ROUND-ABOUT RAMBLES In Lands of FACT AND FANCY BY FRANK R STOCKTON _NEW EDITION_ NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1910 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, BY SCRIBNER. ARMSTRONG & CO. , In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. CONTENTS WINTER IN THE WOODS TRICKS OF LIGHT SAVING THE TOLL THE REAL KING OF BEASTS THE FRENCH SOLDIER-BOY A LIVELY WAY TO RING A BELL DOWN IN THE EARTH THE LION BOB'S HIDING-PLACE THE CONTINENTAL SOLDIER A JUDGE OF MUSIC THE SENSITIVE PLANT SIR MARMADUKE THE GIRAFFE UP IN THE AIR THE ARABIAN HORSE INDIAN-PUDDINGS: PUMPKIN-PIES LIVING IN SMOKE THE CANNON OF THE PALAIS-ROYAL WATERS, DEEP AND SHALLOW HANS THE HERB-GATHERER SOME CUNNING INSECTS A FIRST SIGHT OF THE SEA THE LARGEST CHURCH IN THE WORLD THE SOFT PLACE A FEW FEATHERED FRIENDS IN A WELL A VEGETABLE GAS MANUFACTORY ABOUT BEARS AN OLD COUNTRY-HOUSE FAR-AWAY FORESTS BUILDING SHIPS THE ORANG-OUTANG LITTLE BRIDGET'S BATH SOME NOVEL FISHING EAGLES AND LITTLE GIRLS CLIMBING MOUNTAINS ANDREW'S PLAN THE WILD ASS ANCIENT RIDING BEAUTIFUL BUGS A BATTLE ON STILTS DRAWING THE LONG BOW AN ANCIENT THEATRE BIRD CHAT MUMMIES TAME SNAKES GYMNASTICS BUYING "THE MIRROR" BIG GAME THE BOOTBLACK'S DOG GOING AFTER THE COWS THE REFLECTIVE STAG WHEN WE MUST NOT BELIEVE OUR EYES A CITY UNDER THE GROUND THE COACHMAN GEYSERS, AND HOW THEY WORK A GIANT PUFF-BALL TICKLED BY A STRAW THE LIGHT IN THE CASTLE THE OAK TREE THE SEA-SIDE THE SICK PIKE TWO KINDS OF BLOSSOMS ABOUT GLASS CARL SCHOOL'S OUT NEST-BUILDERS THE BOOMERANG LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS _Frontispiece. _ The Woodcutter The Minstrel on the Wall Tricks in a Church The Dance of Demons Nostradamus The Lion's Head The Theatrical Ghost The Toll-bridge A Royal Procession An Elephant after Him The Dog's Protector An Elephant Nurse Saving the Artillery-man The Gallant Elephant The French Soldier-Boy On a Bell Fishes found in the Mammoth Cave The Bottomless Pit The Lion's Home The Uncaged Lion A Lion's Dinner A Terrible Companion Off to the Kitchen Blind Man's Buff The Story-Teller In the Cellar Handing round the Apples The Drummer of 1776 The Continental Soldier The Donkey in the Parlor Sir Marmaduke The Giraffe Above the Clouds The Flying Man The Parachute--shut The Parachute--open Le Flesseles Bagnolet's Balloon Coming down Roughly A Balloon with Sails and Rudders The Minerva Safe Ballooning Driven out to Sea The Arabian Horse In the Cornfield A Big Mosquito Exactly Noon The Spring The Brook The Mill The Cascade The Great River Falls of Gavarni The Falls of Zambesi Niagara Fishing with a Net Fishing with a Spear Sponge-Fishing A Pearl Oyster Divers Rough Water The Iceberg The Storm The Shipwreck Water-Spouts A Bit of Cable Hans, the Herb-Gatherer Patsey A Spider at Home The Ant's Arch The Cock-chafer's Wing The Spider's Bridge The Moth and the Bees Learned Fleas The Pacific St. Peter's at Rome Interior of St. Peter's The Five Young Deer Waking Up Familiar Friends The Pigeon The Dove The Swan The Goose that Led The Goose that Followed The Sensible Duck The Goldfinch The Magpie The Owl Morning Singers In a Well The Fraxinella A Company of Bears The Black Bear The Grizzly Bear The White Bear The Tame Bear An old Country-House Ancient Builders The Pine Forest Tree Ferns Tropical Forest The Giant Trees The Great Eastern The Orang-Outang Bridget and the Fairies Flat-Fish Turbots The Sea-Horse The Cuttle-Fish The Polypier Tunnies The Sword-Fish The Shark The Child and the Eagle Climbing the Mountain Andrew and Jenny Wild Asses The Palanquin The Chariot Transformation of Beetles A Battle on Stilts Drawing the Long Bow The Colosseum The Cormorants The Bittern The Pelican The Hoopoe The Falcon The Mummy The Stand The Coffin The Outside Coffin The Sarcophagus The Tame Snake The Novel Team Youngsters Fighting Throwing the Hammer Throwing the Stone Thomas Topham Venetian Acrobats The Tight-Rope The See-Saw The Wild Boar The Musk-Ox and the Sailor Hunting the Brown Bear A Brave Hippopotamus A Rhinocerus Turning the Table A Tiger-Hunt A Fight with a Gorilla The Boot-black's Dog Going after the Cows The Reflective Stag The Mirage Fata Morgana The Spectre of the Brocken A Narrow Street in Pompeii A Cleared Street in Pompeii The Atrium in the House of Pansa Ornaments from Pompeii A Pompeiian Bakery The Amphitheatre of Pompeii The Coachman The Grand Geyser The Artificial Geyser A Giant Puff-ball Tickled by a Straw The Will-o'-the-Wisp The Oak Tree The Sea-Side The Vessels on Shore The Sick Pike The Blossoms Ice-Blossoms Ice-Flowers Ancient Bead Venetian Bottle German Drinking-Glass Glass Jug Making Bottles Venetian Goblet Modern Goblets The Queen's Mirror Bohemian Goblet French Flagon The Portland Vase The Strange Lady Carl and the Duke The Dominie Wrens' Nests Orioles' Nest Owl's Nests Flamingoes' Nests The little Grebe's Nest The Ostrich-Nest The Stork's Nest A Fish's Nest Throwing the Boomerang The Way the Boomerang Goes PREFACE Come along, boys and girls! We are off on our rambles. But please donot ask me where we are going. It would delay us very much if I shouldpostpone our start until I had drawn you a map of the route, with allthe stopping-places set down. We have far to go, and a great many things to see, and it may be thatsome of you will be very tired before we get through. If so, I shall be sorry; but it will be a comfort to think that noneof us need go any farther than we choose. There will be considerable variety in our rambles. We shall walk aboutfamiliar places, and we shall explore streets and houses that havebeen buried for centuries. We shall go down deep into the earth, andwe shall float in a balloon, high up into the air. We shall see manybeasts of the forest; some that are bloody and cruel, and others thatare gentle and wise. We will meet with birds, fishes, grand oldbuildings, fleas, vast woods, bugs, mummies, snakes, tight-ropedancers, gorillas, will-o'-the-wisps, beautiful blossoms, boomerangs, oceans, birds' nests, and I cannot tell you what all besides. We willalso have some adventures, hear some stories, and have a peep at afairy or two before we are done. I shall not, however, be able to go with you everywhere. When you areenjoying a "Bird Chat;" "Buying the Mirror;" learning when "We mustnot Believe our Eyes;" visiting "A City under the Ground;" hearing of"The Coachman's" troubles; sitting under "The Oak-tree;" finding outwonderful things "About Glass;" watching what happens when "School'sOut;" or following the fortunes of "Carl, " your guide will be a lady, and I think that you will all agree that she knows very well where sheought to go, and how to get there. The rest of the time you will bewith me. And now, having talked enough, suppose we start. WINTER IN THE WOODS [Illustration] What can be more delightful, to a boy of spirit, than a day in thewoods when there has been a good snow! If he also happens to have agood friend or two, and some good dogs (who are just as likely to befriends as his boy-companions), he ought to be much happier than anordinary king. A forest is a fine place at any time, but when theground is well covered with snow--especially if there is a hard crustupon it--the woods seem to possess a peculiar charm. You can goanywhere then. In the summer, the thick undergrowth, the intertwining vines, and theheavy lower branches of the trees, make it difficult even to see intothe dark recesses of the forest. But in the winter all is open. Thelow wet places, the deep holes, the rotten bogs, everything on theground that is in the way of a good run and a jump, is covered up. Youdo not walk a hundred yards under the bare branches of the treesbefore up starts a rabbit, or a hare, if you would rather call him byhis right name, --and away go the dogs, and away you go--all of youtearing along at the top of your speed! But poor Bunny has a small chance, when a hard snow is on the ground. His hiding-places