[Illustration: JERBOA IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN OF BERLIN.--DRAWN FROM LIFE BY G. MUTZEL.] My anticipation and pleasure were changed to vexation and grief. The most careful nursing--the stiff, weak little legs were dipped into and rubbed with French brandy--and a warm pen with a dry sanded floor directly over a heater, did their work. As the new-comer got on his feet again my hope gained new life, and now our jerboa is my delight. It is, indeed, a curious animal. One who saw it only in the day time asleep would scarcely know what he had before him, for he would see little more than a mass of soft, bright sandy hair. The coming of the keeper with the dish of food and the unfastening of the door of the cage bring life to the ball of hair in the corner; a part of it is unrolled and the long, black-tipped tail with two lines of hair is laid out on the ground, and then on each side of it a leg is run out which is nearly as long as the tail and is provided with blunt, smooth, hoof-life nails; and, finally, the head and body are distinguishable and the animal stretches out comfortably on its back in the sand. The fine-skinned, hairless ears still hang limp, the eyes are half closed and the short fore legs are crossed under the chin. But now the animal gets on its legs by an elastic swing, and its ears are raised and its eyes wide open, so that we can see that the latter are large and dark, with long eyelashes. Then the jerboa raises himself to his full height and playfully measures his cage by one bound from corner to corner. Soon after, the fresh food receives due attention, the animal either jumping toward it in rabbit fashion or crawling slowly on all fours. When it has reached its goal it again assumes the upright position, in which it is evidently most comfortable, and begins to eat it in his own peculiar way; that is, sitting on his hind legs he quickly seizes a piece of bread, turnip or other food in his fore paws and conveys it to his mouth, apparently indifferent to the nature of the food before him. He never takes anything directly in his mouth; even the grass on a piece of turf that I had given to him as an experiment was not eaten as it would have been eaten by other animals, but was first plucked with the fore paws. If we notice the position of the mouth, far back on the under side of the head, we will understand that the jerboa could not take his food in any other way. Besides this, nothing of special interest has been observed in this nocturnal creature, but he, of course, lives more regularly and quietly than if his mate had lived.