{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18767/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18767","id":"gutenberg_18767","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18767","summary":null,"tags":["Animal behavior","Animals -- Folklore","Animals-Wild","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Category: Short Stories","Children's Instructional Books"],"text":"E-text prepared by Ben Beasley, Paul Ereaut, and the Project Gutenberg\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) from page\nimages generously made available by Literature for Children, a State\nUniversity System of Florida PALMM Project (http://palmm.fcla.edu/juv/)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 18767-h.htm or 18767-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/6/18767/18767-h/18767-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/6/18767/18767-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      Literature for Children, a State University System\n      of Florida PALMM Project. See\n      http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00002052&format=jpg\n      or\n      http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00002052&format=pdf\n\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES ABOUT ANIMALS.\n\nWITH\n\nPICTURES TO MATCH\n\n\nby\n\nFRANCIS C. WOODWORTH,\n\nEditor of \"The Youth's Cabinet,\" Author of \"Stories\nAbout Birds,\" &C.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBoston.\nPhillips, Sampson and Company.\n1851.\nEntered, according to Act of Congress, in\nthe year 1849,\nBy D. A. Woodworth,\nin the Clerk's Office of the District Court for\nthe Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n\nPreface.\n\n\nIn the following pages are grouped together anecdotes illustrative of\nthe peculiarities of different animals--mostly quadrupeds--their habits,\ndispositions, intelligence, and affection. Nothing like a scientific\ntreatise of any of these animals has been attempted. I do not even give\na generic or specific history of one of them, except so far as they are\nall casually and incidentally described in these anecdotes. Their\nnatural history, in detail, I leave for others, as the historian or\nbiographer of men, bent only on a record of the thoughts, words, and\nacts of men, passes by the abstract details, however interesting they\nmay be, of human physiology, and the general characteristics of the\nspecies. I have not aimed to introduce to the reader, in this volume,\nall the animals belonging to the race of quadrupeds, who have a claim to\nsuch a distinction. I have preferred rather to make a selection from the\ngreat multitude, and to present such facts and anecdotes respecting\nthose selected as shall, while they interest and entertain the young\nreader, tend to make him familiar with this branch of useful knowledge.\n\nI ought, in justice to myself, to explain the reason why I have\nrestricted my anecdotes almost exclusively to animals belonging to the\nrace of quadrupeds. It is seldom wise, in my judgment, for an author to\ndefine, very minutely, any plan he may have, to be developed in future\nyears--as so many circumstances may thwart that plan altogether, or very\nmaterially modify it. Yet I may say, in this connection, that the\ngeneral plan I had marked out for myself, when I set about the task of\ncollecting materials for these familiar anecdotes, is by no means\nexhausted in this volume, and that, should my stories respecting\nquadrupeds prove as acceptable to my young friends as I hope, it is my\nintention eventually to pursue the same, or a similar course, in\nrelation to the other great divisions of the animal kingdom--Birds,\nReptiles, Insects, Fishes, etc.\n\nThe stories I tell I have picked up wherever I could find them--having\nbeen generally content when I have judged a particular story to be, in\nthe first place, a good story, and in the second place, a reliable one.\nI have not thought it either necessary or desirable, to give, in every\ncase, the source from which I have derived my facts. Some of them I\nobtained by actual observation; quite as many were communicated by\npersonal friends and casual acquaintances; and by far the greater\nportion were gleaned from the current newspapers of the day, and from\nthe many valuable works on natural history, published in England and in\nthis country. Among the books I have consulted, I am mostly indebted to\nthe following: Bingley's Anecdotes illustrative of the Instincts of\nAnimals; Knight's Library of Entertaining Knowledge; Bell's Phenomena of\nNature; the Young Naturalist's Rambles; Natural History of the Earth and\nMan; Chambers' Miscellany of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge; Animal\nBiography; and the Penny Magazine.\n\nThe task of preparing this volume for the press has been an exceedingly\npleasant one. Indeed, it has been rather recreation than toil, in\ncomparison with other and severer literary labors. I trust my young\nfriends will take as much pleasure in reading these stories as I have\ntaken in collecting them. I hope too, that no one of my readers will\nfail to discover, as he proceeds, the evidences of the wisdom, power,\nand goodness of the Being who formed and who controls and governs the\nanimal kingdom. Here, as in every department of nature's works, these\nevidences abound, if we will but perceive them. Look at them, dear\nreader, and in your admiration of nature, forget not the love and\nreverence you owe to nature's God.\n\n[Illustration: (signed) Francis C. Woodworth]\n\n\n\n\nContents.\n\n\nThe Dog\n\nThe Wolf\n\nThe Horse\n\nThe Panther\n\nThe Elephant\n\nThe Lion\n\nThe Galago\n\nThe Bear\n\nThe Rat\n\nThe Mouse\n\nThe Rabbit\n\nThe Hare\n\nThe Cat\n\nThe Jackal\n\nThe Sheep\n\nThe Deer\n\nThe Hippopotamus\n\nThe Weasel\n\nThe Squirrel\n\nThe Giraffe\n\nThe Monkey Tribe\n\nThe Zebra\n\nThe Ox and Cow\n\nThe Lama\n\n\n[Illustration: \"Engravings.\" Heading.]\n\n\nRover and his Play-fellow\n\nThe Dog at his Master's Grave\n\nNero, saving Little Ellen\n\nThe Servant and the Mastiff\n\nThe Child discovered by the Indian's Dog\n\nThe Dog of St. Bernard, rescuing the Child\n\nThe Bloodhound\n\nExploit of the New England Dog\n\nA Shepherd Dog feeding a lost Child\n\nA Newfoundland, saving a Child from drowning\n\nThe Adventure with the Serpent\n\nThe Russian Dog-Sledge\n\nThe Skirmish with Wolves\n\nA Scene in the old Wolf Story\n\nThe Wolf in Sheep's Clothing\n\nThe Horse watching over the Trumpeter\n\nParting with the Favorite Horse\n\nAlexander taming Bucephalus\n\nUncle Peter and his queer Old Mare\n\nThe Horse sentenced to die\n\nThe Leopard and the Serpent\n\nThe Elephant\n\nThe Lion\n\nThe Lioness and her Cubs\n\nThe Convention of Animals\n\nThe Galago\n\nPortrait of Goldsmith\n\nThe Juggler and his Pupils\n\nField Mice\n\nThe Rabbit Trap\n\nThe Rabbit\n\nTame Hares\n\nPortrait of Cowper\n\nWonderful Feat of a Goat\n\nThe Tiger\n\nThe Rhinoceros\n\nThe Alligator\n\nThe Cat\n\nThe Jackal\n\nThe Wounded Traveler\n\nGiotto, sketching among his Sheep\n\nThe Invalid and the Sheep\n\nThe Deer\n\nThe Hippopotamus\n\nThe Ferret Weasel\n\nA Hawk pouncing on a Weasel\n\nThe Squirrel\n\nThe Giraffe\n\nThe Orang-outang\n\nThe Zebra\n\nCows, taking their comfort\n\n\n\n\nStories about Animals.\n\n\n\n\nThe Dog.\n\n\nWhatever may be thought of the somewhat aristocratic pretensions of the\nlion, as the dog, after all, has the reputation of being the most\nintelligent of the inferior animals, I will allow this interesting\nfamily the precedence in these stories, and introduce them first to the\nreader. For the same reason, too--because they exhibit such wonderful\nmarks of intelligence, approaching, sometimes, almost to the boundary of\nhuman reason--I shall occupy much more time in relating stories about\nthem than about any other animal. Let me see. Where shall I begin? With\nRover, my old friend Rover--my companion and play-fellow, when a little\nboy? I have a good mind to do so; for he endeared himself to me by\nthousands of acts of kindness and affection, and he has still a place\nof honor in my memory. He frequently went to school with me. As soon as\nhe saw me get my satchel of books, he was at my side, and off he ran\nbefore me toward the school-house. When he had conducted me to school,\nhe usually took leave of me, and returned home. But he came back again,\nbefore school was out, so as to be my companion homeward. I might tell a\ngreat many stories about the smartness of Rover; but on the whole I\nthink I will forbear. I am afraid if I should talk half an hour about\nhim, some of you would accuse me of too much partiality for my\nfavorite, and would think I had fallen into the same foolish mistake\nthat is sometimes noticed in over-fond fathers and mothers, who talk\nabout a little boy or girl of theirs, as if there never was another such\na prodigy. So I will just pass over Rover's wonderful exploits--for he\nhad some, let me whisper it in your ear--and tell my stories about other\npeople's dogs.\n\n[Illustration: ROVER AND HIS PLAY-FELLOW.]\n\n\"Going to the dogs,\" is a favorite expression with a great many people.\nThey understand by it a condition in the last degree deplorable. To \"go\nto the dogs,\" is spoken of as being just about the worst thing that can\nhappen to a poor fellow. I think differently, however. I wish from my\nheart, that some selfish persons whom I could name would go to the dogs.\nThey would learn there, I am sure, what they have never learned\nbefore--most valuable lessons in gratitude, and affection, and\nself-sacrifice--to say nothing about common sense, a little more of\nwhich would not hurt them.\n\nThere is an exceedingly affecting story of a dog that lived in Scotland\nas long ago as 1716: This dog belonged to a Mr. Stewart, of Argyleshire,\nand was a great favorite with his master. He was a Highland greyhound, I\nbelieve. One afternoon, while his master was hunting in company with\nthis dog, he was attacked with inflammation in his side. He returned\nhome, and died the same evening. Some three days afterward his funeral\ntook place, when the dog followed the remains of his master to the\ngrave-yard, which was nearly ten miles from the residence of the family.\nHe remained until the interment was completed, when he returned home\nwith those who attended the funeral. When he entered the house he found\nthe plaid cloak, formerly his master's, hanging in the entry. He pulled\nit down, and in defiance of all attempts to take it from him, lay on it\nall night, and would not even allow any person to touch it. Every\nevening afterward, about sunset, he left home, traveled to the\ngrave-yard, reposed on the grave of his late master all night, and\nreturned home regularly in the morning. But, what was still more\nremarkable, he could not be persuaded to eat a morsel. Children near the\ngrave-yard, who watched his motions, again and again carried him food;\nbut he resolutely refused it, and it was never known by what means he\nexisted. While at home he was always dull and sorrowful; he usually lay\nin a sleeping posture, and frequently uttered long and mournful groans.\n\n[Illustration: THE DOG AT HIS MASTER'S GRAVE.]\n\nIn the western part of our own country, some years since, an exploit was\nperformed by a Newfoundland dog, which I must tell my readers. It is\nrelated by Mrs. Phelan. A man by the name of Wilson, residing near a\nriver which was navigable, although the current was somewhat rapid, kept\na pleasure boat. One day he invited a small party to accompany him in an\nexcursion on the river. They set out. Among the number were Mr. Wilson's\nwife and little girl, about three years of age. The child was delighted\nwith the boat, and with the water lilies that floated on the surface of\nthe river. Meanwhile, a fine Newfoundland dog trotted along the bank of\nthe stream, looking occasionally at the boat, and thinking, perhaps,\nthat he should like a sail himself.\n\nPleasantly onward went the boat, and the party were in the highest\nspirits, when little Ellen, trying to get a pretty lily, stretched out\nher hand over the side of the boat, and in a moment she lost her balance\nand fell into the river. What language can describe the agony of those\nparents when they saw the current close over their dear child! The\nmother, in her terror, could hardly be prevented from throwing herself\ninto the river to rescue her drowning girl, and her husband had to hold\nher back by force. Vain was the help of man at that dreadful moment; but\nprayer was offered up to God, and he heard it.\n\nNo one took any notice of Nero, the faithful dog. But he had kept his\neye upon the boat, it seems. He saw all that was going on; he plunged\ninto the river at the critical moment when the child had sunk to the\nbottom, and dived beneath the surface. Suddenly a strange noise was\nheard on the side of the boat opposite to the one toward which the party\nwere anxiously looking, and something seemed to be splashing in the\nwater. It was the dog. Nero had dived to the bottom of that deep river,\nand found the very spot where the poor child had settled down into her\ncold, strange cradle of weeds and slime. Seizing her clothes, and\nholding them fast in his teeth, he brought her up to the surface of the\nwater, a very little distance from the boat, and with looks that told\nhis joy, he gave the little girl into the hands of her astonished\nfather. Then, swimming back to the shore, he shook the water from his\nlong, shaggy coat, and laid himself down, panting, to recover from the\nfatigue of his adventure.\n\n[Illustration: NERO SAVING LITTLE ELLEN.]\n\nEllen seemed for awhile to be dead; her face was deadly pale; it hung\non her shoulder; her dress showed that she had sunk to the bottom. But\nby and by she recovered gradually, and in less than a week she was as\nwell as ever.\n\nBut the Glasgow Chronicle tells a story of the most supremely humane dog\nI ever heard of--so humane, in fact, that his humanity was somewhat\ntroublesome. This dog--a fine Newfoundland--resided near Edinburgh.\nEvery day he was seen visiting all the ponds and brooks in the\nneighborhood of his master's residence. He had been instrumental more\nthan once in saving persons from drowning. He was respected for his\nmagnanimity, and caressed for his amiable qualities, till, strange as it\nmay be considered, this flattery completely turned his head. Saving life\nbecame a passion. He took to it as men take to dram-drinking. Not having\nsufficient scope for the exercise of his diseased benevolence in the\ndistrict, he took to a very questionable method of supplying the\ndeficiency. Whenever he found a child on the brink of a pond, he watched\npatiently for the opportunity to place his fore-paws suddenly on its\nperson, and plunged it in before it was aware. Now all this was done for\nthe mere purpose of fetching them out again. He appeared to find intense\npleasure in this nonsensical sort of work. At last the outcry became so\ngreat by parents alarmed for their children, although no life was ever\nlost by the indulgence of such a singular taste, that the poor dog was\nreluctantly destroyed.\n\nMr. Bingley, an English writer, has contributed not a little to the\namusement and instruction of the young, by a book which he published a\nfew years ago, relating to the instinct of the dog. Among the stories\ntold in this book, are several which I must transfer for my own readers.\nHere is one about the fatal adventure of a large mastiff with a robber.\nI shall give it nearly in the words of Mr. Bingley.\n\nNot a great many years ago, a lady, who resided in a lonely house in\nCheshire, England, permitted all her domestics, save one female, to go\nto a supper at an inn about three miles distant, which was kept by the\nuncle of the girl who remained at home with her mistress. As the\nservants were not expected to return till the morning, all the doors and\nwindows were as usual secured, and the lady and her companion were about\nto retire to bed, when they were alarmed by the noise of some persons\napparently attempting to break into the house. A large mastiff, which\nfortunately happened to be in the kitchen, set up a tremendous barking;\nbut this had not the effect of intimidating the robbers.\n\nAfter listening attentively for some time, the maid-servant discovered\nthat the robbers were attempting to enter the house by forcing their way\nthrough a hole under the sunk story in the back kitchen. Being a young\nwoman of courage, she went toward the spot, accompanied by the dog, and\npatting him on the back, exclaimed, \"At him, Caesar!\" The dog leaped into\nthe hole, made a furious attack upon the intruder, and gave something a\nviolent shake. In a few minutes all became quiet, and the animal\nreturned with his mouth full of blood. A slight bustle was now heard\noutside the house, but in a short time all again became still. The lady\nand servant, too much terrified to think of going to bed, sat up until\nmorning without further molestation. When day dawned they discovered a\nquantity of blood outside of the wall in the court-yard.\n\nWhen her fellow-servants came home, they brought word to the girl that\nher uncle, the inn-keeper, had died suddenly of apoplexy during the\nnight, and that it was intended that the funeral should take place in\nthe course of the day. Having obtained leave to go to the funeral, she\nwas surprised to learn, on her arrival, that the coffin was screwed\ndown. She insisted, however, on taking a last look at the body, which\nwas most unwillingly granted; when, to her great surprise and horror,\nshe discovered that his death had been occasioned by a large wound in\nthe throat. The events of the preceding night rushed on her mind, and it\nsoon became evident to her that she had been the innocent and unwilling\ncause of her uncle's death. It turned out, that he and one of his\nservants had formed the design of robbing the house and murdering the\nlady during the absence of her servants, but that their wicked design\nhad been frustrated by the courage and watchfulness of her faithful\nmastiff.\n\n[Illustration: THE SERVANT AND THE MASTIFF.]\n\nThere is another anecdote told of a wild Indian dog which I am sure my\nyoung friends will like. It is from the same source with the one about\nthe mastiff. A man by the name of Le Fevre, many years ago, lived on a\nfarm in the United States, near the Blue mountains. Those mountains at\nthat time abounded in deer and other animals. One day, the youngest of\nLe Fevre's children, who was four years old, disappeared early in the\nmorning. The family, after a partial search, becoming alarmed, had\nrecourse to the assistance of some neighbors. These separated into\nparties, and explored the woods in every direction, but without success.\nNext day the search was renewed, but with no better result. In the\nmidst of their distress Tewenissa, a native Indian from Anaguaga, on the\neastern branch of the river Susquehannah, who happened to be journeying\nin that quarter, accompanied by his dog Oniah, happily went into the\nhouse of the planter with the design of reposing himself. Observing the\ndistress of the family, and being informed of the circumstances, he\nrequested that the shoes and stockings last worn by the child should be\nbrought to him. He then ordered his dog to smell them; and taking the\nhouse for a centre, described a semicircle of a quarter of a mile,\nurging the dog to find out the scent. They had not gone far before the\nsagacious animal began to bark. The track was followed up by the dog\nwith still louder barking, till at last, darting off at full speed, he\nwas lost in the thickness of the woods. Half an hour after they saw him\nreturning. His countenance was animated, bearing even an expression of\njoy; it was evident he had found the child--but was he dead or alive?\nThis was a moment of cruel suspense, but it was of short continuance.\nThe Indian followed his dog, and the excellent animal conducted him to\nthe lost child, who was found unharmed, lying at the foot of a great\ntree. Tewenissa took him in his arms, and returned with him to the\ndistressed parents and their friends, who had not been able to\nadvance with the same speed. He restored little Derick to his father and\nmother, who ran to meet him; when a scene of tenderness and gratitude\nensued, which may be easier felt than described. The child was in a\nstate of extreme weakness, but, by means of a little care, he was in a\nshort time restored to his usual vigor.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHILD DISCOVERED BY THE INDIAN'S DOG.]\n\nIn one of the churches at Lambeth, England, there is a painting on a\nwindow, representing a man with his dog. There is a story connected with\nthis painting which is worth telling. Tradition informs us that a piece\nof ground near Westminster bridge, containing a little over an acre, was\nleft to that parish by a pedler, upon condition that his picture,\naccompanied by his dog, should be faithfully painted on the glass of one\nof the windows. The parishioners, as the story goes, had this picture\nexecuted accordingly, and came in possession of the land. This was in\nthe year 1504. The property rented at that time for about a dollar a\nyear. It now commands a rent of nearly fifteen hundred dollars. The\nreason given for the pedler's request is, that he was once very poor,\nwhen, one day, having occasion to pass across this piece of ground, and\nbeing weary, he sat down under a tree to rest. While seated here, he\nnoticed that his dog, who was with him, acted strangely. At a distance\nof several rods from the place where he sat, the dog busied himself for\nawhile in scratching at a particular spot of earth, after which he\nreturned to his master, looked earnestly up to his face, and endeavored\nto draw him toward the spot where he had been digging. The pedler,\nhowever, paid but little attention to the movements of the dog, until he\nhad repeated them several times, when he was induced to accompany the\ndog. To his surprise he found, on doing so, that there was a pot of gold\nburied there. With a part of this gold he purchased the lot of ground on\nwhich it had been discovered, and bequeathed it to the parish on the\nconditions mentioned above. The pedler and his dog are represented in\nthe picture which ornaments the window of that church. \"But is the story\na true one?\" methinks I hear my little friends inquire. I confess it has\nthe air of one of Baron Munchausen's yarns, and I am somewhat doubtful\nabout it. But that is the tradition in the Lambeth parish, where the\npicture may still be seen by any body who takes the trouble to visit the\nplace. The story may be true. Stranger things have happened.\n\nThose who have studied geography do not need to be informed that there\nis a chain of high mountains running through Switzerland, called the\nAlps. The tops of some of these mountains are covered with snow nearly\nall the year. In the winter it is very difficult and dangerous traveling\nover the Alps; for the snow frequently rolls down the sides of the\nmountain, in a great mass, called an _avalanche_, and buries the\ntraveler beneath it. On one of these mountains there is the convent of\nSt. Bernard. It is situated ten thousand feet above the base of the\nmountain, and is on one of the most dangerous passes between Switzerland\nand Savoy. It is said to be the highest inhabited spot in the old world.\nIt is tenanted by a race of monks, who are very kind to travelers. Among\nother good services they render to the strangers who pass near their\nconvent, they search for unhappy persons who have been overtaken by\nsudden storms, and who are liable to perish.\n\nThese monks have a peculiar variety of the dog, called the dog of St.\nBernard, or the Alpine Spaniel, which they train to hunt for travelers\nwho are overtaken by a storm, and who are in danger of perishing. The\ndog of St. Bernard is one of the most sagacious of his species. He is\ncovered with thick, curly hair, which is frequently of great service in\nwarming the traveler, when he is almost dead with cold.\n\nOne of these dogs, named Barry, had, it was reckoned, in twelve years\nsaved the lives of forty individuals. Whenever the mountain was\nenveloped in fogs and snow, away scoured Barry, barking and searching\nall about for any person who might have fallen a victim to the storm.\nWhen he was successful in finding any one, if his own strength was\ninsufficient to rescue him, he would run back to the convent in search\nof assistance.\n\nI think I must translate for my young readers an affecting story about\nthis dog Barry, which I read the other day in a little French book,\nentitled \"Modeles des Enfans.\" It seems that a great while ago there was\na poor woman wandering about these mountains, in the vicinity of the\nconvent of St. Bernard, in company with her son, a very small boy. The\nstory does not inform us what they were doing, and why they were walking\nin such a dangerous place. Perhaps they were gathering fuel to keep them\nwarm; and very likely when they left home the weather was mild, and that\nthey did not anticipate a storm. However that may be, they were\novertaken by an avalanche, the mother was buried beneath it, and the\nchild saw her no more. But I must tell the remainder of the story in the\nlanguage of the French writer.\n\n[Illustration: THE DOG OF ST. BERNARD, RESCUING THE CHILD.]\n\n\"Poor boy! the storm increased; the wind howled, and whirled the snow\ninto huge heaps. In the hope that he might possibly meet a traveler, the\nchild forced his way for awhile through the snow; but at last,\nexhausted, benumbed with the cold, and discouraged, he fell upon his\nknees, joined his hands devoutly together, and cried, as he raised his\nface, bathed in tears, toward heaven, 'O my God! have mercy on a poor\nchild, who has nobody in the world to care for him!' As he lay in the\nplace where he fell down, which was sheltered a little by a rock, he\ngrew colder and colder, and he thought he must die. But still, from time\nto time, he prayed, 'Have mercy, O my God! on a poor child, who has\nnobody in the world to care for him!' At last he fell asleep, but was\nwakened by feeling a warm paw on his face. As he opened his eyes he saw\nwith terror an enormous dog holding his head near his own. He uttered a\ncry of fear, and started back a little way from the dog. The dog\napproached the boy again, and tried, after his own fashion, to make the\nlittle fellow understand that he came there to do him good, and not to\nhurt him. Then he licked the face and hands of the child. By and by the\nchild confided in his visitor, and began to entertain a hope that he\nmight yet be saved. When Barry saw that his errand was understood, he\nlifted his head, and showed the child a bottle covered with willow,\nwhich was hanging around his neck. This bottle contained wine, some of\nwhich the little fellow drank, and felt refreshed. Then the dog lay down\nby the side of the child, and gave him the benefit of the heat of his\nown body for a long time. After this, the dog made a sign for the boy to\nget upon his back. It was some time before the boy could understand what\nthe sign meant. But it was repeated again and again, and at last the\nchild mounted the back of the kind animal, who carried him safely to the\nconvent.\"\n\nHere is a capital story about a bloodhound, taken from the excellent\nbook by Mr. Bingley, to which I have before alluded. Aubri de Mondidier,\na gentleman of family and fortune, traveling alone through the Forest of\nBondy, in France, was murdered, and buried under a tree. His dog, a\nbloodhound, would not quit his master's grave for several days; till at\nlength, compelled by hunger, he proceeded to the house of an intimate\nfriend of the unfortunate Aubri at Paris, and, by his melancholy\nhowling, seemed desirous of expressing the loss they had both sustained.\nHe repeated his cries, ran to the door, looked back to see if any one\nfollowed him, returned to his master's friend, pulled him by the\nsleeve, and with dumb eloquence, entreated him to go with him. The\nsingularity of all these actions of the dog, added to the circumstance\nof his coming there without his master, whose faithful companion he had\nalways been, prompted the company to follow the animal. He conducted\nthem to the foot of a tree, where he renewed his howling, scratching the\nearth with his feet, and significantly entreating them to search the\nparticular spot. Accordingly, on digging, the body of the unhappy Aubri\nwas found.\n\n[Illustration: THE BLOODHOUND]\n\nSome time after, the dog accidentally met the assassin, who is styled,\nby all the historians who relate the story, the Chevalier Macaire, when,\ninstantly seizing him by the throat, he was with great difficulty\ncompelled to quit his victim. In short, whenever the dog saw the\nchevalier, he continued to pursue and attack him with equal fury. Such\nobstinate violence, confined only to Macaire, appeared very\nextraordinary, especially to those who at once recalled the dog's\nremarkable attachment to his master, and several instances in which\nMacaire's envy and hatred to Aubri de Mondidier had been conspicuous.\n\nAdditional circumstances increased suspicion, and at length the affair\nreached the royal ear. The king accordingly sent for the dog, which\nappeared extremely gentle, till he perceived Macaire in the midst of\nseveral noblemen, when he ran fiercely toward him, growling at and\nattacking him, as usual. Struck with such a combination of\ncircumstantial evidence against Macaire, the king determined to refer\nthe decision to the chance of battle; or, in other words, he gave orders\nfor a combat between the chevalier and the dog. The lists were appointed\nin the Isle of Notre Dame, then an unenclosed, uninhabited place.\nMacaire was allowed for his weapon a great cudgel, and an empty cask was\ngiven to the dog as a place of retreat, to enable him to recover breath.\n\nEvery thing being prepared, the dog no sooner found himself at liberty,\nthan he made for his adversary, running round him and menacing him on\nevery side, avoiding his blows till his strength was exhausted; then\nspringing forward, he seized him by the throat, threw him on the ground,\nand obliged him to confess his guilt in presence of the king and the\nwhole court. In consequence of this confession, the chevalier, after a\nfew days, was convicted upon his own acknowledgment, and beheaded on a\nscaffold in the Isle of Notre Dame.\n\nThe editor of the Portland (Maine) Advertiser relates the following\nanecdote: \"A gentleman from the country recently drove up to a store in\nthis city, and jumping from his sleigh, left his dog in the care of the\nvehicle. Presently an avalanche of snow slid from the top of the\nbuilding upon the sidewalk, which so frightened the horse that he\nstarted off down the street at a furious run. At this critical juncture,\nthe dog sprang from the sleigh, and seizing the reins in his mouth, held\nback with all his strength, and actually reined in the frightened animal\nto a post at the side of the street, when apparently having satisfied\nhimself that no danger was to be apprehended, he again resumed his\nstation in the sleigh, as unconcerned as if he had only done an ordinary\nact of duty.\"\n\nA few years ago a little girl, residing in an inland village in\nConnecticut--without the consent of her mother, be it remembered--went\nalone to a pond near by, to play with her brother's little vessel, and\nfell into the water. She came very near drowning; but a dog belonging to\nthe family, named Rollo, who was not far off, plunged in and drew her to\nthe shore. She was so exhausted, however, that she could not rise, and\nthe dog could not lift her entirely out of the water. But he raised her\nhead a little above the surface, and then ran after help. He found a\nman, and made use of every expedient in his power to draw him to the\nspot where he had left the child. At first the stranger paid very little\nattention to the dog; but by and by he was persuaded something was\nwrong, and followed the dog to the pond. The little girl was not\ndrowned, though she was quite insensible; and the man lifted her from\nthe water, and saved her life, to the great joy of Rollo, who seemed\neager to assist in this enterprise.\n\nHere is a capital story about a shepherd's dog in Scotland. I take the\nliberty of borrowing it from Bingley's admirable book. The valleys, or\nglens, as they are called by the natives, which intersect the Grampians,\na ridge of rocky and precipitous mountains in the northern part of\nScotland, are chiefly inhabited by shepherds. As the pastures over which\neach flock is permitted to range, extend many miles in every direction,\nthe shepherd never has a view of his whole flock at once, except when it\nis collected for the purpose of sale or shearing. His occupation is to\nmake daily visits to the different extremities of his pastures in\nsuccession, and to turn back, by means of his dog, any stragglers that\nmay be approaching the boundaries of his neighbors.\n\n[Illustration: EXPLOIT OF THE NEW ENGLAND DOG.]\n\nIn one of these excursions, a shepherd happened to carry with him one of\nhis children, an infant some two or three years old. After traversing\nhis pastures for some time, attended by his dog, the shepherd found\nhimself under the necessity of ascending a summit at some distance to\nhave a more extended view of his range. As the ascent was too fatiguing\nfor his child, he left him on a small plain at the bottom, with strict\ninjunctions not to stir from it till his return. Scarcely, however, had\nhe gained the summit, when the horizon was suddenly darkened by one of\nthose thick and heavy fogs which frequently descend so rapidly amid\nthese mountains, as, in the space of a few minutes, almost to turn day\ninto night. The anxious father instantly hastened back to find his\nchild; but, owing to the unusual darkness, and his own trepidation, he\nunfortunately missed his way in the descent. After a fruitless search of\nmany hours among the dangerous morasses and cataracts with which these\nmountains abound, he was at length overtaken by night. Still wandering\non, without knowing whither, he at length came to the verge of the mist,\nand, by the light of the moon, discovered that he had reached the bottom\nof the valley, and was now within a short distance of his cottage. To\nrenew the search that night was equally fruitless and dangerous. He was\ntherefore obliged to return home, having lost both his child and his\ndog, which had attended him faithfully for years.\n\nNext morning by day-break, the shepherd, accompanied by a band of his\nneighbors, set out again to seek his child; but, after a day spent in\nfruitless fatigue, he was at last compelled by the approach of night to\ndescend from the mountain. On returning to his cottage, he found that\nthe dog which he had lost the day before, had been home, and, on\nreceiving a piece of cake, had instantly gone off again. For several\nsuccessive days the shepherd renewed the search for his child, and\nstill, on returning in the evening disappointed to his cottage, he found\nthat the dog had been there, and, on receiving his usual allowance of\ncake, had instantly disappeared. Struck with this singular circumstance,\nhe remained at home one day, and when the dog, as usual, departed with\nhis piece of cake, he resolved to follow him, and find out the cause of\nthis strange procedure. The dog led the way to a cataract at some\ndistance from the spot where the shepherd had left his child. The banks\nof the waterfall, almost joined at the top, yet separated by an abyss of\nimmense depth, presented that abrupt appearance which so often\nastonishes and appalls the traveler amid the Grampian mountains, and\nindicates that these stupendous chasms were not the silent work of\ntime, but the sudden effect of some violent convulsion of the earth.\nDown one of these rugged and almost perpendicular descents the dog\nbegan, without hesitation, to make his way, and at last disappeared in a\ncave, the mouth of which was almost on a level with the torrent. The\nshepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the cave, what were\nhis emotions, when he beheld his infant eating with much satisfaction\nthe cake which the dog had just brought him, while the faithful animal\nstood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacency! From the\nsituation in which the child was found, it appeared that he had wandered\nto the brink of the precipice, and either fallen or scrambled down till\nhe reached the cave, which the dread of the torrent had afterward\nprevented him from quitting. The dog, by means of his scent, had traced\nhim to the spot, and afterward prevented him from starving, by giving up\nto him his own daily allowance. He appears never to have quitted the\nchild by night or day, except when it was necessary to go for his food,\nand then he was always seen running at full speed to and from the\ncottage.