are all covered up, and before he knows it the dogshave caught him, and your mother will have stewed rabbit for supper. It seems a hard fate for the poor little fellow, but he was bornpartly for that purpose. When you have caught your rabbit, and come back to where the men arecutting wood, you will be just as proud to tell the boy who is cuttingup the branches all about your splendid hunt, as if you had chased andkilled a stag. "There's where we started him!" you will cry, "and away he scudded, over there among the chestnuts, and Rover right at his heels, and whenwe got down there to the creek, Rover turned heels-over-head on theice, he was going so fast; but I gave one slide right across, and justup there, by the big walnut, the other two dogs got him!" That boy is almost as much excited as you are, and he would drop hisaxe in one minute, and be off with you on another chase, if his fatherwere not there. And now you find that you have reached the wood-cutters exactly intime, for that great tree is just about to come down. There go the top-branches, moving slowly along through the tops of theother trees, and now they move faster, and everything begins to crack;and, with a rush and a clatter of breaking limbs, the great oak comescrashing down; jarring the very earth beneath your feet, and makingthe snow fly about like a sparkling cloud, while away run the dogs, with their tails between their legs. The tree is down now, and you will want to be home in time for dinner. Farmer Brown's sled has just passed, and if you will cut across thewoods you can catch up with him, and have a ride home, and tell himall about the rabbit-hunt, on the way. If it is Saturday, and a holiday, you will be out again thisafternoon, with some of the other boys, perhaps, and have a grandhunt. Suppose it is snowing, what will you care? You will not mind the snowany more than if it were a shower of blossoms from the apple-trees inMay. TRICKS OF LIGHT. [Illustration] There is nothing more straightforward in its ways than light--when welet it alone. But, like many of us, when it is introduced to theinventions and contrivances of the civilized world, it often becomesexceedingly fond of vagaries and extravagances. Of all the companions of light which endeavor to induce it to forsakeits former simple habits, there is not one which has the influencepossessed by glass. When light and glass get together it is difficultto divine what tricks they are going to perform. But some of these arevery interesting, if they are a little wild, and there are very few ofus who do not enjoy them. [Illustration] For instance, what a delight to any company, be it composed of youngfolks or old, is a magic-lantern! The most beautiful and the mostabsurd pictures may be made to appear upon the wall or screen. Butthere is an instrument, called the phantasmagoria, which is reallynothing but an improved magic-lantern, which is capable of producingmuch more striking effects. It is a much larger instrument than theother, and when it is exhibited a screen is placed between it and thespectators, so that they do not see how the pictures are produced. Itis mounted on castors, so that at times it can be brought nearer andnearer to the screen, until the picture seems to enlarge and grow in awonderful manner. Then, when it is drawn back, the image diminishesand recedes far into the distance. The lenses and other mechanism ofthe phantasmagoria can also be moved in various directions, making theaction of the pictures still more wonderful. Sometimes, when theinstrument is exhibited in public, the screen is not used, but thepictures are thrown upon a cloud of smoke, which is itself almostinvisible in the dim light of the room. In such a case the figuresseem as if they were floating in the air. A man, named Robertson, once gave exhibitions in Paris, in an oldchapel, and at the close of his performances he generally caused agreat skeleton figure of Death to appear among the pillars and arches. Many of the audience were often nearly scared to death by thisapparition. The more ignorant people of Paris who attended theseexhibitions, could not be persuaded, when they saw men, women, andanimals walking about in the air between the arches of the chapel, that Robertson was not a magician, although he explained to them thatthe images were nothing but the effect of a lantern and some glasslenses. When these people could see that the figures were produced ona volume of smoke, they were still more astonished and awed, for theythought that the spirits arose from the fire which caused the smoke. But Robertson had still other means of exhibiting the tricks of light. Opposite is a picture of the "Dance of Demons. " This delusion is very simple indeed, and is produced by placing acard-figure on a screen, and throwing shadows from this upon anotherscreen, by means of several lights, held by assistants. Thus eachlight throws its own shadow, and if the candles are moved up and down, and about, the shadows will dance, jump over each other, and do allsorts of wonderful things. Robertson, and other public exhibitors, hadquite complicated arrangements of this kind, but they all acted on thesame principle. But all of those who exhibit to the public the freaksof light are not as honest as Mr. Robertson. You may have heard ofNostradamus, who also lived in Paris, but long before Robertson, andwho pretended to be a magician. Among other things, he asserted thathe could show people pictures of their future husbands or wives. Mariede Medicis, a celebrated princess of the time, came to him on thissensible errand, and he, being very anxious to please her, showed her, in a looking-glass, the reflected image of Henry of Navarre, sittingupon the throne of France. This, of course, astonished the princessvery much, but it need not astonish us, if we carefully examine thepicture of that conjuring scene. [Illustration] The mirror into which the lady was to look, was in a room adjoiningthat in which Henry was sitting on the throne. It was placed at suchan angle that her face would not be reflected in it, but an aperturein the wall allowed the figure of Henry to be reflected from alooking-glass, hung near the ceiling, down upon the "magic" mirror. So, of course, she saw his picture there, and believed entirely in theold humbug, Nostradamus. [Illustration] But there are much simpler methods by which the vagaries of light maybe made amusing, and among the best of these are what are called"Chinese shadows. " These require a little ingenuity, but they arecertainly simple enough. They consist of nothing but a card or paper, upon which the lights of the picture intended to be represented arecut out. When this is held between a candle and a wall, a startlingshadow-image may be produced, which one would not imagine to have anyconnection with the card, unless he had studied the manner in whichsaid card was cut. Here is a picture of a company amusing themselveswith these cards. No one would suppose that the card which the youngman is holding in his hand bore the least resemblance to a lion'shead, but there is no mistaking the shadow on the wall. [Illustration] The most wonderful public exhibitions of optical illusions have beenthose in which a real ghost or spectre apparently moves across thestage of a theatre. This has frequently been done in late years, bothin this country and Europe. The audiences were perfectly amazed to seea spirit suddenly appear, walk about the stage, and act like a regularghost, who did not seem to be in the least disturbed when an actorfired a pistol at him, or ran him through with a sword. The method ofproducing this illusion is well shown in the accompanying picture. Alarge plate of glass is placed in front of the stage so that theaudience does not perceive it. The edges of it must be concealed bycurtains, which are not shown in the picture. An actor, dressed as aghost, walks in front of the stage below its