wonderful power of remaining so long under water to the young hippopotamus, first of all, to enable it to suck—when the water has been clear, Mr. Bartlett has frequently seen it sucking under water—and, secondly, in order that it may be concealed from its enemies, though I am not at all certain but that a large crocodile would seize and swallow a young hippopotamus as a jack would swallow a roach.
Master Guy Fawkes, nevertheless, had one day a narrow escape of his life. In order to clean out the tank, one fine sunny morning the mother and child were let out into the pond outside. They both remained in the water as long as it suited them, and then the mother walked out with that peculiar stately gait which distinguishes this gigantic animal. The little one attempted to follow, but, unfortunately, he chose a landing-place at the corner nearest the giraffes' enclosure, just at the very point where there were no steps. The poor little fellow struggled and fought hard to get out, but could not, tailing back exhausted into the water. His mother, seeing the distress of her child, immediately went back into the water, and, diving down, brought him up from the bottom. She then supported his head above water, in order to give him time to breathe. For nearly half an hour Mr. Bartlett and the keepers were in agonies. Of course, they dare not go to help Guy Fawkes, and there was no form of life-buoy they could throw to the struggling creature. At last the young one made a more vigorous effort than ever, when simultaneously the old one gave him a push with her tremendous head, and the little animal's life was thus saved. So we see that the hippopotamus is no fool; her instinct—mind, rather—told her how to save her young one.
It would be superfluous in me to attempt to describe this little animal, because every one ought to go and see it. It is about the size and shape of an ordinary bacon pig, but the color is something of a pinkish-slate. He knows his keeper very well: and when he has had his dinner is as playful as a kitten, popping and jumping about his den, and throwing up mouthfuls of hay, like a young calf. When first born he was small enough to come through the bars on to the straw outside his den, but soon he had grown so much that he could not get through. He used to put his head through the bars, and allow Prescott, the keeper, to rub his gums. The tusks of the lower-jaw were just beginning to cut the gum. His back teeth have not come yet; but they are obliged to be very careful about his diet, for he has already (when I write, in January) begun to pick a bit at the food prepared for him. I am pleased to be able to record that the council of the Zoological Society so fully appreciate Mr. Bartlett's cleverness in rearing this little beast, that they have voted him a silver medal and a purse, with a check in it. Prescott and the other keeper have also received a silver medal and a douceur from the society.
I now proceed to make some general remarks about hippopotami.
The hippopotamus is of some value commercially. The skin is
