Mr. Frank Buckland is making the most desperate efforts to
get a live porpoise in the Zoological Gardens, but the creatures are apt to expire a few minutes after their arrival at their destination. Mr. Buckland recently received a summons to take charge of a live porpoise at Folkestone, and brought him to London by express train, not in the tank, because water won't travel express without splashing down the porpoise's blow-hole and choking him, but in a fish-box, with sea-water and a sponge near. Mr. Buckland gave him the most tender attention, dabbing the beast's nose and body with a wet sponge all up the line. The porpoise appeared to like the fast travelling except in the tunnels, when the steam and smoke made him snap and sneeze, and probably induced, in his weak state, a serious diphtheric affection of the throat. For, when he arrived, he could not swallow, and Mr. Frank Buckland kindly assisting him by poking a herring whole down his throat, the porpoise rejected it, and then gave up the ghost. We do not wonder. If Mr. Buckland, in a weak state, were treated for diphtheria by having a mutton chop thrust bodily down his throat, he would, probably, act like the porpoise, or else die of the subsequent.; nightmare. We would suggest that the porpoise should be towed round the coast and up the Thames in any future attempt of the kind. They clearly don't appreciate railways and tunnels.
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