a lonely hippo

Bayard Taylor (American, 1825-58) was a diplomat, traveler, and poet.  His adventures included backpacking through Europe for two years, writing a song for Jenny Lind, tracking part of the Nile, sailing along on Perry's voyage to Japan, and being appointed to the U.S. diplomatic service in Russia. Tired yet?  He did far more.  You can read about it here.
One small little adventuresome act is my post for today.  On a visit to Barnum's Museum, Taylor spotted a lonely-looking hippo.  Being a man of great sympathy with animals, he decided to reach out:

"In the first place, animals have much more capacity to understand human speech than is generally supposed. Some years ago, seeing the hippopotamus in Barnum's Museum looking very stolid and dejected, I spoke to him in English, but he did not even move his eyes. Then I went to the opposite corner of the cage and said in Arabic: 'I know you; come here to me.' He instantly turned his head toward me. I repeated the words, and thereupon he came to the corner where I was standing, pressed his huge, ungainly head against the bars of the cage, and looked in my face with a touching delight while I stroked his muzzle. I have two or three times found a lion who recognised the same language, and the expression of his eyes for an instant seemed positively human."

Note: Don't stroke a hippo's muzzle. I'm glad it worked out in this case, but normally that's a really good way to get your arm ripped off.  Just FYI.

- From Sanborn, Kate, 1839-1917. My Literary Zoo. New York: D. Appleton and company, 1896. pp. 10-1.