831 



OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 



THE poor little hippopotamus is dead. It was scarcely 

 expected to live ; but its death was nevertheless a severe 

 disappointment, especially after the trouble and per- 

 sonal risk that were involved in the attempt to save its 

 life. 



About five o'clock in the morning the little 

 animal was born. The keeper knew that it was 

 there from the odd sounds made by its mother 

 sounds of angry jealousy against some foe unknown. 

 She slapped her vast jaws together, gnashed her 

 teeth, and snorted loud defiance ; though no one 

 was in the house except the keeper, who was watching 

 her from his unseen post of observation above. As day- 

 light broke the small hippopotamus was seen lying by 

 its mother ; and the two were anxiously watched in 

 order to find out whether the young one took nourish- 

 ment. This it was never seen to do. It followed its 

 mother about wherever she went, so that it was not de- 

 ficient in strength ; but it was never once seen to suck. 

 Still, though in the daytime it certainly took no 

 nourishment, it is impossible to say whether or not it 



