THE HIPPO POOL 



When I saw them thus floating with only the very- 

 top of the head and snout out of water, I for the first 

 time appreciated why the Greeks had named them 

 hippopotamuses — the river horses. With the heavy 

 jowl hidden; and the prominent nostrils, the long 

 reverse-curved nose, the wide eyes, and the little 

 pointed ears alone visible, they resembled more than 

 a little that sort of convencionalized and noble 

 charger seen on the frieze of the Parthenon, or in the 

 prancy paintings of the Renaissance. 



There were hippopotamuses of all sizes and of all 

 colours. The little ones, not bigger than a grand 

 piano, were of flesh pink. Those half-grown were 

 mottled with pink and black in blotches. The 

 adults were almost invariably all dark, though a few 

 of them retained still a small pink spot or so — a 

 sort of persistence in mature years of the eternal 

 boy, I suppose. All were very sleek and shiny with 

 the wet; and they had a fashion of suddenly and 

 violently wiggling one or the other or both of their 

 little ears in ridiculous contrast to the fixed stare of 

 their bung eyes. Generally they had nothing to say 

 as to the situation, though occasionally some exas- 

 perated old codger would utter a grumbling bellow 



The ground vegetation for a good quarter mile 

 from the river bank was entirely destroyed, and the 

 earth beaten and packed hard by these animals. 



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