the character of a Kinder-Garten. The use of the 'gifts' and 'games' is but a small part of the entire system founded by Fröbel. The spirit of the genuine Kinder-Garten may be entirely absent where all the material appliances are in constant use.

The Moral Training System' has often been referred to as the 'gallery system' because of the convenient arrangement of the children in parallel rows on raised seats. Very frequently it was also named the 'simultaneous system' on account of the habit acquired by the children of answering together during lessons given to the 'gallery.' These two features were so prominent and important as to be termed characteristic, but they were only details of the comprehensive system developed by Mr. Stow.

The founder of the Moral Training System' always recognised the threefold aspect of the child's nature---body, mind, and soul, and consequently aimed at providing for its physical, mental, and spiritual necessities. The moral nature he put first in the order of importance. His system was essentially His system was essentially religious. It was based on Bible training. The Bible-stand was a conspicuous piece of furniture in his schools. No trainers' were contemplated other than devout, God-fearing men and women, who would conscientiously conduct the daily worship of praise and prayer, reverently expound some Scripture truth, and themselves 'confess' a ready submission in all things to the authority of the revealed Word. By constant instruction in the narratives, doctrines, emblems, etc., of the Scriptures, the children's minds became well furnished with Bible truth. On this truth was established the public opinion of the school, and to this truth appeal was made on all occasions of school discipline, or in the determination of questions of right and wrong. The influence of the Christian teacher predominated, and by the aid of the 'sympathy of numbers,' there was maintained a common sentiment in favour of the right. The tendency of children to lying, stealing, and other evil practices was thus easily checked, and the result was a high standard of practical morality, the happy effects of which have been already described. 'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom;' and on this foundation was constructed the 'Moral Training System.'

Nothing so much struck the writer on his arrival at the Normal Seminary, Dundas Vale, Glasgow, as the apparent innocence of the two or three hundred infants who were playing among unprotected beds of flowers and fruit without attempting to disturb a single leaf. His eyes seemed to deceive him ; such 'results' he had never witnessed-had never conceived to be possible. He entered the schoolroom, heard the song of praise and the simple prayer, and listened to a Bible-lesson (Hosea vi. 4) with utter astonishment at the extensive geographical and other knowledge incidentally shown by the little ones during its progress.

Mr.

But it was in the lessons 'drawn by the children themselves' from the emblem ('the morning cloud') that he began to see the explanation of the scene previously witnessed in the playground and to understand the secret of such marvellous moral control. Mr. Caughie, the master of this large infant school, was doubtless a superior trainer,' but hundreds of his pupils have produced similar results by the Divine blessing on similar means. The lesson on short-lived "oodness just referred to was given by a senior student,

was impressed upon the consciences of the

children by illustrations drawn from their own experience at home and at school.

At play the principles implanted by the Bible lesson might be exhibited in practice, and every right act helps to form the right habit. Supervision-not espionage-in the playground by 'trainers,' like the 'uncovered schoolroom' itself, was considered to be essential to the system. Any observed fault was, perhaps, referred to at the time of review previous to dismissal, or was used to illustrate the next morning's Bible-lesson. The conscious transgressor would hear his act condemned, perhaps with pity, by his fellows, and would not be likely to repeat it. Rarely was a child arrested for a fault in his play;-never, except in case of danger. When any special evil was committed, the school routine was sometimes suspended in order to a judicial investigation and judgment by the children assembled in the 'gallery.' Thus a valuable sentiment as to the importance of conduct was generated and maintained. The moral results of such constant efforts to implant principles and govern conduct were scarcely credible to those who had not witnessed them.

Corporal punishments in school Mr. Stow would not allow. He held that they tend to harden or break the spirit.' His idea was that, as in the family, the stimulus should arise from a fear of offending rather than from a fear of the rod.' 'Nothing can be more unjust than to punish a boy for a deficiency in the power of calculation, or the memory of words, while he may possess in a high degree reason and imagination-thus stimulating the lower at the expense of the higher powers of the mind.' His own ability and loving nature were such that he could well afford to adhere to the two rules which he lays down: never strike, never expel. Teachers of superior character can imitate Mr. Stow's example.

Any practice which could assist in elevating the taste was incorporated in the training system. Not only were the school premises always kept clean and neat, but the walls of the schoolrooms were ornamented with pictures, etc., whilst the shrubs and flowers in the playground created pleasant associations and cultivated a love of nature. The moral effect of such surroundings must not be overlooked.