\n\n[Illustration: A SHEPHERD'S DOG FEEDING A LOST CHILD]\n\nThe following story is related on the authority of a correspondent of\nthe Boston Traveler: A gentleman from abroad, stopping at a hotel in\nBoston, privately secreted his handkerchief behind the cushion of a\nsofa, and left the hotel, in company with his dog. After walking for\nsome minutes, he suddenly stopped, and said to his dog, \"I have left my\nhandkerchief at the hotel, and want it\"--giving no particular directions\nin reference to it. The dog immediately returned in full speed, and\nentered the room which his master had just left. He went directly to the\nsofa, but the handkerchief was gone. He jumped upon tables and counters,\nbut it was not to be seen. It proved that a friend had discovered it,\nand supposing that it had been left by mistake, had retained it for the\nowner. But Tiger was not to be foiled. He flew about the room,\napparently much excited, in quest of the \"lost or stolen.\" Soon,\nhowever, he was upon the track; he scented it to the gentleman's coat\npocket. What was to be done? The dog had no means of asking verbally for\nit, and was not accustomed to picking pockets; and, besides, the\ngentleman was ignorant of his business with him. But Tiger's sagacity\ndid not suffer him to remain long in suspense; he seized the skirt\ncontaining the prize, and furiously tore it from the coat, and hastily\nmade off with it, much to the surprise of its owner. Tiger overtook his\nmaster, and restored the lost property, receiving his approbation,\nnotwithstanding he did it at the expense of the gentleman's coat. At a\nsubsequent interview, the gentleman refused any remuneration for his\ntorn garment, declaring that the joke was worth the price of his coat.\n\nOne day, as a little girl was amusing herself with a child, near\nCarlisle Bridge, Dublin, and was sportively toying with the child, he\nmade a sudden spring from her arms, and in an instant fell into the\nriver. The screaming nurse and anxious spectators saw the water close\nover the child, and conceived that he had sunk to rise no more. A\nNewfoundland dog, which had been accidentally passing with his master,\nsprang forward to the wall, and gazed wistfully at the ripple in the\nwater, made by the child's descent. At the same instant the dog sprang\nforward to the edge of the water. While the animal was descending, the\nchild again sunk, and the faithful creature was seen anxiously swimming\nround and round the spot where he had disappeared. Once more the child\nrose to the surface; the dog seized him, and with a firm but gentle\npressure, bore him to land without injury. Meanwhile a gentleman\narrived, who, on inquiry into the circumstances of the transaction,\nexhibited strong marks of interest and feeling toward the child, and of\nadmiration for the dog that had rescued him from death. The person who\nhad removed the child from the dog turned to show him to the gentleman,\nwhen there were presented to his view the well-known features of his own\nson! A mixed sensation of terror, joy, and surprise, struck him mute.\nWhen he had recovered the use of his faculties, and fondly kissed his\nlittle darling, he lavished a thousand embraces on the dog, and offered\nto his master five hundred guineas if he would transfer the valuable\nanimal to him; but the owner of the dog felt too much affection for the\nuseful creature, to part with him for any consideration whatever.\n\nA boatman on the river Thames, in England, once laid a wager that he and\nhis dog would leap from the centre arch of Westminster Bridge, and land\nat Lambeth within a minute of each other. He jumped off first, and the\ndog immediately followed; but as he was not in the secret, and fearing\nthat his master would be drowned, he seized him by the neck, and dragged\nhim on shore, to the great diversion of the spectators.\n\n[Illustration: NEWFOUNDLAND DOG, SAVING A CHILD FROM DROWNING]\n\nSome years ago, a gentleman of Queen's College, Oxford, went to pass the\nChristmas vacation at his father's in the country. An uncle, a brother,\nand other friends, were one day to dine together. It was fine, frosty\nweather; the two young gentlemen went out for a forenoon's\nrecreation, and one of them took his skates with him. They were followed\nby a favorite greyhound. When the friends were beginning to long for\ntheir return, the dog came home at full speed, and by his apparent\nanxiety, his laying hold of their clothes to pull them along, and all\nhis gestures, he convinced them that something was wrong. They followed\nthe greyhound, who led them to a piece of water frozen over. A hat was\nseen on the ice, near which was a fresh aperture. The bodies of the\nyoung gentlemen were soon found, but, alas! though every means were\ntried, life could not be restored.\n\nThere is another story which places the sagacity of the greyhound in\nstill stronger light. A Scotch gentleman, who kept a greyhound and a\npointer, being fond of coursing, employed the one to find the hares, and\nthe other to catch them. It was, however, discovered, that when the\nseason was over, the dogs were in the habit of going out by themselves,\nand killing hares for their own amusement. To prevent this, a large iron\nring was fastened to the pointer's neck by a leather collar, and hung\ndown so as to prevent the dog from running or jumping over dikes. The\nanimals, however, continued to stroll out to the fields together; and\none day, the gentleman suspecting that all was not right, resolved to\nwatch them, and, to his surprise, found that the moment they thought\nthey were unobserved, the greyhound took up the ring in his mouth, and\ncarrying it, they set off to the hills, and began to search for hares,\nas usual. They were followed; and it was observed that whenever the\npointer scented the hare, the ring was dropped, and the greyhound stood\nready to pounce upon the game the moment the other drove her from her\nform; but that he uniformly returned to assist his companion, after he\nhad caught his prey.\n\n[Illustration: AN ENCAMPMENT OF GIPSIES.]\n\nSome of the dogs belonging to the gipsies possess a great deal of\nshrewdness. The gipsies, you know, are a very singular race of people.\nThey are scattered over a great portion of Europe, wandering from place\nto place, and living in miserable tents, or huts. You can form a pretty\ncorrect notion of a gipsy encampment, by the picture on another page.\nHere you see the gipsy men and women, sitting and standing around a\nfire, over which is a pot, evidently containing the material for their\nmeal. If you notice the picture carefully, you will observe, also, a\nlittle, insignificant looking dog, who is apparently asleep, and, for\naught I know, dreaming about the exploits of the day. You will no doubt\nsmile, and wonder what exploits such a cur is able to perform; but I\nassure you that if he is at all like some of the gipsy dogs I have heard\nof, he has been taught a good many very shrewd tricks. The dogs of the\ngipsies are sometimes trained to steal for their masters. The thief\nenters a store with some respectably dressed man, whom the owner of the\ndog will commission for the purpose, and--the man having made certain\nsignals to the animal--the gipsy cur, after loitering about the store,\nperhaps for hours, waiting a favorable opportunity, will steal the\narticles which were designated, and run away with them to his master's\ntent.\n\nI made the acquaintance of a dog at Niagara Falls, last summer, who was\nan ardent admirer of the beautiful and grand in nature. The little\nsteamer called the \"Maid of the Mist\" makes several trips daily, from a\npoint some two miles down the river, to within a few rods of the Canada\nFall. I went up in this boat, one morning, and the trip afforded me one\nof the finest views I had of this inimitable cataract. Among the\npassengers in this boat, at the time, was the dog who was so fond of the\nsublime. He walked leisurely on board, just before the hour of starting,\nand during the entire excursion seemed to enjoy the scene as much as any\nof the rest of the passengers. As the boat approached the American\nFall, he took his station in the bow, where he remained, completely\ndeluged in the spray, until the boat passed the same Fall, on its\nreturn. This, however, is not the most remarkable part of the story. The\ncaptain informed me that such was the daily practice of the dog. Every\nmorning, regularly, at the hour of starting, he makes his appearance,\nthough he is not owned by any one engaged in the boat, and treats\nhimself to this novel excursion.\n\nThere is a dog living on Staten Island, who has for some time been\nacting the part of a philanthropist, on a large scale. He makes it a\ngreat share of his business to administer to the necessities of the sick\nand infirm dogs in the neighborhood. As soon as he learns that a dog is\nsick, so that he is unable to take care of himself, he visits the\ninvalid, and nurses him; and he even goes from house to house, searching\nout those who need his assistance. Frequently he brings his patient to\nhis own kennel, and takes care of him until he either gets well or dies.\nSometimes he has two or three sick dogs in his hospital, at the same\ntime. I have these facts on the authority of my friend Mr. Ranlett, the\neditor of the \"Architect,\" a gentleman of unquestionable veracity, who\nhas seen the dog thus imitating the example of the Good Samaritan.\n\n[Illustration: RUSSIAN SLEDGE.]\n\nCaptain Parry, an adventurous sailor, who went out from England on a\nvoyage of discovery in the northern seas, relates some amusing anecdotes\nabout the dogs among the Esquimaux Indians. These dogs are trained to\ndraw a vehicle called a sledge, made a little like what we call a\nsleigh. In some parts of Russia many people travel in the same manner.\nHere is a picture of one of the Russian sledges. It is made in very\nhandsome style, as you see. The greater portion of them are constructed\nmuch more rudely. The Esquimaux Indian is famous for his feats in\ndriving dogs. When he wants to take a ride, he harnesses up several\npairs of these dogs, and off he goes, almost as swift as the wind. The\ndogs are rather unruly, however, sometimes, and get themselves sadly\nsnarled together, so that the driver is obliged to go through the\nharnessing process several times in the course of a drive of a few\nmiles. When the road is level and pretty smoothly worn, eight or ten\ndogs, with a weight only of some six or seven hundred pounds attached to\nthem, are almost unmanageable, and will run any where they choose at the\nrate of ten miles an hour.\n\nThe following anecdote we have on the authority of the Newark (N. J.)\nDaily Advertiser: An officer of the army, accompanied by his dog, left\nWest Point on a visit to the city of Burlington, N. J., and while there,\nbecoming sick, wrote to his wife and family at West Point, in relation\nto his indisposition. Shortly after the reception of his letter, the\nfamily were aroused by a whining, barking and scratching, at the door of\nthe house, and when opened to ascertain the cause, in rushed the\nfaithful dog. After being caressed, and every attempt made to quiet him,\nthe dog, in despair at not being understood, seized a shawl in his\nteeth, and, placing his paws on the lady's shoulders, deposited there\nthe shawl! He then placed himself before her, and, fixing his gaze\nintently upon her, to attract her attention, seized her dress, and began\nto drag her to the door. The lady then became alarmed, and sent for a\nrelative, who endeavored to allay her fears, but she prevailed upon him\nto accompany her at once to her husband, and on arriving, found him\ndangerously ill in Burlington. The distance traveled by the faithful\nanimal, and the difficulties encountered, render this exploit almost\nincredible, especially as the boats could not stop at West Point, on\naccount of the ice, it being in the winter.\n\nThere is a dog in the city of New York, who, according to unquestionable\nauthority, is accustomed every day not only to bring his mistress the\nmorning paper, as soon as it is thrown into the front yard, but to\nselect the one belonging to the lady, when, as is frequently the case,\nthere is one lying with it belonging to another member of the family.\n\nAn unfortunate dog, living in England, in order to make sport for some\nfools, had a pan tied to his tail, and was sent off on his travels\ntoward a village a few miles distant. He reached the place utterly\nexhausted, and lay down before the steps of a tavern, eyeing most\nanxiously the horrid annoyance hung behind him, but unable to move a\nstep further, or rid himself of the torment. Another dog, a Scotch\ncolly, came up at the time, and seeing the distress of his crony, laid\nhimself down gently beside him, and gaining his confidence by a few\ncaresses, proceeded to gnaw the string by which the noisy appendage was\nattached to his friend's tail, and by about a quarter of an hour's\nexertion, severed the cord, and started to his legs, with the pan\nhanging from the string in his mouth, and after a few joyful capers\naround his friend, departed on his travels, in the highest glee at his\nsuccess.\n\nThe Albany Journal tells us of a dog in that city, who has formed the\nhabit of regarding a shadow with a great deal of interest. In this\nparticular, he is not unlike some people that one occasionally meets\nwith, who spend their whole time following shadows. The story of the\nAlbany editor is thus told: Those who are in the habit of frequenting\nthe post-office, between the hours of six and eight in the evening, have\ndoubtless noticed the singular wanderings of a dog near the first swing\ndoor, without knowing the cause of his mysterious actions. The hall is\nlighted with gas, and the burner is placed between the two doors. When\nthe outer door swings, the frame-work of the sash throws a moving shadow\non the wall, beneath the structure, which, from its peculiar movement\ntoward the floor, has attracted the notice of this dog. He watches it as\nsharp as if it were a mouse, and although his labors have been\nfruitless, yet he still continues nightly to grace this place with his\npresence. Several attempts have been made to draw his attention from the\nobject, with but little success; for though his attention may be\ndiverted, it is soon lost, as the instant his eye catches the shadow, he\nrenews his watchings. In all his movements he is very harmless, and he\nneither injures nor even molests those who have occasion to pass through\nthe hall.\n\nAs a farmer of good circumstances, who resided in the county of Norfolk,\nEngland, was taking an excursion to a considerable distance from home,\nduring the frosts in the month of March 1795, he at length was so\nbenumbed by the intense cold, that he became stupefied, and so sleepy\nthat he found himself unable to proceed. He lay down, and would have\nperished on the spot, had not a faithful dog, which attended him, as if\nsensible of his dangerous situation, got on his breast, and, extending\nhimself over him, preserved the circulation of his blood. The dog, so\nsituated for many hours, kept up a continual barking, by which means,\nand the assistance of some passengers, the farmer was roused, and led to\na house, where he soon recovered.\n\n\n\n\nThe Wolf.\n\n\nFrom an authentic source I have obtained an incident of recent\noccurrence, which painfully illustrates the fury of the wolf, while\nengaged at a favorite meal. Near Lake Constance, in Canada, two men\nobserved some wolves engaged in eating a deer. One of them, named Black,\nwent to dispute the prize with these ravenous animals, when he\nunfortunately fell a victim to his rashness, the wolves having devoured\nhim, leaving only a small portion of his bones.\n\nSome three years since, while traveling in Canada, I met a lady who\nresided with a brother in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company, a few\nhundred miles north of Montreal. This lady informed me that she had not\nunfrequently been chased by wolves, while proceeding to the house of her\nnearest neighbor--about ten miles distant--and that a pack of them,\nunusually hungry, once seemed very much determined to pull her from\nher horse, though they finally made up their minds that they would try\ntheir fortunes in another direction.\n\n[Illustration: AN ADVENTURE WITH WOLVES.]\n\nIt sometimes, though not very frequently happens, that several wolves\ntogether attack men who travel on horseback, and fight furiously. A\nstory is told of two men who were traveling in this manner in Mexico,\nwhen two or three wolves, who, one would suppose, had fasted a good\nwhile, fell upon the men and their horses, and it was a matter of some\ndoubt, for a time, who would be the victors, the travelers or their\nassailants. The former were armed with pistols, too. The wolves got the\nworst of the battle, however, at last, and they retreated, as men very\noften do when they go to war with each other--having gained nothing but\na broken limb or two, which they boast of for the remainder of their\nlives.\n\nA peasant in Russia was one day riding along, when he found that he was\npursued by eleven wolves. Being about two miles from home he urged his\nhorse to the very extent of his speed. At the entrance to his residence\nwas a gate, which being shut at the time, the frightened horse dashed\nopen, and carried his master safely into the yard. Nine of the wolves\nfollowed the man and his horse into the inclosure, when fortunately,\nthe gate swung back, and caught them all as it were in a trap. Finding\nthemselves caught in this manner, the wolves seemed to lose all their\ncourage and ferocity. They shrunk away, and tried to hide themselves\ninstead of pursuing their prey, and they were all killed with very\nlittle difficulty.\n\nThe following story of an encounter with a saucy wolf in the\nsouth-western part of the United States, is taken from the journal of a\nSanta Fe trader: \"I shall not soon forget an adventure with a furious\nwolf, many years ago, on the frontiers of Missouri. Riding near the\nprairie border, I perceived one of the largest and fiercest of the gray\nspecies, which had just descended from the west, and seemed famished to\ndesperation. I at once prepared for a chase; and being without arms, I\ncaught up a cudgel, when I betook me valiantly to the charge, much\nstronger, as I soon discovered, in my cause than in my equipment. The\nwolf was in no humor to flee, however, but boldly met me full half way.\nI was soon disarmed, for my club broke upon the animal's head. He then\n'laid to' my horse's legs, which, not relishing the conflict, gave a\nplunge, and sent me whirling over his head, and made his escape, leaving\nme and the wolf at close quarters. I was no sooner upon my feet than my\nantagonist renewed the charge; but being without a weapon, or any means\nof awakening an emotion of terror, save through his imagination, I took\noff my large black hat, and using it for a shield, began to thrust it\ntoward his gaping jaws. My _ruse_ had the desired effect; for after\nspringing at me a few times, he wheeled about, and trotted off several\npaces, and stopped to gaze at me. Being apprehensive that he might\nchange his mind, and return to the attack, and conscious that, under the\ncompromise, I had the best of the bargain, I very resolutely took to my\nheels, glad of the opportunity of making a drawn game,[1] though I had\nmyself given the challenge.\" A friend of mine, who visited Texas a\nlittle while ago, gives quite an interesting account of a ride he had\nthrough an uninhabited part of that country, where wolves were abundant.\nHe says: \"As there was no road, I was obliged to take the prairie. My\nconveyance was a mule, which is, by the way, the best for a long journey\nin this country, as it is far more capable of endurance than a horse.\nWhen I had rode about five miles, I found that I had lost my course; and\nas the sun was clouded, I had no means of guessing at the route. But I\npushed on, and soon found myself in a dense grove of live oak. Here I\nheard a distinct barking, and thought I must be near a house. I rode\ntoward the place whence the noise seemed to proceed, but soon found that\nI had committed a most egregious error; for I was in the very midst of a\npack of wolves, consisting of about a dozen. As you may suppose, I was\nterribly frightened, though I had heard that wolves in the country\nseldom molest any one traveling on horseback. Still, this interesting\nparty appeared singularly fierce and hungry, and I opened a large clasp\nknife, the only available weapon I had, in order to be prepared for the\ncontemplated attack. In this way I rode on about a mile, with the wolves\nafter me, when the whole force quietly dispersed. After riding about\nthree hours more, I discovered that I had been on the wrong track all\nthe time, though I was not sure where I was; but it was so dark it was\nnot safe to go further. So I spread my cloak on the grass, tied my mule\nup to a tree, made my saddle into a pillow, and, thus prepared, lay down\nfor the night. I thought of wolves and snakes for some time, but being\nvery tired, soon went to sleep.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: A drawn game at chess, as some of my readers may not be\naware, is one in which neither party is the victor.]\n\nThe wolf is capable of strong attachments, and has been known to cherish\nthe memory of a friend for a great length of time. A wolf belonging to\nthe menagerie in London, met his old keeper, after three years' absence.\nIt was evening when the man returned, and the wolf's den was shut up\nfrom any external observation; yet the instant the man's voice was\nheard, the faithful animal set up the most anxious cries; and the door\nof his cage being opened, he rushed toward his friend, leaped upon his\nshoulders, licked his face, and threatened to bite his keepers on their\nattempting to separate them. When the man ultimately went away, he fell\nsick, was long on the verge of death, and would never after permit a\nstranger to approach him.\n\nCaptain Franklin, in his journal of a voyage in the Polar seas, mentions\nseeing white wolves there, and gives an account which shows the wolf to\nbe quite a cunning animal. A number of deer, says the captain, were\nfeeding on a high cliff, when a multitude of wolves slily encircled the\nplace, and then rushed upon the deer, scaring them over the precipice,\nwhere they were crushed to death by the fall. The wolves then came down,\nand devoured the deer at their leisure.\n\n[Illustration: SCENE IN THE OLD WOLF STORY.]\n\nWhen I was quite a little boy, it used to be the fashion for many people\nto fill children's heads with all manner of frightful stories about\nwolves, and bears, and gentry of that sort--stories that had not a word\nof truth in them, and which did a great deal of mischief. I remember to\nthis day, the horror I used to have, when obliged to go away alone in\nthe dark. Many a time I have looked behind me, thinking it quite likely\nthat a furious wolf was at my heels. The reason for this foolish\nfear--for it was foolish, of course--was, that a servant girl, in the\nemploy of my mother, used to tell me scores of stories in which wolves\nalways played a very prominent part. I remember one story in particular,\nwhich cost me a world of terror. The principal scene in the tale, and\nthe one which most frightened me, was at the time pictured so strongly\non my imagination, that it never entirely wore off. It was much after\nthis fashion. The wolf's jaws were opened wide enough to take a poor\nfellow's head in, and fancy pictured that event as being about to happen\nscores of times. Indeed, the nurse told me, over and over again, that\nunless I kept out of mischief--which I did not always, I am sorry to\nsay--I should be sure to come to some such end. Boys and girls, if you\nhave ever heard such stories, don't let them trouble you for a moment.\nThere is not a word of truth in them. I know how you feel--some of you\nwho are quite young, and who have been entertained with stories of this\nclass--when any body asks you to go alone into a dark room. You are\nafraid of something, and for your life cannot tell what. I should not\nwonder very much if some of you were _afraid of the dark_. I have heard\nchildren talk about being afraid of the dark. You laugh, perhaps. It is\nrather funny--almost too funny to be treated seriously. Well, if it is\nnot the dark, what is it you are afraid of? Your parents, and others who\nare older than you, are alone in the dark a thousand times in the course\nof a year. Did you ever hear them say any thing about meeting a single\none of the heroes of the frightful stories you have heard? Do you think\nthey ever came across a ghost, or an apparition, or a fairy, or an elf,\nor a witch, or a hobgoblin, or a giant, or a Blue-Beard, or a wolf? It\nmakes you smile to think of it. Well, then, after all, don't you think\nit would be a great deal wiser and better to turn all these foolish\nfancies out of your head, just as one would get rid of a company of\nsaucy rats and mice that were doing mischief in the cellar or\ncorn-house? I think so.\n\nBefore I have done with the wolf, I must recite that fable of AEsop's,\nabout one who dressed himself up in the garb of a sheep, to impose upon\nthe shepherd, but who shared a very different fate from the one he\nanticipated.\n\n[Illustration: THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.]\n\nA wolf, clothing himself in the skin of a sheep, and getting in among\nthe flock, by this means took the opportunity to devour many of them. At\nlast the shepherd discovered him, and cunningly fastening a rope about\nhis neck, tied him up to a tree which stood hard by. Some other\nshepherds happening to pass that way, and observing what he was about,\ndrew near and expressed their amazement. \"What,\" says one of them,\n\"brother, do you make a practice of hanging sheep?\" \"No,\" replies the\nother; \"but I make a practice of hanging a wolf whenever I catch him,\nthough in the habit and garb of a sheep.\" Then he showed them their\nmistake, and they applauded the justice of the execution. The moral of\nthis fable is so plain, that it is quite useless to repeat it.\n\n\n\n\nThe Horse.\n\n\nOf all the animals which have been pressed into the service of man, the\nhorse, perhaps, is the most useful. What could we do without the labor\nof this noble and faithful animal? Day after day, and year after year,\nhe toils on for his master, seldom complaining, when he is well treated,\nseldom showing himself ungrateful to his friends, and sometimes\nexhibiting the strongest attachment.\n\nThe following story is a matter of history, and is told by one who was a\nwitness of most of the facts connected with it: During the peninsular\nwar in Europe, the trumpeter of a French cavalry corps had a fine\ncharger assigned to him, of which he became passionately fond, and\nwhich, by gentleness of disposition and uniform docility, equally\nevinced its affection. The sound of the trumpeter's voice, the sight of\nhis uniform, or the twang of his trumpet, was sufficient to throw\nthis animal into a state of the greatest excitement; and he appeared\nto be pleased and happy only when under the saddle of his rider. Indeed\nhe was unruly and useless to every body else; for once, on being removed\nto another part of the forces, and consigned to a young officer, he\nresolutely refused to perform his evolutions, and bolted straight to the\ntrumpeter's station, and there took his stand, jostling alongside his\nformer master. This animal, on being restored to the trumpeter, carried\nhim, during several of the peninsular campaigns, through many\ndifficulties and hair-breadth escapes. At last the corps to which he\nbelonged was worsted, and in the confusion of retreat the trumpeter was\nmortally wounded. Dropping from his horse, his body was found, many days\nafter the engagement, stretched on the ground, with the faithful old\ncharger standing beside it. During the long interval, it seems that he\nhad never left the trumpeter's side, but had stood sentinel over his\ncorpse, as represented in the engraving, scaring away the birds of prey,\nand remaining totally heedless of his own privations. When found, he was\nin a sadly reduced condition, partly from loss of blood through wounds,\nbut chiefly from want of food, of which, in the excess of his grief, he\ncould not be prevailed on to partake.\n\n[Illustration: THE HORSE WATCHING THE BODY OF THE TRUMPETER.]\n\nIn a book called \"Sketches of the Horse,\" is an anecdote which exhibits\nthe intelligence of this animal in perhaps a still stronger light. A\nfarmer, living in the neighborhood of Bedford, in England, was returning\nhome from market one evening in 1828, and being somewhat tipsy, rolled\noff his saddle into the middle of the road. His horse stood still; but\nafter remaining patiently for some time, and not observing any\ndisposition in his rider to get up and proceed further, he took him by\nthe collar and shook him. This had little or no effect, for the farmer\nonly gave a grumble of dissatisfaction at having his repose disturbed.\nThe animal was not to be put off by any such evasion, and so applied his\nmouth to one of his master's coat-laps, and after several attempts, by\ndragging at it, to raise him upon his feet, the coat-lap gave way. Three\nindividuals who witnessed this extraordinary proceeding then went up,\nand assisted the man in mounting his horse.\n\nMy father had a horse, when I was a little boy, that was quite a pet\nwith the whole family. We called him Jack, and he knew his name as well\nas I did. The biography of the old veteran would be very interesting, I\nam sure, if any body were to write it. I do not mean to be his\nbiographer, however, though my partiality for him will be a sufficient\napology for a slight sketch.\n\nOld Jack was a very intelligent horse. He would always come when he\nheard his name called, let him be ever so far distant in the pasture;\nthat is, if he had a mind to come. Of course, being a gentleman of\ndiscernment, he sometimes chose to stay where he was, and enjoy his\nwalk. This was especially the case when the grass was very green, and\nwhen the person who came for him chanced to be a little green also. Jack\nhad his faults, it cannot be denied, and among them, perhaps the most\nprominent one was a strong aversion to being caught by any body but my\nfather, whom he seemed to regard as having the sole right to summon him\nfrom the pasture. I used occasionally to try my hand at catching him. In\nfact, I succeeded several times, by stratagem only. I carried a measure\ncontaining a few gills of oats with me into the field; and his love for\noats was so much stronger than his dislike of the catching process, that\nI secured him. But after a while the old fellow became too cunning for\nme. He came to the conclusion that the quantity of his favorite dish was\ntoo small to warrant him in sacrificing his freedom. He had some\nknowledge of arithmetic, you see. Certainly he must have cyphered as\nfar as loss and gain. One day I went into the pasture with my bridle\nconcealed behind me, and just about enough oats to cover the bottom of\nmy measure, and advanced carefully toward the spot where old Jack was\nquietly grazing in the meadow. He did not stir as I approached. He held\nup his head a little, and seemed to be thinking what it was best to do.\nI drew nearer, encouraged, of course. The cunning fellow let me come\nwithin a few feet of him, and then suddenly wheeled around, threw his\nheels into the air, a great deal too near my head, and then started off\nat full gallop, snorting his delight at the fun, and seeming to say, \"I\nam not quite so great a fool as you suppose.\"\n\nStill, old Jack was kind and gentle. My father never had any trouble\nwith him, and many a long mile have I rode after him, when he went over\nthe ground like a bird. I loved him, with all his faults; I loved him\ndearly, and when he was sold, we all had a long crying spell about it. I\nremember the time well, when the man who purchased our old pet came to\ntake him away. I presume the man was kind enough, but really I never\ncould forgive him for buying the horse. He was rather a rough-looking\nman, and he laughed a good deal when we told him he must be good to\nJack, and give him plenty of oats, and not make him work too hard. I\nwent out, with my sister, to bid our old friend a last sad good-bye. We\ncarried him some green grass--we knew how well he loved grass, he had\ngiven us proof enough of that--and while he was eating it, and the man\nwas preparing to take him away, we talked to old Jack till the tears\nstood in our eyes; we told him how sorry we were to part with him; and\nhe seemed to be sad, too, for he stopped eating his grass, and looked at\nus tenderly, while we put our arms around his neck and caressed him for\nthe last time.\n\n[Illustration: PARTING WITH OLD JACK.]\n\nI have had a great many pets since--cats and dogs, squirrels and\nrabbits, canary birds and parrots--but never any that I loved more than\nI did old Jack; and to this day I am ashamed of the deception I\npracticed upon him in the matter of the oats, when trying to catch him.\nI don't wonder he resented the trick, and played one on me in return.\n\nBut I am transgressing the rule I laid down for myself in the outset of\nthese stories--not to prate much about my own pets. According to this\nrule, I ought to have touched much more lightly upon the life and times\nof old Jack.\n\nA correspondent of the Providence (R. I.) Journal, gives an account of a\nhorse in his neighborhood that was remarkably fond of music. \"A\nphysician,\" he says, \"called daily to visit a patient opposite to my\nplace of residence. We had a piano in the room on the street, on which a\nyoung lady daily practiced for several hours in the morning. The weather\nwas warm, and the windows were open, and the moment the horse caught the\nsound of the piano, he would deliberately wheel about, cross the street,\nplace himself as near the window as possible, and there, with ears and\neyes dilating, would he quietly stand and listen till his owner came for\nhim. This was his daily practice. Sometimes the young lady would stop\nplaying when the doctor drove up. The horse would then remain quietly in\nhis place; but the first stroke of a key would arrest his attention, and\nhalf a dozen notes would invariably call him across the street. I\nwitnessed the effect several times.\"\n\nThere was a show-bill printed during the reign of Queen Anne, a copy of\nwhich is still to be seen in one of the public libraries in England, to\nthe following effect: \"To be seen, at the Ship, upon Great Tower Hill,\nthe finest taught horse in the world. He fetches and carries like a\nspaniel dog. If you hide a glove, a handkerchief, a door key, a pewter\nspoon, or so small a thing as a silver twopence, he will seek about the\nroom till he has found it, and then he will bring it to his master.\nHe will also tell the number of spots on a card, and leap through a\nhoop; with a variety of other curious performances.\"\n\n[Illustration: ALEXANDER TAMING BUCEPHALUS.]\n\nThe story of Alexander the Great, and his favorite horse Bucephalus,\ndoubtless most of my readers have heard before. Bucephalus was a\nwar-horse of a very high spirit, which had been sent to Philip,\nAlexander's father, when the latter was a boy. This horse was taken out\ninto one of the parks connected with the palace, and the king and many\nof his courtiers went to see him. The horse pranced about so furiously,\nthat every body was afraid of him. He seemed perfectly unmanageable. No\none was willing to risk his life by mounting such an unruly animal.\nPhilip, instead of being thankful for the present, was inclined to be in\nill humor about it. In the mean time, the boy Alexander stood quietly\nby, watching all the motions of the horse, and seeming to be studying\nhis character. Philip had decided that the horse was useless, and had\ngiven orders to have him sent back to Thessaly, where he came from.\nAlexander did not much like the idea of losing so fine an animal, and\nbegged his father to allow him to mount the horse. Philip at first\nrefused, thinking the risk was too great. But he finally consented,\nafter his son had urged him a great while. So Alexander went up to the\nhorse, and took hold of his bridle. He patted him upon the neck, and\nsoothed him with his voice, showing him, at the same time, by his easy\nand unconcerned manner, that he was not in the least afraid of him.