I also wanted to shoot
him, and to hang in my ancestral halls his enormous head with the
great jaws open and the inside of them painted pink and the small
tusks hungrily protruding. I had this desire, in spite of the fact
that for every hippo except the particular one whose head I coveted,
I entertained the utmost good feeling.
As a lad, among other beasts the hippopotamus had appealed to my
imagination. Collectively, I had always looked upon them as most
charming people. They come of an ancient family. Two thousand four
hundred years ago they were mentioned by Herodotus. And Herodotus to
the animal kingdom is what Domesday Book is to the landed gentry. To
exist beautifully for twenty-four hundred years without a single
mesalliance, without having once stooped to trade, is certainly a
strong title to nobility. Other animals by contact with man have
become degraded. The lion, the "King of Beasts," now rides a
bicycle, and growls, as previously rehearsed, at the young woman in
spangles, of whom he is secretly afraid. And the elephant, the
monarch of the jungle, and of a family as ancient and noble as that
of the hippopotamus, the monarch of the river, has become a beast of
burden and works for his living. You can see him in Phoenix Park
dragging a road-roller, in Siam and India carrying logs, and at
Coney Island he bends the knee to little girls from Brooklyn. The
royal proboscis, that once uprooted trees, now begs for peanuts.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98