The theory of educationists is to uphold moral training in our public elementary schools. The introduction of the Revised Code, 1861, which measured the success of schools chiefly by mechanical results tended to confine attention to the three R's, and to merge the distinctive features of all systems into one uniform process. Every minute given to matters not named in the code diminished the chances of success at the annual inspection. The 'tone' of the school was of less importance than formerly, and comparatively few teachers were encouraged to persevere in maintaining their 'moral training' at all risks. The Education Department had early dispirited Mr. Stow by saying that 'no distinctions can be made in your case, whatever influence your institution may have had on the general questions of training schoolmasters, of adding direct moral training, or of introducing a more natural system. We cannot recognise any accomplishments which your students may possess beyond what can be presented to us in writing at this office and the annual examination of our inspectors.' In colleges and in schools alike there has been a tendency to overlook practically that which is acknowledged

theoretically to be of the first importance to the individual and to the nation.

'To train is to induce and develop right, physical, intellectual, and moral habits.' The development of moral training into a system was due, as we have seen, to the discovery made by Mr. Stow that the hour's teaching in his Sabbath evening class was nearly powerless as compared with the six days' training of the

streets.

His experience in that Sunday-school also led to a mode of instruction which was novel, interesting, and successful. 'Simplicity is the most distinguishing feature of the training system and the last and highest attainment of a trainer.' This, the first of 152 'hints' published by Mr. Stow, by no means implies, as some wag read it, that the 'trainer' must be a simpleton. On the contrary, the ability to make simple that which is complex is a sign of intellectual vigour and ingenuity. A teacher possessed of this power can so train his pupils that they, too, shall acquire the habit of clear thinking by means of the processes to which their minds are constantly subjected. In the discipline of the mind a few truths clearly defined and firmly fixed by proper processes, are of more value than the acquisition of much knowledge partially perceived or feebly apprehended. Let everything pass through the understanding before you lodge it in the verbal memory,' was the canon on learning by heart. 'Mechanical memory,' by no means considered entirely useless, was subordinate to true intellectual processes. There was nothing like 'cram' in the methods of the training system.

'Picturing out in words' was considered as a fundamental principle of the system intellectually. Besides the Bible-lesson there were also the so-called secular lessons given by the trainer daily to the 'gallery,' without text-book, and according to certain well-defined principles and methods. The secular lessons might be on any subject; but whether its general construction were analytical or synthetical, it was required that every point should be so clearly 'pictured out,' that in the finished mental picture each part should be distinctly perceived, and in proper harmonious relationship to the whole. All the aid available from objects, pictures, and appliances was insisted upon, but these-valuable as they are could not alone convey an exact idea, nor secure its proper expression. To the systematic use of objects and prints, first introduced in public. education by Pestalozzi, the training system has added the systematic picturing out in words' of every abstract term, figurative word or phrase, by analogy, familiar illustrations, etc. 'Every word either represents an object or a combination of objects;' and when the mind is stored with a knowledge of objects, and of words expressive of those objects, it can be readily trained 'from the known to the unknown. Figures the most complex may be reduced to simple elements. Perspicuity of language is necessary to clear apprehension, and only by the use of words having a recognised meaning can a teacher give definite ideas to his pupils. Mr. Stow therefore insisted that every new word-or even one employed in a new sense-should be 'pictured out' and its use illustrated by examples until, in its new connection, it was thoroughly understood. The verbal explanation on the part of the teacher or the substitution of a synonym was not allowed; but, to quote the recent instructions to Inspectors, 'the scholar' was called on to use it in a sentence of his

own.' The oral lessons-sacred and secular-greatly tended to enlarge the learner's vocabulary and make him familiar with the meaning and right use of words,'t and supplied to him the culture not commonly found in the homes of the poor. The secular lessons embraced all that is now cited as Erdkunde, and with the younger children this 'knowledge of nature' was not necessarily presented in a 'progressive course.' The whale, ice, a lock, a potato, the robin, wool, a chair, a river, glass, a letter, might form successive topics for gallery lessons for a fortnight in the infant school. Each lesson, complete in itself, would better serve the purposes indicated above than a systematic 'course' on 'animals, plants,' etc. There would be excited a greater variety of interest in the objects by which the little ones are surrounded. Children more advanced are better able to pursue a course of study limited to one branch of elementary science.