\nBucephalus was calmed and subdued by the presence of Alexander. He\nallowed himself to be caressed. Alexander turned his head in such a\ndirection as to prevent his seeing his own shadow, which had before\nappeared to frighten him. Then he threw off his cloak, and sprang upon\nthe back of the horse, and let him go as fast as he pleased. The animal\nflew across the plain, at the top of his speed, while the king and his\ncourtiers looked on, at first with extreme fear, but afterward with the\ngreatest admiration and pleasure. When Bucephalus had got tired of\nrunning, he was easily reined in, and Alexander returned to the king,\nwho praised him very highly, and told him that he deserved a larger\nkingdom than Macedon. Alexander had a larger kingdom, some years\nafter--a great deal larger one--though that is a part of another story.\n\nBucephalus became the favorite horse of Alexander, and was very\ntractable and docile, though full of life and spirit. He would kneel\nupon his fore legs, at the command of his master, in order that he might\nmount more easily. A great many anecdotes are related of the feats of\nBucephalus, as a war-horse. He was never willing to have any one ride\nhim but Alexander. When the horse died, Alexander mourned for him a\ngreat deal. He had him buried with great solemnity, and built a small\ncity upon the spot of his interment, which he named, in honor of his\nfavorite, Bucephalia.\n\nAn odd sort of an old mare, called by her master Nancy, used to go by my\nfather's house, when I was a child. She was the bearer of Peter\nPacker--Uncle Peter, as he was sometimes called by the good people in\nour neighborhood--and he was the bearer of the weekly newspaper, and\nwas, withal, quite as odd as his mare. As long as I can remember, Uncle\nPeter went his weekly rounds, and for aught I know, he is going to this\nday. No storm, or tempest, or snow-bank, could detain him, that is, not\nlonger than a day or two, in his mission. He was a very punctual man--in\nother words, he always paced leisurely along, some time or another.\nSpeaking of pacing, reminds me that the mare aforesaid belonged to that\nparticular class and order called _pacers_, from their peculiar gait. I\nshould think, too, that the mare was not altogether unlike the\ncelebrated animal on which Don Quixote rode in pursuit of wind-mills,\nand things of that sort. But she had one peculiarity which is not set\ndown in the description of Rozinante, to wit: the faculty of diagonal or\noblique locomotion. This mare of Uncle Peter's went forward something\nafter the fashion of a crab, and a little like a ship with the wind\nabeam, as the sailors would say. It was a standing topic of dispute\namong us school-boys, whether the animal went head foremost or not. But\nthat did not matter much, practically, it is true, so that she always\nmade her circuit; and that she did, as I have said before. Sometimes she\nwas a day or two later than usual. But that seldom occurred except in\nthe summer season; and when it did happen, it was on this wise: she had\na most passionate love for the study of practical botany; and not being\nallowed, when at home, to pursue her favorite science as often as she\nwished, owing partly to a want of specimens, and partly to her master's\ndesire to educate her in the more solid branches--he was a great\nadvocate for the solid branches--she frequently took the liberty to\ndivest herself of her bridle, when standing at the door of her master's\ncustomers, and to pace away in search of the dear flowers. Oh, she was a\ndevoted student of botany! so much so, that her desire to obtain\nbotanical specimens did sometimes interfere a good deal with her\nother literary and scientific engagements. She used to do very nearly as\nshe chose. Uncle Peter seldom crossed her in her inclinations. If she\nwas pacing along the highway, and felt a little thirsty, she never\nhesitated to stop, whether her master invited her to do so or not, at a\nbrook or a watering-trough. Uncle Peter used to say, that he never tried\nto prevent these liberties but once, and he had occasion to repent\nbitterly of that. A thunder-storm was coming on, and he was in a hurry\nto get to the next house. But the mare was determined, before she went\nany further, to stop at a stream of water and drink. He set out to have\nhis way--Nancy set out to have hers. The result was, that Peter was\nobliged to yield. But that was not the worst of it. The old mare was so\nmuch vexed because her master disputed her will, that while she was\nstanding in the brook, she threw up her hind feet and let him fall over\nher head into the water. That gentle correction cured Uncle Peter. She\nhad her own way after the ducking.\n\n[Illustration: UNCLE PETER AND HIS OLD MARE.]\n\nHorses have been known to cherish a strong attachment for each other. In\none of the British wars called the peninsular war, two horses, who had\nlong been associated together, assisting in dragging the same piece of\nartillery, became so much attached to each other as to be inseparable\ncompanions. At length one of them was killed in battle. After the\nengagement was over, the other horse was attended to, as usual, and his\nfood was brought to him. But he refused to eat, and was constantly\nturning his head to look for his former companion, sometimes neighing,\nas if to call her. All the attention which was bestowed upon him was of\nno avail. Though surrounded by other horses, he took no notice of them,\nbut was continually mourning for his lost friend. Shortly after he died,\nhaving refused to taste any food from the day his companion was killed.\n\nAn old Shetland pony was so much attached to a little boy, his master,\nthat he would place his fore feet in the hands of the boy, like a dog,\nthrust his head under his arm, to court his caresses, and join with him\nand a little dog in their noisy rompings. The same animal daily carried\nhis master to school. He would even walk alone from the stable to the\nschool-house, to bring the boy home, and sometimes he would wait hours\nfor him, having come much too early.\n\nBut I have occupied the reader's attention long enough with stories of\nthe horse, interesting and noble as this animal is. I must, however,\nbefore I pass to another subject, recite a touching ballad, from one of\nour sweetest bards.\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD HORSE'S ADDRESS TO HIS MASTER, ON BEING SENTENCED\nTO DIE.]\n\n    And hast thou fixed my doom, kind master, say?\n      And wilt thou kill thy servant, old and poor?\n    A little longer let me live, I pray--\n      A little longer hobble round thy door.\n\n    For much it glads me to behold this place,\n      And house me in this hospitable shed;\n    It glads me more to see my master's face,\n      And linger on the spot where I was bred.\n\n    For oh! to think of what we have enjoyed,\n      In my life's prime, ere I was old and poor;\n    Then, from the jocund morn to eve employed,\n      My gracious master on my back I bore.\n\n    Thrice told ten happy years have danced along,\n      Since first to thee these wayworn limbs I gave;\n    Sweet smiling years, when both of us were young--\n      The kindest master, and the happiest slave!\n\n    Ah, years sweet smiling, now forever flown!\n      Ten years thrice told, alas! are as a day;\n    Yet, as together we are aged grown,\n      Together let us wear that age away.\n\n    For still the olden times are dear to thought,\n      And rapture marked each minute as it flew;\n    Light were our hearts, and every season brought\n      Pains that were soft, and pleasures that were new.\n\n    And hast thou fixed my doom, sweet master, say?\n      And wilt thou kill thy servant, old and poor?\n    A little longer let me live, I pray--\n      A little longer hobble round thy door.\n\n    But oh! kind Nature, take thy victim's life!\n      End thou a servant, feeble, old, and poor!\n    So shalt thou save me from the uplifted knife,\n      And gently stretch me at my master's door.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE LEOPARD AND THE SERPENT.]\n\nThe Panther and Leopard.\n\n\nLeopards and panthers are very similar in their appearance and habits;\nso much so, that I shall introduce them both in the same chapter. The\nengraving represents a panther. He is in some danger from the serpent\nnear him, I am inclined to think.\n\nA panther is spoken of by an English lady, Mrs. Bowdich, who resided for\nsome time in Africa, as being thoroughly domesticated. He was as tame as\na cat, and much more affectionate than cats usually are. On one\noccasion, when he was sick, the boy who had charge of him slept in his\nden, and held the patient a great part of the time in his arms, and the\npoor fellow appeared to be soothed by the care and attention of his\nnurse. He had a great partiality for white people, probably because he\nhad been tamed by them; and the lady who gives this account of him was\nhis especial favorite. Twice each week she used to take him some\nlavender water, which he was very fond of, and seized with great\neagerness. He allowed the children to play with him; and sometimes, when\nhe was sitting in the window, gazing upon what was going on below, the\nlittle urchins would pull him down by the tail. It would seem to be\nrather a dangerous experiment. But the panther let his play-fellows\nenjoy the sport. I suppose he thought that though it was not very\npleasant to him, he would make the sacrifice of a little comfort rather\nthan to get angry and revenge himself. Besides, he might have said to\nhimself, \"These boys like the sport pretty well; I should guess it was\ncapital fun for them; it is a pity to rob them of their amusement it\ndoes not hurt me much, and I will let it go; they don't mean any harm;\nthey are the kindest, best-natured children in the world; they would go\nwithout their own dinner, any day, rather than see me suffer.\" If the\npanther said this to himself, it was a very wise and sensible speech;\nand if he did not say it, my little readers may consider me as the\nauthor of it. I am satisfied, whether the panther has the credit of\nmaking the remarks or whether I have it, so that my young friends get\nthe benefit of the lesson.\n\nIn their wild state these animals are very destructive. The same lady\nwho tells the story about the tame panther, says that in one case a\npanther leaped through an open window near her residence, and killed a\nlittle girl who happened to be the only occupant of the house at the\ntime, except a man who was asleep.\n\nThe tame leopard is often used in India for the purpose of hunting\nantelopes. He is carried in a kind of small wagon, blindfolded, to the\nplace where the herd of antelopes are feeding. The reason they blindfold\nhim is to prevent his being too much in a hurry, so that he might make\nchoice of an animal which is not worth much. He does not fly at his prey\nat once, when let loose, but, winding along carefully, conceals himself,\nuntil an opportunity offers for his leap; and then, with five or six\nbounds, made with amazing force and rapidity, overtakes the herd, and\nbrings his prey to the ground.\n\nI have read a very serious story of an American panther. The lady, who\nis the heroine of the story, and her husband, were among the first\nsettlers in the wilderness of one of our western states. They at first\nlived in a log cabin. The luxury of glass was unknown in that wild place\namong the forests, and consequently light and air were admitted through\nholes which were always open. Both husband and wife had been away from\nhome for a day or two; and on their return, they found some deer's\nflesh, which had been hanging up inside, partly eaten, and the tracks of\nan animal, which the gentleman supposed were those of a large dog. He\nwas again obliged to leave home for a night, and this time the lady\nremained in the house alone. She went to bed; and soon after, she heard\nan animal climbing up the outside of the hut, and jump down through one\nof the openings into the adjoining room, with which her sleeping\napartment was connected by a doorway without a door. Peeping out, she\nsaw a huge panther, apparently seeking for prey, and of course very\nhungry and fierce. She beat against the partition between the rooms, and\nscreamed as loudly as she could, which so frightened the panther that he\njumped out. He was, however, soon in again, and a second time she\nfrightened him away in the same manner, when she sprang out of bed, and\nwent to the fire-place, in the hope of making a sufficient blaze to keep\nthe panther from entering again. But the embers were too much burned,\nand would send out but a slight flame. What could the poor woman do? She\nthought of getting under the bed; but then she reflected that the animal\nwould find no difficulty in getting at her in that situation, in which\ncase he would tear her in pieces before she could make any resistance.\n\nThe only plan which then occurred to her mind for perfect security, was\nto get into a large sea-chest of her husband's, which was nearly empty.\nInto that she accordingly crept. But there was danger of her being\nsmothered in this retreat; so she put her hand between the edge of the\nchest and the lid, in order to keep the chest open a little, and admit\nthe air. Fortunately this lid hung over the side of the chest a little,\nwhich saved her fingers. The panther soon came back again, as was\nanticipated; and after snuffing about for some time, evidently\ndiscovered where the lady was, and prowled round and round the chest,\nlicking and scratching the wood close to her fingers. There she lay,\nscarcely daring to move, and listening intently to every movement of her\nenemy. At last, he jumped on the top of the chest. His weight crushed\nher fingers terribly; but she was brave enough to keep them where they\nwere, until the panther, tired of his fruitless efforts to get at her,\nand finding nothing else to eat, finally retreated. She did not dare to\ncome out of the chest, however, until morning; for she feared, as long\nas it was dark, that the beast might come back again. So there she sat,\nready to crouch down into her hiding-place, if she heard a noise from\nher enemy. There she remained till after daylight. She was a heroine,\nwas she not?\n\nA horse was killed one night by an American panther; but the body was\nnot disturbed until the next day, when some gentlemen living in the\nvicinity, had an opportunity of watching the motions of the panther when\nhe returned to his prey. He seized the body of the horse with his teeth,\nand drew it about sixty paces to a river, into which he plunged with his\nprey, swam across with it, and drew it into a neighboring forest.\n\nThe American panther is very fond of fish, and instances have been known\nof these animals catching trout with their paws. Humboldt says that he\nsaw a great many turtle shells which the panthers had robbed of the\nflesh. The manner in which the panther performs this operation, this\ntraveler informs us, is to run with all speed when he sees a number of\nturtles together on land, and to turn them, or as many of them as he can\ncatch before they reach the water, upon their backs, so that they cannot\nescape, after which he feasts at his leisure.\n\nTwo children, a girl and a boy, were playing together near a small\nIndian village, in the vicinity of a thicket, when a large panther came\nout of the woods and made toward them, playfully bounding along, his\nhead down, and his back arched after the fashion of the cat when she\nchooses to put on some of her mischievous airs. He came up to the boy,\nand began to play with him, as the latter at first supposed, although he\nwas convinced of his mistake when the panther hit him so severe a blow\non his head as to draw blood. Then the little girl, who had a small\nstick in her hand, struck the panther; and matters were going on in this\nway, when some Indians in the village, hearing the cries of the\nchildren, came to their rescue.\n\nA gentleman who was formerly in the British service at Ceylon, relates\nthe following anecdote: \"I was at Jaffna, at the northern extremity of\nthe island of Ceylon, in the beginning of the year 1819, when, one\nmorning, my servant called me an hour or two before my usual time, with\n'Master, master! people sent for master's dogs; leopard in the town!' My\ngun chanced not to be put together; and while my servant was adjusting\nit, the collector and two medical men, who had recently arrived, in\nconsequence of the cholera morbus having just then reached Ceylon from\nthe continent, came to my door, the former armed with a fowling-piece,\nand the two latter with remarkably blunt hog spears. They insisted upon\nsetting off without waiting for my gun, a proceeding not much to my\ntaste. The leopard had taken refuge in a hut, the roof of which, like\nthose of Ceylon huts in general, spread to the ground like an umbrella;\nthe only aperture into it was a small door about four feet high. The\ncollector wanted to get the leopard out at once. I begged to wait for my\ngun; but no, the fowling-piece (loaded with ball, of course) and the two\nspears were quite enough. I got a stake, and awaited my fate from very\nshame. At this moment, to my great delight, there arrived from the fort\nan English officer, two artillerymen, and a Malay captain; and a pretty\nfigure we should have cut without them, as the event will show. I was\nnow quite ready to attack, and my gun came a minute afterward. The whole\nscene which follows took place within an inclosure, about twenty feet\nsquare, formed on three sides by a strong fence of palmyra leaves, and\non the fourth by the hut. At the door of this the two artillerymen\nplanted themselves; and the Malay captain got at the top, to frighten\nthe leopard out by unroofing it--an easy operation, as the huts there\nare covered with cocoanut leaves. One of the artillerymen wanted to go\nin to the leopard, but we would not suffer it. At last the beast sprang;\nthis man received him on his bayonet, which he thrust apparently down\nhis throat, firing his piece at the same moment. The bayonet broke off\nshort, leaving less than three inches on the musket; the rest remained\nin the animal, but was invisible to us: the shot probably went through\nhis cheek, for it certainly did not seriously injure him, as he\ninstantly rose upon his legs, with a loud roar, and placed his paws upon\nthe soldier's breast. At this moment the animal appeared to me to about\nreach the centre of the man's face; but I had scarcely time to observe\nthis, when the leopard, stooping his head, seized the soldier's arm in\nhis mouth, turned him half round, staggering, threw him over on his\nback, and fell upon him. Our dread now was, that if we fired upon the\nleopard we might kill the man: for a moment there was a pause, when his\ncomrade attacked the beast exactly in the same manner as the gallant\nfellow himself had done. He struck his bayonet into his head; the\nleopard rose at him; he fired; and this time the ball took effect, and\nin the head. The animal staggered backward, and we all poured in our\nfire. He still kicked and writhed; when the gentlemen with the spears\nadvanced and fixed him, while some natives finished him by beating him\non the head with hedge-stakes. The brave artilleryman was, after all,\nbut slightly hurt. He claimed the skin, which was very cheerfully given\nto him. There was, however, a cry among the natives that the head should\nbe cut off: it was; and, in so doing, the knife came directly across the\nbayonet. The animal measured scarcely less than four feet from the root\nof the tail to the nose.\"\n\nCaptain Marryatt had a pretty serious adventure with a huge panther in\nAfrica, while his vessel lay at anchor in a river there, and he and his\nmen were busy in taking in a cargo of ivory. As they were thus engaged\none day, by some accident a hole was made in the bottom of the boat, and\nthey were unable to proceed with it. The captain told the men to remain\nby the boat, and started himself to obtain assistance from the vessel.\nHe thought that if he could force his way through the canes which\nabounded in that vicinity, a short distance down the river, he could\nmake signals to those on board, and that some of them would come to\ntheir help. This expedition, however, proved a much longer one than he\nanticipated, and much more perilous. He lost his way. \"At first,\" he\nsays, \"I got on very well, as there were little paths through the canes,\nmade, as I imagined, by the natives; and although I was up to my knees\nin thick black mud, I continued to get on pretty fast; but at last the\ncanes grew so thick that I could hardly force my way through them, and\nit was a work of exceeding labor. Still I persevered, expecting each\nsecond I should arrive at the banks of the river, and be rewarded for my\nfatigue; but the more I labored the worse it appeared for me, and at\nlast I became worn out and quite bewildered. I then tried to find my way\nback, and was equally unsuccessful, when I sat down with any thing but\npleasant thoughts in my mind. I calculated that I had been two hours in\nmaking this attempt, and was now quite puzzled how to proceed. I\nbitterly lamented my rashness, now that it was too late. Having reposed\na little, I resumed my toil, and again, after an hour's exertion, was\ncompelled, from fatigue, to sit down in the deep black mud. Another\nrespite from toil and another hour more of exertion, and I gave myself\nup for lost. The day was evidently fast closing in, the light over head\nwas not near so bright as it had been, and I knew that a night passed in\nthe miasma of the cane swamp was death. At last it became darker and\ndarker. There could not be an hour of daylight remaining. I determined\nupon one struggle more, and reeking as I was with perspiration, and\nfaint with fatigue, I rose again, and was forcing my way through the\nthickest of the canes, when I heard a deep growl, and perceived a large\npanther not twenty yards from me. He was on the move as well as myself,\nattempting to force his way through the thickest of the canes, so as to\ncome up to me. I retreated from him as fast as I could, but he gained\nslowly upon me, and my strength was fast declining. I thought I heard\nsounds at a distance, and they became more and more distinct; but what\nthey were, my fear and my struggles probably prevented from making out.\n\n\"My eyes were fixed upon the fierce animal who was in pursuit of me; and\nI now thank God that the canes were so thick and impassable. Still the\nanimal evidently gained ground, until it was not more than twenty yards\nfrom me, dashing and springing at the canes, and tearing them aside with\nhis teeth. The sounds were now nearer, and I made them out to be the\nhallooing of some other animals. A moment's pause, and I thought it was\nthe barking of dogs, and I thought I must have arrived close to where\nthe schooner lay, and that I heard the barking of bloodhounds. At last I\ncould do no more, and dropped exhausted and almost senseless in the mud.\nI recollect hearing the crashing of canes, and then the savage roar, and\nthe yells, and growls, and struggle, and fierce contention, but had\nfainted.\n\n\"I must now inform the reader that about an hour after I had left the\nboat, the captain of an American vessel was pulling up the river, and\nwas hailed by our men in our long boat. Perceiving them on that side of\nthe river, and that they were in distress, he pulled toward them, and\nthey told him what had happened, and that an hour previous I had left\nthe boat to force my way through the cane brakes, and they had heard\nnothing of me since. 'Madness!' cried he, 'he is a lost man. Stay till I\ncome back from the schooner.' He went back to the schooner, and taking\ntwo of his crew, who were negroes, and his two bloodhounds, into the\nboat, he returned immediately; and as soon as he landed, he put the\nbloodhounds on my track, and sent the negroes on with them. They had\nfollowed me in all my windings--for it appeared that I had traveled in\nall directions--and had come up with me just as I had sunk with\nexhaustion, and the panther was so close upon me. The bloodhounds had\nattacked the panther, and this was the noise which sounded on my ears as\nI lay stupefied at the mercy of the wild beast. The panther was not\neasily, although eventually overcome, and the black men coming up, had\nfound me and borne me in a state of insensibility on board my vessel.\nThe fever had set upon me, and it was not till three weeks afterward\nthat I recovered my senses, when I learned what I have told to the\nreader.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE ELEPHANT.]\n\nThe Elephant.\n\n\nSeveral hunters once surprised a male and female elephant in an open\nspot, near a thick swamp. The animals fled toward the thicket, and the\nmale was soon beyond the reach of the balls from the hunters' guns. The\nfemale, however, was wounded so severely, that she was not able to make\nher escape; and the hunters were about to capture her, when the male\nelephant rushed from his retreat, and with a shrill and frightful\nscream, like the sound of a trumpet, attacked the party. All escaped but\none, the man who had last discharged his gun, and who was standing with\nhis horse's bridle over his arm, reloading his gun, at the moment the\nfurious animal burst from the wood. This unfortunate man the elephant\nimmediately singled out, and before he could spring into his saddle, he\nwas prepared to revenge the insult that had been offered to his\ncompanion. One blow from his trunk struck the poor man to the earth; and\nwithout troubling himself about the horse, who galloped off at full\nspeed, the elephant thrust his tusks into the hunter's body, and flung\nhim high into the air. The unfortunate man was instantly killed. After\nthis act, the elephant walked gently up to his bleeding companion, and\nregardless of the volleys with which he was assailed from the hunters,\nhe caressed her, and aided her in reaching a shelter in the thicket.\n\nA tame elephant had a great affection for a dog; and those who visited\nthe place where the animal was exhibited, used to pull the dog's ears,\nto make him yelp, on purpose to see what the elephant would do. On one\noccasion, when this cruel sport was going on at the opposite side of the\nbarn where the elephant was kept, she no sooner heard the voice of her\nfriend in distress, than she began to feel the boards of the partition\nwhich separated her and the dog, and then, striking them a heavy blow,\nmade them fly in splinters. After this she looked through the hole she\nhad made, which was large enough to admit her entire body, with such\nthreatening gestures, that the miserable fools who were teasing the dog\nconcluded that it would not pay very well to continue the sport.\n\nAt an exhibition of a menagerie in one of our principal cities, not long\nsince, when the crowd of spectators was the greatest, a little girl, who\nhad fed the elephant with sundry cakes and apples from her bag, drew out\nher ivory card-case, which fell unobserved in the saw-dust of the ring.\nAt the close of the ring performances, the crowd opened to let the\nelephant pass to his recess; but instead of proceeding as usual, he\nturned aside and thrust his trunk in the midst of a group of ladies and\ngentlemen, who, as might be expected, were so much alarmed that they\nscattered in every direction. The keeper, at this moment, discovered\nthat the animal had something in his trunk. Upon examination, he found\nit to be the young lady's card-case, which the elephant picked up, and\nit now appeared that he was only seeking out the owner.\n\nA person in the island of Ceylon, who lived near a place where elephants\nwere daily led to water, and often sat at the door of his house, used\noccasionally to give one of these animals some fig leaves, a kind of\nfood which elephants are said to be very fond of. One day this man took\nit into his head to play one of the elephants a trick. He wrapped up a\nstone in fig leaves, and said to the man who had the elephants in\ncharge, \"This time I am going to give him a stone to eat; I want to see\nhow it will agree with him.\" The keeper replied, that the elephant would\nnot be such a fool as to swallow the stone--he might make up his mind to\nthat. The other, however, reached out the stone to the elephant, who\ntook it in his trunk, but instantly let it fall to the ground. \"You\nsee,\" said the keeper, \"that I was right, and that the beast is not so\ngreat a fool as you took him to be;\" and drove away his elephants. After\nthey were watered, he was conducting them again to their stable. The man\nwho had played the elephant the trick was still sitting at his door,\nwhen, before he had time to think of his danger, the insulted animal ran\nat him, threw his trunk around his body, dashed him to the ground, and\ntrampled him to death.\n\nAt the Cape of Good Hope, it is customary to hunt these animals for the\nsake of the ivory they obtain from them. Three horsemen armed with\nlances, attack the beast alternately, each relieving the other as they\nsee their companion pressed, and likely to get the worst of the contest.\nOn one occasion three Dutchmen, who were brothers, having made large\nfortunes at the cape by elephant hunting, were about to return home to\nenjoy the fruits of their toil. They determined, however, the day before\nthey started, to have one more hunt by way of amusement. They went out\ninto the field, and soon met with an elephant, whom they began to attack\nin their usual manner. But unfortunately, the horse of the man who was\nfighting with the elephant at the time fell, and the rider was thrown to\nthe ground. Then the elephant had his vengeance, and it was a terrible\none--almost too terrible to think upon. He instantly seized the unhappy\nman with his trunk, threw him up into the air to a vast height, and\nreceived him upon his tusks as he fell. Then, turning toward the other\ntwo brothers with an aspect of revenge and insult, he held out to them\nthe mangled body of his victim, writhing in the agony of death.\n\nAt Macassar an elephant driver one day had a cocoanut given him, which,\nin order to break it, he struck two or three times against the\nelephant's head. The next day the animal saw some cocoanuts exposed in\nthe street for sale, and taking one of them up in his trunk, beat it\nabout the driver's head until he fractured his skull.\n\nMr. Colton, the author of that admirable book called \"Lacon,\" tells a\nsimilar anecdote of an elephant in Madras. It was a war elephant, and\nwas trained to perform an act of civility called the _grand salam_,\nwhich is done by falling on the first joint of the fore-leg at a given\nsignal. The elephant was to make the salam before a British officer. It\nwas noticed at the time that he was rather out of humor. The keeper was\nordered up to explain the cause, and was in the act of doing so, when\nthe elephant advanced a few steps, and with one stroke of his trunk laid\nthe poor man dead at his feet. He then retired to his former position,\nand made the grand salam with the utmost propriety and apparent good\nwill. The wife of the unfortunate man said that she had always been\nafraid something of that kind would happen, as her husband had been\nconstantly in the habit of robbing the elephant of his rations of rice.\n\nIt is said that when once wild elephants have been caught, and eluded\nthe snares of their adversaries, if they are compelled to go into the\nwoods they are mistrustful, and break with their trunk a large branch,\nwith which they sound the ground before they put their foot upon it, to\ndiscover if there are any holes on their passage, not to be caught a\nsecond time. \"We saw two wild elephants,\" says a traveler, \"which had\njust been caught; each of them was between two tame elephant; and around\nthe wild elephants were six men, holding spears. They spoke to these\nanimals in presenting them something to eat, and telling them, in their\nlanguage, _take this and eat it_. They had small bundles of hay, bits of\nblack sugar, or rice boiled in water with pepper. When the wild elephant\nrefused to do what he was ordered, the men commanded the tame elephants\nto beat him, which they did immediately, one striking his forehead with\nhis; and when he seemed to aim at revenge against his aggressor, another\nstruck him; so that the poor wild elephant perceived he had nothing to\ndo but to obey.\"\n\nA sentinel belonging to the menagerie at Paris, was in the habit of\ntelling the spectators not to give any food to the elephant during the\nexhibition. One day, after a piece of bread had been presented to the\nanimal, the sentinel had commenced making the usual request, when the\nelephant violently discharged in his face a stream of water, so that he\ncould not utter the admonition in his confusion. Of course the\nspectators roared with laughter, and the elephant seemed to enjoy the\njoke as well as they. By and by, the sentinel having wiped his face,\nfound himself under the necessity of repeating the request which he had\nmade before. But no sooner had he done this, than the elephant laid hold\nof his musket with her trunk, wrested it from his hands, twirled it\nround and round, trod it under her feet, and did not restore it until\nshe had twisted it nearly into the form of a cork-screw.\n\nElephants are occasionally taught to work on a farm, like horses and\noxen. Any one visiting Singapore, may see a small elephant, named Rajah,\nworking daily on the estate of J. Balestier, Esq., American Consul; and,\nalthough the animal is only five years and a half old, he will plough\nhis acre of land a day, with ease. One man holds the plough, and another\nwalks beside the animal, and directs him in his duty. The docile little\ncreature obeys every word that is said to him, and will plough all day\nbetween the cane rows, without plucking a single cane.\n\nAn elephant was once wounded in battle, and rendered so furious by the\npain she endured, that she ran about the field, uttering the most\nhideous cries. One of the men was unable, in consequence of his wounds,\nto get out of her way. The elephant seemed conscious of his situation,\nand for fear she should trample upon him, took him up with her trunk,\nplaced him where he would be more safe, and continued her route.\n\nA young elephant received a violent wound in its head, from which it\nbecame so furious that it was utterly impossible to come near it to\ndress the wound. A variety of expedients were tried, but in vain, until\nat last the keeper hit upon this plan: he succeeded in making the mother\nunderstand, by signs, what he wanted, and she immediately seized the\nyoung one around the neck with her trunk, and held it firmly down,\nthough groaning with anguish, until the wound was dressed. This she\ncontinued to do every day, for some time afterward, until the service\nwas no longer necessary.\n\nElephants are said to be exceedingly susceptible of the power of music,\nand some curious experiments were tried at Paris, with a view of\nobserving the effect of it upon them. In one instance, a band was placed\nnear their den, while some food was given to a pair of elephants, to\nengage their attention. On the commencement of the music, the huge\ncreatures turned round, and appeared alarmed for their safety, either\nfrom the players or the spectators. The music, however, soon overcame\ntheir fears, and all other emotions appeared absorbed in their attention\nto it. According to the character of the music, so were their feelings.\nIf it was bold, they were excited, or manifested signs of approaching\nanger. If it was brisk, they were lively; if it was plaintive, they were\nsoothed by its effects. The female seemed to express the most lively\nemotions of the two.\n\nA merchant in the East Indies kept a tame elephant, which was so\nexceedingly gentle in his habits, that he was permitted to go at large.\nThis huge animal used to walk about the streets in the most quiet and\norderly manner, and paid many visits through the city to people who were\nkind to him. Two cobblers took an ill will to this inoffensive creature,\nand several times pricked him on the proboscis with their awls. The\nnoble animal did not chastise them in the manner he might have done, and\nseemed to think they were too contemptible to be angry with them. But he\ntook other means to punish them for their cruelty. He filled his trunk\nwith water of a dirty quality, and advancing toward them in his ordinary\nmanner, spouted the whole of the puddle over them. The punishment was\nhighly applauded by those who witnessed it, and the poor cobblers were\nlaughed at for their pains.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE LION.]\n\nThe Lion.