[Illustration: (_Side representing Kingdom of Beasts._)]
MEDAL PRESENTED BY THE ZOÖLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON
“TO MATTHEW SCOTT, FOR HIS SUCCESS IN BREEDING
FOREIGN ANIMALS IN THE SOCIETY’S GARDENS,
1866.”
[Illustration: (_Side representing Kingdom of Birds._)]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
M A T T H E W S C O T T
JUMBO’S KEEPER
FORMERLY OF THE ZOÖLOGICAL SOCIETY’S GARDENS,
LONDON, AND RECEIVER OF SIR EDWIN
LANDSEER MEDAL IN 1866
ALSO
J U M B O ’ S B I O G R A P H Y
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
BRIDGEPORT, CONN.
TROW’S PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING CO., NEW YORK
1885
COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY
MATTHEW SCOTT AND THOMAS E. LOWE
BRIDGEPORT, CONN.
DEDICATION.
I take great pleasure in dedicating this book, containing my
autobiography and the biography of Jumbo, to the people of the United
States of America and Great Britain.
I have travelled through the United States, North, East, South, and
West, and have received in my travels the greatest kindness. If “Jumbo”
could but speak, I know he would endorse what I say here. I have had the
same experience in Great Britain, and the spirit of gratitude impels me
to acknowledge my appreciation of the good will of the people of both
countries, by dedicating my humble efforts to them, hoping that this
attempt may be received with the same kindness that has been always
extended to me in person.
Respectfully,
MATTHEW SCOTT.
BRIDGEPORT, CONN.,
January 14, 1885.
MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER I.
MY BIRTH-PLACE AND START IN LIFE.
I purpose giving to the world, for the benefit of my fellow-men, my
humble and truthful history. I have many times thought I would do so,
not for my own glory, but for the enlightenment of such people as are
anxious to obtain knowledge. It is only to-day, January 14, 1885, that I
have concluded to set about writing it, and I purpose to give a faithful
record of my life, setting forth the various experiences through which I
have passed.
I was born at Knowsley, Lancashire, England, in 1834. It was the seat of
Lord Derby, the grandfather of the present earl; and from a child I
learned to love that family.
The Earls of Derby were, and are, among the greatest statesmen of
England.
My start in life was very humble, and I have even now, in my fifty-first
year, very little to boast of with regard to this world’s goods. I have
lived with Jumbo day and night for twenty years of my life. I am what is
called a “self-made man,” and can boast that the knowledge and
experience I possess, I have learned while living with wild beasts,
latterly in the company of my friend and companion “Jumbo,” the greatest
known animal on earth. I suppose my companion and I have seen more human
faces than most people, and I have spoken to as many people as almost
any other man. My life has been, perhaps, as peculiar and checkered as
that of any man of my time of life; yet I claim nothing but to show to
the people of the United States and Great Britain, to whom this book is
dedicated, what an humble son of toil has passed through in the
precarious, though to me, pleasant, occupation of keeper, breeder, and
lover of the beasts and birds of the forests and fields of all countries
and climes.
CHAPTER II.
MY FIRST EXPERIENCE AS A KEEPER.
I have already remarked in the previous chapter that I was born at
Knowsley, near Liverpool, England, on the estate of Lord Derby. My
father was born at the same place, and was “brewer” to the earl.
My dear, good, and much-loved mother was born on the same estate.
Our family consisted of sixteen sons and one daughter—a goodly
number—and I am the fifteenth son (though “better late than never”).
I lost my dear father when I was four years old—he lived to the age of
three score years and ten.
My mother lived to survive him several years.
When I was sent to London in 1851, I left the dear old soul hearty and
in good spirits, proud of her boy’s going up to the biggest city in the
world. I verily believe the good woman thought her fifteenth son was
going to turn out something unusual. Although she used to say that I was
“a rough, naughty lad, full of devilment,” she also said, in her quaint
way, “if you take that lad and strip him naked, and put him on top of a
mountain anywhere on the globe, he can get his own living; for, if
there’s nobody round the neighborhood of the mountain, he will have the
birds and animals feed him, like old Elijah and the raven in the
wilderness, or, like John the Baptist, he will live on locusts and
honey, and clothe himself with the skins of animals.”
Oh! my dear young readers, such a mother is worth more to you than all
the world. You just listen to your mother, and mark every word she says
when she advises and directs you, and you cannot fail to get along in
life.