In conducting these oral lessons 'questions and ellipses mixed' were used, and hence the system has thus been sometimes called the 'elliptical system.' But unless the word or phrase filled in were the result of thought on the part of the children, the structure of such ellipsis was condemned as mechanical and generally useless. The training' process admitted the formation of those ellipses only which had the force of questions.

All or any of the children were allowed to answer simultaneously, except when the trainer thought it desirable to challenge the attention of an individual scholar. Few questions could, in the first instance, be answered by all, but by the re-statement of the fact in a sentence, the order of which was inverted, the whole gallery might fill in the ellipsis: e.g., Who was the father of Isaac? One child may reply, Abraham. The teacher then inverting the order promptly says: Then Abraham was Isaac's . . . father; or, Then Isaac was Abraham's . . . . son; or, Yes, the son of Abraham was . . . . Isaac; a reply which would be given simultaneously. This very simple example is given to guard any one against accepting the foolish ellipses given in certain books as illustrative of the elliptical method practised at Glasgow.

For the acquisition of the English language, for the general information of the mind, and indeed for the highest culture which any teacher can impart, the oral instruction now referred to is vastly superior to the text-book work so prevalent.

'As people get a worthier and truer perception of the nature of teaching,' says Mr. Fitch, oral instruction comes to be more valued.' There is a habit of thought induced by the mental processes to which a scholar is subjected from day to day, and the character of the teacher's mind will generally be seen reflected in that of his pupil. Philip of Macedon thanked the gods that there was such a teacher as the philosopher Aristotle in the world when his young son Alexander needed a tutor. The inferior teacher may grind most successfully at the three R's, but the chief ends of education can only be obtained by intercourse with superior minds. 'It is chiefly by means of the living voice that scholars can be really inspired; it is only when the eyes meet, and expression and gestures

* Instructions, No. 18.

+ Idem, No. 17.

† Code, Sche lele 71.

are seen, and tones are heard, that there arises that subtle and indefinable sympathy between teacher and taught which is so essential to the life of the scholar. Then only can there be that adaptation of the matter to his wants the light glancing over unimportant details, the rest and repetition over the more significant facts, the pause after what is exceptionally difficult, the happy illustration, the argumentum ad hominem, the brisk and pointed question by which the teacher assures himself that he is being followed and understood.' High 'per-centages' may be secured by well-arranged mechanical instruction from text-books, but the vigour of the superior mind in effective oral instruction imparts power, and genuine gallery lessons conducted on the training system were simply invaluable as a means of culture as well as of instruction.

The general intelligence thus developed in schools a quarter of a century since was considerable, but after the introduction of the code in 1861, the 'passes' were of first importance, and hence there has arisen a strong temptation to omit all lessons the results' of which could not be of immediate financial advantage.

The most 'simple' teachers are the best teachers, and a successful training lesson in the infant school was, according to Mr. Stow's maxim just quoted, a proof of high attainment. All students at Glasgowmen as well as women-practised in the 'Initiatory Department.' Good infant trainers' were highly esteemed, and, even economically considered, it was held to be an advantage to have the most efficient teachers in infant schools. With the intelligence early awakened, more rapid progress in after-studies is assured.

Oral instruction is the 'great vitalizing instrument in education,' and the gallery lesson under Mr. Stow's method was always, to teacher and scholars alike, an intellectual pleasure. Let us hope that no 'pressure' will ever cause its entire disappearance from our schools.

(To be continued.)

Anecdotal Natural History.

BY REV. J. G. WOOD, M.A., F.L. S.,

Author of Homes without Hands,' 'Nature's Teachings, etc. AND THEODORE WOOD,

Joint Author of The Field Naturalist's Handbook.

No. XXII. THE MARSUPIALS.

IT is a strange fact that all the indigenous mammals of Australasia belong to a group which possesses but a single representative in America and one in Malacca. Many zoologists have endeavoured to account for this fact, but can only do so by supposing that these remarkable creatures are the result of a later creation than that by which the remainder of the globe received its mammalian inhabitants. Others take precisely the opposite view of the problem, as we shall presently see.

To this mysterious group has been applied the title of Marsupials, a word signifying 'pouched,' and derived from the Latin marsupium, i.e., a purse or pouch. The reason for this appellation we find in the structure of the female animal, which is furnished with a very curious organ for the reception of her young after 1 ́rth.

