WILD LIFE ACROSS THE WORLD 



produced by Africa. It is excellent for frying purposes, 

 and it makes the best pastry in the world. Hippo-fat 

 shortbread would be impossible to beat. The natives, 

 too, though they know nothing of pastry, love that 

 fat. According to them it is the finest thing possible 

 for greasing the body. I will take their word for that, 

 as I am never likely to try to swim the English Channel. 

 The correct way, amongst certain tribes, is to cut 

 out a cubic inch of fat, stick a red feather in it, 

 and skewer it into your hair. Then, as you walk 

 about in the sun the grease trickles slowly down 

 you. I do not object to the practice whilst the native 

 is not in my service, but when he puts a lump of fat 

 on his head and then proceeds to carry my bundle of 

 new blankets on top of the fat I am apt to get annoyed 

 and say things. 



As a rule, the only part of the hippo which a white 

 man eats is the foot. Personally, I think that hippo 

 foot ranks with ortolans, caviare, and one or two other 

 things which make you glad that you have to eat. You 

 boil it steadily for twelve hours — it looks like a lump 

 of sinew at the outset — then let it set into a jelly. It 

 is impossible to describe the delicacy of its flavour. 

 You must have tried it in order to understand. There 

 is the same difference between it and any other jelly 

 as there is between Colonial mutton and English, 

 between Canadian cheese and Cheddar. 



Certainly hippo were plentiful enough in the Tana 



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