\n\n\nI have read a thrilling story of a poor Hottentot, who was sent to take\nhis master's cattle to water at a pool not far off from the house. When\nhe came to the watering-place, he perceived that a huge lion was lying\nthere, apparently bathing himself. He immediately ran, with the greatest\nterror, through the midst of the herd of cattle, hoping the lion would\nbe satisfied with one of the cattle, and allow him to escape. He was\nmistaken, however. The lion dashed through the herd, and made directly\nafter the man. Throwing his eyes over his shoulder, he saw that the\nfurious animal had singled him out. Not knowing what else to do to get\nclear of his enemy, he scrambled up an aloe-tree, that happened to be\nnear. At that very moment the lion made a spring at him, but\nunsuccessfully, and fell to the ground. There was in the tree a cluster\nof nests of the bird called the sociable grosbeak; and the Hottentot hid\nhimself among these nests, in hopes that he could get out of the lion's\nsight, and that the beast would leave him. So he remained silent and\nmotionless for a great while, and then ventured to peep out of his\nretreat. To his surprise, he perceived that he was still watched. In\nthis way, he was kept a prisoner for more than twenty-four hours, when,\nat last, the lion, parched with thirst, went to the pool to drink, and\nthe Hottentot embraced the opportunity to come down, and run home as\nfast as his legs would carry him.\n\nThere is a thrilling anecdote told of a settler in the back districts of\nthe Cape of Good Hope, who was a hunter. Returning, one day, with some\nfriends, from an excursion, they suddenly came upon two large full-grown\nlions. Their horses were already jaded, and the utmost consternation for\na moment seized them. They immediately saw that their only hope of\nsafety lay in separation. They started in somewhat different directions,\nat the top of their speed, holding their rifles on the cock. Those who\nwere most lightly loaded made good way, but the third was left behind,\nand, as his companions disappeared below the brow of a hill, the two\nbeasts came directly after him. He quickly loosed a deer which was tied\nto his saddle, but the prey was not sufficient to distract them from\ntheir purpose. Happily, as is the custom, both barrels of his piece were\nloaded with ball--a most timely precaution in that country--and he was a\ngood marksman. Turning for a moment, he leveled his gun with as much\nprecision as at such a time he could command, and fired. He waited not\nfor the result, but again scampered off as quickly as his horse could\ncarry him, but he heard a deep, short, and outrageous roar. The ball was\nafterward found to have entered the animal's breast, and lodged in his\nback. His work, however, was but half done. The time he had lost\nsufficed to bring the other within reach, and, with a tremendous bound,\nhe leaped upon the horse's back, lacerating it in a dreadful manner, but\nmissed his hold, for the poor creature, mad with agony and fear, kicked\nwith all his force, and hurried forward with increased rapidity. A\nsecond attempt was more successful, and the hunter was shaken from his\nseat; the horse, however, again escaped.\n\nThe poor fellow gave himself up for lost, but he was a brave man, and he\ndetermined not to die without every attempt to save his life should\nfail. Escape he saw was hopeless; so planting himself with the energy of\ndespair, he put his rifle hastily to his shoulder, and just as the lion\nwas stooping for his spring, he fired. He was a little too late; the\nbeast had moved, and the ball did not prove so effective as he hoped. It\nentered the side of the wild beast, though it did him no mortal harm,\nand he leaped at his victim. The shot had, nevertheless, delayed his\nbound for an instant, and the hunter avoided its effect by a rapid jump,\nand with the butt-end of his gun struck at the lion with all his power,\nas he turned upon him. The dreadful creature seized it with his teeth,\nbut with such force, that instead of twisting it out of the hunter's\nhand, he broke it short off by the barrel. The hunter immediately\nattacked him again, but his weapon was too short, and the lion fixed his\nclaws in his breast, tearing off all his flesh, and endeavored to gripe\nhis shoulder with his mouth, but the gun-barrel was of excellent\nservice. Driving it into the mouth of the beast with all his strength,\nhe seized one of the creature's jaws with his left hand, and, what with\nthe strength and energy given by the dreadful circumstances, and the\npurchase obtained by the gun-barrel, he succeeded in splitting the\nanimal's mouth. At the same time they fell together on their sides, and\na struggle for several minutes ensued upon the ground. Blood flowed\nfreely in the lion's mouth, and nearly choked him. His motions were thus\nso frustrated that the hunter was upon his feet first, and, aiming a\nblow with all his might, he knocked out one of the lion's eyes. He\nroared terrifically with pain and rage, and, during the moments of delay\ncaused by the loss of his eye, the hunter got behind him, and, animated\nby his success, hit him a dreadful stroke on the back of the neck, which\nhe knew was the most tender part. The stroke, however, appeared to have\nno effect, for the lion immediately leaped at him again; but, it is\nsupposed from a defect of vision occasioned by the loss of his eye,\ninstead of coming down upon the hunter, he leaped beside him, and shook\nhis head, as if from excess of pain. The hunter felt his strength\nrapidly declining, but the agony he endured excited him, and thus gave\nnew power to strike the lion again across the eyes. The beast fell\nbackward, but drew the hunter with him with his paw, and another\nstruggle took place upon the ground. He felt that the gun-barrel was his\nsafeguard; and though it rather seemed to encumber his hands, he clung\ntenaciously to it. Rising up from the ground in terrible pain, he\nmanaged to thrust it into the throat of the lion with all his might.\nThat thrust was fatal; and the huge animal fell on his side, powerless.\nThe hunter dragged himself to a considerable distance, and then fell\nexhausted and senseless. His friends shortly afterward returned to his\nassistance.\n\nA lion had broken into a walled inclosure for cattle, and had done\nconsiderable damage. The people belonging to the farm were well assured\nthat he would come again by the same way. They therefore stretched a\nrope directly across the entrance, to which several loaded guns were\nfastened, in such a manner that they must necessarily discharge\nthemselves into the lion's body, as soon as he should push against the\ncord with his breast. But the lion, who came before it was dark, and had\nprobably some suspicion of the cord, struck it away with his foot, and\nwithout betraying the least alarm in consequence of the reports made by\nthe loaded pieces, went fearlessly on, and devoured the prey he had left\nuntouched before.\n\nThe strength of the lion is so prodigious, that a single stroke of his\npaw is sufficient to break the back of a horse; and one sweep of his\ntail will throw a strong man to the ground. Kolbein says, that when he\ncomes up to his prey, he always knocks it down dead, and seldom bites it\ntill the mortal blow has been given. A lion at the Cape of Good Hope\nwas once seen to take a heifer in his mouth; and though that animal's\nlegs dragged on the ground, yet he seemed to carry her off with as much\nease as a cat does a rat.\n\nOne of the residents in South Africa--according to the Naturalist's\nHistory--shot a lion in the most perilous circumstances that can be\nconceived. We must tell the story in his own words. \"My wife,\" he says,\n\"was sitting in the house, near the door. The children were playing\naround her. I was outside, busily engaged in doing something to a wagon,\nwhen suddenly, though it was mid-day, an enormous lion came up and laid\nhimself quietly down in the shade, upon the very threshold of the door.\nMy wife, either stupefied with fear, or aware of the danger attending\nany attempt to fly, remained motionless in her place, while the children\ntook refuge in her lap. The cry they uttered immediately attracted my\nattention. I hastened toward the door; but my astonishment may well be\nconceived, when I found the entrance to it barred in such a way.\nAlthough the animal had not seen me, unarmed as I was, escape seemed\nimpossible; yet I glided gently, scarcely knowing what I meant to do, to\nthe side of the house, up to the window of my chamber, where I knew my\nloaded gun was standing, and which I found in such a condition, that I\ncould reach it with my hand--a most fortunate circumstance; and still\nmore so, when I found that the door of the room was open, so that I\ncould see the whole danger of the scene. The lion was beginning to move,\nperhaps with the intention of making a spring. There was no longer any\ntime to think. I called softly to the mother not to be alarmed; and,\ninvoking the name of the Lord, fired my piece. The ball passed directly\nover the hair of my boy's head, and lodged in the forehead of the lion,\nimmediately above his eyes, which shot forth, as it were, sparks of\nfire, and stretched him on the ground, so that he never stirred more.\"\n\nNothing is more common than for the keepers of wild beasts to play with\nthe lion, to pull out his tongue, and even to chastise him without\ncause. He seems to bear it all with the utmost composure; and we very\nrarely have instances of his revenging these unprovoked sallies of\ncruelty. However, when his anger is at last excited, the consequences\nare terrible. Labat tells us of a gentleman who kept a lion in his\nchamber, and employed a servant to attend it, who, as is usual, mixed\nblows with his caresses. This state of things continued for some time,\ntill one morning the gentleman was awakened by a noise in his room,\nwhich at first he could not tell the cause of; but, drawing the\ncurtains, he perceived a horrid spectacle--the lion growling over the\nman's head, which he had separated from the body, and tossing it round\nthe floor! He immediately flew into the next apartment, called to the\npeople without, and had the animal secured from doing further mischief.\n\nWe are told of the combat of a lion and a wild boar, in a meadow near\nAlgiers, which continued for a long time with incredible obstinacy. At\nlast, both were seen to fall by the wounds they had given each other;\nand the ground all about them was covered with their blood. These\ninstances, however, are rare; the lion is in general undisputed master\nof the forest.\n\nIt was once customary for those who were unable to pay sixpence for the\nsight of the wild beasts in the tower of London, to bring a dog or a\ncat, as a gift to the beasts, in lieu of money to the keeper. Among\nothers, a man had brought a pretty black spaniel, which was thrown into\nthe cage of the great lion. Immediately the little animal trembled and\nshivered, crouched, and threw himself on his back, put forth his tongue,\nand held up his paws, as if praying for mercy. In the mean time, the\nlion, instead of devouring him, turned him over with one paw, and then\nwith the other. He smelled of him, and seemed desirous of courting a\nfurther acquaintance. The keeper, on seeing this, brought a large mess\nof his own family dinner. But the lion kept aloof, and refused to eat,\nkeeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him, as it were, to be his\ntaster. At length, the little animal's fears being somewhat abated, and\nhis appetite quickened by the smell of the food, he approached slowly,\nand, with trembling, ventured to eat. The lion then advanced gently, and\nbegan to partake, and they finished their meal very quietly together.\n\nFrom this day, a strict friendship commenced between them, consisting of\ngreat affection and tenderness on the part of the lion, and the utmost\nconfidence and boldness on the part of the dog; insomuch that he would\nlay himself down to sleep, within the fangs and under the jaws of his\nterrible patron. In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and\ndied. For a time the lion did not appear to conceive otherwise than that\nhis favorite was asleep. He would continue to smell of him, and then\nwould stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paws. But\nfinding that all his efforts to wake him were vain, he would traverse\nhis cage from end to end, at a swift and uneasy pace. He would then\nstop, and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping regard, and again\nlift up his head, and roar for several minutes, as the sound of distant\nthunder. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcass from him.\nThe keeper then endeavored to tempt him with a variety of food, but he\nturned from all that was offered, with loathing. They then put several\nliving dogs in his cage, which he tore in pieces, but left their\ncarcasses on the floor. His passions being thus inflamed, he would\ngrapple at the bars of his cage, as if enraged at his restraint from\ntearing those around him to pieces. Again, as if quite spent, he would\nstretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, lay his paws\nupon him, and take him to his bosom; and then utter his grief in deep\nand melancholy roaring, for the loss of his little play-fellow. For five\ndays he thus languished, and gradually declined, without taking any\nsustenance or admitting any comfort, till, one morning, he was found\ndead, with his head reclined on the carcass of his little friend. They\nwere both interred together.\n\nA lion, when about three months old, was caught in the forests of\nSenegal, and tamed by the director of the African company in that\ncolony. He became unusually tractable and gentle. He slept in company\nwith cats, dogs, geese, monkeys, and other animals, and never offered\nany violence to them. When he was about eight months old, he formed an\nattachment to a terrier dog, and this attachment increased afterward to\nsuch an extent, that the lion was seldom happy in the absence of his\ncompanion. At the age of fourteen months, the lion, with the dog in\ncompany, was transported to France. He showed so little ferocity on\nshipboard, that he was allowed at all times to have the liberty of\nwalking about the vessel. When he was landed at Havre, he was conducted\nwith only a cord attached to his collar, and attended by his favorite\nplay-fellow, to Versailles. Soon after their arrival, the dog died, when\nthe lion became so disconsolate, that it was found necessary to put\nanother dog into his den. This dog, terrified at the sight of such an\nanimal, endeavored to conceal himself; and the lion, surprised at the\nnoise, killed him by a stroke with one of his paws.\n\nM. Felix, some years since the keeper of the national menagerie at\nParis, added two lions to the collection, a male and a female. He had\nbecome endeared to them by kind treatment, so that scarcely any one else\ncould control them, and they manifested their regard in a great many\nways. The gentleman, however, was taken very sick, and was confined for\nsome time to his bed. Another person was necessarily intrusted with the\ncare of these lions. From the moment that M. Felix left, the male sat,\nsad and solitary, at the end of his cage, and refused to take food from\nthe hands of the stranger, for whom, it was evident, he entertained no\nlittle dislike. The company of the female seemed to displease him. In a\nshort time he became so uneasy, that no one dared to approach him. By\nand by, however, his old master recovered, and with the intention of\nsurprising the animal, he crept softly to the cage, and showed only his\nface between the bars. But the male lion knew him at once. He leaped\nagainst the bars, patted him with his paws, licked his hands and face,\nand actually trembled with pleasure. The female also ran to him; but the\nother drove her back, and was on the point of quarreling with her, so\njealous was he lest she should receive any of the favors of M. Felix.\nAfterward, however, the keeper entered the cage, caressed them both by\nturns, and pacified them.\n\nSir George Davis, who was English consul at Naples about the middle of\nthe seventeenth century, happening on one occasion to be in Florence,\nvisited the menagerie of the grand duke. At the farther end of one of\nthe dens he saw a lion which lay in sullen majesty, and which the\nkeepers informed him they had been unable to tame, although every effort\nhad been used for upward of three years. Sir George had no sooner\nreached the gate of the den, than the lion ran to it, and evinced every\ndemonstration of joy and transport. The animal reared himself up, purred\nlike a cat when pleased, and licked the hand of Sir George, which he had\nput through the bars. The keeper was astonished and frightened for the\nsafety of his visitor, entreated him not to trust an apparent fit of\nphrensy, with which the animal seemed to be seized; for he was, without\nexception, the most fierce and sullen of his tribe which he had ever\nseen. This, however, had no effect on Sir George, who, notwithstanding\nevery entreaty on the part of the keeper, insisted on entering the\nlion's den. The moment he got in, the delighted lion threw his paws upon\nhis shoulders, licked his face, and ran about him, rubbing his head on\nSir George, purring and fawning like a cat when expressing its affection\nfor its master. This occurrence became the talk of Florence, and reached\nthe ears of the grand duke, who sent for Sir George, and requested an\ninterview at the menagerie, that he might witness so extraordinary a\ncircumstance, when Sir George gave the following explanation: \"A captain\nof a ship from Barbary gave me this lion, when quite a whelp. I brought\nhim up tame; but when I thought him too large to be suffered to run\nabout the house, I built a den for him in my court-yard. From that time\nhe was never permitted to be loose, except when brought to the house to\nbe exhibited to my friends. When he was five years old, he did some\nmischief by pawing and playing with people in his frolicsome moods.\nHaving griped a man one day a little too hard, I ordered him to be shot,\nfor fear of myself incurring the guilt of what might happen. On this a\nfriend, who happened to be then at dinner with me, begged him as a\npresent. How he came here, I do not know.\" The Grand Duke of Tuscany, on\nhearing his story, said it was the very same person who had presented\nhim with the lion.\n\n[Illustration: THE LIONESS AND HER CUBS.]\n\nPart of a ship's crew being sent ashore on the coast of India for the\npurpose of cutting wood, the curiosity of one of the men having led him\nto stray to a considerable distance from his companions, he was much\nalarmed by the appearance of a large lioness, who made toward him; but,\non her coming up, his fear was allayed, by her lying down at his feet,\nand looking very earnestly, first in his face, and then at a tree some\nlittle distance off. After repeating these looks several times, she\narose, and proceeded toward the tree, looking back, as if she wished the\nsailor to follow her. At length he ventured, and, coming to the tree,\nperceived a huge baboon, with two young cubs in her arms, which he\nimmediately supposed to be those of the lioness, as she crouched down\nlike a cat, and seemed to eye them very steadfastly. The man being\nafraid to ascend the tree, decided on cutting it down; and having his\naxe with him, he set actively to work, when the lioness seemed most\nattentive to what he was doing. When the tree fell, she pounced upon the\nbaboon, and, after tearing her in pieces, she turned round, and licked\nthe cubs for some time. She then returned to the sailor, and fawned\nround him, rubbing her head against him in great fondness, and in token\nof her gratitude for the service done her. After this, she carried the\ncubs away one by one, and the sailor rejoined his companions, much\npleased with the adventure.\n\nA French gentleman relates a remarkable anecdote about a combat which he\nsaw on the banks of the Niger, between a Moorish chief and a lion. The\nprince took the Frenchman and his company to a place adjoining a\nlarge wood which was much infested with wild beasts, and directed them\nall to climb the trees. They did so. Then, getting upon his horse, and\ntaking three spears and a dagger, he entered the forest, where he soon\nfound a lion, which he wounded with one of the spears. The enraged\nanimal sprang with great fury at his assailant, who, by a feigned\nflight, led him near the spot where the company were stationed. He then\nturned his horse, and in a moment darted another spear at the lion,\nwhich pierced his body. He alighted, and the lion, now grown furious,\nadvanced with open jaws; but the prince received him on the point of his\nthird spear, which he forced into his throat. Then, at one leap,\nspringing across his body, he cut open his throat with his dagger. In\nthis contest, the Moor's skill was such, that he received only a slight\nscratch on the thigh.\n\n[Illustration: THE CONVENTION OF ANIMALS.]\n\nAllow me, in concluding these stories about lions, to recite one from\nthe French. It is fabulous, as you will perceive; but fables are not to\nbe despised. The design of the fable is to illustrate the truth that in\na community, every one may be more or less useful. \"War having been\ndeclared between two nations of animals (for, notwithstanding their\ninstinct, they are as foolish as men), the lion issued a proclamation of\nthe fact to his subjects, and ordered them to appear in person at his\ncamp. Among the great number of animals that obeyed the orders of their\nsovereign, were some asses and hares. Each animal offered his services\nfor the campaign. The elephant agreed to transport the baggage of the\narmy. The bear took it upon him to make the assaults. The fox proposed\nto manage the ruses and the stratagems. The monkey promised to amuse the\nenemy by his tricks. 'Sire,' said the horse, 'send back the asses; they\nare too lazy--and the hares; they are too timid, and subject to too\nfrequent alarms.' 'By no means,' said the king of the animals; 'our army\nwould not be complete without these. The asses will serve for\ntrumpeters, and the hares will make excellent couriers.'\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE GALAGO.]\n\nThe Galago.\n\n\nFrom a recent English periodical, I have obtained some interesting facts\nin relation to an animal to which naturalists have given the name of the\nGalago. In the picture on the opposite page you have a portrait of the\nanimal, drawn from life. He is a very singular looking fellow, as you\nperceive. Not long ago he was brought to England from Zanguebar, in\nAfrica. The specimen, now being exhibited in London, is the first of\nthis race of quadrupeds which has ever been introduced from its native\ncountry into any part of Europe, and it is exciting a great deal of\ninterest among naturalists. Very little is known of the genus to which\nthe animal belongs, all its species being found only in the barbarous\ncountries, very little known, on the eastern coast of Africa. They all\nclimb upon trees, like the squirrel. Their habits are strictly\nnocturnal. They never venture from their retreats while the faintest\ngleam of daylight is visible; but at the approach of night they become\nexceedingly active, springing from tree to tree with all the dexterity\nof the squirrel. In the day time, they remain, for the most part, in the\nholes of decayed trees. Their food is gum and pulpy fruits. The country\nwhere they live is one of the hottest regions on the globe. On this\naccount, the animal sent to England is very sensitive to the sudden\nchanges of that comparatively northern latitude, and it requires much\ncare to preserve him from the influence of the cold. One of the striking\npeculiarities of the animal is the appearance of his feet. They resemble\nthe hands of a man, as will be seen by the engraving. This peculiarity\nadmirably fits the galago for the life it leads, as it spends a great\npart of its time in leaping on the boughs of trees. The specimen in\nEngland is remarkably tame and frolicksome, and does not seem altogether\nhappy except when he is fondled and petted, when he enjoys himself\nimmensely. During the night he delights in active motion, climbing and\nplaying like a kitten, often uttering a loud, clucking noise, which ends\nwith a sharp, shrill call, of astonishing volume. The animal is not so\nlarge as a fox.\n\n\n\n\nThe Bear.\n\n\nThat distinguished author, Oliver Goldsmith, in his \"Animated Nature,\"\nhas given a most interesting account of the habits of the bear, which I\nwish, for the benefit of my readers, might be embodied in this chapter,\nthough, on the whole, I think the entire account is too long, and I am\nforced to omit it. Besides, I suppose it would hardly be just to accord\nsuch a civility to the bear, while it is denied to the other animals.\nAccording to the description of this eminent practical naturalist, the\nbear is not by any means the unamiable monster he has been represented\nto be; but has, on the contrary, a great many good traits of character.\nHe has been slandered, grossly slandered, if we may credit Mr.\nGoldsmith; and for one, I do credit him. He is exceedingly reliable in\nmost of his statements. Now that I am speaking of Mr. Goldsmith, I can\nscarce refrain from adding that I have been greatly assisted, in the\npreparation of this volume, by the work of his above alluded to. It is,\nand ever will be, a valuable book in the library of those who are\ninterested in becoming acquainted with nature, in her varied aspects.\n\nThere are three species of bears--the black, the white, and the brown or\nSyrian bear. The latter, represented in the engraving on the opposite\npage, is the one to which allusion is made in Scripture.\n\n[Illustration: THE BROWN BEAR.]\n\nThe bear is capable of strong and generous attachment. Many years ago,\nLeopold, Duke of Lorraine, in Europe, owned a bear which had become very\ntame, and which was remarkable for the strength of his love for those\nwhom he happened to fancy. In the winter of 1709, a poor Savoyard boy\nhad been placed in a barn to stay over night. This boy, finding that he\nwas near the hut occupied by the duke's bear, took it into his head to\ngo and pay the bear a visit. It was a singular fancy, to be sure. But as\nthe old proverb says, \"There is no accounting for tastes.\" He had no\nsooner formed the determination, than off he started to see Marco--for\nthat was the name of the bear. He was cold, I think; and not having\nany other way of warming himself, he thought he would see if Marco could\nnot be prevailed upon to let him share in the benefit of his shaggy coat\nfor awhile. So in he went, and he and the bear were soon on the best of\nterms. Marco took him between his paws, and warmed him, by pressing him\nto his breast, until the next morning, when he allowed him to depart, to\nramble about the city. In the evening, the young Savoyard returned to\nthe bear's den, and was received with the same marks of kindness and\naffection. For several days, the boy made this den his home. The bear\nsaved a part of his food for his companion, and they lived together on\nthe most intimate and friendly terms. A number of days passed in this\nmanner, without the servants knowing any thing about the circumstance,\nthe boy not being in the den when the bear's food was brought. At\nlength, one day, when some one came to bring the generous animal his\nsupper, rather later than usual, the boy was there. The servant then saw\nthe fondness of the bear for the young Savoyard. The boy was asleep. The\nbear rolled his eyes around, in a furious manner, and seemed to intimate\nthat as little noise as possible must be made, for fear of awaking the\nchild, whom he clasped to his breast. The bear did not move when the\nfood was placed before him. This extraordinary circumstance was related\nto Leopold, the owner of the bear, who, with a good many others, went to\nthe bear's hut, where they found, with surprise, that the animal never\nstirred as long as his guest manifested a disposition to sleep. When the\nlittle fellow awoke in the morning, he was very much ashamed and alarmed\nto find that he was discovered, thinking that he should be punished; and\nhe begged the duke's pardon for the liberty he had taken with the bear.\nThe bear, however, caressed his new friend, and tried to prevail upon\nhim to eat a part of the supper which had been brought the previous\nevening, and which seemed untouched.\n\nBruin is famous for hugging his enemies so desperately, that they are\nglad to get clear of him. But in these hugging fights, he sometimes gets\nthe worst of it, as in the following instance. Some years since, when\nthe western part of the State of New York was but slightly settled, some\nenterprising emigrant from New England had built a saw-mill on the banks\nof the Genesee river. One day, as he was eating his luncheon, sitting on\nthe log which was going through the sawing operation at the time, a huge\nblack bear came from the woods, toward the mill. The man, leaving his\nbread and cold bacon on the log, made a spring, and climbed up to a beam\nabove, to get out of the way of the bear, when the latter, mounting the\nlog which the sawyer had left, sat down, with his back toward the saw,\nand commenced eating the man's dinner. After awhile, the log on which he\nsat approached so near the saw, that he got scratched a little, and he\nhitched away a few feet from the saw, and resumed his dinner. But the\nsaw scratched him again soon, of course, and this time rather more\nseriously. Bruin got angry, and his anger cost him dearly. He wheeled\nabout, and throwing his paws around the saw, he gave it a most desperate\nhug. In this position he remained, until he was sawn into two pieces, as\nif he had been a log. Poor fellow! we ought to pity him, I suppose; but\nit is pretty difficult to avoid a hearty laugh over his misfortunes.\n\nHere is a story of an encounter between a bear and a bull, which is also\nrather laughable, although there is a good deal of the tragic in it. A\nbull was attacked in the forest by a rather small bear, when, striking\nhis horns into his assailant, he pinned him against a tree. In this\nsituation they were both found dead; the bull from starvation, the bear\nfrom his wounds.\n\nSome years ago, a New Hampshire boy found a very young cub near Lake\nWinnepeg, and carried it home with him. It was fed and brought up in the\nhouse of the boy's father, and became as tame as a dog. At length, it\nlearned to follow the boy to school, and by degrees, it became his daily\ncompanion. At first, the other scholars were somewhat shy of Bruin's\nacquaintance; but before a great while, it became their constant\nplay-fellow, and they delighted in sharing with it the little store of\nprovisions which they brought for their own dinner. However, it wandered\noff into the woods again, and for four years, nothing was heard of it.\nChanges had taken place in the school where the bear used to be a\nwelcome guest. Another generation of pupils had taken the place of the\nbear's old companions. One very cold winter day, while the schoolmistress\nwas busy with her lessons, a boy happened to leave the door open, and a\nhuge bear walked in. The consternation of the mistress and her pupils\nwas very great, of course. But what could they do? Nothing but look on,\nand see what would come of this strange visit. However, the bear\nmolested no one. It walked quietly up to the fire, and warmed itself.\nThen it walked up to the wall, where the dinner baskets hung, and\nstanding on its hind feet, reached them down, and made free with their\ncontents. By and by, it went out. But the alarm was given, and the poor\nfellow was shot, when it was found out, by some marks on its body, that\nit was the identical bear that had used to visit the school four years\nbefore.\n\nIn one of the expeditions from England to the Polar seas, a white bear\nwas seen to perform an ingenious feat in order to capture some walruses.\nHe was seen to swim cautiously to a large, rough piece of ice, on which\nthese walruses were lying, fast asleep, with their cubs. The wily animal\ncrept up some little hillocks of ice, behind the party, and with his\nfore feet loosened a large block of ice. This, with the help of his nose\nand paws, he rolled along until he was near the sleepers, and almost\nover their heads, when he let it fall on one of the old walruses, who\nwas instantly killed. The other walrus, with her cubs, rolled into the\nwater; but the young one of the dead animal remained with its mother. On\nthis helpless creature the bear then leaped down, and completed the\ndestruction of two animals which it would not have ventured to attack\nopenly.\n\nIt often happens, that when a Greenlander and his wife are paddling\nalong out at sea, by coming too near a floating field of ice, a white\nbear unexpectedly jumps into their canoe. Provided he does not upset it\nby the weight of his body, he sits calmly and demurely in one end of it,\nlike any other passenger, and allows himself to be rowed to the shore.\nThe Greenlander would very cheerfully dispense with the company of the\nbear; but dares not dispute his right there--it might cost him a pretty\nrough handling. So he makes a virtue of necessity, and rows his bearship\nto the shore.\n\nIn the early part of the settlement of this country, an expedition was\nsent to explore a part of the territory now called Missouri. Bears were\nfound there, at that time, in great abundance, and of very large size.\nSome of the men belonging to the expedition were in a canoe one day,\nwhen they discovered a bear lying in the open grounds, about three\nhundred paces from the river. Six of the men, all good hunters,\nimmediately went to attack him, and concealing themselves by a small\neminence, came within forty paces of him before they were perceived.\nFour of the hunters now fired, as nearly as they could at the same\ninstant, and each lodged a ball in his body, two of which entered the\nlungs. The furious animal then sprang up, and ran upon the men, with his\nmouth wide open, ready for a terrible attack. As he came near, the two\nhunters who had reserved their fire gave him two rounds, one of which,\nbreaking his shoulder, retarded his progress for a moment; but before\nthey could reload, he was so near that they were obliged to run to the\nriver. Before they reached it, he had almost overtaken them. Two jumped\ninto the canoe; the other four separated, and concealing themselves\namong the willows, fired as fast as they could reload. They hit him\nseveral times; but instead of weakening the monster, each shot only\nseemed to direct him toward the hunters, till at last he pursued two of\nthem so closely, that they threw aside their guns and pouches, and\njumped down a perpendicular bank of some fifteen feet into the river.\nThe bear sprang after them, and was within a few feet of the hindermost,\nwhen one of the hunters on the shore shot him in the head, and finally\nkilled him. They dragged him to the shore, and found that eight balls\nhad passed through him, in different directions.\n\nWhile a British frigate was locked in the ice of the Polar seas, three\nbears were discovered one morning, directing their course toward the\nship. They had undoubtedly been attracted by the scent of a part of the\ncarcass of a sea-horse that the crew had killed a few days before, which\nhad been set on fire, and was burning on the ice at the time of their\napproach. They proved to be a female bear and her two cubs; but the cubs\nwere nearly as large as the mother. They ran eagerly to the fire, and\ndrew out of the flames a part of the flesh of the sea-horse which\nremained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously. Some of the crew threw\nlarge pieces of the flesh from the ship upon the ice, which the old bear\ntook, one by one, and laid before her cubs. Then she divided each piece,\nand reserved only a very small portion for herself. As she was carrying\naway the last piece, several of the men on board the ship aimed their\nmuskets at the two cubs, and shot them dead; after which they shot at\nthe old bear, and wounded her, though not mortally. One of the gentlemen\nwho witnessed this spectacle says that it would have drawn pity from any\nbut the most unfeeling hearts, to mark the affectionate concern\nexpressed by this poor beast, as she saw that her young were dying.\nThough she was sorely wounded herself, and could but just crawl to the\nplace where they lay, she carried the last piece of flesh to them, as\nshe had done with the others, and divided it for them. When she\nperceived that they refused to eat, she put her paws first upon one and\nthen upon the other, and endeavored to raise them up. All this time it\nwas deeply affecting to hear her moans. When she found she could not\nstir her dying cubs in this manner, she went away some distance from\nthem, looking back occasionally, and moaning, as if in the utmost\ndistress. This means not availing to entice them away from the spot, she\nreturned, and commenced smelling around them, and licking their wounds.