This consists of a large pouch in the lower part of the abdomen, in the interior of which are placed the teats. As soon as the young are born, they are transferred to this pouch, and at once attach themselves to the teats, where they hang until they have increased in size to a considerable degree. As they grow older and stronger, they leave their protecting shelter, at first for a short time only, but gradually for longer and longer periods. Should danger approach, however, they immediately return to their cradle, where they remain until all cause of alarm has passed away.

In order to prevent the strain upon the walls of the abdomen, which would necessarily result were the pouch entirely unsupported, two supplementary bones, called the marsupial bones, proceed from the pelvis and run almost parallel with the spine. They are attached at one end to the pelvis, or hip bone, and are directed rather forwards and outwards. These auxiliary bones serve not only to sustain the weight of the pouch, but also, as is thought, to aid in compressing the various glands which afford nourishment to the young.

We will treat this subject in greater detail when we come to the kangaroo.

Although this pouch is present in all the marsupial animals, it is developed to a far greater degree in some than in others. In the kangaroo, for instance, it is of very large comparative size, while in others, such as the Myrmecobius, it is little more than rudimentary, and is quite useless for the reception of the young.

We may, perhaps, wonder why any of the marsupials should require, during their infancy, a refuge with which the animals of no other order have been provided. But the reason for this we may easily see by taking into consideration the wonderfully small size of the young when they first come into the world. Take the kangaroo, for instance. Here we have an animal, which, when full grown, attains to a length of seven feet six inches from the nose to the tip of the tail. Yet, when first born, this same creature is barely an inch in total length, and is, of course, entirely unfit to begin life in the ordinary manner.

It is a somewhat singular fact that many of the marsupials seem to be in their own land representatives, so to speak, of widely-different animals inhabiting other parts of the world. Thus the Tasmanian 'wolf' strongly resembles, both in habits and appearance, the veritable wolves which are found in many parts of the world; the kangaroos represent the Jerboas, the Petaurists take the place of the squirrels, and

so on.

As yet, our knowledge of the marsupials, or macropida, as they are indifferently termed, cannot but be considered as very incomplete. Several species have been introduced into our list upon the authority of a single specimen only, while many gaps exist which have yet to be filled up.

It is, to say the least, probable, however, that a large number of marsupial animals have yet to be discovered, and that when the vast unexplored districts of Australia have been traversed we may add greatly to our knowledge both of those species which are already known to science, and also of many others of whose very existence we are as yet unaware. Recent geological discoveries, also, would seem to show that a large field wherein to labour is open before us in this branch of natural science, for the fossil remains of

many animals have been met with which, although clearly members of the marsupial group, would yet appear to have belonged to genera which seem to be now extinct. Whether this is really the case or not, however, we cannot satisfactorily determine until future explorations shall have supplied us with a more complete account of the life and habits of those macropida already known to us, and also furnished us with some little idea of the real dimensions of the

group.

The systematic arrangement of these animals is exceedingly difficult, and at present we can only accept any system as provisional. The animals are so bizarre, so contradictory, if we may use such a term, that zoologists feel themselves quite at a loss to fix upon any definite characteristics on which to base their systems.

In some parts of their structure they resemble the reptilian types, while in others they approach the birds, and seem to form a connecting link between them and the mammals. Objection has been made to the use of the word Marsupials, and for this reason. The marsupium is nothing but a fold of skin, turned over so as to cover the teats, and, as we have seen, it is in some species so small as scarcely to be perceptible, while in others it can hardly be said to exist at all. It is thought, therefore, that this fold of skin is not of sufficient importance to be accepted as the basis of a system.

Another term, Ovovivipara, has been suggested, and certainly is more appropriate, though more cumbrous than the word marsupiata.

In

As for their separation into groups, Professor Owen bases his system upon the food which they eat. order to procure that food, they are gifted with various modifications of structure. Some can leap like the jerboas of the Old World, and possess similarly formed legs. Some can climb trees as actively as any of the monkey tribe, many of them possessing tails as prehensile as those of the American spider monkeys. Some can swim as well as the otter, while others can dig holes in the ground like the badger, or sweep through the air like the flying squirrels.

Bearing these facts in mind, Professor Owen divides them into five groups. First come the Sarcophaga, or flesh-eaters. Then come the Entomophaga, or insect-eaters. Next come the Carpophaga, or fruit-eaters; then the Poëphaga, or flock-eaters (flock of sheep); and lastly, the Rhizopoda, or root-eaters.