I returned from London to Knowsley to visit the dear soul once before
she died.
However, to continue my story, I grew up at Knowsley, and at ten years
of age was engaged to feed the feathered tribes at the private menagerie
of the earl, who was a great lover of birds and beasts, and who spent
much time and money in their importation and breeding in Great Britain.
I had a great love (I suppose it was inherent) for birds, and I also was
proud to earn a few shillings a week for my dear old mother. So I turned
in under the guidance of my brother, who had charge of the aviary, and
was put to work at cleaning, feeding, breeding, and generally attending
to the parrots—that talkative tropical bird, whose tongue imitates so
well the speech of man and woman.
It was, perhaps, the happiest week’s work I ever put in, and I assure my
readers it was a delightful occupation.
CHAPTER III.
MY EXPERIENCE WITH BIRDS AT KNOWSLEY.
“Feed and tend birds,” say you, “a delightful occupation? Oh! I like
birds well enough; but then I want the servants, my sister, or mother,
to feed and clean after them. I like to see them, and listen to their
singing; but I don’t care about the bother of attending to their wants.”
Oh, my dear readers, there’s where you miss it. You cannot have the
affection of any of the feathered tribe, nor really love the little
pets, unless you sacrifice something for them. You must learn how to
clean for them, what their various wants are, and you must also study
their character to learn their little ways, before you can appreciate
them, or they will appreciate you.
To illustrate: When I was crossing the Atlantic with “Jumbo,” I had
considerable leisure, and loved to be on the quarter-deck to watch the
movements of the “sea gulls,” the birds of the sea that followed and
hovered around the stern of the ship all day long. I soon made their
acquaintance after leaving Queenstown’s beautiful bay.
I made a practice of filling my pockets with bread at meal times, and
when it was a little more stormy than usual, and no persons were on
deck, except the officers on duty, I would have all the birds to myself.
They would soar around the after part of the steamship, as majestically
as eagles soar in the heavens, and with the eyes of hawks, and the
swiftness of falcons, sweep over the turbulent green and white waters
which the screw of the ship threw madly up as she ploughed the mighty
deep.
Sometimes, as the steamer pitched forward, the screw propeller would
come to the surface of the waters, and I tell you, my dear readers, that
it required some real nerve to sit on the side of the ship with legs
dangling over the side, holding on by my left arm to the rigging, and
feeding the birds with the right hand, in a rather rough sea. Yet that
was, I found, about as good a place to sit as any other, and somewhat
better to view the graceful actions of these birds of the briny deep, as
the pretty creatures battled with the wind over the mighty waters, which
man has not been fully able to master.
There is only one Master of these elements.
When I was a boy in a Sunday-school, we used to sing the following
simple hymn, which a thousand times recurs to my mind. I think it
apropos to introduce it here, it tells how the waters were mastered only
once, and then by the “Great Master.”
“A little ship was on the sea,
It was a pretty sight,
It sailed along so pleasantly,
And all was calm and bright.
When lo! a storm began to rise;
The wind blew loud and strong,
It blew the waves across the sky,
It blew the waves along,
And all but One were sore afraid
Of sinking in the deep.
_His_ head was on a pillow laid,
And he was fast asleep.
‘Master, we perish; master, save!’
He rose; rebuked the wind and wave,
And stilled them with a word.
And well we know it was the Lord,
Our Saviour and our Friend,
Whose care of those who love his word
Will never, never end.”
CHAPTER IV.
MY LIFE AT LORD DERBY’S SEAT, KNOWSLEY, ENGLAND.
But to continue the story of my experiences on the voyage. As I sat in
the position heretofore described, I fed these seagulls, and the
pleasure and delight that filled my soul as the hundreds of birds
swooped down from their heights to the surface of the troubled waters
was very great. They picked up every crumb, and that without confusion.
There was no scrambling for the food, such as was indulged in by the
poor two-legged creatures down in the steerage, when the steward pitched
his tin of fish or flesh on the floor of the cabin. The bird that first
reached a crumb of bread took it up, and the others soared away to take
another chance, which I soon gave them. I learned much from these birds
in their native element, to be added to my stock of knowledge gathered
from them in their imprisoned state in the Gardens at Knowsley, and at
the Zoölogical Gardens, London.