\nThen she went off a second time, as before, and having crawled a few\npaces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood still, uttering\nthe most piteous cries. But still her cubs did not rise to follow her,\nand she returned to them, and with signs of the greatest fondness, went\naround them separately, placing her paws upon them tenderly, and giving\nutterance to the same cries of distress. Finding, at last, that they\nwere cold and lifeless, she raised her head toward the ship, and growled\nin indignation for the murder. Poor creature! the men on board returned\nher angry cry with a shower of musket balls. She fell between her cubs,\nand died licking their wounds.\n\nHans Christian Andersen, in his \"Picture Book without Pictures,\" relates\nan anecdote, in his droll way, about a tame bear, who got loose, when\nthe man who was exhibiting him was at dinner, and who found his way into\nthe public house, and went straight to a room where there were three\nchildren, the eldest of whom was only some six or eight years old. But,\nHans, you may tell the rest of the story in your own peculiar language:\n\"The door sprang open, and in stepped the great rough bear! He had grown\ntired of standing out there in the yard, and he now found his way up the\nsteps. The children were very much frightened at the great, grim-looking\nbeast, and crept each one of them into a corner. But he found them all\nout, and rubbed them with his nose. He did them no harm, not the\nslightest. 'It is certainly a big dog,' thought they; and so they patted\nhim kindly. He laid himself down on the floor, and the smallest boy\ntumbled over him, and amused himself by hiding his curly head in the\nthick black hair of the animal. The eldest boy now took his drum, and\nmade a tremendous noise; and the bear rose up on his hind legs, and\nbegan to dance. It was charming. Each boy took his weapons--for they had\nbeen playing at soldiers before their visitor arrived. The bear must\nhave a gun too, and he held it like a regular militia man. What a fine\ncomrade they had found!--and so they marched about the room--'one, two!\none, two!' Presently, however, the door opened. It was the children's\nmother. You should have seen her--her face as white as a sheet; her\nhalf-opened mouth, her staring eyes. The smallest of the children ran\nup to her mother, and shouted with all her might, 'Mama, we are playing\nat soldiers!'\"\n\n[Illustration: THE JUGGLER AND HIS PUPILS.]\n\nBears have frequently been taught a great many funny tricks. I remember\nseeing one, when a boy, that would stand on his head, and dance, and\nperform sundry other feats of skill. His master was an old man, who\npassed himself off among the little folks as a conjurer. He was dressed\nin a most grotesque manner, and played on a drum and some kind of wind\ninstrument at the same time. Besides the bear, who seemed to be the hero\nin the different performances, the juggler had some dogs, which he had\ntrained to dance to his music, and a cock which would walk and dance,\nafter his fashion, on stilts. But I should not care to witness any such\nperformances now. I should not be able to keep out of my mind the\nthought that the different animals engaged in these exhibitions must\nhave been subjected to a great deal of pain and ill treatment before\nthey could have arrived at such a stage of proficiency, and that thought\nwould imbitter the entertainment, I imagine.\n\n\n\n\nThe Rat and Mouse.\n\n\nEvery body, almost, entertains a sort of hostility to the rat family,\nand considers himself licensed to say all manner of hard things about\nthem. They are a set of rogues--there is no doubt about that, unless\nthey are universally slandered. But they are shrewd and cunning, as well\nas roguish; and many of their exploits are worth recording.\n\nThere were several slaughter-houses near Paris, where as many as thirty\nworn-out horses were slaughtered every day. One of these\nslaughter-houses was regarded as a nuisance, and a proposition was made\nto remove it at a greater distance from the city. But there was a strong\nobjection made to its removal, on account of the ravages which the rats\nwould make in the neighborhood, when they had no longer the carcasses\nof the horses to feed upon. These voracious creatures assembled at this\nspot in such numbers, that they devoured all the flesh (that was not\nmuch, perhaps, in many cases) of twenty or thirty horses in one night,\nso that in the morning nothing remained of these carcasses but bare\nbones. In one of these slaughter-houses, which was inclosed by solid\nwalls, the carcasses of two or three horses were placed; and in the\nnight the workmen blocked up all the holes through which the rats went\nin. When this was done, the workmen went inside with lighted torches and\nheavy clubs, and killed two thousand six hundred and fifty rats. In four\nsuch hunts, the numbers destroyed were upward of nine thousand. The rats\nin this neighborhood made themselves burrows like rabbits; and to such\nan extent was the building of these underground villages carried, that\nthe earth sometimes tumbled in, and revealed the astonishing work they\nhad been doing.\n\nThat is rather a tough story, but I guess we shall have to believe it.\nIt comes to us on the authority of Mr. Jesse, who, in his excellent work\non Natural History, is pretty careful to say nothing which cannot be\nrelied upon as true. As to the battle which those men had with the rats\nin the slaughter-house, it must have been a desperate one. I should not\nhave fancied it much. I had a little experience in fighting with rats\nonce, when I was a boy. They were in a room occupied with meal and\nflour. The door was closed, so that they could not get out. I was armed\nwith a fire shovel, or something of that sort, and I fought, as I\nthought at the time, with a good deal of bravery and some skill. But the\nrats got the better of me. They won the victory. They would jump upon a\nbarrel, and from that upon a shelf, and then down they would fly into my\nface, ready to gripe me with their teeth. I was glad to beat a retreat\nsoon, I assure you.\n\nThey are a shrewd set of fellows, these rats. Some years ago, the cellar\nof the house in which I resided was greatly infested with them. They\ndevoured potatoes, apples, cabbages, and whatever came in their way; for\nthey are not very particular about their diet, you know. Well, we set a\ntrap for them. It was a flat stone set up on one end, with a figure\nfour. We scattered corn all about the trap, and placed a few barrels on\nthe end of the spindle under the stone. The first night these midnight\nrobbers ate up all the corn around the trap, but did not touch a morsel\nunder it. This they repeated several nights in succession; and all at\nonce, there was not the trace of a rat to be found in the cellar. They\nno doubt held a council (rats are accustomed to hold councils, it would\nseem; they once held a council to deliberate upon the best mode of\nprotection against their enemy, the cat, and concluded to put a bell on\nher ladyship--so the fable says)--they held a council, as I said before,\nand came to the unanimous conclusion that those quarters were no longer\nsafe. So they decamped forthwith; and the very next day after we missed\nthem, one of our neighbors complained that they were suddenly besieged\nby a whole army of rats.\n\nA German succeeded in training six rats so that they would go through\nastonishing exercises. He kept them in a box, which he opened, and from\nwhich they came out only as their names were called. This box was placed\non a table, before which the man stood. He held a wand in his hand, and\ncalled by name such of his pupils as he wished to appear. The one who\nwas called came out instantly, and climbed up the wand, on which he\nseated himself in an upright posture, looking round on the spectators,\nand saluting them, after his own fashion. Then he waited the orders of\nhis master, which he executed with the utmost precision, running from\none end of the rod to the other counterfeiting death, and performing a\nmultitude of astonishing feats, as he was bidden by his master. After\nthese performances were finished, the pupil received a reward for his\ngood behavior, and for his proficiency in study. The master invited him\nto come and kiss his face, and eat a part of the biscuit which he held\nbetween his lips. Immediately the animal ran toward him, climbed up to\nhis shoulder, licked the cheek of his master, and afterward took the\nbiscuit. Then, turning to the spectators, he seated himself on his\nmaster's shoulder, ate his dinner, and returned to his box. The other\nrats were called, one by one, in the same manner, and all went through\nthe several parts with the same precision.\n\nI have read a pretty tough rat story in the \"Penny Magazine,\" but it is\nsaid to be authentic. \"An open box,\" says the narrator, \"containing some\nbottles of Florence oil, was placed in a room which was seldom visited.\nOn going into the room for one of the bottles, it was perceived that the\npieces of bladder and the cotton, which were at the mouth of each\nbottle, had disappeared; and that a considerable quantity of the\ncontents of the bottles had been consumed. This circumstance having\nexcited surprise, some of the bottles were filled with oil, and the\nmouths of them secured as before. The next morning the coverings of the\nbottles had again been removed, and part of the oil was gone. On\nwatching the room, through a small window, some rats were seen to get\ninto the box, thrust their tails into the necks of the bottles, and\nthen, withdrawing them, lick off the oil which adhered to them.\"\n\nAnother story about these animals, almost as wonderful, I have upon the\nauthority of a clergyman in England. He says that he was walking out in\nthe meadow one evening, and he observed a great number of rats in the\nact of emigrating. He stood perfectly still, and the whole army passed\nclose to him. Among the number he tells us was an old rat who was blind.\nHe held a piece of stick by one end in his mouth, while another rat had\nhold of the other end of it, and was conducting him.\n\nThe Chicago Democrat tells the following, prefacing it with the remark\nthat the rats of Chicago are \"noted for their firmness and daring.\" A\nfew nights since, a cat belonging to a friend, while exercising the\noffice of mother of a family of kittens, was attacked by a regularly\norganized band of rats, which, sad to relate, contrived to kill the\nparent, and make a prey of the offspring. In the morning the cat was\nfound bitten to death by the side of nine of her assailants, whom she\nslew before she was overpowered by superior numbers.\n\nThe following story about a rat extremely fond of good living, was told\nme by a clerical friend residing in the city of New York. The family in\nwhich this rat lived, had just purchased some round clams, and they were\nplaced in the cellar. One night all the inmates of the house were\nalarmed by an unusual noise. It appeared as if some one was stamping\nabout the house with heavy boots on. It was a long time before they\nfound out how the matter stood; but when they did find out, an old rat\nwas discovered dragging one of these clams about with him. It appeared\nthat this fellow, thinking it would be nice to have a supper from one of\nthe clams, which he saw open, thrust in his paw, and got caught.\n\nThis story reminds me of a French fable about the rat who got tired of\nstaying at home, and went abroad to see something of the world. \"A rat\nwith very few brains\"--so runs the fable--\"got tired of living in\nsolitude, and took it into his head to travel. He had hardly proceeded a\nmile, before he exclaimed, 'What a grand and spacious world this is!\nBehold the Alps and the Pyrenees!' The least mole-hill seemed a mountain\nin his eyes. After a few days, our traveler arrived at the sea-coast,\nwhere there were a multitude of oysters. At first he thought they were\nships. Among these oysters, was one lying open. The rat perceived it.\n'What do I see?' said he. 'Here is a delicate morsel for me, and if I am\nnot greatly mistaken, I shall have a fine dinner to-day.' So he\napproached the oyster, stretched out his neck, and thrust his head\nbetween the shells. The oyster closed, and master Nibble was caught as\neffectually as if he was in a trap.\" I believe the moral of this fable\nis something as follows: \"Those who have no experience in the world, are\noften astonished at the smallest objects, and not unfrequently become\nthe dupes of their ignorance.\"\n\nIn 1776, one of the British ships engaged in the war with this country,\nbecame infested with rats to such a degree, that they at last devoured\ndaily nearly a hundred weight of biscuit. They were at last destroyed,\nby smoking the ship between decks, after which several bushels of them\nwere removed.\n\nIn the Isle of France rats are found in prodigious swarms. There were\nformerly so many, that, according to some accounts, they formed the\nprincipal cause for abandoning the island by the Dutch. In some of the\nhouses, thirty thousand have been known to be killed in one year.\n\nIn Egypt, when the waters of the Nile retire, after the annual overflow,\nmultitudes of rats and mice are seen to issue from the moistened soil.\nThe Egyptians believe that these animals are generated from the earth;\nand some of the people assert, that they have seen the rats in a state\nof formation, while one half of the bodies was flesh and the other half\nmud.\n\nThe following anecdote is related by a correspondent of one of the\nEnglish newspapers: \"This morning,\" says he, \"while reading in bed, I\nwas suddenly interrupted by a noise similar to that made by rats, when\nrunning through a double wainscot, and endeavoring to pierce it. The\nnoise ceased for some moments, and then commenced again. I was only two\nor three feet from the wall whence the noise proceeded; and soon I\nperceived a great rat making his appearance at a hole. It looked about\nfor awhile, without making any noise, and having made the observations\nit wished, it retired. An instant after, I saw it come again, leading by\nthe ear another rat, larger than itself, and which appeared to be much\nadvanced in years. Having left this one at the edge of the hole, it was\njoined by another young rat. The two then ran about the chamber,\ncollecting the crumbs of bread which had fallen from the table at supper\nthe previous evening, and carried them to the rat which they had left at\nthe edge of the hole. I was astonished at this extraordinary attention\non the part of the young rats, and continued to observe all their\nmotions with a great deal of care. It soon appeared clear to me that the\nanimal to whom the food was brought was blind, and unable to find the\nbread which was placed before it, except by feeling after it. The two\nyounger ones were undoubtedly the offspring of the other, and they were\nengaged in supplying the wants of their poor, blind parent. I admired\nthe wisdom of the God of nature, who has given to all animals a social\ntenderness, a gratitude, I had almost said a virtue, proportionate to\ntheir faculties. From that moment, these creatures, which I had before\nabhorred, seemed to become my friends. By and by, a person opened the\ndoor of the room, when the two young rats warned the blind one by a cry;\nand in spite of their fears, they did not seek for safety themselves,\nuntil assured that their blind parent was beyond the reach of danger.\nThey followed as the other retired, and served as a sort of rear-guard.\"\n\n[Illustration: FIELD MICE.]\n\nThere are several species of mice. The engraving represents the field\nmouse, an animal which sometimes makes great havoc with the farmer's\ngrain. The common domestic mouse is perhaps better known. He is\ngenerally, and I think I may say justly, regarded as a pest in the house\nwhere he becomes a tenant. But he is an interesting animal, after all. I\nlove to watch him--the sly little fellow--nibbling his favorite cheese,\nhis keen black eye looking straight at me, all the time, as if to read\nby my countenance what sort of thoughts I had about his mouseship. How\nmuch at home he always contrives to make himself in a family! How very\nmuch at his ease he is, as he regales himself on the best things which\nthe house affords!\n\nA day or two ago, a friend of mine was telling me an amusing story about\nsome mice with which he had the pleasure of a slight acquaintance. He\nlived in the same house with a gentleman who kept a sort of bachelor's\nhall, and who was a great lover of pets. This gentleman took him into\nhis room one day to see a mouse which he was educating to be a companion\nof his lonely hours. The bachelor remarked that he had been a pensioner\nfor some time, that he fed him bountifully every day, and that he had\nbecome very tame indeed. \"But,\" said the mouse's patron, \"he is an\nungrateful fellow. He is not content with eating what I give him; he\ndestroys every thing he can lay hold of.\" A short time after this, my\nfriend was called in again, when he was told by the bachelor, that, the\nmouse having become absolutely intolerable by his petty larcenies and\ngrand larcenies, he set a trap for him and caught him. But still the\nlarcenies continued. He set his trap again, and caught another rogue,\nand another, and another, till at last he found he had been making a pet\nof thirteen mice, instead of one, as he at first supposed.\n\nThe field mouse, represented in the engraving, lays up a large store of\nprovisions in his nice little nest under ground, which he keeps for\nwinter. These mice are very particular in stowing away their winter\nstore. The corn, acorns, chestnuts, hickory nuts, and whatever else they\nhoard up, have each separate apartments. One room contains nothing but\ncorn, another nothing but chestnuts, and so on. When they have exhausted\ntheir stock of provisions before spring, and they have nothing else to\neat, they turn to, and eat one another. They are regular cannibals, if\ntheir manners and customs have been correctly reported. Sometimes the\nhogs, as they are roaming about the pasture, in the autumn, soon after a\nfamily of field mice have laid in their provisions, and before the\nground has frozen, come across the nest, and smell the good things that\nare in it. Then the poor mouse has to suffer. The author of the Boy's\nWinter Book thus graphically and humorously describes the misfortunes of\nsuch a mouse: \"There he sits huddled up in a dark corner, looking on, as\nthe hog is devouring the contents of his house, saying to himself, no\ndoubt, 'I wish it may choke you, you great, grunting brute, that I do.\nThere go my poor acorns, a dozen at a mouthfull. Twelve long journeys I\nhad to take to the foot of the old oak, where I picked them up--such a\nhard day's work, that I could hardly get a wink of sleep, my bones ached\nso. And now that great glutton gobbles them all up at once, and makes\nnothing of it! What I shall do in the winter, I'm sure I don't know.\nThere goes my corn, too, which I brought, a little at a time, all the\nway from the field on the other side of the woods, and with which I was\noften obliged to rest, two or three times before I reached home; and\nthen I sometimes had to lay my load down, while I had a battle with\nanother field mouse, who tried to take the corn away from me, under\npretence of helping me to carry it home, which I knew well enough meant\nhis own nest. And after all this fighting, and slaving, and carrying\nheavy loads from sunrise to sunset, here comes a pair of great, grunting\npork chaps, and make a meal from my hard earnings. Well, never mind, Mr.\nPig. It's winter now; but perhaps by next harvest time, I shall creep\ninto some reaper's basket, and have a taste of you, when he brings a\npart of you, nicely cured and cooked, and laid lovingly between two\nslices of bread and butter. I'll be even with you then, old fellow--that\nI will, if I am only spared!' And so he creeps out, scarcely knowing\nwhether he should make up his mind to beg, borrow, or steal, half\nmuttering to himself, as he hops across the way, to visit some neighbor\nfor a breakfast, 'I declare such infamous treatment is enough to make\none dishonest, and never be industrious and virtuous any more!'\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Rabbit.\n\n\nFriend reader, did you ever see the rabbit bounding along through the\nbushes, when you have been walking in the woods? When a boy, I used\noften to be amused at the gambols of the rabbits, in the woods near my\nfather's house. They do not run very gracefully or very fast, and a dog\neasily overtakes them. It seems cruel to hunt them, and set snares for\nthem; and yet if they are wanted for food, doubtless there is no harm in\ntaking their life. The way in which I used to catch them, years ago,\nwhen the sources of my enjoyment were widely different from what they\nare at present, was by means of a box-trap with a lid to it, so adjusted\nthat the poor rabbit, when he undertook to nibble the apple, attached to\nthe spindle for a bait, sprung the trap, and made himself a prisoner.\nAnother method we used to employ to catch the rabbit, was something like\nthis: a fence was made of brush-wood, about three feet high, and\nreaching some rods in length. The brush in this fence was interlaced so\nclosely, that rabbits and partridges could not get through except at\nintervals of a few yards, where there was a door. At this door was a\nnoose connecting with a flexible pole, which was bent down for the\npurpose. The unsuspecting rabbit, in his journeyings from place to\nplace, comes to the fence. He could leap over, if he should try. But he\nthinks it cheaper to walk through the door, especially as there is a\nchoice bit of apple suspended over the entrance. Well, he attempts to go\nthrough, stopping a minute to eat that favorite morsel; he thrusts his\nhead into the noose; the trap is sprung, and the elastic pole twitches\nthe poor wayfarer up by the neck. It is rather barbarous business, this\nsnaring innocent rabbits; and I should much rather my young friends\nwould adopt either of a hundred other sports of winter, than this.\n\n[Illustration: THE RABBIT TRAP.]\n\n[Illustration: THE RABBIT.]\n\nThe father of a family of rabbits is said to exercise a very respectable\ndiscipline among the children. Would it not be well for some of our\nfathers and mothers to attend school, a quarter or so, in one of their\nvillages? The father among rabbits is a patriarch. Somebody who owned\nseveral tame ones, tells us that whenever any of them quarreled, the\nfather instantly ran among them, and at once peace and order were\nrestored. \"If he caught any one quarreling, he always punished him as an\nexample to the rest. Having taught them to come to me,\" says this man,\n\"with the call of a whistle, the instant this signal was given, I saw\nthis old fellow marshal up his forces, sometimes taking the lead, and\nsometimes making them file off before him.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Hare.\n\n\nProbably most of my readers are so well acquainted with natural history,\nthat they do not need to be told that the hare and the rabbit are very\nlike, in their appearance, as well as in most of their habits. The two\nanimals, however, are sufficiently unlike to be entitled to a separate\nintroduction in our stories.\n\nHares have been known to possess a good deal of cunning, which is a\nfortunate circumstance for them, as they often need not a little of this\ntrait of character in their numerous persecutions. \"I have seen,\" says\nDu Fouilloux, a French naturalist, \"a hare so cunning, that, as soon as\nit heard the huntsman's horn, it started from its place, and though at\nthe distance of a quarter of a league from it, leaped to a pond, and\nthere hid itself among the rushes, thus escaping the pursuit of the\ndogs. I have seen a hare, which, after having run above two hours before\nthe dogs, has dislodged another hare, and taken possession of its\nresidence. I have seen them swim over three ponds, of which the smallest\nwas not less than eighty paces broad. I have seen others, which, after\nhaving been warmly chased for two hours, have entered a sheep-cot,\nthrough the little opening under the door, and remained among the\ncattle. Others, again, when the dogs have chased them, have joined a\nflock of sheep in the field, and, in like manner, remained with them. I\nhave seen others, which, when they heard the dogs, have concealed\nthemselves in the earth, or have gone along on one side of a hedge, and\nreturned by the other, so that there was only the thickness of the hedge\nbetween the dogs and the hare. I have seen others, which, after they had\nbeen chased for half an hour, have mounted an old wall of six feet high,\nand taken refuge in a hole covered with ivy.\"\n\nAn English hunter tells a very affecting anecdote about two hares which\nwere chased by a pack of dogs. A hare which they had pursued for some\ntime was nearly exhausted. On the way, he came across another hare,\ndoubtless a personal friend of his. The latter, after a short\nconversation with the former--for there was not time for many\nceremonies--took the place of the poor weary one, and allowed himself to\nbe chased by the dogs, while the other, who must soon have fallen a\nvictim to the dogs, was left to shift as best he could, and try to find\na place of shelter.\n\nThe hares in Liberia exhibit much foresight. In the month of August they\ncut great quantities of soft, tender grass, and other herbs, which they\nspread out to dry. This hay, early in autumn, they collect into heaps,\nand place either beneath the overhanging rocks, or around the trunks of\ntrees, in conical heaps of various sizes, resembling the stacks in which\nmen sometimes preserve their hay in winter. The stacks which the hares\nmake are much smaller, however, not usually more than three feet high.\nIn the winter these stacks are covered with snow, and the animals make a\npath between them and their holes. They select the best of vegetables\nfor their winter store, and crop them when in the fullest vigor, and\nthese they make into the best and greenest hay.\n\nDr. Towson, while in Gottingen, succeeded in getting a young hare so\ntame, that it would play about his sofa and bed. It would leap upon his\nknee, pat him with its fore feet, and frequently, while he was\nreading, it would jump up in his lap, and knock the book out of his\nhand, so as to get a share of his attention.\n\n[Illustration: TAME HARES.]\n\nOne Sunday evening, five men were sitting on the bank of the river\nMersey, in England, singing sacred songs. The field where they were had\na forest on one side of it. As they were singing, a hare came out of\nthis forest, and ran toward the place where they were seated. When she\ncame up very near the spot, she suddenly stopped, and stood still for a\nconsiderable time, appearing to enjoy the sound of the music. She\nfrequently turned her head, as if listening with intense interest. When\nthey stopped singing, she turned slowly toward the forest. She had\nnearly reached the forest, when the gentlemen commenced singing again.\nThe hare turned around, and ran back swiftly, nearly to the spot where\nshe stood before, and listened with the same apparent pleasure, until\nthe music was finished, when she again retired toward the woods, and\nsoon disappeared.\n\nCowper was a great lover of pets; and I confess that I love him for this\ntrait in his character. He has endeared himself to me, indeed, as much\nby the kindness he showed to the different animals which he had about\nhim, and which he had taught to love him, as by almost any other act of\nhis. I never think of Cowper, without thinking, too, of the interest he\ntook in every thing that breathed; and I hardly ever see a pet hare, or\nrabbit, or squirrel, without thinking of him. If the reader is as much\ninterested in the poet as I am, he will like to see a portrait of him,\nwhich I introduce in this connection. Many people take great delight in\nhunting such beautiful and innocent animals as the fawn and the hare.\nBut Cowper was no sportsman. He could not bear to hurt any thing that\nlived. You remember, perhaps, what he says in his \"Task\" about being\nkind to animals. Let me see if I can quote it from memory. I guess I\ncan, for I learned it at school when a little boy, and those things are\nalways fixed in the memory more indelibly than those which are learned\nin maturer years. I think he says--\n\n\"I would not enter on my list of friends--\nThough graced with polished manners and fine sense,\nYet wanting sensibility--the man\nWho needlessly sets foot upon a worm.\nAn inadvertent step may crush the snail,\nThat crawls at eve along the public path;\nBut he who has humanity, forewarned,\nWill step aside, and let the reptile live.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE POET COWPER.]\n\nHe was right--the kind-hearted poet was right. Well, as I said before,\nhe was not only careful about giving pain to animals, but he was very\nfond of pets. First and last, he had a good many of these pets. But\nthere were none of them that he took so great delight in as his hares.\nHe had two of these pretty little creatures, and they seemed to be as\nfond of him as he was of them. Cowper was subject to fits of great\ndespondency, or depression of spirits. With him hypochondria was a sort\nof chronic disease. He would try to be cheerful. He knew the nature of\nhis melancholy, and often tried to remedy indirectly what could not be\nreached directly. He resorted to innocent amusements in order to lead\nthe mind away from the contemplation of its own ills, real or imaginary.\nThis was well--it was philosophical--but it did not always succeed. The\ndisease was too deeply seated in his system. The care which he took of\nhis pets was no doubt one of his favorite amusements. These hares--there\nwere three of them at first, though one of them did not live long--had\neach very different characters. The poet described them in detail in one\nof his letters. Puss was the greatest favorite. He was more tractable,\ntame and affectionate than the rest. Once the fellow was very sick, and\nhis master treated him with a great deal of kindness, gave him medicine,\nand nursed him so well that he recovered. Cowper says that Puss showed\nhis gratitude by licking his hand for a long time, a ceremony he never\nwent through with but once in his life, before or afterward. Bess, who\ndied young, was the funny one. He had a great fund of humor and\ndrollery. Tiney, though very entertaining in his way, seems to have been\nrather a grave and surly fellow. When he died--and he lived to a good\nold age, some nine years, I think--Cowper buried him with honor, and\nwrote an epitaph for him. I will copy two or three stanzas from this\nepitaph, to show that Tiney got quite as good a character as he\ndeserved.\n\n    EPITAPH ON A HARE.\n\n    Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,\n      Nor swifter greyhound follow,\n    Whose feet ne'er tainted morning dew,\n      Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo.\n\n    Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,\n      Who, nursed with tender care,\n    And to domestic bounds confined,\n      Was still a wild Jack-hare.\n\n    Though duly from my hand he took\n      His pittance every night,\n    He did it with a jealous look,\n      And when he could, would bite.\n\n    I kept him for his humor's sake,\n      For he would oft beguile\n    My heart of thought, that made it ache,\n      And force me to a smile.\n\n    But now beneath this walnut shade,\n      He finds his long, last home,\n    And waits, in snug concealment laid,\n      Till gentler Puss shall come.\n\n    He, still more aged, feels the shocks,\n      From which no power can save,\n    And, partner once of Tiney's box,\n      Must soon partake his grave.\n\n\n\n\nThe Goat.\n\n\nGoats have been taught to perform a great many wonderful exploits. The\ncelebrated traveler, Dr. Clarke, gives a very curious account of a goat\nwhich he came across in Arabia. This goat would perform some most\nsurprising feats of dexterity. \"We met,\" he says, \"an Arab with a goat,\nwhich he led about the country to exhibit, in order to gain a\nlivelihood. He had taught this animal, while he accompanied its\nmovements with a song, to mount upon little cylindrical blocks of wood,\nplaced successively one above another, and resembling in shape the dice\nbelonging to a backgammon table. In this manner the goat stood, first on\nthe top of two; afterward of three, four, five, and six, until it\nremained balanced upon the summit of them all, elevated several feet\nabove the ground, and with its fore feet collected upon a single point,\nwithout throwing down the disjointed fabric on which it stood. The\ndiameter of the upper cylinder, on which its four feet alternately\nremained until the Arab had ended his ditty, was only two inches, and\nthe length of each was six inches. The most curious part of the\nperformance took place afterward; for the Arab, to convince us of the\nanimal's attention to the turn of the air, sometimes interrupted the\nordinary _da capo_, or repeat, and as often as he did so, the goat\ntottered, and appeared uneasy. When the man suddenly stopped, in the\nmiddle of his song, the animal fell to the ground.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE WONDERFUL FEAT OF THE GOAT.]\n\nA farmer in Scotland missed one of his goats, when his flock came home\nat night. Being afraid the missing animal would get among the young\ntrees in his nursery, he sent two boys, wrapped up warm in their plaid\ncloaks, to watch all night. In the morning, these boys climbed up the\nbrow of a hill near by, to hunt for the wanderer. They found her after a\nlong search. She was on the brow of a hill, and her young kid was by her\nside. This faithful mother was defending the kid from the attack of a\nfox. The enemy was using all the cunning and art he was master of, to\nget possession of the little fellow, while the old goat was presenting\nher horns in every direction, as he made his sallies. The boys shouted\nat the top of their voices, in order to drive the fox away. But Master\nRenard was probably aware that they would not dare to touch him. At any\nrate, he kept up the assault. At last, getting out of patience with the\ngoat, he made a more resolute effort to seize the kid; and in an instant\nall three of the animals rolled off the precipice, and were killed by\nthe fall. The fox was found at the bottom of the gorge, with the goat's\nhorns piercing his body.\n\nA story is told by Mr. Bingley, which illustrates, in a very forcible\nmanner, the gratitude and affection of the goat. After the final\nsuppression of the Scottish rebellion of 1715, by the decisive battle of\nPreston, a gentleman who had taken a very active share in it escaped to\nthe West Highlands, to the residence of a female relative, who afforded\nhim an asylum. As, in consequence of the strict search which was made\nafter the ringleaders, it was soon judged unsafe for him to remain in\nthe house of his friend, he was conducted to a cavern in a sequestered\nsituation, and furnished with a supply of food. The approach to this\nlonely abode consisted of a small aperture, through which he crept,\ndragging his provisions along with him. A little way from the mouth of\nthe cave the roof became elevated, but on advancing, an obstacle\nobstructed his progress. He soon perceived that, whatever it might be,\nthe object was a living one; but unwilling to strike at a venture with\nhis dirk, he stooped down, and discovered a goat and her kid lying on\nthe ground. The animal was evidently in great pain, and feeling her body\nand limbs, he ascertained that one of her legs had been fractured. He\nbound it up with his garter, and offered her some of his bread; but she\nrefused to eat, and stretched out her tongue, as if intimating that her\nmouth was parched with thirst. He gave her water, which she drank\ngreedily, and then she ate the bread. At midnight he ventured from the\ncave, pulled a quantity of grass and the tender branches of trees, and\ncarried them to the poor sufferer, which received them with\ndemonstrations of gratitude. The only thing which this fugitive had to\narrest his attention in this dreary abode, was administering comfort to\nthe goat; and he was, indeed, thankful to have any living creature\nbeside him. She quickly recovered, and became tenderly attached to him.\nIt happened that the servant who was intrusted with the secret of his\nretreat fell sick, when it became necessary to send another with\nprovisions. The goat, on this occasion, happening to be lying near the\nmouth of the cavern, opposed his entrance with all her might, butting\nhim furiously; the fugitive, hearing a disturbance, went forward, and\nreceiving the watchword from his new attendant, interposed, and the\nfaithful goat permitted him to pass. So resolute was the animal on this\noccasion, that the gentleman was convinced she would have died in his\ndefence.