desert fountain in Central Africa, of the fierce gorilla in the dense forests of the tropics, or of wild ducks and swans on some lonely lake or swamp, I often come on

nature’s happy families. 105

the most exciting description of the discovery of these creatures, feeding quietly and undisturbed in their native homes. What a chance, what an opportunity of learning their habits, and their loves, and their wars thirsts for their blood. A few linesBut—No; man further down in the page of the book we read the old of the rifle or gun—andstory—I mentally hear the ring in an instant a beautiful scene of Nature is ruthlessly dissipated. The frightened creatures fly hither and thither; what was but just now all happiness and quiet, resolves itself into bloodshed, turmoil, and misery.

There are thousands of “ Happy Families ” of Nature’s own making, enjoyinglife and health in solitary and sequestered spots all over the face of the earth. I grant that man has a right and just power given him to destroy, either for food or raiment, all creatures below him in creation, but he should not wantonly abuse this power-let him temper it with mercy. The possession of the hunted beast or bird is never equivalent to the pleasure of its pursuit. Life is easily taken away, but can never be restored. Every living thing, after its kind, enjoys life and happiness: let it be the privilege of those who have the much-to-be-envied opportunities of observing Nature’s handiwork in the forest, the desert, or the field, to open their eyes and drink in knowledge at a small price.*

My friend Captain Hardy B.A., of Halifax, Nova Scotia has given us the following beautiful picture of a primeval forest

Let a knowledge of the habits of an animal or bird be of far greater value to the sportsman-naturalist than the possession of its bleeding carcase, from which all that we can learn of its habits must be by examination of its structure. Many a volume might be written upon the habits of animals, but it never can or will be written at night:—“ I have always noticed that in the small hours of the morning there appears to he a general cessation of movement of every living creature in the woods. Often as I have strolled from camp into the moonlight at this time I never could detect the slightest sound—even the busy owls seemed to have retired. The approach of dawn, however, seems to call forth fresh exertions of the nocturnal animals in quest of food, and all the cries and calls are renewed, continuing till the first signs of Aurora send the owls flitting back into the thick tops of the spruces, and calling forth the busy squirrels and small birds to their daily occupation. “ Although almost all of our mammalia are nocturnal in their habits, and many of them beasts of prey, their nightly wanderings and strife with their victims are conducted in the most orderly manner compared with the scenes we have referred to. Quiet, noiseless stealth is the characteristic feature of all animal life in the forest; mutual distrust of the same species and ever-present tendency to alarm predominate even in the wildest districts, where the sight of man is unknown, or unremembered at least. At the slightest sound the ruminants and rodents cease feeding —remaining motionless either from fear or instinct; the rabbit or hare thus frequently avoiding detection; whilst the moose can so silently withdraw if suspecting an enemy, that I have on more than one occasion remained hours together on the stillest night, believing the animal to be standing within a few yards in a neighbouring thicket, to which he had advanced in answer to the call, and found at length he had suspiciously retreated. The great creature had retired, worming his huge bulk and enormous antlers through the entangled swamp, without detection by the straining ear, to which the nibbling of a porcupine at the bark of a tree in the same grove was plainly audible.”

unless the advantage of observing living creatures be impressed upon sportsmen, who will have to carry home a lighter bag, but yet more than its equivalent in the knowledge of new and valuable fact3.

Nature has ordained that all her families should be happy. A poor man in Windsor fair demonstrated to us, practically, the pleasure of looking at and observing animals and birds undisturbed, and without the fear of men among them. Let those who have the opportunities learn from him, and let them stay the wanton hand of destruction.* If travellers and sportsmen will only do this, they will at the same time not depriveadd to their own—and other creatures of that most valuable of all possessions —Happiness. * Now that the “King of the North ” has visited ns in his chariot of snow and ice, we shall begin to hear of the arrivals of many emigrant birds, inhabitants both of “Land and Water.” Some of these have shown themselves even before this weather was upon us. That beautiful bird, the waxwing, has arrived in considerable numbers; and how has English hospitality received him? The ‘Naturalists’ Court Circular’ reports the following receptions: “Eour beautiful specimens were shot!” “I have had the bird stuffed.” “A good number of this flock were killed.” “ It is hoped that others will be taken.” “ It is probable that more will be Bhot,” &c., &c.

It is most interesting to observe how we may gain indications of coming weather from the animal creation. “ The Indian hunters asserted, Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes ” —Leader by F. Buckland in “Land and Water.”—See also Mr. Blyth’s remarks on the wanton “Destruction of Sea Birds” in Appendix and “Wild Elephant at Home.”