level, where he is notseen by the audience, and a strong electric light being thrown uponhim, his reflected image appears to the spectator as if it werewalking about on the stage. When the light is put out of course thespirit instantly vanishes. [Illustration] A very amusing account is given of a man who was hired to do some workabout a theatre. He had finished his work for the present, and wishingto eat his supper, which he had brought with him, he chose a nicequiet place under the stage, where he thought he would not bedisturbed. Not knowing that everything was prepared for theappearance of a ghost, he sat down in front of the electric lamp, andas soon as it was lighted the audience was amazed to see, sitting verycomfortably in the air above the stage, a man in his shirt-sleeves, eating bread and cheese! Little did he think, when he heard theaudience roaring with laughter, that they were laughing at his ghost! Light plays so many tricks with our eyes and senses that it ispossible to narrate but a few of them here. But those that I havementioned are enough to show us what a wild fellow he is, especiallywhere he and glass get frolicking together. SAVING THE TOLL. [Illustration] When I was a youngster and lived in the country, there were three ofus boys who used to go very frequently to a small village about a milefrom our homes. To reach this village it was necessary to cross anarrow river, and there was a toll-bridge for that purpose. The tollfor every foot-passenger who went over this bridge was one cent. Now, this does not seem like a very high charge, but, at that time, we veryoften thought that we would much rather keep our pennies to spend inthe village than to pay them to the old man who took toll on thebridge. But it was often necessary for us to cross the river, and todo so, and save our money at the same time, we used to adopt a veryhazardous expedient. At a short distance below the toll-bridge there was a railroad-bridge, which you cannot see in the picture. This bridge was not intended foranything but railroad trains; it was very high above the water, itwas very long, and it was not floored. When any one stood on thecross-ties which supported the rails, he could look right down intothe water far below him. For the convenience of the railroad-men andothers who sometimes were obliged to go on the bridge, there was asingle line of boards placed over the ties at one side of the track, and there was a slight hand-rail put up at that side of the bridge. To save our pennies we used to cross this bridge, and every time wedid so we risked our lives. We were careful, however, not to go on the bridge at times when atrain might be expected to cross it, for when the cars passed us, wehad much rather be on solid ground. But one day, when we had forgottenthe hour; or a train was behind, or ahead of time; or an extra trainwas on the road--we were crossing this railroad bridge, and had justabout reached the middle of it, when we heard the whistle of alocomotive! Looking up quickly, we saw a train, not a quarter of amile away, which was coming towards us at full speed. We stoodparalyzed for a moment. We did not know what to do. In a minute, orless, the train would be on the bridge and we had not, or thought wehad not, time to get off of it, whether we went forward or backward. But we could not stand on that narrow path of boards while the trainwas passing. The cars would almost touch us. What could we do? Ibelieve that if we had had time, we would have climbed down on thetrestle-work below the bridge, and so let the train pass over us. Butwhatever could be done must be done instantly, and we could think ofnothing better than to get outside of the railing and hold on as wellas we could. In this position we would, at any rate, be far enoughfrom the cars to prevent them from touching us. So out we got, andstood on the ends of the timbers, holding fast to the slenderhand-rail. And on came the train! When the locomotive first touchedthe bridge we could feel the shock, and as it came rattling andgrinding over the rails towards us--coming right on to us, as itseemed--our faces turned pale, you may well believe. But the locomotive did not run off the track just at that exact spotwhere we were standing--a catastrophe which, I believe, in the bottomof our hearts, every one of us feared. It passed on, and the traincame thundering after it. How dreadfully close those cars did come tous! How that bridge did shake and tremble in every timber; and how wetrembled for fear we should be shaken off into the river so far belowus! And what an enormously long train it was! I suppose that it took, really, but a very short time to pass, but it seemed to us as if therewas no end to it at all, and as if it would never, never get entirelyover that bridge! But it did cross at last, and went rumbling away into the distance. Then we three, almost too much frightened to speak to each other, crept under the rail and hurried over the bridge. All that anxiety, that fright, that actual misery of mind, andpositive danger of body, to save one cent apiece! But we never saved any more money in that way. When we crossed theriver after that, we went over the toll-bridge, and we paid ourpennies, like other sensible people. Had it been positively necessary for us to have crossed that river, and had there been no other way for us to do it but to go over therailroad bridge, I think we might have been called brave boys, for thebridge was very high above the water, and a timid person would havebeen very likely to have been frightened when he looked down at hisfeet, and saw how easy it would be for him to make a misstep and gotumbling down between the timbers. But, as there was no necessity or sufficient reason for our riskingour lives in that manner, we were nothing more or less than threelittle fools! It would be well if all boys or girls, to whom a hazardous featpresents itself, would ask themselves the question: "Would it be abrave thing for me to do that, or would I be merely proving myself asimpleton?" THE REAL KING OF BEASTS. [Illustration: A ROYAL PROCESSION. ] For many centuries there has been a usurper on the throne of theBeasts. That creature is the Lion. But those who take an interest in the animal kingdom (and I am verysorry for those who do not) should force the Lion to take off thecrown, put down the sceptre, and surrender the throne to the real Kingof Beasts--the Elephant. There is every reason why this high honor should be accorded to theElephant. In the first place, he is physically superior to the Lion. An Elephant attacked by a Lion could dash his antagonist to the groundwith his trunk, run him through with his tusks, and trample him todeath under his feet. The claws and teeth of the Lion would make noimpression of any consequence on the Elephant's thick skin and massivemuscles. If the Elephant was to decide his claim to the throne by dintof fighting for it, the Lion would find himself an ex-king in a veryshort time. But the Elephant is too peaceful to assert his right inthis way--and, what is more, he does not suppose that any one couldeven imagine a Lion to be his superior. He never had such an ideahimself. But besides his strength of body, the Elephant is superior inintelligence to all animals, except the dog and man. He is said bynaturalists to have a very fine brain, considering that he is only abeast. His instinct seems to rise on some occasions almost to thelevel of our practical reasoning, and the stories which are told ofhis smartness are very many indeed. But no one can assert that the Lion has any particular intelligence. To be sure, there have been stories told of his generosity, but theyare not many, and they are all very old. The Elephant proves hispre-eminence as a thinking beast every day. We see him veryfrequently in menageries, and we can judge of what he is capable. Wesee the Lion also, and we very soon find out what he can do. He