OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 38H 



engine. The very aight of it, or even the sound of its 

 wheels, sets her beside herself with rage, and whenever 

 she sees it she is sure to charge. Accordingly the 

 engine was run towards the water. In went the hippo- 

 potamus ; but unfortunately the nttle one plumped in 

 after its mother, so that the ruse failed of its effect. 

 The calf, in spite of its tender age, evidently enjoyed 

 the water very much, swam about, and finally went to 

 sleep, with its chin resting on the side of the pond — a 

 favourite attitude with these animals. 



Next day, when the mother walked about the bouse, 

 her child lay still, being evidently weaker ; so that Mr. 

 Bartlett, the superintendent of the Gardens, decided on 

 making another attempt to get the calf out of the 

 house. He got together a small but effective staff, and 

 laid out his plans. In order that the public might 

 realise the difficulty of the situation, the perilous 

 nature of the task, and the ingenuity of the device, I 

 must briefly describe the scene of operations. On the 

 right of the den is a small pond, shut off from the plat- 

 form at will by iron railings ; and on the extreme left 

 is a small door, barely thirty inches square. The 

 scheme was as follows. The garden engine was to be 

 again run into the building, and so soon as the hippo- 

 potamus charged into the water, one of the men was to 

 dash into the cage — if possible, to shut the animal into 

 the pond, get out the young one, and make his escape 

 before the mother could reach him. 



Accordingly Mr. Bartlett stood by the door, ready 



