Fixing his eye upon the hunter, the huge creature was about to spring forward, when the crack of a rifle was heard. Gerard, after firing the shot, stood waiting, dagger in hand, to see what the next moment would require. When the smoke cleared away, the lion was seen stretched on the ground dead; the shot had entered the side of his head.

It was a massive brute. The three men could not turn him over; and the head was as much as one of them could lift from the ground. When they got back to the village and spread the news, there was great rejoicing; and the brave little man, whom they had laughed at a few days before, was now their great hero, dignified by a name which meant 'The Lion-killer.'

There is no doubt that, fierce and savage as lions are, they are capable of affection, and will remember acts of kindness rendered to them. If the story on page 94 be a legend or not, the following is true, and vouched for by the principal personage concerned.

Sir George Davis was the English consul at Naples; but the plague breaking out there, he went to live for a time at Florence. One day he went to visit the menagerie belonging to the Grand Duke, and while there was shown a lion which had defied all efforts to tame, although it had been in the collection for three years. Sir George recognised the animal as one that had formerly belonged to himself, but said nothing just at the moment.

Going up to the cage, he put his hand through the bars; the lion ran to it and licked it gently, and began purring like a cat when pleased. The lookerson did not know what to make of it, and they were more astonished when Sir George expressed his

intention of going into the cage. The keeper endeavoured to dissuade him from it, telling him the lion was the fiercest he had known. All to no purpose: Sir George entered the cage. The lion caressed him, ran about him, and showed signs of the greatest delight; and then permitted him quietly to leave the cage.

The explanation of such strange conduct was then made. Sir George said: 'This lion was once mine; the captain of a ship from Barbary gave it me when quite a whelp. I brought him up tame; but when I thought him too large to run about the house, I built a den for him in my court-yard. From that time he was never permitted to be loose, except when brought to the house to be exhibited to my friends. When he was five years old, he did some mischief by pawing and playing with people in his frolicsome moods. Having gripped a man one day a little too hard, I ordered him to be shot, for fear of incurring any guilt. On this a friend, who was dining with me, begged him as a present. How he came here I know not.'

On comparing notes, it was found that this friend had in turn presented the lion to the Grand Duke. After three years, the lion had still an affection for his old master, though he had not seen him for that length of time.

LESSON 36.

STORIES OF ANIMALS.

III. THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.

bi-ped, an animal having two porc-ine, belonging to pigs

port-a-ble, easily carried pre-ju-dice, damage, injury

feet

for-mi-da-ble, causing fear

Nep-tune, the god of the sea

ve-he-ment, violent

When my friend Mr. Petherick, the well-known explorer in Central Africa, arrived in London from Khartoum, Soudan, Upper Egypt, he brought with him a young hippopotamus. In one of his expeditions he came (he told me) into a lake full of vast beds of reeds, between which there flowed little streams of water. When sailing slowly along, the man at the mast-head (who was looking out for open passages among the reeds) descried a small dark-coloured mass upon a bed of reeds. This object they made out to be a baby-hippopotamus, left alone by its mother, who doubtless, when she left her home, thought her young one 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 at all a fine baby for a hippopotamus, for he was not much larger than a terrier dog, and probably not more than about two days old. The mother 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 'squeaker.'

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

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. When the canvas was 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 sleepingapartment was the question. Salama, an Arab hunter, to whose care Hippo had been consigned, assured his master that his charge would follow him anywhere. One side of the box, therefore, was taken off, and out walked the poor frightened animal. 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 had a bath for six weeks or more, his skin had assumed a curious appearance. His back, instead of being soft, shiny, and indiarubber-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 expected that the moment Hippo smelt and saw the water he would rush into it; but no, he merely went up to it and smelt it with a look of curiosity, as though he had never seen water before; and it was not until the Arab 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 seeing the Arab walking round the edge of the bank. Hippo then began to find out 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.