canlie still and look grave and majestic; he can jump about in his cage, if he has been trained; and he can eat! He is certainly great in thatrespect. We all know a great deal about the Elephant, how he is caught andtamed, and made the servant and sometimes the friend of man. This, however, seldom happens but in India. In Africa they do not often tameElephants, as they hunt them generally for the sake of their ivory, and the poor beasts are killed by hundreds and hundreds so that we mayhave billiard-balls, knife-handles, and fine-tooth combs. Rut whether the Elephant is wanted as a beast of burden, or it is onlyhis great tusks that are desired, it is no joke to hunt him. He willnot attack a man without provocation (except in very rare cases); whenhe does get in a passion it is time for the hunter to look out for hisprecious skin. If the man is armed with a gun, he must take the bestof aim, and his bullets must be like young cannon-balls, for theElephant's head is hard and his skin is tough. If the hunter is on ahorse, he need not suppose that he can escape by merely putting hissteed to its best speed. The Elephant is big and awkward-looking, buthe gets over the ground in a very rapid manner. Here is an illustration of an incident in which a boy found out, ingreat sorrow and trepidation, how fast an Elephant can run. This boy was one of the attendants of the Duke of Edinburgh, one ofQueen Victoria's sons, who was hunting Elephants in Africa. TheElephants which the party were after on that particular day had gotout of the sight of the hunters, and this boy, being mounted on ahorse, went to look them up. It was not long before he found them, and he also found much more than he had bargained for. He found thatone of the big fellows was very much inclined to hunt _him_ and hecame riding out of the forest as hard as he could go, with a greatElephant full tilt after him. Fortunately for the boy, the Duke wasready with his gun, and when the Elephant came dashing up he put twoballs into his head. The great beast dropped mortally wounded, and theboy was saved. I don't believe that he was so curious about thewhereabouts of Elephants after that. [Illustration] When the Elephant is desired as a servant, he is captured in variousways. Sometimes he is driven into great pens; sometimes he tumblesinto pitfalls, and sometimes tame Elephants coax him into traps, andfondle and amuse him while their masters tie up his legs with strongropes. The pitfalls are not favorite methods of capturing Elephants. Besides the injury that may be done to the animal, other beasts mayfall into and disturb the trap, and even men may find themselves atthe bottom of a great deep hole when they least expect it, for the topis very carefully covered over with sticks and leaves, so as to lookas much as possible like the surrounding ground. Du Chaillu, who was agreat hunter in Africa, once fell down one of these pits, and it was along time before he could make anybody hear him and come and help himout. If an Elephant had happened to put his foot on the covering ofthat hole while Du Chaillu was down there, the hunter would have foundhimself very much crowded. When the Elephant is caught, he is soon tamed and trained, and then hegoes to work to make himself useful, if there is anything for him todo. And it is when he becomes the servant and companion of man that wehave an opportunity of seeing what a smart fellow he is. It is sometimes hard to believe all that we hear of the Elephant'scleverness and sagacity, but we know that most of the stories we hearabout him are true. For instance, an Elephant which was on exhibition in this country hada fast and true friend, a little dog. One day, when these animals weretemporarily residing in a barn, while on their march from one town toanother, the Elephant heard some men teasing the dog, just outside ofthe barn. The rough fellows made the poor little dog howl and yelp, asthey persecuted him by all sorts of mean tricks and ill usage. Whenthe Elephant heard the cries of his friend he became very muchworried, and when at last he comprehended that the dog was beingbadly treated, he lifted up his trunk and just smashed a great hole inthe side of the barn, making the stones and boards fly before him. [Illustration] When the men saw this great head sticking out through the side of thebarn, and that great long trunk brandishing itself above their heads, they thought it was time to leave that little dog alone. Here, again, is an Elephant story which is almost as tough as theanimal's hide, but we have no right to disbelieve it, for it is toldby very respectable writers. During the war between the East Indiannatives and the English, in 1858, there was an Elephant named KudabarMoll the Second, --his mother having been a noted Elephant namedKudabar Moll. This animal belonged to the British army, and his dutywas to carry a cannon on his back. In this way he became very familiarwith artillery. During a battle, when his cannon was posted on abattery, and was blazing away at the enemy, the good Kudabar wasstanding, according to custom, a few paces in the rear of the gunners. But the fire became very hot on that battery, and very soon most ofthe gunners were shot down, so that there was no one to pass thecartridges from the ammunition wagon to the artillery-men. Perceivingthis, Kudabar, without being ordered, took the cartridges from thewagon, and passed them, one by one, to the gunner. Very soon, however, there were only three men left, and these, just as they had loadedtheir cannon for another volley, fell killed or wounded, almost at thesame moment. One of them, who held a lighted match in his hand, calledas he fell to the Elephant and handed him the match. The intelligentKudabar took the match in his trunk, stepped up to the cannon, andfired it off! He was then about to apply the match to others, when re-enforcementscame up, and his services as an artillery-man were no longer required. I cannot help thinking, that if that Elephant had been furnished witha pen and ink, he might possibly have written a very good account ofthe battle. But few stories are quite as wonderful as that one. We have nodifficulty at all in believing the account of the Elephant who tookcare of a little child. He did not wear a cap and apron, as the artisthas shown in the picture, but he certainly was a very kind andattentive nurse. When the child fell down, the Elephant would put histrunk gently around it, and pick it up. When it got tangled amongthorns or vines, the great nurse would disengage it as carefully asany one could have done it; and when it wandered too far, the Elephantwould bring it back and make it play within proper limits. I do notknow what would have been the consequence if this child had behavedbadly, and the Elephant had thought fit to give it a box on the ear. But nothing of the kind ever happened, and the child was a great dealsafer than it would have been with many ordinary nurses. [Illustration] There are so many stories told about the Elephant that I can allude tobut few, even if I did not believe that you were familiar with a greatmany of them. One of the most humane and thoughtful Elephants of whom I have everheard was one which was attached, like our friend Kudabar, to anartillery train in India. He was walking, on a march, behind a wagon, when he perceived a soldier slip down in the road and fall exactlywhere, in another instant, the hind-wheel of the wagon would pass overhim. Without being ordered, the Elephant seized the wheel with histrunk, lifted it--wagon and all--in the air, and held it up until ithad passed over the fallen soldier! Neither you nor I could have done better than that, even if we hadbeen strong enough. [Illustration] A very pretty story is told of an Indian Elephant who was verygallant. His master, a young Burman lord, had recently been married, and, shortly after the wedding, he and his bride, with many of