This is, doubtless, an approach to a perfect system, but it is not so well adapted for the simple identification of species as that of Dr. Gray. I shall therefore follow the latter system. According to this arrangement, the Marsupials are divided into several families, the first of which is scientifically known as the Phalangistines, on account of the structure of the hinder feet, two of the toes of which are united as far as the 'phalanges.' The members of this family are chiefly arboreal in their habits, and their feet are consequently armed with sharp curved claws, and endowed with considerable powers of grasp, in order to adapt them as far as possible to the manner of their existence.

The Phalangistines are again divided into three smaller groups, which are considered by some authors merely as genera. These are firstly, the Petaurists,

in which the skin of the flanks is developed in a manner very similar to that which has already been described with regard to the Colugo, or Flying Lemur,

in the article upon the monkey tribe; secondly, the Phalangists, which are provided with a long and prehensile tail, but in which the skin of the flanks is not developed, as in the Petaurists; and thirdly, the Koalas, in which both the skin extension and the tail are altogether wanting.

First upon the list of the Phalangistines is the pretty little Opossum Mouse, or Pigmy Petaurist (Acrobates pygmæus), so called on account of its minute size.

When full-grown this little creature is barely six inches in length from the nose to the tip of the tail, and bears, when at rest, so great a resemblance to the common mouse of our own country, that it might be easily taken for that animal by an observer unacquainted with the peculiarities of its formation.

While not in active motion, the parachute-like extension of the skin of the flanks lies so closely to the body as to be scarcely visible, the animal seeming to have nothing in any way remarkable with regard to its structure. But no sooner does it move than the skin-development becomes apparent, reminding one. very strongly of the colugo which has been already mentioned.

The method adopted by the opossum mouse, too, in passing from tree to tree, is very much the same as in that animal. Stretching out the limbs as far as possible, the little creature launches itself boldly into the air, passing over considerable distances by the aid of the primary impetus alone, and possessing some little power of altering its course at will. When the first impulse is exhausted, however, the flight can no longer be continued, and a fresh leap must be taken from some convenient spot before the animal can make further progress through the air.

But so well does the little creature calculate the power of its spring, and also the exact distance of the spot to which it directs its flight, that it is able to travel for considerable distances with scarcely a break in its course, each leap or flight landing it upon a tree or other object from which a second spring can be immediately taken.

The food of the opossum mouse, in common with that of the other Petaurists, is chiefly of a vegetable nature, consisting chiefly of leaves, fruits, and buds. The structure of its teeth, however, which bear a considerable resemblance to those of insectivorous animals, would lead us to suppose that its diet is occasionally varied by the admixture of animal food.

The opossum mouse is a pretty little creature, more especially when at rest, for the folds in which the parachute-like skin then falls, cause a portion of the white fur of the lower parts of the body to alternate with the darker hues of the upper surface, thus causing a variegated appearance, which has a very pretty effect. The animal is very common at Port Jackson.

The well-known Sugar Squirrel, or Squirrel Petaurus (Petaurus sciurens) bears a wonderfully close resemblance to the true Flying Squirrels of other parts of the world, of which it would seem to be the Australian representative.

Unfortunately, all the petaurists are nocturnal animals, concealing themselves in hollow trees, etc., during the hours of daylight, and only issuing from their retreats after darkness has fairly set in. Consequently, our knowledge of their habits while in a state of nature is very imperfect, and although they have often been captured and brought over to this country, the unaccustomed confinement influences them to such

a degree that we can learn very little concerning their true mode of life from their proceedings while in a state of captivity. So it is with all wild animals, whose nature becomes entirely altered when they exchange the wild freedom of their natural existence for the narrow boundaries of a cage.

The powers of flight, if we may so call it, of the sugar squirrel, are very remarkable, the animal being able to pass for a very considerable distance through the air without any perceptible effort. Mr. Bennett tells us that he has known one of these creatures to leap fairly across a river forty yards in width, commencing its flight, too, at an altitude of only thirty

feet.

In order to assist these animals in their arboreal evolutions, the hinder feet are formed in somewhat the same manner as is the case with the quadrumana, the thumb being opposite to the fingers, so that small branches, etc., can be grasped with considerable be grasped with considerable power. The long and curved claws also greatly assist the animal when ascending a perpendicular trunk, as they can be inserted into the smallest crevices, and so afford a firm foothold, but for which the squirrel would be quite unable to scale the tree.