108

PETHERICK’S HIPPOPOTAMUS.

When my friend, Mr. Petherick, the well-known explorer in Central Africa, arrived in London, some three or four years ago, from Khartoum, Sudan, Upper Egypt, he brought with him a young hippopotamus. In one of his expeditions he came (he told me) to a lake full of vast beds of reeds, between which there flowed little streams of water. When sailing slowly along, the man at the masthead (who was looking out for open passages among the vegetation) descried a small dark-coloured mass upon abed of reeds. This object they made out to be a baby-hippopotamus, left by itselfby its mother, who doubtless, when she quitted her home, thought her young one was safe enough. The men jumped into the water, and catching the little rascal in their arms, brought him into the boat. During this operation he cried and squealed lustily, after the manner of our familiar porcine friends at home. He was a baby, and not a fine baby at all for a hippopotamus, for he was not much larger than a terrier dog, and probably not more than about two days old. The mother-hippopotamus luckily did not hear the

screams of her infant, or there would have been a fight between biped and quadruped for the possession of the u squeaker.’’ Young Hippo was consigned to the care of one of Mr. Petherick’s Arab hunters, Salama by name, who brought it up with the greatest care, and, I may say, affection. Mr. Petherick brought down the Nile with him no less than four live hippopotami: this one I am writing about alone survived out of the number. Two of these animals were lost in consequence of the boat in which they were striking on a rock in the cataracts and sinking. One of the animals was hampered in the boat, and was drowned; the other swam to shore, and

of course escaped; the third died a natural death.

When the first hippopotamus, in the year 1850, was sent over from Egypt, he was provided with all sorts of creature comforts; an army of cows and goats accompanied him, to afford him milk; he had a huge portable bath to bathe in, and, in fact, travelled en

prince. His less fortunate relation arrived in much more humble style. When the dray arrived at the Zoological Gardens from the railway station, we were all of course very anxious to see the new arrival. The tar-pauling being taken off, there was discovered a huge box, made of strong deal boards, like a diminutive railway horse-box, and in this Hippo had travelled

all the way (with an occasional bucket of water thrown over him) from Alexandria, thereby proving an important fact, that he can dispense with the bath without other prejudice than a rough skin. How to get him into his sleeping-apartment was the question. Salama assured his master that Hippo would follow him anywhere. One side of the box, therefore, was taken off, and out the poor frightened beast walked. Salama gave him his hand to smell, and he trotted after his kind protector with a long, steady, calf-like trot, swinging from side to side, while he kept his head close to his master, staring about him like a frightened

deer. He was about the size of a very large bacon hog, only higher on the legs. From not having been able to have a bath for six weeks or more, his skin had assumed a curious appearance; the back, instead of being soft, slimy, and indian-rubber-like, was quite hard and dry, and the skin was peeling off from it as from the bark of a tree; it was, in fact, much more like a bit of an old forest oak than of a water-loving animal. It was of course expected that the moment Hippo smelt and saw the water he would rush it and smelt itinto it; but no—he merely went up to with a look of curiosity, as though be had never seen water before; and it was not till the Arab himself advanced partially into the water that Hippo would

;

follow. He soon came out again, and was only persuaded to go right into the deep part of the water by the Arab walking round the edge of the tank. Hippo then began to find out where he was, and how comfortable the warm clean water was. Down he went to the bottom, like a bit of lead; then up he came with a tremendous rush and a vehement snorting; then a duck under, then up again, prancing and splashing in the water after the manner of Neptune’s sea-horses that are

harnessed to his chariot in the old pictures of the worthy marine deity. I never recollect to have seen any creature, either man or beast, so supremely happy for a short time as was poor travel-worn Hippo in his bath after his long voyage of so many thousand miles.

Coming out of the water, Hippo smelt about for food mangold-wurzel was given him, and mightily did he

enjoy it. Like all young animals in a strange place, he kept a close eye upon his keeper, and gave a peculiar half-bellow, half-cry, when he went out of his sight, refusing food until his return. Evening soon arrived. Hippo retired to rest by the side of his faithful nurse, who reported the next morning, that whereas, on ordinary occasions, if he coughed or moved, or made the least noise in the night, Jamooss (the Arabic for hippopotamus) would wake up and answer, the night of his arrival he slept a sound sleep, waking only at sunrise

;

for his breakfast and his bath, which he again mightily enjoyed. His skin soon began to lose its bark-like appearance, and to get soft, slimy, and of a black,

pinkish colour. 455 Though tame enough to his keeper, Bucheet (for that was the familiar name his keeper gave him) had a temper of his own, which he would occasionally show

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