But the most interesting portions of Regent's Park are the Zoological Gardens, where are kept all varieties of beasts, birds, and serpents. I had far more pleasure in visiting these gardens than I had ever found in seeing collections of wild beasts in our own country, because the animals themselves seemed so much more comfortable and happy. I had been accustomed to see the lions, leopards, tigers, and bears cramped up in miserable little grated boxes, and looking as fierce, surly, and wretched as possible. But here they walked up and down large airy cages, or stretched themselves out in the sun, or dozed in their sleeping-rooms--with no brutal showmen to molest them, and no Van Amburgh to make them afraid--and seemed really very well to do, good-humored, and contented. Even the polar bear, who had a quiet, shady retreat, seemed to be taking matters coolly, instead of panting and lolling and tumbling about in the old uncomfortable way. The zebras looked almost amiable, and the hyenas respectable, while the poor camels wore a far less woe-begone expression than those long-suffering animals are expected to wear. As for the monkeys, apes, and ourang-outangs, they were the noisiest, jolliest, most frolicsome set of creatures you can imagine. In a yard by themselves, we saw several giraffes, who appeared to be having a pleasant gossipping time, overlooking the affairs of all their neighbors. It seemed to me that if they could put their necks together, they would reach almost as high as Jack's famous bean-stalk climbed. Very curious sights to me were the rhinoceros and hippopotamus, both of whom I saw luxuriating in great vats of muddy water. This hippopotamus is an enormous animal, very clumsy in his motions, and rather indolent in his habits. He has an Arab keeper, of whom he is so fond that he will take food from no one else--will not even sleep away from him. The Arab is said to return his fat friend's affection, and by no means objects to him as a bedfellow. A strange, piteous-looking creature was the seal, that I saw stretched on a rock at the edge of a little pond. Its eyes were large and dark and sad--so like human eyes, that I shuddered as I looked at them; for it almost seemed that the poor, helpless seal itself was a human form, bound and pinioned, and flung down there to die. I have no fancy for serpents--indeed, to tell the truth, I detest and fear them--so, I did not visit that department. Among the birds, I was most amused by the large collection of parrots. When I entered the gallery in which they are kept, I was almost crazed by the confusion of tongues. There were scores of parrots, parroquets, macaws, and cockatoos, all chattering and laughing and screaming together. It was like a village school just let out, or a large party of gossiping ladies over their tea.