The sugar squirrel is not a very large animal, being about sixteen inches in total length, of which the tail occupies just one half. It is a pretty little creature, the fur being of a very delicate brownish-grey, with the exception of a dark stripe which runs from the nose to the root of the tail, and a similar one which borders the parachute membrane. The lower parts of the body are almost white, as is also the lower surface of the long and bushy tail.

PASSING to the Phalangists, we find that the Spotted Cuscus (Cuscus maculatus) is one of the first upon the list.

In the animals of this group the tail, which possesses considerable prehensile power, is not covered with bushy hair, as in the preceding animals, but is entirely naked, with the exception of a small portion at the base.

The spotted cuscus is by no means a small animal, as an ordinary specimen will attain to some three feet. in total length.

Although the cuscus spends almost the whole of its existence among the branches of trees, it is by no means as quick and agile in its movements as are the petaurists. Instead of the bright activity which characterises the preceding animals, it is distinguished by slow and cautious movements, seeming never to consider itself in perfect safety unless the tail is tightly coiled round some convenient branch.

The prehensile power of this organ is very remarkable, for the animal is able to hang suspended from a branch by its aid alone for a very considerable time. Should it detect the approach of danger, it usually resorts to a pendent position, remaining suspended until it considers itself once more in safety. While thus hanging it so closely resembles a large bunch of fruit as to deceive any but a careful observer.

The spotted cuscus is a pretty animal, the ground colour of the fur being whitish-grey, irregularly sprinkled with spots, or rather blotches of a deep rich brown. These markings vary very much in different individuals, some being very much darker than others, while the number, size, and colour of the dark spots is

very uncertain.

Ill at ease as it appears among the branches of trees, at least when compared with the agile and sure-footed petaurists, the cuscus yet appears but seldom to visit the ground, only doing so when compelled by necessity. Like the preceding animals, it feeds chiefly upon fruit, buds, and leaves, occasionally varying its diet, however, with insects and other small creatures.

SEEMING, both in form and nature, to be the Australian representative of the fox, the Vulpine Phalangist (Phalangista vulpina) fully deserves its title. In its native land it is more commonly known as the Vulpine Opossum, or Native Fox.

Nocturnal in its habits, as are all the other members of the group to which it belongs, our knowledge of its mode of life is as yet very imperfect. Being, however, a very plentiful animal, and one which is spread over a wide extent of country, we are, nevertheless, better acquainted with its habits than with those of most of its congeners.

The Vulpine Phalangist appears to be far more fond of animal food than are those members of the group which have already been described, devouring young birds, etc., with great apparent relish. The fore-paws are peculiarly adapted for the manipulation of living prey, being gifted with considerable strength, and also with great mobility, so that they can be employed with almost as much freedom and address as can those of the common British squirrel.

On account of the beauty and the fine quality of its fur, this animal is subjected to considerable persecutions both by natives and settlers, great numbers being annually slain for the purpose of obtaining their skins. The natives use them largely in the manufacture of the rather scanty clothing to which they are addicted, while civilized nations utilize them for many and various purposes. The flesh, also, is considered to be very good, and is much esteemed by the Australian natives, who, like savages in general, never seem to consider that they have eaten enough, and will eagerly pursue one of these 'opossums' immediately after a heavy meal with as much zest and eagerness as if they had not seen food for days.

The vulpine phalangist is a rather smaller animal than the spotted cuscus, seeming but seldom to exceed two feet six inches in total length, of which the tail occupies about two-fifths. The colour of the fur is a greyish brown, generally more or less tinted with a reddish hue. The tip of the tail, which is very thick and bushy, is always black.

NEXT we come to the quaint-looking Koala, or native monkey, or Australian bear as it is more commonly termed (Phascolarctos cinereus), which has really some pretensions to the latter of its popular titles. For there is indeed something very ursine in the general aspect of the little creature, which has been likened to the sun-bears of the Indian Archipelago.

The koala is by no means an abundant animal, even in the limited districts which it inhabits. It seems to be entirely confined to the south-eastern parts of Australia, and is so far from common that specimens are only occasionally met with.

The koala is arboreal in its habits, but is very slow and deliberate in all its movements, making very sure of its foothold before trusting itself to take a step. The feet are formed in a very curious manner, the

toes being divided into two sets, so to speak the one