfrequently assist in protecting it when closely pursued. The female Giraffe in the Regent’s Park was a very bad mother to her first young one, as she would not let it suck, and beat it away whenever it approached. The poor thing was fed with cow’s milk, but it soon died. Later young ones have been more kindly treated, and have in consequence thriven well. [Illustration: THE BACTRIAN CAMEL. (_Camelus Bactrianus._)] “In silent horror, o’er the boundless waste, The driver Hassan with his Camels passed: One cruse of water on his back he bore, And his light scrip contained a scanty store: A fan of painted feathers in his hand, To guard his shaded face from scorching sand; The sultry sun had gained the middle sky, And not a tree, and not a herb was nigh: The beasts with pain their dusty way pursue, Shrill roar’d the winds, and dreary was the view!” COLLINS.