theirguests and followers, were gathered together in the veranda, on theoutside of his house. The Elephant, who was a great favorite with theyoung lord, happened to be conducted past the house as the companywere thus enjoying themselves. Feeling, no doubt, that it was right tobe as polite as possible on this occasion, he put his trunk over abamboo-fence which enclosed a garden, and selecting the biggest andbrightest flower he could see, he approached the veranda, and rearinghimself upon his hind-legs, he stretched out his trunk, with theflower held delicately in the little finger at its end, towards thecompany. One of the women reached out her hand for it, but theElephant would not give it to her. Then his master wished to take it, but the Elephant would not let him have it. But when the newly-madebride came forward the Elephant presented it to her with all the graceof which he was capable! [Illustration] Now, do you not think that an animal which is larger and more powerfulthan any beast which walks the earth, and is, at the same time, gentleenough to nurse a child, humane enough to protect a dog or a man, andsensible enough to be polite to a newly-married lady, is deserving ofthe title of the King of Beasts? THE FRENCH SOLDIER-BOY [Illustration] Anxiously the General-in-chief of the French Army stood upon a littlemound overlooking the battle-field. The cannon were thundering, themusketry was rattling, and clouds of smoke obscured the field and thecontending armies. "Ah!" thought he, "if that town over yonder is not taken; if my bravecaptains fall, and my brave soldiers falter at that stone wall; and ifour flag shall not soon wave over those ramparts, France may yet behumbled. " Is it, then, a wonder, feeling that so much depended on the result ofthis battle, that his eyes strove so earnestly to pierce the heavyclouds of smoke that overhung the scene? But while he stood, there came towards him, galloping madly out of thebattle, a solitary rider. In a few minutes he had reached the General, and thrown himself fromhis saddle. It was a mere boy--one of the very youngest of soldiers! "Sire!" he cried, "we've taken the town! Our men are in themarket-place, and you can ride there now! And see!--upon thewalls--our flag!" The eyes of the General flashed with joy and triumph. Here wasglorious news! As he turned to the boy to thank him for the more than welcome tidingsthat he brought, he noticed that the lad was pale and trembling, andthat as he stood holding by the mane of his horse, his left hand waspressed upon his chest, and the blood was slowly trickling between hisfingers. "My boy!" said he, tenderly, as he fixed his eyes upon the stripling, "you're wounded!" "No, sire!" cried the boy, his pale face flushing as his General thusaddressed him, and the shouts of victory filled his ears, "I am notwounded; I am killed!" And down at his General's feet he fell anddied. There have been brave men upon the battle-field ever since the worldbegan, but there never was a truer soldier's heart than that whichkept this boy alive until he had borne to his General the gloriousnews of the battle won. A LIVELY WAY TO RING A BELL. [Illustration] Here are two young men who look very much as if they were trying tobreak their necks; but in reality they have no such desire. They are simply ringing that great bell, and riding backward andforward on it as it swings through the air. These young fellows are Spaniards, and in many churches in theircountry it is considered a fine thing to go up into the belfry of achurch or cathedral, and, when the regular bell-ringers are tired, tojump on the great bells and swing away as hard as they can make themgo. No matter about any particular peal or style of ringing. The faster and the more furiously they swing, the jollier the ride, and the greater the racket. Sometimes in a cathedral there are twentybells, all going at once, with a couple of mad chaps riding on eachone of them. It is, doubtless, a very pleasant amusement, after onegets used to it, but it is a wonder that some of those young men arenot shot off into the air, when the great bell gets to swinging asfast and as far as it can go. But although they hold on as tightly as if they were riding a wildyoung colt, they are simply foolhardy. No man or boy has a right torisk his life and limbs in such reckless feats. There is no probability, however, of the sport ever being introducedinto this country. Even if there were no danger in it, such a clatter and banging as isheard in a Spanish belfry, when the young men are swinging on thebells, would never be allowed in our churches. The Spaniards may likesuch a noise and hubbub, but they like a great many things which wouldnot suit us. DOWN IN THE EARTH. [Illustration] Let us take a little trip down under the surface of the earth. Therewill be something unusual about such an excursion. Of course, as weare not going to dig our way, we will have to find a convenient holesomewhere, and the best hole for the purpose which I know of is inEdmondson County, Kentucky. So let us go there. When we reach this hole we find that it is not a very large one, butstill quite high and wide enough for us to enter. But, before we go into that dark place, we will get some one to carry a light and guideus; for this underground country which we are going to explore is veryextensive, very dark, and, in some places, very dangerous. Here is a black man who will go with us. He has a lantern, and he sayshe knows every nook and corner of the place. So we engage him, getsome lanterns for ourselves, and in we go. We commence to go downwardsvery soon after we have passed from the outer air and sunshine, but itis not long before we stand upon a level surface, where we can seenothing of the outside world. If our lanterns went out, we should bein pitchy darkness. Now we are in the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky! This vast cavern, which stretches so many miles beneath the surface ofthe earth, has never been fully explored; but we are going over asmuch of it as our guide is accustomed to show to visitors, and if ourlegs are not tired before we get back I shall be very much surprised, for the trip will take us all day. The floor on which we are nowstanding is smooth and level, and runs back into the interior of thecave fully a thousand yards. This place they call the "AudubonGallery"--after our famous naturalist who made birds the study of hislife. His works are published in enormous volumes, costing about onehundred and fifty dollars apiece. Perhaps your father will get youone. We pass quickly through this gallery, where there is not much to see, although, to be sure, they used to manufacture saltpetre here. Thinkof that! A manufactory in the bowels of the earth! Then we enter alarge, roundish room called the "Rotunda, " and from this there are agreat many passages, leading off in various directions. One of these, which is called the "Grand Vestibule, " will take us to the "Church. " Yes, we have a church here, and, what is more, there has beenpreaching in it, although I have never heard that it had any regularmembers. This room has a vast arched roof, and a great manystalactites hang from the walls and roof in such a way as to give onean idea of Gothic architecture. Therefore this has been called the"Gothic Church. " You can see a great deal which looks likeold-fashioned church ornaments and furniture, and, as the light of thelanterns flashes about on the walls and ceiling, you can imagine agreat deal more. After this we come to the "Gothic Avenue, " which would be a veryinteresting place to us if we but had a little more time; but we hurrythrough it, for the next room we are to visit is called the "HauntedChamber!" Every one of us must be very anxious to see anything of thatkind. When we get into it, however, we are very much disappointed. Itis not half so gloomy and dark as the rest of the cave, for here weare