Now, if I had not sacrificed a little comfort, and taken the trouble to
feed them, they would not have had the confidence in me which to my mind
they plainly exhibited. Nor would I have learned their ways. I could
tell the reader a great deal more of the habits of these birds, but lack
of space prevents me doing so.
The real lover of the feathered tribes _always_ feeds and nurses them.
It is a fact that you cannot love, or have the affection of any bird or
other animal, without attending to its wants, to some extent.
I was about five years in charge of the parrots at Knowsley, and was
very fond of them. In fact, to be candid, I was loth to leave them; but
as I had grown into a sharp, active stripling of a lad, as nimble and as
athletic as a young panther, I was told to go up higher, and was
appointed keeper to those most beautiful and graceful of all animals,
the deers and antelopes, as well as some other larger natives of the
forest.
I passed several years in this position, growing up into manhood, at
times contending actively with the wilder and more unmanageable animals.
I have read in the good old Bible of young David having killed the lion,
when he was keeping his father’s sheep on the plains of Palestine.
My experience teaches me that the statement of David is true, and I can
understand how, without any use of miraculous power, the stripling could
and did slay the lion. _I know how it is done_, and can do it if
necessary, and could have done it when I was a stripling of seventeen
years of age. But I would rather heal a sore, take a thorn out of a
foot, nurse an animal through inflammation of the bowels, with its
disagreeable attending consequences, than I would slay any brute.
But, perhaps, my readers may think this a weakness. However, I
respectfully but firmly disagree with you, and take the negative side.
Why, I have nursed “Jumbo,” the largest, most intelligent, and certainly
the most powerful living animal in creation. He weighs nearly eight
tons; he stands to-day nearly twelve feet high in his “bare feet.” He
can swing by his step, at “walking gait,” the largest suspension bridge
that man has ever built. He is now at his majority, and ready for all
the duties of manhood. He was given to me a baby, and I have been more
than a father to him, for I have performed the duties and bestowed the
affections of a mother as far as my humble ability would permit. I am
proud of my boy, “Jumbo.” All the experience shared with him is a
pleasure to me, and is a great reward, which I am thankful for in these
my older days. I feel them creeping on, but so long as I am permitted
the company of dear old Jumbo, I shall be quite contented.
If Jumbo goes on growing to the average age of man, when he arrives at
that figure he will be a prodigious monster. I don’t know what he will
grow into either in mind or instinct (call it what you like). I know
this, that I am happy in his company, and do not wish to leave it. We
are close companions, and if he lives until my death I verily believe it
will break his heart. If he survives me, I don’t know who can possibly
associate with him, for ever since I brought him away from his wife
Alice, whom we left in England, he has been extremely fractious in his
temper even with me, and no one else can venture near him if they value
their lives.
But to return to my story.
After I had spent some years in the wild beast department at Knowsley,
the old earl died, and we buried him with his fathers.
CHAPTER V.
MY EXPERIENCES IN THE ZOÖLOGICAL SOCIETY’S GARDENS, LONDON—ALSO SOME
REMARKS ABOUT A STRANGE BIRD, THE APTERYX.
The Earl had left a legacy to the Zoölogical Society of London. He left
them the choice of any set of animals or birds they might prefer.
Strange to say, the Society chose my favorite Eland antelopes, a
beautiful set of five natives of South Africa. As they had been under my
care for many years, the Society prevailed upon the succeeding Earl (the
present Earl’s father), to allow me to go with the “Elands” to London.
This changed the whole course of my life. I was packed off with the
Elands to the greatest city in the world, and entered London in 1851 for
the first time, under these very peculiar circumstances.
I lived in London at the Zoölogical Gardens most part of my life (about
thirty years), during which time I bred, nursed, and raised more foreign
birds and animals than any other living man. I had animals from Asia,
Africa, Australia, New Zealand, America, Europe, and, in fact, from all
parts of the globe. Especially do I wish to remark that I raised a large
number of young Eland antelopes. Indeed, I raised over forty of those
graceful creatures myself, as well as watching and tending many other
wild animals during the same period.
The first specimens I had the pleasure of breeding and raising at the
Zoölogical Gardens were a set of birds called the Cassowary. A family of
birds belonging to the ostrich order, natives of India, Mexico, Guiana,
and the Brazils. It has a short bill, arch-shaped above the base; the
cheeks are almost naked; wattles like a rooster; a helmet on the top of
the head. The bird is about the size of a middle-aged ostrich. A
dark-brown plumage, a little green shade about the head. When fighting
with its enemies it uses its legs in the same manner as a pugilist
strikes his antagonist, delivering his blows from the hip, just as a man
strikes “right out from the shoulder.”
