proportions rendered him exceedingly remarkable.

That interesting anthropoid's career after death was one series
of misfortunes, ending with being stuffed for the British Museum.
My factotum sat up half the night skinning, but it was his first
coup d'essai. In a climate like the Gaboon, especially during the
rains, we should have turned the pelt "hairy side in," filled it
with cotton to prevent shrinking, and, after painting on arsenic,
have exposed it to the sun: better still, we should have placed
it on a scaffolding, like a defunct Congo-man, over a slow and
smoky fire, and thus the fatty matter which abounds in the
integuments would have been removed. The phalanges of the hands
and feet, after being clean-scraped, were restored to their
places, and wrapped with thin layers of arsenicated cotton, as is
done to small animals, yet on the seventh day decomposition set
in; it was found necessary to unsew the skin, and again to turn
it inside out. The bones ought to have been removed, and not
replaced till the coat was thoroughly dry. The skinned spoils
were placed upon an ant-hill; a practice which recalls to mind
the skeleton deer prepared by the emmets of the Hartz Forest,
which taught Oken that the skull is(?) expanded vertebrae. We did
not know that half-starved dogs and "drivers" will not respect
even arsenical soap. The consequence of exposing the skeleton
upon an ant-hill, where it ought to have been neatly cleaned
during a night, was that the "Pariah" curs carried off sundry
ribs, and the "parva magni formica laboris" took the trouble to
devour the skin of a foot. Worse still: the skull, the brain, and
the delicate members had been headed up in a breaker of trade
rum, which was not changed till the seventh day. It was directed
to an eminent member of the old Anthropological Society, and the