\n\n[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]\n\n\n\n\nThe Tiger.\n\n\nSuch of my readers as have had an opportunity to look a little into\nnatural history, are probably aware that the tiger belongs to the cat\nfamily. Many of its habits are very like those of the domestic cat. Did\nyou ever see an old cat preparing to make a spring at a mouse or a bird?\nIf you have, you have noticed that she crouches on the ground, and\ncreeps stealthily along toward her victim, without making the least\nnoise, until she is near enough, and then suddenly springs upon her\nprey. The tiger pursues the same course.\n\nA British officer, who lived for awhile in India, where tigers abound,\nwas returning, in the evening, to the house where he resided, after\ndining with another officer, when he was met by his servants, who were\nmaking a great noise, in order to frighten away a tiger which was known\nto be prowling about the neighborhood. Although he had been some years\nin India, the young officer had never seen a tiger, as it happened,\nexcept from a distance; and he determined he would gratify his\ncuriosity, if possible, and have a good view of the animal. So he\ndismissed his servants, and seated himself opposite the jungle, where\nthe tiger was supposed to be, and there looked out for the enemy. It was\nmoonlight, and the ferocious beast soon discovered the officer. The\nlatter could distinctly see all the motions of his savage foe. He\napproached so slowly as scarcely to make the least noise. Then,\ncrouching down, he prepared to make the fatal spring at his victim. At\nthis instant, however, the officer, taking off a bear skin cap which he\nwore, swung it in the air, and shouted as loudly as he could. This so\nfrightened the tiger that he made off with himself, and was soon out of\nsight in the bushes.\n\nA European gentleman, who has spent some time in Java, tells us a\nthrilling story about the adventure of a criminal with a tiger. The poor\nman was condemned, as is the custom in that country, to fight a large\nroyal tiger, whose ferocity was raised to the highest point by want of\nfood and artificial irritation. The only weapon allowed to the human\ncombatant was a lance, with the point broken off. After wrapping a cloth\nround his left fist and arm, the man entered the arena with an air of\nundaunted calmness, and fixed a steady, menacing gaze upon the brute.\nThe tiger sprang furiously upon his intended victim, who, with\nextraordinary boldness and rapidity, thrust his left fist into the\ngaping jaws, and at the same moment, with his keen, pointless dagger,\nripped up the breast to the very heart. In less than a minute the tiger\nlay dead at his conqueror's feet. The criminal was forgiven.\n\n[Illustration: THE TIGER.]\n\nSeveral years ago, an Englishman, by the name of Munro, was killed by a\ntiger in the East Indies. The particulars of this distressing scene are\ngiven by an eye-witness. \"We went on shore,\" says the writer of the\nnarrative, \"to shoot deer, of which we saw innumerable tracks, as well\nas of tigers; notwithstanding which, we continued our diversion till\nnear three o'clock, when, sitting down by the side of a jungle to\nrefresh ourselves, a roar like thunder was heard, and an immense tiger\nseized on our unfortunate friend, and rushed again into the jungle,\ndragging him through the thickest bushes and trees, every thing giving\nway to his monstrous strength; a tigress accompanied his progress. The\nunited agonies of horror, regret, and fear, rushed at once upon us. I\nfired on the tiger; he seemed agitated; my companion fired also, and, in\na few minutes after this, our unfortunate friend came up to us bathed in\nblood. Every medical assistance was vain, and he expired in the space of\ntwenty-four hours, having received such deep wounds from the teeth and\nclaws of the animal, as rendered his recovery hopeless. A large fire,\nconsisting of ten or twelve whole trees, was blazing by us at the time\nthis accident took place, and ten or more natives were with us. The\nhuman mind can scarce form any idea of the scene of horror. We had\nhardly pushed our boat from that accursed shore, when the tigress made\nher appearance, almost raging mad, and remained on the sand, exhibiting\nsigns of the utmost ferocity, all the while we continued in sight.\"\n\nThere is an account given of a small party who entered a cave, to seek\nshelter from a terrible storm, in South America. The storm raged with\nsuch violence, that they could not hear each other speak; the\ncedar-trees were struck down, and the torrents of rain rushed from the\nmountains. Suddenly a growling noise was heard at the end of the cave.\nThey soon found, to their amazement and horror, that they had taken\nrefuge in a tiger's cave, and that the growling proceeded from two young\ncubs. At this moment the Indians who attended them gave the alarm that a\ntiger was approaching. The Indians mounted a tree, and the party in the\ncave blocked up the mouth of it with a large and heavy stone, which\nfortunately lay near. A dreadful roar was heard, which was replied to by\nthe growling of the two cubs, and the flaming eyes of a tremendous tiger\nwere seen glowing with fury between the top of the stone and the rock\njust above it. The tiger attempted to remove the stone, but his\nprodigious strength was unequal to the attempt, and he howled more\ntremendously than before. Several of the party had leveled their muskets\nand pistols at the head of the tiger, through the narrow opening left by\nthe stone; but the storm had damped the powder, and the pieces could not\nbe discharged. The young cubs were then killed and thrust through the\nhole to the tiger on the outside, who, after turning them over and\nexamining them, broke afresh into the wildest fury. The Indians\ndischarged several arrows at the infuriated animal, but his thick skin\nrepelled them. The storm ceased, and the thunder was heard only in the\ndistance, but the tiger laid himself down at the mouth of the cave. In a\nshort time a roar was heard near, which was answered by the tiger, who\nsprang up directly on his feet. The Indians in the tree gave a wild\nshriek, as a tigress bounded toward the cave. The howling of the two\nanimals, after the tigress had examined her cubs, was truly terrible,\nand every one in the cavern gave himself over for lost. A powder-flask,\ncontaining their whole stock of gunpowder, had been upset in turning out\nthe young cubs, so that they were reduced to despair. The tigress, after\nstaring wildly at the stone at the opening of the cavern, sprang against\nit with all her force, and would probably have displaced it, had not the\nparty joined together to hold it in its place. Suddenly the two tigers\nturned their heads toward the forest, and disappeared. The Indians\ndescended the tree, and urged the party in the cave to take the\nopportunity of escaping, for that the tigers had ascended the heights to\nfind another way into the cave. No time was to be lost; they hurried\nthrough the forest till they came to a wide chasm with a rushing stream\nbelow it. A bridge of reeds had been thrown across the chasm, and over\nthis bridge they passed, but the tigers were close in pursuit. The last\nof the party who crossed the bridge cut the fastenings which tied it to\nthe rock, and hoped by this means to secure safety, when the tigress\nrushed toward the chasm, made a spring, and fell down upon the pointed\nrocks below, and from thence into the torrent at the bottom. It was a\nfearful sight to see this ferocious animal for a moment in the air,\nwithout knowing whether she would be able to clear the chasm. The tiger\npaused not a moment, but making an amazing spring, reached the opposite\nside with his fore paws. As he clung to the rock, one of the party\nplunged his sword into the breast of the furious beast, while another\nstruck him a blow on the head with the butt-end of his gun. The tiger\nlet go his hold, and fell back into the abyss. This was a dreadful\nmoment! for the man who struck the tiger on the head could not recover\nhimself; he reeled over the edge of the fearful precipice, stretched out\nhis hand in vain to seize hold of something with which to save himself,\nand then was precipitated into the horrid gulf below!\n\nA novel exhibition was presented in the city of Boston, not long ago,\nwhich attracted the attention of every body, old and young. Herr\nDriesbach, the famous tamer of wild animals, made his appearance in an\nelegant sleigh, with his pet tiger by his side. In this manner he rode\nthrough the streets. The tiger, it is said, seemed to enjoy the\nsleighing mightily, and leaped upon his master, from time to time,\nlicking his face, and showing other signs of excitement. Driesbach had\nto strike him several times, to keep him from making too enthusiastic\ndemonstrations. After astonishing the citizens for a considerable time,\nDriesbach alighted at his hotel, with his tiger, and taking him into one\nof the apartments, invited gentlemen to walk in and be introduced,\nthough there were very few who seemed willing to avail themselves of the\nprivilege.\n\n[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE RHINOCEROS.]\n\n\nThe Rhinoceros.\n\n\nFrom the accounts of those who are best acquainted with the rhinoceros,\nit appears that the animal is tamed only with great difficulty, and\nnever to such an extent that it is always safe to approach him. Sir\nEverard Home gives the following account of one in a menagerie in\nLondon: \"He was so savage, that about a month after he came, he\nendeavored to kill the keeper, and nearly succeeded. He ran at him with\nthe greatest fury; but, fortunately, the horn of the animal passed\nbetween the keeper's thighs, and threw him on the head of the\nrhinoceros. The horn struck a wooden partition, into which it was forced\nto such a depth, that the animal, for a minute, was unable to withdraw\nit; and during this interval, the man escaped. By discipline, the\nkeeper afterward got the management of him; but frequently, more\nespecially in the middle of the night, fits of phrensy came on, and\nwhile these lasted, nothing could control his rage. He ran, with great\nswiftness, round his den, playing all kinds of antics, making hideous\nnoises, breaking every thing to pieces, and disturbing the whole\nneighborhood. While this fit was on, the keeper never dared to come near\nhim.\"\n\nWhen the rhinoceros is quietly pursuing his way through his favorite\nglades of mimosa bushes (which his hooked upper lip enables him readily\nto seize, and his powerful grinders to masticate), his horns, fixed\nloosely in his skin, make a clapping noise by striking one against the\nother; but on the approach of danger, if his quick ear or keen scent\nmakes him aware of the vicinity of a hunter, the head is quickly raised,\nand the horns stand stiff, and ready for combat on his terrible front.\nThe rhinoceros is often accompanied by a sentinel, to give him\nwarning--a beautiful green-backed and blue-winged bird, about the size\nof a jay--which sits on one of his horns.\n\nThe following account of the perils of a party hunting for the\nrhinoceros is given by Mr. Bruce, a traveler of celebrity: \"We were on\nhorseback, at the dawn of the day, in search of the rhinoceros; and\nafter having searched about an hour in the thickest part of the forest,\none of these animals rushed out with great violence, and crossed the\nplain toward a thicket of canes, at the distance of nearly two miles.\nBut though he ran, or rather trotted, with surprising speed, considering\nhis bulk, he was in a short time pierced with thirty or forty javelins.\nThis attack so confounded him, that he left his purpose of going to the\nthicket, and ran into a deep ravine, without outlet, breaking about a\ndozen of the javelins as he entered. Here we thought he was caught in a\ntrap--for he had scarcely room to turn--and a servant, who had a gun,\nstanding directly over him, fired at his head. The animal fell\nimmediately, to all appearance dead. All those on foot now jumped into\nthe ravine, to cut him up. But they had scarcely begun, when the animal\nrecovered himself so far as to rise upon his knees; and he would\nundoubtedly have destroyed several of the men, had not one of them, with\ngreat presence of mind, cut the sinew of the animal's hind leg. To this\nprecaution they were indebted, under God, for their lives.\"\n\nThe rhinoceros and the elephant have been known to engage in a pitched\nbattle, in which case the former always comes off victor. The combat,\nhowever, is a very furious one.\n\nThere are two species of the rhinoceros. The one which is represented in\nthe engraving is the double-horned rhinoceros. It is perhaps the largest\nof land animals, with the exception of the elephant. When pursued,\nnotwithstanding its large, unwieldy body, it can run with astonishing\nswiftness.\n\n[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]\n\n\n\n\nThe Alligator.\n\n\nOn the whole, though the alligator can hardly claim any attention from\nus in these stories, owing to his manner of locomotion, and some other\ncircumstances, yet I think I will introduce him to the reader, as I have\ntwo or three anecdotes about his tribe, which are worth reading, and as\nhe comes within the qualifications for introduction to our present\ncompany of animals, so far as to possess the specific number of\nlocomotive organs.\n\nA British medical officer, many years a resident in the East Indies,\nrelates the following painful incident: \"A native, being employed in\nrepairing a ship lying in the Bengal river, carelessly put his legs off\nthe stage upon which he was seated, at the side of the vessel, and\nbeing engaged in conversation with his wife and child, who were on\nboard, forgot the danger of his situation. As he proceeded in his\nlabors, it was necessary to lower the stage, until it came within a few\nfeet only of the water. He had not been in this position many minutes,\nwhen a monstrous alligator rose suddenly above the surface of the river,\nand before the poor man perceived the animal, seized one of his legs,\nsnapped it off, just above the knee, and descended into the water. The\nman then tried to get on board the ship, but in vain. The pain, the\nterror, the loss of his limb, so entirely prostrated his strength, that\nall his efforts were useless. The wife hung terror-stricken over the\nside of the vessel, not knowing what to do, calling for assistance, and\nshrieking distractedly. The boy, with more presence of mind, clung to\nhis father, and endeavored, with all his little strength, to lift him\nup. The cries of the woman at length brought some persons to ascertain\nwhat was the matter. At this moment the monster appeared again. The son\nredoubled his exertions to drag his father from his terrible situation,\nbut with as little success as before. Some of the people who were\nattracted to the spot, threw stones, sticks, or any thing that happened\nto be in their way, at the alligator, while the wife, thinking that the\ndeliverance of her husband was now certain, hastened to the shore to\nseek the surgeon. As the monster advanced, the child became convulsed\nwith terror, and at length was hardly able, by his exertions, to sustain\nthe weight of his father's body. He called loudly for assistance, but\neither through surprise or fear, his cries were unheeded. Still\ncontinuing to defend himself in a measure from the attacks of the\nalligator, the sufferer became exhausted from pain and loss of blood.\nThe terrible animal seized the other leg. The boy still kept his hold,\nand contrived to throw a rope round the body of his nearly expiring\nfather, so as to prevent him from being pulled into the river. At this\ninstant the wife returned with the surgeon. But, alas! they came too\nlate. The poor Indian recognized his wife, gave one parting look, then\nsunk in death on the bosom of his child.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE ALLIGATOR.]\n\nMr. Audubon, the distinguished naturalist, has given some of the most\ninteresting facts in connection with the alligator that have come to my\nknowledge. He says: \"A friend having intimated a wish to have the heart\nof one of these animals, to study its comparative anatomy, I one\nafternoon went out about half a mile from the plantation, and seeing an\nalligator that I thought I could put whole into a hogshead of spirits, I\nshot it immediately on the skull-bone. It tumbled over from the log on\nwhich it had been basking into the water, and, with the assistance of\ntwo negroes, I had it out in a few minutes, apparently dead. A strong\nrope was fastened round its neck, and in this condition, I had it\ndragged home across logs, thrown over fences, and handled without the\nleast fear. Some young ladies there, anxious to see the inside of its\nmouth, requested that the mouth should be propped open with a stick put\nvertically; this was attempted, but at this instant the first stunning\neffect of the wound was over, and the animal thrashed and snapped its\njaws furiously, although it did not advance a foot. I have frequently\nbeen very much amused when fishing in a bayou, where alligators were\nnumerous, by throwing a blown bladder on the water toward the nearest\none. The alligator makes for it, flaps it toward its mouth, or attempts\nseizing it at once, but all in vain. The light bladder slides off; in a\nfew minutes many alligators are trying to seize this, and their\nevolutions are quite interesting. They then put one in mind of a crowd\nof boys running after a football. A black bottle is sometimes thrown in\nalso, tightly corked; but the alligator seizes this easily, and you hear\nthe glass give way under its teeth, as if ground in a coarse mill. They\nare easily caught by negroes, who most expertly throw a rope over their\nheads when swimming close to shore, and haul them out instantly.\"\n\nA writer in the Liberia Herald, according to his account of the matter,\nhad a pretty good opportunity to observe some of the habits of the\nalligator. \"Coming down the river,\" he says, \"a few days ago, we espied\nan alligator lying with his body on the sloping margin of the river, his\nlower jaw submerged in the water, while the upper was extended in the\nair, showing a formidable array of teeth. We stopped to gaze at him.\nAnon, a hapless fish ventured within the dread chasm, when the\ntreacherous jaws suddenly closed, and severed the fish asunder. The\nnative boys who were with us, took the occasion to assign the reason of\nsome of the alligator's movements. They say he lies with his mouth open,\nto attract a certain insect which floats upon the surface of the water.\nThese collect in large numbers around his mouth; fishes feed upon them,\nand when lured by the desired prey within the vortex, they become a prey\nthemselves.\"\n\nThere is a singular adventure with an alligator recorded by the captain\nof a vessel on the coast of Guinea. It is as follows: \"The ocean was\nvery smooth, and the heat very great. Campbell, who had been drinking\ntoo much, was obstinately bent on going overboard to bathe, and although\nwe used every means in our power to persuade him to the contrary, he\ndashed into the water, and had swam some distance from the vessel, when\nwe on board discovered an alligator making toward him, behind a rock\nthat stood some distance from the shore. His escape I now considered\nimpossible, and I applied to Johnson to know how we should act, who,\nlike myself, affirmed the impossibility of saving him, and instantly\nseized upon a loaded musket, to shoot the poor fellow before he fell\ninto the jaws of the monster. I did not, however, consent to this, but\nwaited, with horror, the event; yet, willing to do all in my power, I\nordered the boat to be hoisted out, and we fired two shots at the\napproaching alligator, but without effect, for they glided over his\nscaly covering like hail-stones on a tiled house, and the progress of\nthe creature was by no means impeded. The report of the piece, and the\nnoise of the blacks from the sloop, soon made Campbell acquainted with\nhis danger; he saw the creature making toward him, and, with all the\nstrength and skill he was master of, he made for the shore. And now the\nmoment arrived, in which a scene was exhibited beyond the power of my\npen to describe. On approaching within a very short distance of some\ncanes and shrubs that covered the bank, while closely pursued by the\nalligator, a fierce and ferocious tiger sprang toward him, at the\ninstant the jaws of his first enemy were extended to devour him. At this\nawful moment Campbell was preserved. The eager tiger, by overleaping,\nfell into the gripe of the alligator. A horrible conflict then ensued.\nThe water was colored with the blood of the tiger, whose efforts to tear\nthe scaly covering of the alligator were unavailing, while the latter\nhad also the advantage of keeping his adversary under water, by which\nthe victory was presently obtained; for the tiger's death was now\neffected. They both sank to the bottom, and we saw no more of the\nalligator. Campbell was recovered, and instantly conveyed on board; he\ndid not speak while in the boat, though his danger had completely\nsobered him. But the moment he leaped on the deck, he fell on his knees,\nand returned thanks to the Providence who had so protected him; and,\nwhat is most singular, from that moment to the time I am now writing, he\nhas never been seen the least intoxicated, nor has been heard to utter a\nsingle oath.\"\n\n[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]\n\n\n\n\nThe Cat.\n\n\nCats, say what you will against them, have some excellent traits of\ncharacter. They are capable of the strongest attachment. A cat which had\nbeen brought up in a family, became extremely attached to the oldest\nchild, a little boy who was very fond of playing with her. She bore with\nthe utmost patience all the rough treatment of the mischievous child,\nwithout ever making the least resistance. As the cat grew up, she used\nto catch mice, and bring them alive into the room where the little boy\nwas, to amuse him with her prey. If he showed an inclination to take the\nmouse from her, she let it run, and waited to see whether he was able to\ncatch it. If he did not, she darted at it, caught it, and again laid it\nbefore him. In this manner the sport continued, as long as the child\nshowed any taste for it.\n\nAt length, the boy was attacked with the small-pox, and during the early\nstages of his disorder, the cat rarely left his bed-side; but as his\ndanger increased, it was thought necessary to remove the cat, and lock\nher up. The child died. On the following day, the cat, having escaped\nfrom her confinement, immediately ran to the apartment where she hoped\nto find her playmate. Disappointed in her expectations, she sought for\nhim, with symptoms of great uneasiness and loud lamentations, all over\nthe house, till she came to the door of the room in which the corpse\nlay. Here she lay down in silent grief, till she was again locked up. As\nsoon as the child was buried, and the cat set at liberty, she\ndisappeared; and it was not till a fortnight after that event, that she\nreturned to the well-known apartment, sad and emaciated. She refused to\ntake any nourishment, and soon ran away again, with dismal cries. At\nlength, compelled by hunger, she made her appearance one day at\ndinner-time, and continued to visit the house after that, every day, at\nabout the same hour, but always left as soon as she had eaten the food\nthat was given her. No one knew where she spent the rest of her time,\nuntil she was found, one day, under the wall of the burying-ground,\nclose to the grave of her favorite; and so strong was the attachment of\nthe cat to her lost friend, that, till his parents removed to another\nplace, nearly five years afterward, she never, except in the severest\nwinter weather, passed the night any where else than in the\nburying-ground, at her little friend's grave.\n\nHere is another story of a cat who exhibited in a similar way her love\nfor her deceased master. The incidents of this story, which, it is\nbelieved, are strictly true, occurred in the north of Scotland. Some\nyears ago, a poor man residing in that country, whose habits of life had\nalways been of the most retired description, giving way to the natural\ndespondency of his disposition, put an end to his existence. The only\nother inmate of his cottage was a favorite cat. When the deed was\ndiscovered, the cat was found assiduously watching over her late\nmaster's body, and it was with some difficulty she could be driven away.\nThe appalling deed naturally excited a great deal of attention in the\nsurrounding neighborhood; and on the day after the body was deposited in\nthe grave, which was made at the outside of the church-yard, a number of\nschool-boys ventured thither, to view the resting-place of one who had\nat times been the subject of village wonder, and whose recent act of\nself-destruction was invested with additional interest. At first, no one\nwas brave enough to venture near; but at last, the appearance of a hole\nin the side of the grave irresistibly attracted their attention. Having\nbeen minutely examined, it was at length determined that it must have\nbeen the work of some body-snatcher; and the story having spread, the\ngrave was minutely examined, but as the body had not been removed, the\ncommunity considered themselves fortunate in having made so narrow an\nescape. The turf was replaced, and the grave again carefully covered up.\nOn the following morning the turf was again displaced, and a hole,\ndeeper than before, yawned in the side of the sad receptacle.\nSpeculation was soon busy at work, and all sorts of explanations were\nsuggested. In the midst of their speculations, alarmed, perhaps, by the\nnoise of the disputants, poor Puss darted from the hole, much to the\nconfusion of some of the most noisy and dogmatic expounders of the\nmystery. Again the turf was replaced, and again and again was it removed\nby the unceasing efforts of the faithful cat to share the resting-place\nof her deceased master. It was at last found necessary to shoot her, it\nbeing found impossible otherwise to put a stop to her unceasing\nimportunities.\n\nThe enmity of the cat and dog is proverbial. Yet instances have been\nknown in which the closest friendship has been formed between them. A\nFrench author of a work on the Language of Brutes tells the following\nstory: \"I had a cat and dog, which became so attached to each other,\nthat they would never willingly be asunder. Whenever the dog got any\nchoice morsel of food, he was sure to divide it with his whiskered\nfriend. They always ate sociably out of one plate, slept in the same\nbed, and daily walked out together. Wishing to put this apparently\nsincere friendship to the proof, I one day took the cat by herself into\nmy room, while I had the dog guarded in another apartment. I entertained\nthe cat in a most sumptuous manner, being desirous to see what sort of a\nmeal she would make without her friend, who had hitherto been her\nconstant table companion. The cat enjoyed the treat with great glee, and\nseemed to have entirely forgotten the dog. I had had a partridge for\ndinner, half of which I intended to keep for supper. My wife covered it\nwith a plate, and put it into a cupboard, the door of which she did not\nlock. The cat left the room, and I walked out upon business. My wife,\nmeanwhile, sat at work in an adjoining apartment. When I returned home,\nshe related to me the following circumstances: The cat, having hastily\nleft the dining-room, went to the dog, and mewed uncommonly loud, and in\ndifferent tones of voice; which the dog, from time to time, answered\nwith a short bark. They both then went to the door of the room where the\ncat had dined, and waited till it was opened. One of my children opened\nthe door, and immediately the two friends entered the apartment. The\nmewing of the cat excited my wife's attention. She rose from her seat,\nand stepped softly up to the door, which stood ajar, to observe what was\ngoing on. The cat led the dog to the cupboard which contained the\npartridge, pushed off the plate which covered it, and, taking out my\nintended supper, laid it before her canine friend, who devoured it\ngreedily. Probably the cat, by her mewing, had given the dog to\nunderstand what an excellent meal she had made, and how sorry she was\nthat he had not participated in it; but, at the same time, had explained\nto him that something was left for him in the cupboard, and persuaded\nhim to follow her thither.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE CAT.]\n\nIn Lawrence's History of the Horse occurs the following anecdote, in\nwhich the cat is quite as much concerned as the horse: \"A celebrated\nArabian horse and a black cat were for many years the warmest friends.\nWhen the horse died in 1753, the cat sat upon his carcass until it was\nburied; and then, creeping slowly and reluctantly away, was never seen\nagain, till her dead body was found in a hay-loft.\"\n\nHenry Wriothsly, earl of Southampton, having been some time confined in\nthe tower of London, was one day surprised by a visit from his favorite\ncat, who must have reached her master by descending from the chimney of\nthe edifice.\n\nThe following instance of a cat's courage and maternal affection is\nrecorded in the Naturalist's Cabinet: \"A cat who had a family of\nkittens, was playing with them one sunny day in spring, near the door of\na farm-house, when a hawk darted swiftly down and caught one of the\nkittens. The assassin was endeavoring to rise with his prey, when the\nmother, seeing the danger of the little one, flew at the common enemy,\nwho, to defend himself, let the kitten fall. The battle presently became\ndreadful to both parties; for the hawk, by the power of his wings, the\nsharpness of his talons, and the keenness of his beak, had for awhile\nthe advantage, cruelly lacerating the poor cat, and actually deprived\nher of one eye in the conflict. But Puss, not at all daunted by this\naccident, strove with all her cunning and strength to protect her little\nones, till she had broken a wing of her adversary. In this state she got\nhim more within the power of her claws, the hawk still defending\nhimself, however, according to the best of his ability. The fight\ncontinued for a long time. But at last victory favored the mother; and\nby a sudden movement, she laid the hawk motionless beneath her feet,\nwhen, as if exulting in her victory, she tore off the head of her\nvanquished enemy. Disregarding the loss of her eye, she immediately ran\nto her bleeding kitten, licked the wounds inflicted by the talons of the\nhawk, purring, while she caressed the little one, with the same\naffection as if nothing had happened to her.\"\n\nHere is an instance of the ingenuity of a cat. Tabby was in the habit of\nvisiting a closet, the door of which was fastened by a common iron\nlatch. A window was situated near the door. When the door was shut, the\ncat, as soon as she was tired of her confinement, mounted on the sill of\nthe window, and with her paws dexterously lifted the latch, opened the\ndoor, and came out of the room. This practice she continued for years.\n\nA cat belonging to a monastery in France was still more ingenious. She\nwas accustomed to have her meals served to her at the same time that the\ninmates of the monastery had theirs. These hours were announced by the\nringing of the bell. One day it so happened that Puss was shut up in a\nroom by herself, when the bell rang for dinner, so that she was not able\nto avail herself of the invitation. Some hours afterward she was\nreleased from her confinement, and instantly ran to the spot where\ndinner was always left for her; but no dinner was to be found. In the\nafternoon the bell was heard ringing at an unusual hour. When the\ninmates of the cloister came to see what was the cause of it, they found\nthe hungry cat clinging to the bell-rope, and setting it in motion as\nwell as she was able, in order that she might have her dinner served up\nfor her. Was not this act of the cat the result of something very nearly\nrelated to what we call reason, when exhibited in man?\n\nA French naturalist gives us an amusing incident connected with a cat in\nPrussia. This animal was quietly sleeping on the hearth, when one of the\nchildren in the family where she lived set up a boisterous crying. Puss\nleft the place where she was lying, marched up to the child, and gave\nher such a smart blow with her paw as to draw blood. Then she walked\nback, with the greatest composure and gravity, as if satisfied with\nhaving punished the child for crying, and with the hope of indulging in\na comfortable nap. No doubt she had often seen the child punished in\nthis manner for peevishness; and as there was no one near who seemed\ndisposed to administer correction in this instance, Puss determined to\ntake the law into her own hand.\n\nThis story brings to my mind one which I saw in a newspaper the other\nday, about a cat who took it upon her to punish her children in a very\nsingular manner. The story runs thus: \"One Sabbath, a motherly old cat,\nbelonging to one of our citizens, left her little family in quiet\nrepose, while she went forth in pursuit of something to eat. On\nreturning, she found them quarreling. She then very deliberately took\nthe one most eagerly engaged in the combat by the nape of the neck, and\nnot seeing any convenient place near by to administer what she\nconsidered a salutary reproof, went to a tub of water, upon the edge of\nwhich she raised her feet, and dropped the kitten into the water. She\nresisted all attempts at escape, and after repeatedly sousing it in the\nwater till sufficiently punished, she took it again by the neck as\nbefore, and carried it back again, doubtless a thorough repentant for\nthe wrong it had done. There has been no contention in the family\nsince.\"\n\nIt must be a very difficult thing for a cat, when a tame bird is within\nher reach, to resist the temptation to make a dinner from it. But there\nare not wanting instances in which this disposition has been entirely\novercome. More than this: a cat has been known to become the protector\nof a bird, when it was in danger. A lady had a tame canary, which she\nwas in the habit of letting out of its cage every day. One morning, as\nit was picking crumbs of bread off the carpet, her cat, who had always\nbefore showed the bird the utmost kindness, seized it suddenly, and\njumped with it in her mouth upon a table. The lady was much alarmed for\nthe fate of her favorite; but on turning about, she instantly perceived\nthe cause. The door had been left open, and another cat, a stranger, had\njust come into the room! After the lady turned out the neighbor, her own\ncat came down from the table, and dropped the bird, without doing it the\nsmallest injury.\n\nThe following story was told me by my friend Dr. Alcott: A cat, in\nNorthborough, Mass., with three very young kittens, having been removed\nto Shrewsbury, a distance of about four miles, continued to elude the\nvigilance of her mistress, and, during the hours of sleep, to transport\nthese three kittens to their old mansion in Northborough.\n\nHere is a story about a cat who was for some time supposed to be a\nmusical ghost: A family residing a few miles from Aberdeen, Scotland--so\nsays the Aberdeen Herald--and at the time consisting of females, were\nrecently thrown for one or two successive nights into no small\nconsternation, by the unaccountable circumstance of a piano being set a\nstrumming about midnight, after all the inmates of the house were in\nbed. The first night the lady of the house rose when she heard the\nunseasonable sounds, thinking some member of the family had set about\n\"practicing her music\" over night. She went cautiously to the room door,\nwhich she found shut; but although she heard the tones of the instrument\nwhen her hand was upon the handle of the door, on entering she was\nastonished to find no one in the room. The piano was indeed open, as it\nwas generally, for a young girl to practice when she had a mind. But\nwhere was the midnight musician? The room was searched, but to no\npurpose--there was no musician visible. Next night the same sounds were\nheard, and a search was made, but with no better success. One or two\nnights of quietude might intervene between those on which such sounds\nwere heard; but they still broke at intervals through the stillness of\nmidnight--at one time with note by note, slowly--at another, like the\nquick, loud thundering of a battle-piece; till the horrible conviction\nfilled every mind, that the house was haunted. One morning, the piano\nwas heard sounding away much louder than usual; and the dawn having\nbegun to peep through the window-blinds, one or two of the family,\nsummoning up the courage that comes with the light of day, resolved\nthat, \"ghost, if ghost it were,\" they should at all risks have a peep at\nit, and cautiously descended to the door of the apartment, which was\nslightly ajar. The musician was fingering the instrument with the\ngreatest industry and energy, and apparently at his own entire\nsatisfaction. Well, after much demurring, in they peeped; and most\nassuredly, through the dim dusk of the morning, a gray figure was seen\nexerting itself most strenuously. They looked closer, when, behold,\nthere was--what think you?