_The greatest curiosity of the feathered tribe_ I am certain, to my
mind, is of the ostrich family, and is called the Apteryx, a native of
New Zealand.
Of all the feathered tribes that have come within my knowledge perhaps
this is the most curious. The covering is half feathers and half hair;
the color is dark brown. It is thought by the leading naturalists (and I
agree with them), to be the connecting link between the bird and beast.
The proboscis is quite at the end of the beak, which is near a foot in
length, and is used for boring into the earth, and also as a
suction-pipe to draw up snails and worms from below the surface. On the
legs and feet are three toes or claws considerably apart. The average
weight of the egg of this bird is fourteen and a half ounces, being
one-fourth part of the weight of the “beast-bird” itself.
[Illustration: THE APTERYX.]
This “beast-bird” was in the Gardens seven years before it required an
ounce of water (although a perfect teetotaller).
One morning I found the Apteryx apparently in a bad state of health, and
when I called the attention of the professors and scientific men to its
condition they all declared that the bird must be old and used up, and
they predicted its death accordingly. I put in a word of appeal for the
poor creature. I told the professors that, although not certain, it was
my impression the bird was simply breeding and engaged in forming an
egg, and that in all probability she was not sick at all. My
observations were ridiculed, and I was laughed at, yet I persevered in
standing by my opinion. As in many other instances, my perseverance was
at length rewarded by my being allowed to have my own way. I set to work
at once and watched and attended to the Apteryx night and day. The
sequel proved that my opinion was the correct one, and to my great joy,
and no doubt her relief, she delivered herself of an immense egg.
CHAPTER VI.
THE PECULIAR NATURE AND HABITS OF THE APTERYX—THE STRANGEST OF ALL BIRDS.
When the time of delivery was at hand, I supplied her with water, and
she used it freely, as a help to deliver the egg. This was the first
water she had used in seven years (being a bird of absorption), and
until the time of delivery she never required water at all as a drink.
Seventeen days elapsed from the time I got full control of the bird
(dating from the day the professors had given her up), when she was
safely delivered of the first egg ever laid on the Island of Great
Britain, or in any other country or clime, away from her native wilds.
The female Apteryx produces an egg ready for hatching without ever
seeing a male bird.
I may inform my reader that when the female bird produces an egg, one or
more of the male birds of the family in the neighborhood at the time of
its production, assemble and take charge of the egg. If several eggs are
laid by different birds, the males collect them together and take charge
of them, until the females of the whole colony have done producing and
laying eggs for the season. The male birds then proceed to hatch out the
eggs.
There was much contradiction and great argument over my statements in
regard to this representative of the feathered tribe of New Zealand. The
wise men—scientists and naturalists—“sat in council,” and asserted
that I could not possibly know anything about the breeding and hatching
of these birds in their native state, as I had never been out of
England. This first egg was considered such a wonder that it was decided
to send out to New Zealand and bring over some of the chiefs of the
various tribes, in order that something might be learned about the
manner of production and hatching out of this egg. The chiefs from the
Antipodes came to see this great phenomenon, and pronounced their
opinion. When they had given in their verdict, I begged to differ with
their views, and expressed myself accordingly, and proved that these
savages were simply ignoramuses on the subject. It was then decided to
send them back to New Zealand in order to bring over a male bird to
hatch out the egg, and after much trouble this was accomplished.
The chiefs returned to New Zealand and obtained and shipped to England a
male Apteryx. On its arrival he was shown, and immediately took to
sitting on and hatching out the egg laid by my female bird. During the
time this male bird from New Zealand was sitting on the first egg of my
pet Apteryx, he died suddenly, and there was a great investigation as to
the cause, but no definite information was gleaned at the time. I
carefully examined this dead Apteryx, and although I was not allowed to
make a post-mortem examination, I found out the cause. There were a
great many mice about the place, and I discovered that they had attacked
him while he was sitting on the egg and eaten through his skin and flesh
to the bone. No doubt this took away his life. I have never known,
heard, or read of greater or more devoted duty on the part of any of
God’s creatures than was displayed by this male Apteryx, a stranger from
New Zealand, a prisoner, faithfully and tenderly doing the duty nature
had ordained it to do, and that even when its vitals were being gnawed
out. Such bravery is seldom met with. I may be pardoned for bringing
this seeming trivial thing to the notice and for the benefit of my
readers. Of course, the eggs of my pet bird were never hatched out, and
I was a greatly disappointed man.