pretty sure to find people, and lights, and signs of life. Here you may sometimes buy gingerbread and bottled beer, from womenwho have stands here for that purpose. It is expected that whenvisitors get this far they will be hungry. Sometimes, too, there arepersons who live down here, and spend most of their time in thischamber. These are invalid people with weak lungs, who think that theair of the cave is good for them. I do not know whether they are rightor not, but I am sure that they take very gloomy medicine. The onlyreason for calling this room the Haunted Chamber is, that the firstexplorers of the cave found mummies here. Who these were when they were alive, no man can say. If they wereIndians, they were very different Indians from those who have lived inthis country since its discovery. They do not make mummies. But allover our land we find evidences that some race--now extinct--livedhere before the present North American Indian. Whether the ghosts of any of these mummies walk about in this room. Icannot say; but as no one ever saw any, or heard any, or knew anybodywho had seen or heard any, I think it is doubtful. When we leave this room we go down some ladders and over a bridge, andthen we enter what is called the "Labyrinth, " where the passage turnsand twists on itself in a very abrupt manner, and where the roof is solow that all of us, except those who are very short indeed, must stoopvery low. When we get through this passage, which some folks call the"Path of Humiliation"--for everybody has to bow down, you know--wecome to a spot where the guide says he is going to show us somethingthrough a window. The window is nothing but a hole broken in a rocky wall; but as welook through it, and hold the lanterns so that we can see as much aspossible, we perceive that we are gazing down into a deep and enormouswell. They call it the "Bottomless Pit. " If we drop bits of burningpaper into this well we can see them fall down, down, and down, untilthey go out, but can never see them stop, as if they had reached thebottom. The hole through which we are looking is cut through one side of thiswell, so that there is a great deal of it above us as well as below;but although we hold our lanterns up, hoping to see the top, we cansee nothing but pitchy darkness up there. The roof of this pit is toohigh for the light to strike upon it. Here is a picture of somepersons dropping lights down into this pit, hoping to be able to seethe bottom. We must climb up and down some more ladders now, and then we willreach the "Mammoth Dome. " This is a vast room--big enough for agymnasium for giants--and the roof is so high that no ordinary lightwill show it. It is nearly four hundred feet from the floor. The nextroom we visit is one of the most beautiful places in the whole cave. It is called the Starry Chamber. The roof and walls and floor arecovered with little bright bits of stone, which shine and glitter, when a light is brought into the room, like real stars in the sky. Ifthe guide is used to his business, he can here produce most beautifuleffects. By concealing his lantern behind a rock or pillar, and thengradually bringing it out, throwing more and more light upon the roof, he can create a most lovely star-light scene. [Illustration] At first all will be dark, and then a few stars will twinkle out, andthen there will be more of them, and each one will be brighter, and atlast you will think you are looking up into a dark sky full ofglorious shining stars! And if you look at the walls you will seethousands of stars that seem as if they were dropping from the sky;and if you cast your eyes upon the ground, you will see it coveredwith other thousands of stars that seem to have already fallen! This is a lovely place, but we cannot stay here any longer. We want toreach the underground stream of which we have heard so much--the"River Styx. " This is a regular river, running through a great part of the MammothCave. You may float on it in a boat, and, if you choose, you may fishin it, although you would not be likely to catch anything. But if youdid, the fish would have no eyes! All the fish in this river areblind. You can easily perceive that eyes would be of no use in a placewhere it is always as dark as pitch, except when travellers come alongwith their lanterns. There is a rough boat here, and we will get into it and have a rowover this dark and gloomy river. Whenever our guide shouts we hear thewildest kind of echoes, and everything seems solemn and unearthly. Atone time our boat stops for a moment, and the guide goes on shore, anddirectly we hear the most awful crash imaginable. It sounds as if adozen gong-factories had blown up at once, and we nearly jump out ofthe boat! But we soon see that it was nothing but the guide strikingon a piece of sheet-iron or tin. The echoes, one after another, fromthis noise had produced the horrible crashing sounds we had heard. After sailing along for about half an hour we land, and soon reach anavenue which has its walls ornamented with beautiful flowers--allformed on the rocky walls by the hand of Nature. Now we visit the "Ball Room, " which is large and handsome, with itswalls as white as snow. Leaving this, we take a difficult and excitingjourney to the "Rocky Mountains. " We go down steep paths, which arenarrow, and up steep ones, which are wide; we jump over wide cracksand step over great stones, and we are getting very tired ofscrambling about in the bowels of the earth; but the guide tells usthat if we will but cross the "mountains"--which we find to be nothingmore than great rocks, which have fallen from the roof above, butwhich, however, are not very easy to get over--we shall rest in the"Fairy Grotto. " So on we push, and reach the delightful abode of thefairies of the Mammoth Cave. That is, if there were any fairies inthis cave, they would live here. And a splendid place they would have! Great colonnades and magnificent arches, all ornamented with beautifulstalactites of various forms, and glittering like cut-glass in thelight of our lanterns, and thousands of different ornaments ofsparkling stone, many of them appearing as if they were cut by thehand of skilful artists, adorn this beautiful grotto. At one end thereis a group of stalactites, which looks to us exactly like a gracefulpalm-tree cut out of alabaster. All over the vast hall we can hear thepattering and tinkling of the water, which has been dripping, drop bydrop, for centuries, and making, as it carried with it littleparticles of earth and rock, all these beautiful forms which we see. We have now walked nearly five miles into the great cave, and there ismuch which we have not seen. But we must go back to the upper earth. We will have a tiresome trip of it, but it is seldom that we can getanything good without taking a little trouble for it. And to have seenthis greatest of all natural caverns is worth far more labor andfatigue than we have expended on its exploration. There is nothinglike it in the known world. THE LION. [Illustration: THE LION'S HOME. ] I do not desire to be wanting in respect to the Lion. Because Iasserted that it was my opinion that he should resign the throne ofthe King of Beasts to the Elephant, I do not wish to deprive him ofany part of his just reputation. The Lion, with the exception of any animal but the Elephant, theRhinoceros, the Hippopotamus, and such big fellows, is the strongestof beasts. Compared to Tigers and Panthers, he is somewhat generous, and compared to most of the flesh-eating animals, he is quiteintelligent. Lions have been taught to perform certain feats when in astate of captivity; but, as all of us know who have seen theperforming animals in a menagerie, he is by no means the equal of aDog or an Elephant. The Lion appears to the greatest advantage in the midst of his family. When he and his wife are taking their walks abroad they will often flybefore a man, especially if he is a