--the cat, pawing away, first with her fore\nfeet, and then with her hind; now touching one note gently, and then\ndancing with all fours across the keys. There was a solution of the\nenigma--a bringing to light of the imagined ghost.\n\nA traveler in one of the Western States relates the following humorous\nanecdote of a wild cat: \"I was plodding once in a wagon from Toledo to\nMaumee, over an execrably level road, in the hot noon sun of a mid-June\nday. The driver was a hardy fellow, who looked as though he could outhug\na bear, and loosen the tightest Maumee ague with a single shake, and yet\nhe owned he had been frightened by a wild cat, so that he ran from it,\nand then he told the story, which I give you partly in his own words: 'I\nwas driving along this road in a buggy, with as fast a horse as ever\nscorned the whip, when some ten rods ahead of us, just by that big oak,\na wild cat, leading three kittens, came out of the wood, crossed the\nroad, and went into those bushes on our left, and I thought what nice\npets they would make, and wished I had one. When I came up, I noticed\none of the young ones in the edge of the bushes, but a few feet off, and\nI heard, or thought I heard, the old one stealing along deep in the\nwoods. I sprang out, snatched up the kitten, threw it into the buggy,\njumped in, and started. When I laid hands on it, it mewed, and kept\nmewing, and, as I grasped the reins, I heard a sharp growl and a\nthrashing through the brush. I knew the old one was coming, and the next\ninstant she streamed over a log, and alighted in the road. She ran with\nher eyes flaming, her hair bristling, and her teeth grinning. She turned\nas on a pivot, and gave an unearthly squall, as she saw me racing away,\nand bounded after, with such yells and fury, and gained on me so fast,\nthat for very fear I threw the kitten out, and lashed the flying horse;\nbut she scarcely paused for that, but bounded on a while, as though\nrecovery of her young would not suffice without revenge. When I saw her\nat my very back, I scarcely breathed until her crying child recalled\nher. Here, at the top of this pitch, I looked back, and saw her\nstanding, with her young one in her mouth, looking after me, as though\nshe had half a mind to drop the kitten and give chase again. I gave the\nhorse a cut, and did not feel quite safe until I had got some miles\naway. I made up my mind from that time forward to let young kittens\nalone, and mind my own business.'\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Jackal.\n\n\nLike the hyena, the jackal derives its principal notoriety from its\nferocious and untameable disposition. It is found in Southern Asia, in\nmany parts of Africa, and, to some extent, in Syria and Persia. There is\nnot much difference in the jackal and the dog, except in some of the\nhabits of the two, and there is a great deal of similarity between the\nformer and the wolf. By many Biblical commentators, it is thought that\nthe three hundred foxes to which the sacred penman alludes in the book\nof Judges, as performing a singular and mischievous exploit in the\nstanding corn of the Philistines, were jackals; and their habit of\nassembling together in large companies, so as to be taken in\nconsiderable numbers, seems to justify this conclusion--the fox being,\non the other hand, a solitary animal, and in the habit of living for\nthe most part in small families. To the inhabitants of hot countries,\nthe jackal is of the same service as the vulture and the hyena. He does\nnot scruple to feed upon putrid flesh. Wherever there is an animal in a\nstate of putrefaction, he scents it out from a great distance, and soon\ndevours it. In this way the air is often freed from substances in the\nhighest degree unwholesome and deadly. Nor is this all. One of the\nhabits of this animal is to enter grave-yards, and dig up the bodies\nthat have been buried there. In countries where jackals abound, great\ncare needs to be taken in protecting graves, newly opened, on this\naccount. People frequently mix the earth on the mound raised over a\ngrave with thorns and other sharp substances, to prevent the jackal from\naccomplishing the deed.\n\n[Illustration: THE JACKAL.]\n\nStill the jackal makes his living, in a great measure, by hunting other\nbeasts. Indeed, he not only makes his own living, but, if the stories\nthat are told about him are true, he helps other animals in getting\ntheir living, though it is very doubtful whether he means to do so. He\nhas been called the \"lion's provider,\" you know; and some have\nrepresented him as a humble slave of the lion, obeying his will in every\nthing, hunting for him, and only receiving for his portion what his\nmajesty is pleased to leave. But this notion is probably somewhat\nfabulous. The upshot of the matter seems to be this: that the jackal,\nhaving about as much wit as some other servants of kings, chases after\nhis prey, yelling with all his might, very industriously, and without\nhardly stopping to take breath, until the poor hare, or fawn, or\nwhatever the animal may be, gets tired out, and then the jackal catches\nhim. But the hunter, by his yelling, starts the lion, as soon as he gets\nupon the scent. The lion knows well enough that there is game somewhere\nin that region; and so he is on the look-out, while the jackal is\nrunning it down. Well, the jackal has to go over a great deal more\nground than the lion--for these animals, when they are pursued, never go\nin a straight direction--and when the game is caught, he has had little\nmore to do than to look on and enjoy the sport, and he comes up, at his\nleisure, just at the right time, to the spot where the jackals are going\nto have a feast over their well-earned prey. Then the lion thanks his\ndear friends, the jackals, and gives them liberty to retire a few\nmoments, until he has tasted of their dinner, in order, perhaps he tells\nthem, to see whether they have made a good selection. After satisfying\nhis appetite, the jackals have unrestrained liberty to lick the bones,\njust as much and as long as they please.\n\nIn Captain Beechey's account of his expedition to explore the northern\ncoasts of Africa, we have an interesting description of this animal. He\ndoes not give a very favorable account of the music made by a band of\njackals. \"As they usually come in packs,\" he says, \"the first shriek\nwhich is uttered is always a signal for a general chorus. We hardly know\na sound which is further removed from pleasant harmony than their yells.\nThe sudden burst of the long-protracted scream, succeeding immediately\nto the opening note, is scarcely less impressive than the roll of the\nthunder clap after a flash of lightning. The effect of this music is\nvery much increased when the first note is heard in the distance--a\ncircumstance which frequently occurs--and the answering yell bursts out\nfrom several points at once, within a few yards of the place where the\nauditors are sleeping, or trying to sleep.\"\n\nIt sometimes happens that a jackal ventures near a house, and perhaps\nenters a hen-roost, to steal a hen. But in such cases, he often shows\nhimself to be as stupid as he is impudent; for even then, if he hears\nthe yelling of his comrades chasing their game, he forgets himself, and\nyells as lustily as the rest of them. The result is as might be\nexpected. The inmates of the house are awakened, and they take such\nmeasures with the poor jackal, as effectually to prevent his repetition\nof the blunder.\n\n[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]\n\n\n\n\nThe Sheep.\n\n\nSheep, as well as many other animals, show a great fondness for music.\nThe following anecdote in proof of such a taste, is given on the\nauthority of the celebrated musician, Haydn. He and several other\ngentlemen were making a tour through a mountainous part of Lombardy,\nwhen they fell in with a flock of sheep, which a shepherd was driving\nhomeward. One of the gentlemen, having a flute with him, commenced\nplaying, and immediately the sheep, which were following the shepherd,\nraised their heads, and turned with haste to the spot whence the music\nproceeded. They gradually flocked around the musician, and listened with\nthe utmost silence and attention. He stopped playing. But the sheep did\nnot stir. The shepherd, with his staff, now obliged them to move on;\nbut no sooner did the fluter begin to play again, than his interested\naudience returned to him. The shepherd got out of patience, and pelted\nthe sheep with pieces of turf; but not one of them moved. The fluter\nplayed still more sweet and beautiful strains. The shepherd worked\nhimself up into a storm of passion. He scolded, and pelted the poor\ncreatures with stones. Some of the sheep were hit, and they made up\ntheir minds to go on; but the rest remained spell-bound by the music. At\nlast the shepherd was forced to entreat the flute-player to stop his\nmusic. He did stop, and the sheep moved off, but still they continued to\nlook behind them occasionally, and to manifest a desire to return, as\noften as the musician resumed his playing.\n\nThe life of a shepherd is very favorable for study and for improvement\nin knowledge, if one has the natural genius and the industry to make use\nof his spare time. Some of the most eminent men the world ever saw began\ntheir career by the care of a flock of sheep. Did you ever hear of\nGiotto, the great painter Giotto? No doubt you have. He was the man who\nmade that famous design for a church, at the request of Pope Benedict\nIX. The messengers of the pope entered the artist's studio, and\ncommunicated the wish of their master. Giotto took a sheet of paper,\nfixed his elbow at his side, to keep his hand steady, and instantly drew\na perfect circle. \"Tell his holiness that this is my design,\" said he.\nHis friends tried to persuade him not to send such a thing to the pope;\nbut he persisted in doing so. Pope Benedict was a learned man, and he\nsaw that Giotto had given the best evidence of perfection in his art. He\ninvited the painter to Rome, and honored and rewarded him. \"Round as\nGiotto's O,\" from that time, became an Italian proverb. But I must give\na glance at the early history of this man. In the year 1276--according\nto that invaluable publication, \"Chambers' Miscellany of Useful and\nEntertaining Knowledge\"--about forty miles from Florence, in the town of\nVespignano, there lived a poor laboring man named Bondone. This man had\na son whom he brought up in the ignorance usual to the lowly condition\nof a peasant boy. But the extraordinary powers of the child,\nuncultivated as they necessarily were, and his surprising quickness of\nperception and never-failing vivacity, made him the delight of his\nfather, and of the unsophisticated people among whom he lived. At the\nage of ten, his father intrusted him with the care of a flock. Now the\nhappy little shepherd-boy strolled at his will over meadow and plain\nwith his woolly charge, and amused himself with lying on the grass, and\nsketching, as fancy led him, the surrounding objects, on broad flat\nstones, sand, or soft earth. His sole pencils were a hard stick, or a\nsharp piece of stone; his chief models were his flock, which he used to\ncopy as they gathered around him in various attitudes. One day, as the\nshepherd-boy lay in the midst of his flock, earnestly sketching\nsomething on a stone, there came by a traveler. Struck with the boy's\ndeep attention to his work, and the unconscious grace of his attitude,\nthe stranger stopped, and went to look at his work. It was a sketch of a\nsheep, drawn with such freedom and truth of nature, that the traveler\nbeheld it with astonishment. \"Whose son are you?\" cried he, with\neagerness. The startled boy looked up in the face of his questioner. \"My\nfather is Bondone the laborer, and I am his little Giotto, so please the\nsignor,\" said he. \"Well, then, Giotto, should you like to come and live\nwith me, and learn how to draw, and paint sheep like this, and horses,\nand even men?\" The child's eyes flashed with delight, \"I will go with\nyou any where to learn that,\" said he; \"but,\" he added, as a sudden\nthought made him change color, \"I must first go and ask my father; I\ncan do nothing without his leave.\" \"That is quite right, my boy, and so\nwe will go to him together, and ask him,\" said the stranger. It was the\ncelebrated painter, Cimabue. Old Bondone consented to the wish of his\nson, and the boy went to Florence with Cimabue. Giotto soon went beyond\nhis master in his sketches. His former familiarity with nature, while\ntending his sheep, doubtless contributed a good deal to his astonishing\nprogress. One morning the master came into his studio, and looking at a\nhalf finished head, saw a fly resting on the nose. He tried to brush it\noff with his hand, when he discovered that it was only painted, and that\nit was one of the tricks of his young pupil. It was not long before the\nfame of the new artist spread all over Europe.\n\n[Illustration: GIOTTO SKETCHING AMONG HIS SHEEP.]\n\nThe author of that pleasant little book, called \"Stories of the Instinct\nof Animals,\" relates a pleasing anecdote of a sheep in England. \"One\nafternoon, in summer,\" he says, \"after an illness which had confined me\nsome time to the house, I went out into the field, to enjoy awhile the\nluxury of a walk at leisure among the beauties of nature. I had not been\nlong in the field, before my attention was attracted by the motions of\none of the sheep that were grazing there. She came up close to me,\nbleating in a piteous manner; and after looking wishfully in my face,\nran off toward a brook which flowed through the pasture. At first I took\nbut little notice of the creature; but as her entreaties became more\nimportunate, I followed her. Delighted at having attracted my notice,\nshe ran with all her speed, frequently looking back, to see if I was\nfollowing her. When I reached the spot where she led me, I discovered\nthe cause of all her anxiety. Her lamb had fallen into the brook, and\nthe banks being steep, the poor little creature was unable to escape.\nFortunately, the water, though up to the back of the lamb, was not\nsufficient to drown it. I rescued the sufferer with the utmost pleasure,\nand to the great gratification of its affectionate mother, who licked\nit with her tongue, to dry it, now and then skipping about, and making\nnoisy demonstrations of joy. I watched her with interest, till she lay\ndown with her little one, caressing it with the utmost fondness, and\napparently trying to show me how much she was indebted to me, for my\nfriendly aid.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE INVALID AND THE SHEEP.]\n\nA man was once passing through a lonely part of the Highlands in\nScotland, when he perceived a sheep hurrying toward the road before him.\nShe was bleating most piteously at the time; and as the man approached\nnearer, she redoubled her cries, looked earnestly into his face, and\nseemed to be imploring his assistance. He stopped, left his wagon, and\nfollowed the sheep. She led him quite a distance from the road, to a\nsolitary spot, and at length she stopped. When the traveler came up, he\nfound a lamb completely wedged in between two large stones, and\nstruggling, in vain, to extricate himself. The gentleman immediately set\nthe little sufferer free, and placed him on his feet, when the mother\npoured out her thanks and joy, in a long-continued and animated strain\nof bleating.\n\nI am indebted to a correspondent of mine--Dr. Charles Burr, residing in\nthe state of Pennsylvania--for a good story about a sheep which\nbelonged to his father a number of years ago. This sheep, he says, was a\n_cosset_, was quite tame, and very much of a pet. One day, a young lamb\nof hers was wounded; and \"my father (I must let the doctor tell his\nstory in his own words) being out of the door, noticed the mother upon\nthe hill by the barn, being as near the house as she could come. She\nappeared to be in great distress, running about, looking toward him, and\nbleating; evidently wishing to attract his attention. Supposing that\nsomething must be wrong, my father started to see what was the matter.\nThe old sheep waited till he had got almost up to her, when she started\nand ran a few rods from him and stopped, turned round, looked at him,\nand bleated. My father followed on. The old sheep waited until he had\ngot nearly up to her again, when she ran on, and went through the same\noperation as before. In this way she led my father to the farthest end\nof the pasture, where lay her lamb, bleeding and helpless. The little\nthing had bled so much that it could not raise its head, or help itself\nin the least. My father took the lamb, stanched the bleeding wound, took\nit in his arms and carried it home--the old sheep, in the mean time,\nfollowing, and expressing her joy and gratitude, not by words, it is\ntrue, but by looks and actions more truthful, and which were not to be\nmistaken. Suffice it to say, that with proper care and nursing, the lamb\nwas saved, and restored to health and strength, to the great\nsatisfaction of both parties concerned.\"\n\nI have a mind to tell you one of my own youthful adventures, in which a\npoor wight of a sheep had a prominent share. The adventure proved of\nimmense service to me, as you will see in the sequel. Perhaps the story\nof it will be valuable to you, in the same manner.\n\nI shall never forget the first time I sallied out into the woods to try\nmy hand at hunting. Rover, the old family dog, went with me, and he was\nabout as green in the matter of securing game as myself. We were pretty\nwell matched, I think. I played the part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can\nrecollect, and Rover was a second Ralph. I had a most excellent\nfowling-piece; so they said. It began its career in the French war, and\nwas a very veteran in service. Besides this ancient and honorable\nweapon, I was provided with all the means and appliances necessary for\nsuccessful hunting. I was \"armed and equipped as the law directs,\" to\nemploy the words of those semi-annual documents that used to summon me\nto training.\n\nWell, it was some time before we--Rover and I--started any game.\nWind-mills were scarce. For one, I began to fear we should have to\nreturn without any adventure to call forth our skill and courage. But\nthe brightest time is just before day, and so it was in this instance.\nRover began presently to bark, and I heard a slight rustling among the\nleaves in the woods. Sure enough, there was visible a large animal of\nsome kind, though I could not determine precisely what it was, on\naccount of the underbrush. However, I satisfied myself it was rare game,\nat any rate; and that point being settled, I took aim and fired.\n\nRover immediately ran to the poor victim. He was a courageous fellow,\nthat Rover, especially after the danger was over. Many a time I have\nknown him make demonstrations as fierce as a tiger when people rode by\nour house, though he generally took care not to insult them until they\nwere at a convenient distance. Rover had no notion of being killed,\nknowing very well that if he were dead, he could be of no farther\nservice whatever to the world. Hudibras said well when he said,\n\n\"That he who fights and runs away,\nMay live to fight another day.\"\n\nThat was good logic. But Rover went farther than this, even. He was for\nrunning away before he fought at all; and so he always did, except when\nthe enemy ran away first, in which case he ran after him, as every\nchivalrous dog should. In the case of the animal which I shot at, Rover\nbounded to his side when the gun was discharged, as I said before. For\nmyself, I did not venture quite so soon, remembering that caution is the\nparent of safety. By and by, however, I mustered courage, and advanced\nto the spot. There lay the victim of my first shot. It was one of my\nfather's sheep! Poor creature! She was sick, I believe, and went into\nthe thicket, near a stream of water, where she could die in peace. I\ndon't know whether I hit her or not. I didn't look to see, but ran home\nas fast as my legs would carry me. Thus ended the first hunting\nexcursion in which I ever engaged; and though I was a mere boy then, and\nam approaching the meridian of life now, it proved to be my last.\n\n\n\n\nThe Deer.\n\n\nThere are several species of the deer--the moose, stag, rein-deer, elk,\nand others. Of these, the stag is one of the most interesting. He is\nsaid to love music, and to show great delight in hearing a person sing.\n\"Traveling some years since,\" says a gentleman whose statements may be\nrelied on, \"I met a bevy of about twenty stags, following a bagpipe and\nviolin. While the music continued, they proceeded; when it ceased, they\nall stood still.\"\n\nAs Captain Smith, a British officer in Bengal, was out one day in a\nshooting party, very early in the morning, they observed a tiger steal\nout of a jungle, in pursuit of a herd of deer. Having selected one as\nhis object, it was quickly deserted by the herd. The tiger advanced\nwith such amazing swiftness, that the stag in vain attempted to\nescape, and at the moment the officer expected to see the animal make\nthe fatal spring, the deer gallantly faced his enemy, and for some\nminutes kept him at bay; and it was not till after three attacks, that\nthe tiger succeeded in securing his prey. He was supposed to have been\nconsiderably injured by the horns of the stag, as, on the advance of\nCaptain Smith, he abandoned the carcass, having only sucked the blood\nfrom the throat.\n\n[Illustration: THE DEER.]\n\nThe following account of a remarkably intelligent stag, is given by\nDelacroix, a French gentleman: \"When I was at Compiegne, my friends took\nme to a German, who exhibited a wonderful stag. As soon as we had taken\nour seats in a large room, the stag was introduced. He was of an elegant\nform, and majestic stature, and his aspect animated and gentle. The\nfirst trick he performed, was to make a profound bow to the company, as\nhe entered, after which he paid his respects to each individual of us,\nin the same manner. He next carried about a small stick in his mouth, to\neach end of which a small wax taper was attached. He was then\nblindfolded, and at the beat of a drum, fell upon his knees, and laid\nhis head upon the ground. As soon as the word _pardon_ was pronounced,\nhe instantly sprang upon his feet. Dice were then thrown upon the head\nof a drum, and he told the numbers that were thrown up, by bowing his\nhead as many times as there were numbers indicated. He discharged a\npistol, by drawing with his teeth a string that was fastened to the\ntrigger. He fired a small cannon by means of a match which was attached\nto his right foot, and he exhibited no signs of fear at the report of\nthe cannon. He leaped through a hoop several times, with the greatest\nagility--his master holding the hoop at the height of his head above the\nfloor. At length the exhibition was closed, by his eating a handfull of\noats from the head of a drum, which a person was beating all the time,\nwith the utmost violence.\"\n\nWe must wind up what we have to say about this animal with a fable.\nPerhaps my little friends have seen it before. But it will bear reading\nagain, and I should not be sorry to hear that many of you had committed\nit to memory; for there is a moral in it which you cannot fail to\nperceive, and which may be of service to you one of these days:\n\n\"A stag, quenching his thirst in a clear lake, was struck with the\nbeauty of his horns, which he saw reflected in the water. At the same\ntime, observing the extreme length and slenderness of his legs, 'What a\npity it is,' said he, 'that so fine a creature should be furnished with\nso despicable a set of spindle-shanks! What a noble animal I should be,\nwere my legs answerable to my horns!'\n\n\"In the midst of this vain talk, the stag was alarmed by the cry of a\npack of hounds. He immediately bounded over the ground, and left his\npursuers so far behind that he might have escaped; but going into a\nthick wood, his horns were entangled in the branches of the trees, where\nhe was held till the hounds came up, and tore him in pieces.\n\n\"In his last moments he thus exclaimed: 'How ill do we judge of our own\ntrue advantages! The legs which I despised would have borne me away in\nsafety, had not my favorite antlers brought me to ruin.'\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Hippopotamus.\n\n\nEvery traveler, who has seen the hippopotamus in his native haunts, and\nwho has attempted to give a description of the animal, represents him as\nexceedingly formidable, when he is irritated, and when he can get a\nchance to fight his battle in the water. On land, he is unwieldy and\nawkward; so that, when he is pursued by an enemy, he usually takes to\nhis favorite element. There he plunges in head foremost, and sinks to\nthe bottom, where it is said he finds no difficulty in moving with the\nsame pace as when upon land, in the open air. He cannot, however,\ncontinue under water for any great length of time. He is obliged to rise\nto the surface, to take breath. Severe battles sometimes take place\nbetween the males, and they make sad havoc before they get through.\n\n[Illustration: THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.]\n\nGreat masses of flesh, torn out by their terrible jaws, mark the spot\nwhere one of these encounters has occurred. It not unfrequently happens\nthat one or even both perish on the spot. On the banks of the Nile,\nwhole fields of grain and sugar cane are sometimes destroyed by these\nanimals.\n\nClapperton, the enterprising traveler, informs us that, when on a\nwarlike expedition, he had convincing evidence that the hippopotamus is\nfond of music. \"As the expedition passed along the banks of the lake at\nsunrise,\" says he, \"these uncouth and stupendous animals followed the\nsound of the drums the whole length of the water, sometimes approaching\nso close to the shore, that the spray they spouted from their mouths\nreached the people, who were passing along the banks. I counted fifteen,\nat one time, sporting on the surface of the water.\"\n\nThe following account of hunting the hippopotamus is given by Dr. Edward\nRussell: \"One of the animals we killed was of an enormous size. We\nfought with him for four good hours by night, and came very near losing\nour large boat, and probably our lives too, owing to the fury of the\nanimal. As soon as he spied the hunters in the small canoe, he dashed at\nthem with all his might, dragged the canoe with him under the water,\nand smashed it to pieces. The two hunters escaped with difficulty. Of\ntwenty-five musket balls aimed at the head, only one pierced the skin\nand the bones of the nose. At each snorting, the animal spouted out\nlarge streams of blood on the boat. The rest of the balls stuck in the\nthick hide. At last, we availed ourselves of a swivel; but it was not\nuntil we had discharged five balls from it, at the distance of a few\nfeet, that the huge animal gave up the ghost. The darkness of the night\nincreased the danger of the contest, for this gigantic enemy tossed our\nboat about in the stream at his pleasure; and it was a fortunate moment\nfor us that he gave up the struggle, as he had carried us into a\ncomplete labyrinth of rocks, which, in the midst of the confusion, none\nof our crew had observed.\"\n\nIn Egypt they have a singular mode of catching the hippopotamus. They\nthrow large quantities of dried peas on the bank of the river along\nwhich the animal is expected to pass. He devours these peas greedily.\nThe dry food disposes the animal to drink; and after drinking, the peas\nswell in his stomach, and the poor fellow is destroyed.\n\n\"I have seen,\" says a traveler, \"a hippopotamus open his mouth, fix one\ntooth on the side of a boat, and another on the second plank under the\nkeel--that is, four feet distant from each other--pierce the side\nthrough and through, and in this manner sink the boat.\" When the negroes\ngo a-fishing, the same traveler informs us, \"in their canoes, and meet\nwith a hippopotamus, they throw fish to him; and then he passes on,\nwithout disturbing their fishing any more. Once, when our boat was near\nshore, I saw a hippopotamus get underneath it, lift it above the water\nupon his back, and overset it, with six men who were in it.\"\n\n\"We dare not,\" says another traveler, \"irritate the hippopotamus in the\nwater, since an adventure happened which came near proving fatal to the\nmen. They were going in a small canoe, to kill one of these animals in a\nriver, where there were some eight or ten feet of water. After they had\ndiscovered him walking at the bottom of the river, according to his\ncustom, they wounded him with a long lance, which so greatly irritated\nhim, that he rose immediately to the surface of the water, regarded them\nwith a terrible look, opened his mouth, and with one bite took a great\npiece out of the side of the canoe, and very nearly overturned it, but\nhe plunged again almost directly to the bottom of the river.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Weasel.\n\n\nGreat numbers of weasels, it seems, sometimes unite together, and defend\nthemselves pretty resolutely against the attacks of men. A laborer in\nScotland was one day suddenly attacked by six weasels, who rushed upon\nhim from an old wall near the place where he was at work at the time.\nThe man, alarmed, as well he might have been, by such a furious onset,\ntook to his heels; but he soon found he was closely pursued. Although he\nhad in his hand a large horse-whip, with which he endeavored to frighten\nback his enemies, yet so eager were they in pursuing him, that he was on\nthe point of being seized by the throat, when he fortunately noticed the\nfallen branch of a tree, at a little distance, which he reached, and\nsnatching it up as fiercely as possible, rallied upon his enemies,\nand killed three of them, when the remainder thought it best to give up\nthe battle, and left the field.\n\n[Illustration: THE FERRET WEASEL.]\n\nA similar case occurred some years ago near Edinburgh, when a gentleman,\nobserving another leaping about in an extraordinary manner, made up to\nhim, and found him beset and dreadfully bitten by about fifteen weasels,\nwho still continued their attack. Both of the men being strong and\ncourageous, they succeeded in killing quite a number of the animals, and\nthe rest escaped and ran into the fissures of a neighboring rock. The\naccount the unfortunate man gave of the beginning of the affray was,\nthat, walking through the park, he ran at a weasel which he saw, and\nmade several attempts to strike it, remaining between it and the rock,\nto which it tried to retreat. The animal, in this situation, squeaked\nloudly, when a sudden attack was made by the whole colony of weasels,\nwho came to the rescue of their companion, determined to conquer or die.\n\nMr. Miller, in his Boy's Summer Book, tells us a little about what he\nhad seen and heard of the habits and disposition of this family. He\nsays, \"They are a destructive race of little savages; and one has been\nknown, before now, to attack a child in his cradle, and inflict a deep\nwound upon his neck, where it clung, and sucked like a leech. They are\nvery fond of blood, and to obtain this, they will sometimes destroy the\noccupants of a whole hen-roost, not caring to feed upon the bodies of\nthe poultry which they have killed. They will climb trees, attack the\nold bird on its nest, suck the eggs, or carry off the young; for nothing\nof this kind seems to come amiss to them. They are great hunters of\nmice; and their long, slender bodies are well adapted for following\nthese destructive little animals in their rambles among the corn-stalks\nin the field. In this way, the weasel renders the farmer a good service\noccasionally, though he never asks to be rewarded with a duck or\nchicken, always choosing to help himself without asking, whenever he can\nget a chance. Oh! if you could but see a weasel attack a mouse, as I\nhave done. By just one single bite of the head, which is done in a\nmoment, and which pierces the brain before you can say 'Jack Robinson,'\nthe mouse is killed as dead as a red herring, before he has time to\nsqueak or struggle. It is no joke, I can tell you, to be bitten by a\nweasel; and if you thought, when you caught hold of one by the back,\nthat you had him safe, you would soon find your mistake out; for his\nneck is as pliable as a piece of India rubber. He would have hold of\nyour hand in a moment.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE HAWK POUNCING UPON THE WEASEL.]\n\nI have just come across a funny story about the adventure of a weasel\nand a hawk. It seems that a hawk took an especial fancy to a weasel that\nhe saw prowling about a farm-yard. His hawkship happened to be pretty\nhungry at the time, and concluded he would carry off the weasel, and\nmake a dinner of him at his leisure. So he pounced upon the fellow, and\nset out on his journey home. I should not wonder if he had a nest in the\nwoods not far off. The weasel, however, submitted to his fate with no\nvery good grace. He thought that two could play at that game. He twisted\naround his elastic neck--to use the language of the writer I\nmentioned--poked up his pointed nose, and in he went, with his sharp\nteeth, right under the wings of the hawk, making such a hole in an\ninstant, that you might have thrust your finger in. The hawk tried to\npick at him with his hooked beak, but it was no use.\n\nThe weasel kept eating away, and licking his lips as if he enjoyed\nhimself; and the hawk soon came wheeling down to the ground, which he no\nsooner touched, than away ran the weasel, having got an excellent dinner\nat the expense of the hawk. He was not a bit the worse for the ride;\nwhile Mr. Hawk lay there as dead as a nail. The biter was bitten that\ntime, wasn't he? It was a pretty good lesson to the hawk family not to\nbe so greedy, though whether they ever profited by it is more than I can\nsay. From the account that a little girl gave me of the incursions\nrecently made upon her chickens, I judge that they did not all profit by\nit.\n\n[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]\n\n\n\n\nThe Squirrel.\n\n\nI had a pretty little red squirrel of my own, when I was a little boy.\nMy father bought a cage for him, with a wheel in it; and Billy, as we\nused to call him, would get inside the wheel, and whirl it around for a\nhalf hour at a time. It was amusing, too, to see him stand up on his\nhind feet, and eat the nuts we gave him. Billy was a great favorite with\nme and my brother. By and by, we let him go out of the cage, and ramble\nwherever he pleased. He became as tame as a kitten. He would go out into\nthe corn-field in autumn, and come home with his mouth filled with corn,\nand this he would lay up in a safe place for further use. Once the old\ncat caught him, and the poor fellow would have been killed, if some one\nhad not been near and rescued him from the grasp of his enemy.\n\nWe indulged Billy a good deal. We had a box of hickory nuts in the\ngarret, and he was allowed to go and help himself whenever he pleased.\nHe was pleased to go pretty often, too; and he was not satisfied with\neating what he wanted out of the box. The greedy fellow! One day he\ncarried off nearly all the nuts there were in the box, and hid them away\nunder the floor, through a hole he had gnawed in the boards.\n\nHe was a great pet though, for all that. We could not help loving him,\nmischievous as he was. He used to climb up often on my shoulder, and\ndown into my pockets; and if there was any thing good to eat thereabout,\nhe would help himself without ceremony. Sometimes, when he felt\nparticularly frolicksome, he leaped from one person's shoulder to\nanother, all around the room.