During the long spell my pet bird was breeding she was also awfully
bitten by mice; the mice had made one considerable hole in the under
part of her body. I had done all I could, used all my ingenuity, and
tried all the ways and means of destroying the vermin, but as I dared
not use poison I found it impossible to trap and catch them all. I
nursed my pet bird with that care and thought I had many other animals
and birds (I think even more so), and was rewarded by having her life
saved.
The Apteryx is, to my knowledge, the most curious bird I have ever had
to do with in my long experience.
CHAPTER VII.
MORE ABOUT THE APTERYX AND OSTRICH TRIBE GENERALLY.
The Apteryx produces only two eggs in a season. The first young Apteryx
hatched out accompanies the female bird, its mother, during the time the
male bird is hatching out the second egg. They then all join as one
happy family, and journey along through life together.
The most remarkable feature of the habits of this bird, is that the
female conceives, breeds, and produces the egg without the aid of the
male bird—as remarked before.
The Apteryx is a nocturnal bird. It sleeps all day and takes its
pleasures and hunts for food by night.
I have watched my Apteryx often when she went about in the dark seeking
her food, boring down into the ground with her long bill for worms,
snails, and such small fry. Then I have seen her, after she had filled
her stomach with food, take her ease and comfort. Really, my dear
readers, I cannot find words to tell you what pleasure I took in seeing
that bird roam about at night when all nature seemed to be reposing,
while she sang and enjoyed herself. She made a peculiar sound, something
like “kawo,” “kawo,” “kawo,” clear and shrill, and as I sat smoking my
pipe and watching her, I tell you it was something fine to see how happy
this bird of the night was. It reminded me of the nightingale, which, as
everybody knows, sings at night. The male Apteryx had more of a
whistling sound than the female.
We have often heard and read of the travellers in the East and South,
where these ostrich tribes live and flourish in their native element,
that the birds lay their eggs in the sand, and leave them there to be
hatched out by the heat of the sun. It is not so. The sun is not always
shining, nor can there always be the same temperature. To produce young
from eggs the temperature must be about the same during the twenty-four
hours. All chicken breeders by steam or other artificial heat know this.
The fact is, the female bird lays her egg in the sand where she is at
the time of delivery, and immediately the male bird in the vicinity at
such time takes possession, and sits on the egg, never deserting it
except when compelled to travel in quest of food, and then only for a
very short time.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE LANDSEER MEDAL, PRESENTED TO ME BY THE ZOÖLOGICAL SOCIETY, LONDON,
1866—CONCLUSION OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
I have indulged in a more detailed description of the Cassowary and
Apteryx, than what I intended giving; but the latter is such a very rare
and strange bird, that I thought it better to acquaint my readers with
its peculiarities. They are indeed peculiar; so much so, that the
naturalists and scientists of the greatest zoölogical collection in the
world were completely at sea in reference to them. The experiences, as
told, prove this; and I flatter myself that my care and observation of
the bird have added a valuable page to natural history.
I shall soon conclude my humble autobiography.
After many years of varied experience, the naturalists and members of
the Zoölogical Society, London, without a single exception, united in
presenting me with a set of resolutions in 1866. They accompanied a
magnificent bronze medal, of which I am justly, I think, proud. The
medal was designed by no less an artist than Sir Edwin Landseer, the
greatest animal painter that ever lived.
The designs are beautifully executed. One side represents the beasts,
viz.: the elephant, rhinoceros, giraffe, Hindoo bull, llama, etc. The
other side represents the birds, as follows: the eagle, ostrich, crane,
adjutant, pelican, condor, swan, parrot, stork, ibis, and bird of
paradise. (See engravings in front of book.)
The inscription on the medal is as follows:
“To MATTHEW SCOTT, for his success in breeding
Foreign Animals, in the Zoölogical Society’s Gardens,
London, 1866.”
I think that the above speaks for itself, and needs no further comment.
The contents of the resolutions were, if possible, more flattering, and
modesty prevents my giving them _verbatim_.