white man. But at home, surrounded by their little ones, the case is different. Those cubs, in the picture of the Lion's home, are nice littlefellows, and you might play with them without fear of more than a fewscratches. But where is the brave man who would dare to go down amongthose rocks, armed with guns, pistols, or whatever he pleased, andtake one of them! I do not think he lives in your town. We never see a Lion looking very brave or noble in a cage. Most ofthose that I have seen appeared to me to be excessively lazy. They hadnot half the spirit of the tigers and wolves. But, out in his nativecountry, he presents a much more imposing spectacle, especially ifone can get a full view of him when he is a little excited. Here is apicture of such a Lion as you will not see in a cage. [Illustration] Considering his size, the strength of the Lion is astonishing. He willkill an ox with one blow of his great paw, if he strikes it on theback, and then seizing it in his great jaws, he will carry it offalmost as easily as you could carry a baby. And when he has carried his prey to the spot where he chooses to havehis dinner, he shows that no beast can surpass him in the meat-eatingline. When he has satisfied his hunger on an ox, there is not muchleft for those who come to the second table. And there are often otherLions, younger and weaker than the one who has provided the dinner, who must wait until their master or father is done before they have achance to take a bite. But, as you may see by this picture, they donot wait very patiently. They roar and growl and grumble until theirturn comes. [Illustration] Lions have some very peculiar characteristics. When they have made abound upon their prey and have missed it, they seldom chase thefrightened animal. They are accustomed to make one spring on a deer oran ox, and to settle the matter there and then. So, after a failure todo this, they go to the place from which they have made the spring andpractise the jump over and over until they feel that they can make itthe next time they have a chance. This is by no means a bad idea for a Lion--or a man either. Another of their peculiarities is their fear of traps and snares. Very often they will not spring upon an ox or a horse, simply becauseit is tied to a tree. They think there is some trick when they see theanimal is fastened by a rope. And when they come upon a man who is asleep, they will very often lethim lie undisturbed. They are not accustomed to seeing men lying aboutin their haunts, and they don't know what to make of it. Sometimesthey take it in their heads to lie down there themselves. Then itbecomes disagreeable for the man when he awakes. [Illustration] A story of this kind is told of an African who had been hunting, andwho, being tired, had lain down to sleep. When he awoke there lay agreat Lion at a short distance from him! For a minute or two the manremained motionless with fright, and then he put forth his hand totake his gun, which was on the ground a few feet from him. But when the Lion saw him move he raised his head and roared. The man was quiet in a second. After a while it began to be terribly hot, and the rocks on which thepoor man was lying became so heated by the sun that they burned hisfeet. But whenever he moved the old Lion raised his head and growled. The African lay there for a very long time, and the Lion kept watchover him. I expect that Lion had had a good meal just before he sawthis man, and he was simply saving him up until he got hungry again. But, fortunately, after the hunter had suffered awfully from the heatof the burning sun, and had also lain there all night, with thisdreadful beast keeping watch over him, the Lion became thirsty beforehe got hungry, and when he went off to a spring to get a drink theAfrican crawled away. If that Lion had been a Tiger, I think he would have killed the man, whether he wished to eat him or not. So there is something for the Lion's reputation. BOB'S HIDING-PLACE. [Illustration] Bob was not a very big boy, but he was a lively little fellow and fullof fun. You can see him there in the picture, riding on his brotherJim's back. One evening there happened to be a great many boys andgirls at Bob's father's house. The grown-up folks were having a familyparty, and as they were going to stay all night--you see this was inthe country--some of them brought their children with them. [Illustration] It was not long after supper that a game of Blind-Man's-Buff wasproposed, and, as it would not do to have such an uproar in thesitting-room as the game would produce, the children were all packedoff to the kitchen. There they have a glorious time. Jim is the firstone blindfolded, and, as he gropes after the others, they go stumblingup against tables, and rattling down tin-pans, and upsetting eachother in every direction. Old Grandfather, who has been smoking hispipe by the kitchen fire, takes as much pleasure in the game as theyoung folks, and when they tumble over his legs, or come banging upagainst his chair, he only laughs, and warns them not to hurtthemselves. I could not tell you how often Grandfather was caught, and how theyall laughed at the blind-man when he found out whom he had seized. But after a while the children became tired of playingBlind-Man's-Buff, and a game of Hide-and-Seek was proposed. Everybodywas in favor of that, especially little Bob. It appears that Bob hadnot a very good time in the other game. Everybody seemed to run upagainst him and push him about, and whenever he was caught theblind-man said "Bob!" immediately. You see there was no mistaking Bob;he was so little. But in Hide-and-Seek he would have a better chance. He had alwaysliked that game ever since he had known how to play anything. He was agood little fellow for hiding, and he knew it. When the game had begun, and all the children--except the biggestgirl, who was standing in a corner, with her hands before her face, counting as fast as she could, and hoping that she would come to onehundred before everybody had hidden themselves--had scampered off tovarious hiding-places, Bob still stood in the middle of thekitchen-floor, wondering where in the world he should go to! All of asudden--the girl in the corner had already reached sixty-four--hethought he would go down in the cellar. There was no rule against that--at least none that he knew of--and so, slipping softly to the cellar-door, over in the darkest corner of thekitchen, he opened it, and went softly down the steps. There was a little light on the steps, for Bob did not shut the doorquite tightly after him, and if there had been none at all, he wouldhave been quite as well pleased. He was not afraid of the dark, andall that now filled his mind was the thought of getting somewherewhere no one could possibly find him. So he groped his way under thesteps, and there he squatted down in the darkness, behind two barrelswhich stood in a corner. "Now, " thought Bob, "she won't find me--easy. " He waited there a good while, and the longer he waited the prouder hebecame. "I'll bet mine's the hardest place of all, " he said to himself. [Illustration] Bob heard a great deal of noise and shouting after the big girl cameout from her corner and began finding the others, and he also heard abang above his head, but he did not know that it was some one shuttingthe cellar-door. After that all was quiet. Bob listened, but could not hear a step. He had not the slightestidea, of course, that they had stopped playing and were tellingstories by the kitchen fire. The big girl had found them all so easilythat Hide-and-Seek had been voted down. Bob had his own ideas in regard to this silence. "I know, " hewhispered to himself, "they're all found, and they're after me, andkeeping quiet to hear me breathe!" And, to prevent their finding his hiding-place by the sound of hisbreathing, Bob held his breath until he was red in the face. He hadheard often enough of