\n\nThe more we petted this little fellow, and the more good things we gave\nhim, the more roguish he became. At length he exhausted all my father's\npatience by his mischief. One of his last tricks was this. He gnawed a\nhole in a bag of meal, and after eating as much as he could (and this\nwas but little, for we fed him as often as he needed to eat, and\noftener too) he carried away large quantities of the meal, and wasted\nit. He never worked harder in his life, not even when he was trying to\nget away from the jaws of the old cat, than he did when he was\nscattering this meal over the yard. Well, we had a sort of a court about\nBilly, after this. My father's corn-house was the court room, and my\nfather himself was the judge. We all agreed that Billy was guilty,\nthough we differed as to the punishment that ought to be inflicted. The\nquestion seemed to be, according to the language they use in courts of\nlaw, whether the theft was a _petty larceny_ or a _grand larceny_. Alas\nfor Billy and Billy's friends! My father decided, in his charge to the\njury, that the crime must be ranked under the head of grand larceny, and\nthe jury brought in a verdict accordingly. My father pronounced the\nsentence, which was that the offending squirrel must die that same day.\nBilly seemed to be aware of what was going on, for he did not come near\nthe house again till almost night; and when he did come, one of my\nfather's men shot him, and just as the sun was going down he died. For a\nlong time after that, I cried whenever I thought of poor Billy.\n\nAmong the many juvenile friends with whom I have had more or less\ncorrespondence, as the editor of a young people's magazine, is one who\nresides at Saratoga Springs. I passed a few days at this watering-place\nlast summer, and called on Master William, for that is the name of my\nfriend--who introduced to me a pet squirrel of his, called Dick. Dick\ndid not perform many very surprising feats while I was present, though I\ndid not at the time set that circumstance down as any evidence of a want\nof smartness on the part of the squirrel; for I well remembered that it\nwas a very common thing for pets sustaining even a much higher rank in\nthe scale of intelligence, to disappoint the expectations of those\npersons who think all the world of them, when they--the pets--are\nushered into the presence of strangers, for the purpose of being\nexhibited, and, indeed, I have some faint recollection of thus\ndisappointing an over-fond nurse, not unfrequently, on similar\noccasions. There are some propositions the truth of which it is quite as\nwell to assent to, when one hears them stated, without waiting for\nproof; and among these propositions I class those which relate to the\nunheard-of sagacity and genius of a darling pet. I make it a point to\nadmit, without demonstration or argument, that there never was another\nsuch a creature in all the world. Moreover, I saw plainly enough in\nDick's keen, black eye, that he knew a thing or two, and I could easily\nunderstand how he might greatly endear himself to his little patron. Nor\nwas I at all surprised when I recently heard of the death of this\nfavorite, that my young friend cried a great deal; and I am sure I\nshared in some measure his grief. Poor Dick! I immediately wrote to\nWilly, to solicit a short biography of his favorite, for my stories\nabout animals. The request was kindly responded to by Willy's aunt, from\nwhom I received the following sketch:\n\n\"When Dick first became a member of the family, he was shy, resentful,\nand very capricious; but by degrees all these faults gave place to a\nsort of playful drollery, that called out many a laugh. His cage was a\nfine, large, commodious place, well lined with tiers, and furnished with\nevery convenience that he could have desired in a habitation, not\nexcepting a big wheel, which is by general consent esteemed a great\nluxury for a squirrel. But he often liked a change, and when the door\nwas left loose, he would soon find his way out. Then he had many\nhair-breadth escapes--sometimes from dogs, who looked upon him as lawful\nprey; sometimes from frolicsome and thoughtless boys, who forgot how\nmuch a squirrel suffers who is worried almost to death. Sometimes he has\nbeen nearly abducted by strangers, who saw with surprise so small an\nindividual at large, and quite unconscious of the perils of a public\nstreet in a watering-place. On one of these occasions, when he was\nplaying with his little master, and skipping from bough to bough on the\nlarge trees that sheltered his home, he bounded from a branch to the\nroof of a three-storied house adjoining, and running across, jumped from\none of the angles to the court below, landed on all fours, stopped a\nsecond or two to decide if he were really alive or not, then quietly\ntrudged home to his cage. If he wanted a change, Dick had odd ways of\nshowing himself dissatisfied with his condition. In the summer, when his\nhouse was too much exposed to the rays of the sun, he would give a queer\nlittle cry, which, if no one heeded, he would lie down flat, all\nextended, and gasp, as if each moment was his last; and no coaxing could\nbring him to himself, until he was removed, cage and all; then\nimmediately he would jump up, frisk about, sit on his haunches, and\nlaugh out of his eye as merrily as if he had said, 'I know a thing or\ntwo--don't I, though?' These manoeuvres were a clear sham; he could\nfall into one in a twinkling, at any time. How many times he has led\nthe children of the family, and the big children too, through beds of\nbeans, beets, and cucumbers, and through the tomato vines and\nrose-bushes; and when we were in full chase, just ready to believe that\nhe had eluded us quite, and was gone forever, lo! there sat Dick in his\nwheel, as demure as a judge, and looking as wise as possible at those\nvery silly people, who would be running about so fast, on such a warm\nday. He never liked any infringement upon his personal liberty; this he\nalways resented; but he would pretend to hide away, and come and peep at\nyou, or jump up behind you, stand on the top of your head or shoulder,\nplay all manner of pranks about your person, get clear into the pocket\nof any friend, who was likely to have a supply of nuts. He would answer\nto his name, follow when called, in the house, out of the house, any\nwhere, play all about the large house-dog, Tom--pat him on the ear,\ngently pinch his tail, poise himself on his back, and pretend to sleep\nby the side of him. But if any one caught him, or held him, as if he\nwere imprisoned--alas! what a struggle ensued--and then, I grieve to say\nit--he would _bite_.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE SQUIRREL.]\n\nThe most common squirrels in this country are the gray, the red, and the\nstriped, or chipping squirrel. The latter is the smallest of the three;\nand as that species are not hunted so much as the rest of the genus,\nthey are very abundant in the woods. Many and many a time, when a child,\nhave I been deceived by the cunning of the chipping squirrel. The little\nfellow has a hole and nest in the ground. The hole is very frequently\neither directly under or very near the stump of a tree which has been\ncut down or was blown over by the wind. Well, the little fellow is\naccustomed, or he was accustomed, when I was a little boy, to sit\ngood-humoredly on this stump, and sing for hours together. His song has\nnothing very exquisite in it--it is simply \"chip, chip, chip,\" from the\nbeginning to the end; and his notes are not only all on the same key--a\nmonotony which one might pardon, if he was particularly\ngood-natured--but they are all on the same point in the diatonic scale.\nHowever, like many other indifferent singers that I have met in my day,\nour striped vocalist goes on with his music, as if he thought there\nnever was another, or certainly not more than one other quite as\nfinished a singer as himself. Well, the boy who is unacquainted with the\ntricks of this little fellow, as was once my own case, steals along\ncarefully toward the stump, thinking that the squirrel is so busy with\nhis music, that he is perfectly unconscious of any thing else that is\ngoing on, and that it is just the easiest matter in the world to catch\nhim. Half a dozen times, at least, I have tried this experiment, before\nI became satisfied that I was not the only interested party who was wide\nawake. \"Chip, chip, chip,\" sings the squirrel. He does not move an inch.\nHe does not vary his song. His eyes seem half closed. The boy advances\nwithin a few feet of the squirrel. He reaches out his hand to secure his\nprize, when down goes the striped vocalist into his hole, always\nuttering a sort of laugh, as he enters his door, and seeming pretty\nplainly to say, though in rather poor Anglo-Saxon, it must be confessed,\n\"No, you don't.\"\n\nWhoever takes the pains to dig into the earth, where the striped\nsquirrel has made his nest, will find something that will amply repay\nhim for his trouble. The hole goes down pretty straight for some feet;\nthen it turns, and takes a horizontal direction, and runs sometimes a\ngreat distance. Little chambers are seen leading out from this\nhorizontal passage, each chamber connected by a door with the passage,\nand sometimes with other chambers. In each of these rooms, the squirrel\nstores up different varieties of nuts and other provisions. In one you\nwill find acorns; in another hickory nuts--real shag-barks, for our\nchipping squirrel is a good judge in these matters; and in another\nchestnuts, a whole hat-full of them, sometimes. There is quite as much\norder and regularity in the store-houses of the chipping squirrel, as\nthere seems to be about the premises of some lazy and careless farmers\none meets with occasionally.\n\nAccounts are given of the ingenuity of the squirrels in Lapland, which\nwould be too astonishing for belief, were they not credited by such men\nas Linnaeus, on whose authority we have them. It seems that the squirrels\nin that country are in the habit of emigrating, in large parties, and\nthat they sometimes travel hundreds of miles in this way, and that when\nthey meet with broad or rapid lakes in their travels, they take a very\nextraordinary method of crossing them. On approaching the banks, and\nperceiving the breadth of the water, they return, as if by common\nconsent, into the neighboring forest, each in quest of a piece of bark,\nwhich answers all the purpose of boats for wafting them over. When the\nwhole company are fitted in this manner, they boldly commit their little\nfleet to the waves--every squirrel sitting on its own piece of bark, and\nfanning the air with its tail, to drive the vessel to the desired port.\nIn this orderly manner they set forward, and often cross lakes several\nmiles broad. But it occasionally happens that the poor mariners are not\naware of the dangers of their navigation; for although at the edge of\nthe water it is generally calm, in the middle it is always more rough.\nThe slightest additional gust of wind often oversets the little sailor\nand his vessel altogether. The entire navy, that perhaps but a few\nminutes before rode proudly and securely along, is now overturned, and a\nshipwreck of two or three thousand vessels is the consequence. This\nwreck, which is so unfortunate for the little animal, is generally the\nmost lucky accident in the world for the Laplander on shore; who gathers\nup the dead bodies as they are thrown in by the waves, eats the flesh,\nand sells the skins.\n\nI read an interesting story, awhile ago, which came from the Gentleman's\nMagazine, about a squirrel who was charmed by a rattle-snake. The\nsubstance of the story was something like this: A gentleman was\ntraveling by the side of a creek, where he saw a squirrel running\nbackward and forward between the creek and a large tree a few yards\ndistant. The squirrel's hair looked very rough, showing that he was very\nmuch terrified about something. His circuit became shorter and shorter,\nand the man stopped to see what could be the cause of this strange\nstate of things. He soon discovered the head and neck of a rattle-snake\npointing directly at the squirrel, through a hole of the tree, which was\nhollow. The squirrel at length gave over running, and laid himself down\nquietly, with his head close to the snake's. The snake then opened his\nmouth wide, and took in the squirrel's head; upon which the man gave the\nsnake a blow across the neck with his whip, by which the squirrel was\nreleased. You will see by this story, which comes to us well\nauthenticated, that snakes possess the power of charming, whatever some\npeople may think or say to the contrary. This is only one among a\nmultitude of facts which I could relate in proof of the existence of\nsuch a power among many of the serpent race. But we are conversing about\nquadrupeds now, and we must not go out of our way to chase after snakes.\n\nA squirrel, sitting on a hickory-tree, was once observed to weigh the\nnuts he got in each paw, to find out which were good and which were bad.\nThe light ones he invariably threw away, retaining only those which were\nheavier. It was found, on examining those he had thrown away, that he\nhad not made a mistake in a single instance. They were all bad nuts.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE GIRAFFE]\n\n\nThe Giraffe.\n\n\nLeaving our friends the squirrels, to whom we have certainly devoted\nquite sufficient attention, we pass along to quite a different race of\nanimals--that of the giraffe or camelopard. This is a noble-looking\nanimal, as you see plainly enough by the engraving. The tongue of the\ngiraffe is exquisitely contrived for grasping. In its native deserts,\nthe animal uses it to hook down branches which are beyond the reach of\nits muzzle; and in the menagerie at Regent's Park, many a fair lady has\nbeen robbed of the artificial flowers which adorned her bonnet, by the\nnimble and filching tongue of the rare object of her admiration. When\nattacked, notwithstanding the natural defence of horns and hoofs, the\ncamelopard always seeks escape in flight, and will not turn to do\nbattle except at the last extremity. In such cases, he sometimes makes a\nsuccessful defence by striking out his powerful armed feet; and the king\nof beasts is frequently repelled and disabled by the wounds which the\ngiraffe has thus inflicted with his hoofs. His horns are also used with\neffect, and a side-long sweep of his neck sometimes does fatal\nexecution.\n\nSome years ago, a giraffe was sent from Egypt to Constantinople. His\nkeeper used to exercise him in an open square, where the Turks flocked\ndaily, in great crowds, to see the extraordinary animal. Seeing how\ninoffensive he was, and how domestic he became, the keeper took the\nanimal with him through the city; and wherever he appeared, a number of\nfriendly hands were held out of the latticed windows, to offer him\nsomething to eat. When he came to a house where he had been well\ntreated, if no one was at the window, he would tap gently against the\nwooden lattice, as if to announce his visit. He was extremely docile and\naffectionate; and if left to himself, he always frequented the streets\nwhere he had the most and best friends.\n\n\n\n\nThe Monkey Tribe.\n\n\nOf course my readers are in some measure familiar with the tricks of\nthis large and notorious family of animals. But one is not easily\nwearied with their antics. They afford us, the most sober and sedate of\nus, an immense amount of material for amusement. I confess I have\nstopped in the street, many a time, to see a sage monkey go through his\ngrotesque manoeuvres, under the direction of a tutor who ground out\nmusic from a wheezing hand-organ, and have been willing to undergo the\npenance of hearing the music of the master, for the sake of witnessing\nthe genius of the pupil. I can conceive of nothing more excessively\nludicrous than many of these exhibitions. But I must not detain the\nreader from the stories any longer.\n\nA foreign gentleman of distinction having to attend the court of Louis\nXVI. of France, took with him his favorite monkey. Soon after his\narrival, he was invited to attend a great ball at Versailles; and\nanxious to perform his part with credit in that fashionable country, he\nengaged one of the first dancing-masters in the city to teach him the\nlatest mode. Every day he employed several hours in practicing his\nlessons with the tutor, so as to be _au fait_, as the French people have\nit--quite at home in the ball-room. Pug made his observations very\nattentively, watching all his motions. He also scrutinized the musician\nvery closely, as he was engaged in instructing the gentleman, and\nplaying on his violin. At the close of his lesson, the foreigner was in\nthe habit of going to his mirror, and of practicing before it, by\nhimself, for a considerable time, till he was in a measure satisfied\nwith his performances, and pretty sure, we may suppose, that he would\nmake a fine figure at court when the ball should come off. One day,\nafter the gentleman had been exercising in this manner, and had just\nleft the room, the monkey, who had been looking on with interest, as\nusual, left his post of observation, took up the violin, which had been\nleft there by the musician, and commenced playing and imitating the\ndancing of his master, before the mirror. There is no knowing how much\nof a dancer he would have become, if he had been allowed to practice as\nmuch as he desired. As it was, however, his training for the ball was\nvery suddenly terminated by the entrance of a servant into the room,\nwhile the student was in the midst of his performances.\n\nA monkey tied to a stake was robbed by the crows, in the West Indies, of\nhis food, and he conceived the following plan of punishing the thieves.\nHe feigned death, and lay perfectly motionless on the ground near to his\nstake. The birds approached by degrees, and got near enough to steal his\nfood, which he allowed them to do. This he repeated several times, till\nthey became so bold as to come within the reach of his claws. He\ncalculated his distance, and laid hold of one of them. Death was not his\nplan of punishment. He was more refined in his cruelty. He plucked every\nfeather out of the bird, and then let him go and show himself to his\ncompanions. He made a man of him according to the ancient definition of\na \"biped without feathers.\"\n\nAn organ-grinder, with his monkey, being taken before the mayor of New\nOrleans, for exhibiting themselves without a license, the monkey was so\npolite to the mayor, took off his cap and made so many bows to his\nhonor, that the two were permitted to depart in peace. It is said that\nno lawyer would have managed the case better than the monkey did.\n\nA gentleman living in Bath, England, had a monkey who used to perform a\ngreat many very amusing tricks, in imitation of his master. The\ngentleman was a great politician, and was in the habit of reading his\nnewspaper very punctually every morning, at the breakfast-table. One\nday, business having compelled him to leave the table earlier than\nusual, Pug was found, seated in his chair, with his master's spectacles\non, and the Courier newspaper upside down, reading as gravely, and with\nas much apparent interest, as the politician. Once in a while he looked\noff his paper, and chattered, and made significant gestures, as his\nmaster was in the habit of doing, when he came across any thing very\nespecially interesting.\n\nA farmer in the West Indies had planted a field with Indian corn.\nNumerous monkeys inhabited a forest near by, who had attentively\nobserved the planting process, and the method by which it was\ncultivated. They seemed to take not a little interest in the whole\nmatter. The farmer had the pleasure of seeing his crop of corn nearly\nready for harvesting. But the monkeys took care that he should not have\nthe trouble of harvesting it. One night, they issued from the forest in\nvast numbers, forming themselves into long lines between it and the\ncorn-field. All was conducted in silence. Each was intent on the\nbusiness in hand. Those in front of the lines plucked off the ears of\ncorn with great dexterity, and passed them to his nearest companion, who\nhanded them forward from one to another, till they reached the woods. In\nthis manner the work proceeded till daylight, when the slaves found the\nthieves finishing the operation. It had been a very profitable night's\nlabor for the mischievous fellows. The corn was pretty nearly all\ndisposed of. Before the owner of it could get his workmen together, with\nsuitable weapons of defence, the whole troop had disappeared in the\nforest. What a chattering there must have been among them, when they all\nmet at their rendezvous! How knowing they must have looked, as they said\none to another, \"Wasn't that thing managed pretty nicely?\"\n\nIn Sierra Leone is a species of orang-outang so strong and so\nindustrious, that, when properly trained and fed, they work like\nservants. They generally walk upright on their two hind feet. Sometimes\nthey are employed to pound substances in a mortar, and they are\nfrequently taught to go to rivers, and to bring water in small pitchers.\nThey usually carry the water on their heads. When they come to the door\nof the house, if the pitchers are not soon taken off, they let them\nfall; and when they perceive that they are broken, the poor fellows\nsometimes weep like a child, in anticipation of the flogging they are to\nreceive.\n\nBuffon saw an orang-outang that performed a multitude of funny tricks.\nHe would present his hand to lead his visitors about the room, and\npromenade as gravely as if he was one of the most important personages\nin the company. He would even sit down at table, unfold his napkin, wipe\nhis lips like any other gentleman, use a spoon or fork in carrying food\nto his mouth, pour his liquor into a glass--for it seems he had not\nbecome a convert to the principles of total abstinence--and touch his\nglass to that of the person who drank with him. When invited to take\ntea, he brought a cup and saucer, placed them on the table, put in\nsugar, poured out the tea, and after allowing it to cool, drank it with\nthe utmost propriety.\n\n[Illustration: THE ORANG-OUTANG.]\n\nIn Africa the orang-outang is a very formidable animal, and does not\nhesitate to attack men, when alone and without arms, in which cases\nhe always proves himself the victor. He sleeps under trees, and builds\nhimself a hut, which serves to protect him against the sun and the rains\nof the tropical climates. When the negroes make a fire in the woods,\nthis animal comes near and warms himself by the blaze. However, he has\nnot skill enough to keep the flame alive by feeding it with fuel. They\neven attack the elephant, which they beat with their clubs, and oblige\nto leave that part of the forest which they claim as their own. When one\nof these animals dies, the rest cover the body with a quantity of leaves\nand branches. They sometimes show mercy to the human species. A negro\nboy, it is said, that was taken by one of them and carried into the\nwoods, continued there a whole year, without receiving any injury. It is\nsaid, indeed, that they often attempt to surprise the negroes as they go\ninto the woods, and sometimes keep them against their will, for the\npleasure of their company, feeding them very plentifully all the time.\nIn respect to this latter statement, however, I confess myself a little\nskeptical. There have been a great many well-told stories about men of\nthe woods, which have proved to be altogether fabulous, when the true\nstate of the case has become known.\n\nThere were two monkeys, one of which was peculiarly mischievous, and\nthe other pretty civil and good-natured, on board of the same ship. One\nday, when the sea ran very high, the former prevailed on the other to go\naloft with him, when he drew her attention to an object at a distance,\nand when she turned to look at it, he hit her a blow with his paw, and\nthrew her into the sea, where she was drowned. This act seemed to afford\nthe rascal a great deal of gratification. He came down to the deck of\nthe vessel, chattering at the top of his voice, he was so happy.\n\nLe Vaillant, a French traveler in Africa, says of a tame baboon, which\nfollowed him in his rambles, \"One day, a gentleman, wishing to put the\nfidelity of the animal to the test, pretended to strike me. At this the\nmonkey flew into a violent rage, and from that time, he could never\nendure the sight of the man. If he only saw him at a distance, he began\nto cry and to make all sorts of grimaces, which evidently showed that he\nwished to revenge the insult that had been done to me. He ground his\nteeth, and endeavored, with all his might, to fly at his face.\"\n\nHere is a story of a monkey who made a fool of himself, and of a British\nsoldier at the same time. During the period of the siege of Gibraltar,\nwhen England and Spain were at war in 1779, the English fleet being at\nthe time absent, an attack from the enemy was daily expected. One dark\nnight, a sentinel, whose post was near a tower facing the Spanish lines,\nwas standing, at the end of his walk, whistling, looking toward the\nenemy, his head filled with fire, and sword, and glory. By the side of\nhis box stood a deep, narrow-necked earthen jar, in which was the\nremainder of his supper, consisting of boiled peas. A large monkey--of\nwhich there were plenty at Gibraltar--encouraged by the man's absence,\nand allured by the smell of the peas, ventured to the jar; and in\nendeavoring to get at its contents, thrust his head so far into the\nvessel that he was not able to get it out again. At this moment, the\nsoldier approached. The monkey started, in alarm, with the jar on his\nhead. This terrible monster frightened the poor soldier half out of his\nwits. He thought it was a bloodthirsty Spanish grenadier, with a most\nprodigious cap on his head. So he fired his musket, like any other\nvaliant soldier, roaring out, as loud as he could, that the enemy had\nscaled the walls. The guards took the alarm; the drums were beaten;\nsignal guns discharged, and in less than ten minutes the whole garrison\nwere under arms. The supposed grenadier, being very uncomfortable in his\ncap, was soon overtaken and seized; and by his capture, the\ntranquillity of the garrison, as the reader might rationally conjecture,\nwas speedily restored, without any of the bloodshed which the sagacious\nsentinel so much feared.\n\nA clergyman in England, of some distinction, had a tame baboon, who was\nvery fond of him, and whenever he could get a chance, followed him in\nthe street. When he went to church, however, to perform the service, he\npreferred, of course, that his monkey should stay at home, and used to\nconfine him accordingly. One Sabbath morning the animal escaped, and\nfollowed his master to the church; and silently mounting the\nsounding-board over the minister's head, he lay perfectly still till the\nsermon commenced. Then he crept to the edge, where he could see his\nmaster, and imitated his gestures in such a droll and amusing manner,\nthat the entire congregation began to laugh. The minister, who did not\nsee his favorite monkey, and who was surprised and confounded at this\nunaccountable levity, rebuked the audience, but to no effect. The people\nstill laughed, and the preacher, in the warmth of his zeal, redoubled\nhis earnestness and action. The consequence was that the ape became more\nanimated too, and increased the number and violence of his gestures.\nThe congregation could no longer restrain themselves, and burst into a\nlong and loud roar of laughter.\n\nSome of the ape-catchers of Africa have a very queer way of securing\nthese animals. It is said that they take a vessel filled with water out\ninto the woods with them, and wash their hands and faces in the water.\nThe apes see this operation. Afterward, the natives throw out the water\nin which they washed, and supply its place by a solution of glue. Then\nthey leave the spot, and the apes come down from the trees, and wash\nthemselves, in the same manner as they have seen the men wash. The\nconsequence is, that the poor fellows get their eyes glued together so\nfast that they cannot open them, and so being unable to see their way to\nescape, they fall into the hands of their enemies.\n\n\n\n\nThe Zebra.\n\n\nProbably there is no animal so beautiful, and that possesses so much\nability for being serviceable to man, that is nevertheless so useless,\nexcept for its beauty, as the zebra. One would suppose, to look at the\nfellow--and doubtless this is the fact--that he could perform much of\nthe labor of the horse. But he is generally quite indisposed to any such\nroutine of employment. He is very fond of his own way--so fond of it,\nindeed, that the most patient and persevering efforts to teach him to\nchange it are generally almost fruitless. The entire race are any thing\nbut docile. They are tamed, so as to obey the bridle, only with great\ndifficulty; and their obedience is rather imperfect, at best. Bingley\nmentions one which was brought from the Cape of Good Hope to the\ntower of London, in 1803, who was more docile and kindly disposed than\nmost of the species. When in pretty good humor, this animal would carry\nher keeper from fifty to a hundred yards; but he could never prevail\nupon her to go any farther. He might beat her as much as he pleased; she\nwould not budge an inch, but would rear up and kick, until her rider was\nobliged to get off. When she got angry, as she did sometimes, she would\nplunge at her keeper, and on one occasion she seized him by the coat,\nthrew him upon the ground, and would undoubtedly have killed him, had he\nnot been very active, so that he got out of her reach.\n\n[Illustration: THE ZEBRA.]\n\nThe most docile zebra on record was one that was burned, accidentally,\nin England, several years ago, with several other animals belonging to a\nlyceum. This animal allowed his keeper to use great familiarities with\nhim--to put children on his back, even, without showing any resentment.\nOn one occasion, a person rode on his back a mile or two. This zebra had\nbeen raised in Portugal.\n\n\n\n\nThe Ox and Cow.\n\n\n[Illustration: COWS TAKING THEIR COMFORT.]\n\nCan any body imagine a more perfect picture of quiet contentment, than a\ncompany of cows that have finished their toils for the day, and have\ncome at early evening to chew their cud, and to reward their patrons for\nthe supply of green grass that has been afforded them? There are two\nsuch amiable cows represented in the engraving on the opposite page. The\nartist has portrayed them standing before a huge pottery, where they\nseem to be very much at home, and at peace with all the world. Their\nthoughts--if they have any, and doubtless they have, a good many of\nthem--are those of the most tranquil and placid nature. Perhaps they are\nedifying each other with reflections on the great advantages of the\nmechanic arts, and the art of making earthen ware in particular. The old\ncow is a genuine philosopher. She makes the best of every thing. Seldom,\nvery seldom, does she allow herself to get excited. As for being angry,\nshe makes such a bungling piece of work of it, whenever she does indulge\nin a little peevishness, that she seems to cool off at once, from the\nvery idea of the ludicrous figure she makes. Generally, she takes the\nworld easy. Her troubles are few. If the flies bite her--and they take\nthat liberty sometimes--she leisurely employs a wand she has at command,\nand brushes them off. Nervous and excitable men might undoubtedly learn\na lesson from the philosophical old cow, if they would go to school to\nher. They might learn that the true way to go through the world, is to\nkeep tolerably cool, and not to be breaking their heads against every\nstone wall that happens to lie between them and the object of their\ndesire.\n\nThere are many anecdotes which prove that the ox and cow have a musical\near, as the phrase is. Professor Bell says that he has often, when a\nboy, tried the effect of the music of the flute on cows, and always\nobserved that it produced great apparent enjoyment. Instances have been\nknown of the fiercest bulls having been subdued and calmed into\ngentleness, by music of a plaintive kind.\n\nThere is a laughable story told of the effect of music on a bull. A\nfiddler, residing in the country, not far from Liverpool, was returning,\nat three o'clock in the morning, with his instrument, from a place where\nhe had been engaged in his accustomed vocation. He had occasion to cross\na field where there were some cows and a rather saucy bull. The latter\ntook it into his head to assault the fiddler, who tried to escape. He\ndid not succeed, however. The bull was wide awake, and could not let the\ngentleman off so cheap. The poor fellow then attempted to climb a tree.\nBut the enraged animal would not permit him to do that. The fiddler, who\nhad heard something about the wonderful power of music in subduing the\nrage of some of the lower animals, thinking of nothing else that he\ncould do for his protection, got behind the tree, and commenced playing,\nliterally for his life. Strange as it may appear, the animal was calmed\nat once, and appeared to be delighted with the music. By and by, the\nfiddler, finding that his enemy was entirely pacified, stopped playing,\nand started homeward, as fast as his legs would carry him. But the bull\nwould not allow him to escape, and made after him. The poor fellow,\nfearing he should be killed, stopped, and went to fiddling again. The\nanimal was pacified, as before. Our hero then plied the bow until his\narm ached, and seizing, as he supposed, a favorable opportunity, he made\nanother effort to run away. He was probably not accustomed to fiddle\nwithout pay, and he was pretty sure the customer he was now playing for\nintended to get his music for nothing. Well, the fiddler was no more\nsuccessful this time than he was before. The fury of the bull returned,\nas soon as the strains ceased; and at last, the poor man surrendered\nhimself to his fate, and actually played for the bull until six\no'clock--about three hours in all--when some people came to his rescue.\nHe must have been pretty well convinced, I think, while he was\nentertaining the bull in that manner, that\n\n\"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Lama.\n\n\nThis animal, which belongs to the same family with the camel, is a\nnative of some parts of South America, and is used as a beast of burden.\nHe is capable of carrying from one hundred to one hundred and fifty\npounds, and on the steep places where he is usually employed, will walk\nwith his load twelve or fifteen miles a day. When lamas get weary, it is\nsaid they will stop, and scarcely any severity can compel them to go on.\nSome of the accounts of these singular animals represent them as having\na bad trick of _spitting_, when they do not like their treatment. In\nthis respect, they resemble a great many strange sort of men I have met\nwith on our side of the equator, who will spit from morning till night,\nsometimes on the carpet, too, on account of a very nauseous weed they\nhave in their mouths--with this difference, however, that the lamas spit\nwhen they are displeased only, and the men spit all the time.\n\nSome one who has been familiar with the animal in South America, and who\nhas seen it a great deal in use among the Indians there, presents a very\ninteresting account of its nature and habits. He says, \"The lama is the\nonly animal associated with man, and undebased by the contact. The lama\nwill bear neither beating nor ill treatment. They go in troops, an\nIndian going a long distance ahead as a guide. If tired, they stop, and\nthe Indian stops also. If the delay is great, the Indian, becoming\nuneasy toward sunset, resolves on supplicating the beasts to resume\ntheir journey. If the lamas are disposed to continue their course, they\nfollow the Indian in good order, at a regular pace, and very fast, for\ntheir legs are very long; but when they are in ill-humor, they do not\neven turn their heads toward the speaker, but remain motionless,\nstanding or lying down, and gazing on heaven with looks so tender, so\nmelancholy, that we might imagine these singular animals had the\nconsciousness of a happier existence. If it happens--which is very\nseldom--that an Indian wishes to obtain, either by force or threats,\nwhat the lama will not willingly perform, the instant the animal finds\nhimself affronted by word or gesture, he raises his head with dignity,\nor, without attempting to escape ill treatment by flight, he lies down,\nhis looks turned toward heaven; large tears flow from his beautiful\neyes; and frequently, in less than an hour, he dies.\"\n\n\n[Illustration: THE END.]\n\n\n\n\n     *     *     *     *     *     *     *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n   The caption of the illustration in \"The Goat\", shown in the\n   List of Illustrations and above as \"THE WONDERFUL FEAT OF THE\n   GOAT.\", was \"THE ARAB AND HIS GOAT.\" in the printed illustration.","title":"Stories about Animals: with Pictures to Match","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":52946}