I felt, after I was the recipient of both of these testimonials to my
humble abilities, that I was rewarded fully for my trials, dangers, and
toils, as the care-taker and breeder of the beast and bird. I had but
one regret, and that was that my good old mother was not living at the
time, to share my pleasure.
I continued in the Gardens, superintending the general management, as to
keeping and breeding, until the special task was allotted to me of going
to France, to bring over the animal that was destined to become the
“animal of animals,” viz.: his majesty “Jumbo.”
My experiences with him, so varied and peculiar, would fill volumes; but
I have endeavored to give some of the salient points of his character,
and stories of his wanderings in the “Biography of Jumbo,” which follows
this.
I am at the present time writing this sketch at Barnum’s famous “Winter
Quarters,” Bridgeport, Conn., and Jumbo is looking down with his wisest
air at me. I am quite contented, and so is he. Up to the present time
the foregoing takes in a short account of my career. The future is a
sealed book; but I fear no danger, for we are all in the care of Him who
marks even the sparrow’s fall—as I have remarked before.
MATTHEW SCOTT.
JUMBO’S BIOGRAPHY.
BY HIS KEEPER AND FRIEND,
MATTHEW SCOTT.
CHAPTER I.
JUMBO’S FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE ZOÖLOGICAL GARDENS, LONDON.
In writing these chapters the reader will pardon me, no doubt, should I
display any seeming eccentricity, so to speak, or if I depart from the
ordinary mode of book-making.
As this is not written for mercenary purposes or financial reward, I
think you will perhaps indulge me in whatever may seem peculiar. I
shall, like Othello, “Nothing extenuate nor aught set down in malice,
but a round unvarnished tale deliver.”
The first object that moves me to write this is for the glory of God,
the giver of all good. The second, to benefit the people of the United
States of America and Great Britain, in both of which countries I have
been received from shore to shore with the greatest kindness, and Jumbo
with the most unbounded enthusiasm. It is to me a joy and satisfaction
also to give out the knowledge I possess, and display before the world
God’s great goodness, love, and affection manifested in not only the
human family, but in everything, and to prove that the Giver and
Provider from whom only all good comes, notes all things. And because,
as was said by a worthy divine in an Episcopal church last Sunday night,
“Whatever makes known and discloses a knowledge of God to the extent of
becoming an instrument of good and benefit to any of God’s creatures,
displays God in his own person for the benefit of the world, thereby
being a power and antidote to all disease and evil, both to the
human-family and the brute creation.”
When I first saw Jumbo I met him on the coast of France. He was about
being brought from that country to England for medical care—to your
humble servant, the animals’ physician. A more deplorable, diseased, and
rotten creature never walked God’s earth, to my knowledge. Jumbo had
been presented to France, together with another baby elephant, when they
were quite infants.
When he was given in my charge, outside of Paris, his condition was
simply filthy. He had been in the care of Frenchmen for several years,
and they either did not know how to treat the race of elephants, or
culpably neglected his raising. I don’t know which, but when I met him
in France I thought I never saw a creature so woe-begone. The poor thing
was full of disease, which had worked its way through the animal’s hide,
and had almost eaten out its eyes. The hoofs of the feet and the tail
were literally rotten, and the whole hide was so covered with sores,
that the only thing I can compare it to was the condition of the man of
leprosy spoken of in the good old “Guide-book,” or of Job’s state, when
he had to scrape himself with a potsherd. However, I received Jumbo as I
have received many other of God’s creatures that other people have given
up for “a bad job.” I received him kindly, took him tenderly over the
Channel, and lodged him in a comfortable, clean bed in my stable. I
undertook to be his doctor, his nurse, and general servant. I watched
and nursed him night and day with all the care and affection of a mother
(if it were possible for a man to do such a thing), until by physicking
from the inward centre of his frame I cleared out all diseased matter
from his lungs, liver, and heart. I then, by means of lotions of oil,
etc., took all the scabs from the roots of his almost blinded eyes. I
removed his leprous coat as cleanly as a man takes off an overcoat; and
his skin was as fine as that of a horse just from the clipper’s, after
the hair had been cut off. I was rewarded by having a clean-shaven
looking creature in a perfectly sound state of mind and body; and he
required no blanket nor overcoat, although he was far, far from home, in
a much more northerly climate than his native element in “Afric’s Sunny
Sands.” Taking climate and covering into account, it was like
transferring a man from the western shores of the Atlantic to
“Greenland’s Icy Mountains.”