2 30 



THE MUSEUM. 



and great lips concealing the great 

 front teeth. 



The hippopotamus cuts grass or 

 corn as though it were done with a 

 scythe, or bites with its strong teeth a 

 stem of considerable thickness neatly 

 through. 



The skull, while it is distinguishable 

 by remarkable peculiarities, corres- 

 ponds in the most important character- 

 istics with that of the hog. The brain 

 is not large, but "there are others" — 

 in Washington — who would not show 

 up much better. 



The respiration of the hippopotamus 

 is slow, and thus it is enabled to spend 

 much of its time under water, only 

 coming to the surface at intervals to 

 breathe. It swims and dives with 

 great ease and often walks along the 

 bottom completely under water. 



Its food consists chiefly of the 

 plants wnich grow in shallow waters 

 and about the margins of lakes and 

 rivers. The hippopotamus is lively 

 and playful in its native waters; soon 

 learns to avoid man, and when it can- 

 not retire among reeds for conceal- 

 ment, it dives and remains long under 

 water, raising only its nose to the sur- 

 face when another breath becomes 

 necessary. 



The female hippopotamus may 

 sometimes be seen swimming with her 

 young one on her back. The animal 

 is generally inoffensive, but is occas- 

 ionally roused to fits of rage, in which 

 it becomes extremely dangerous, par- 

 ticularly to those who pursue it in 

 boats. Its voice is loud and harsh, 

 and it is likened by Burckhardt to the 

 creaking and groaning of a large wood- 

 en door. 



The circus is now abroad in the 



land, and a visit to the red cage of the 

 hippopotamus is always interesting. 



T. B. D, 



Visions of the Past. 

 II. 



Years pass by. Once more we 

 stand beneath that lofty pine. The 

 nood-day sun shines down upon the 

 brilliant green of summer; the atmos- 

 phere is hot, but in harmony with the 

 visible aspects of nature. Again we 

 see the distant mountains, the valley 

 and the river. But we see a change — 

 No longer does the smoke curl from 

 the fires in front of the wigwams down 

 along the river; no longer we hear the 

 voices welcoming the hunters. No, 

 the brave and hardy settlers have made 

 their way into the beautiful and fertile 

 valley. Their keen axes have laid 

 low those tall and graceful elms. 

 Dotted here and there we see little 

 clearings in the once boundless forest. 

 Log cabins and barns stand amid 

 charred and blackened stumps, where 

 once stood the wigwams among the 

 trees. Yellow grain and tassled corn 

 are growing where grew the dogwood 

 and witch-hazel, and the crowing of a 

 cock and the noisy clang of a cowbell 

 greets the ear. What a change! 



We see it all and a sadness creeps 

 over us at the sight. 



Here for years and years — no man 

 can tell how long — this spot of sun- 

 shine and of shade was the red ?nan's 

 home, his possession, life and enjoy- 

 ment. 



Here for generation to generation 

 they lived in their wild, unsettled had- 

 its of savage life, with little specula- 

 tion of the future. Alas! 



'•The rightful lords of yore 

 Are the rightful lords no more." 