that trick of keeping quiet and listening tobreathing. You couldn't catch him that way! When he was at last obliged to take a breath, you might have supposedhe would have swallowed half the air in the cellar. He thought he hadnever tasted anything so good as that long draught of fresh air. "Can't hold my breath all the time!" Bob thought. "If I could, maybethey'd never find me at all, " which reflection was much nearer thetruth than the little fellow imagined. I don't know how long Bob had been sitting under the steps--it mayhave been five minutes, or it may have been a quarter of an hour, andhe was beginning to feel a little cold--when he heard the cellar-dooropen, and some one put their foot upon the steps. "There they are!" he thought, and he cuddled himself up in thesmallest space possible. Some one was coming down, sure enough, but it was not the children, asBob expected. It was his Aunt Alice and her cousin Tom Green. They hadcome down to get some cider and apples for the company, and had nothought of Bob. In fact, when Bob was missed it was supposed that hehad got tired and had gone up-stairs, where old Aunt Hannah wasputting some of the smaller children to bed. So, of course, Alice and Tom Green did not try to find him, but Bob, who could not see them, thought it was certainly some of the childrencome down to look for him. In this picture of the scene in the cellar, little Bob is behind thosetwo barrels in the right-hand upper corner, but of course you can'tsee him. He knows how to hide too well for that. [Illustration] But when Tom and Alice spoke, Bob knew their voices and peeped out. "Oh!" he thought, "it's only Aunt Alice and he. They've come down forcider and things. I've got to hide safe now, or they'll tell when theygo up-stairs. " "I didn't know _all_ them barrels had apples in! I thought some werepotatoes. I wish they would just go up-stairs again and leave thatcandle on the floor! I wonder if they will forget it! If they do, I'lljust eat a whole hat-full of those big red apples, and some of thestreakedy ones in the other barrel too; and then I'll put my mouth tothe spigot of that cider-barrel, and turn it, and drink and drink anddrink--and if there isn't enough left in that barrel, I'll go toanother one and turn that. I never did have enough cider in all mylife. I wish they'd hurry and go up. "Kissin'! what's the good of kissin'! A cellar ain't no place forthat. I expect they won't remember to forget the candle if they don'tlook out! "Oh, pshaw! just look at 'em! They're a-going up again, and taking thecandle along! The mean things!" Poor little Bob! There he sat in his corner, all alone again in the darkness andsilence, for Tom and Alice had shut the cellar-door after them whenthey had gone up-stairs. He sat quietly for a minute or two, and thenhe said to himself: "I b'lieve I'd just as lieve they'd find me as not. " And to help them a little in their search he began to kick very gentlyagainst one of the barrels. Poor Bob! If you were to kick with all your force and even upset thebarrel they would not hear you. And what is more, they are not eventhinking of you, for the apples are now being distributed. "I wonder, " said the little fellow to himself, "if I could find thatred-apple barrel in the dark. But then I couldn't tell the red onesfrom the streakedy ones. But either of 'em would do. I guess I won'ttry, though, for I might put my hand on a rat. They run about whenit's dark. I hope they won't come in this corner. But there's nothin'for 'em to eat in this corner but me, and they ain't lions. I wonderif they'll come down after more cider when that's all drunk up. Ifthey do, I guess I'll come out and let Aunt Alice tell them all whereI am. I don't like playin' this game when it's too long. " [Illustration] And so he sat and waited and listened, and his eye-lids began to growheavy and his head began to nod, and directly little Bob was fastasleep in the dark corner behind the barrels. By ten o'clock the children were all put to bed, and soon after theold folks went up-stairs, leaving only Tom Green, Alice, and some ofthe young men and women down in the big sitting-room. Bob's mother went up into the room where several of the children weresleeping, and after looking around, she said to the old colored nurse: "Hannah, what have you done with Bob?" "I didn't put him to bed, mum. I spect Miss Alice has took him to herbed. She knowed how crowded the chil'un all was, up here. " "But Alice has not gone to bed, " said Bob's mother. "Don't spect she has, mum, " said Hannah. "But I reckon she put him inher bed till she come. " "I'll go and see, " said Bob's mother. She went, and she saw, but she didn't see Bob! And he wasn't in thenext room, or in any bed in the house, or under any bed, or anywhereat all, as far as she could see; and so, pretty soon, there was a nicehubbub in that house! Bob's mother and father, and his grandfather, and Hannah, and theyoung folks in the parlor, and nearly all the rest of the visitors, ransacked the house from top to bottom. Then they looked out of doors, and some of them went around the yard, where they could see veryplainly, as it was bright moonlight. But though they searched andcalled, there was no Bob. The house-doors being open, Snag the dog came in, and he joined in thesearch, you may be sure, although I do not know that he exactlyunderstood what they were looking for. Some one now opened the cellar-door, but it seemed preposterous tolook down in the cellar for the little fellow. But nothing was preposterous to Snag. The moment the cellar-door was opened he shuffled down the steps asfast as he could go. He knew there was somebody down there. And when those who followed him with a candle reached thecellar-floor, there was Snag, with his head between the barrels, wagging his tail as if he was trying to jerk it off, and whining withjoy as he tried to stick his cold nose into the rosy face of littlesleeping Bob. It was Tom Green who carried Bob up-stairs, and very soon indeed, allthe folks were gathered in the kitchen, and Bob sleepily told hisstory. "But Tom and I were down in the cellar, " said his Aunt Alice, "and wedidn't see you. " "I guess you didn't, " said Bob, rubbing his eyes. "I was a-hidin' andyou was a-kissin'. " What a shout of laughter arose in the kitchen at this speech!Everybody laughed so much that Bob got wide awake and wanted someapples and cake. The little fellow certainly made a sensation that night; but it wasafterwards noticed that he ceased to care much for the game ofHide-and-Seek. He played it too well, you see. THE CONTINENTAL SOLDIER. [Illustration] Did you ever see a Continental Soldier? I doubt it. Some twenty yearsago there used to be a few of them scattered here and there over thecountry, but they must be nearly all gone now. About a year ago therewere but two of them left. Those whom some of us can remember wererather mournful old gentlemen. They shuffled about theirdwelling-places, they smoked their pipes, and they were nearly alwaysready to talk about the glorious old days of the Revolution. It waswell they had those days to fall back upon, for they had but littleshare in the glories of the present. When they looked abroad upon thecountry that their arms, and blood perhaps, had helped give to thatvigorous Young America which now swells with prosperity from Alaska toFlorida, they could see very little of it which they could call theirown. It was difficult to look upon those feeble old men and imagine thatthey were once full of vigor and fire; that they held their oldflintlocks with arms of iron when the British cavalry rushed upontheir bayonets; that their keen eyes flashed a deadly aim along theirrusty rifle-barrels; that, with their good swords quivering in theirsinewy hands, they urged their horses boldly over the battle-field, shouting brave words to their advancing men; and that they laughed atheat and cold, patiently endured hunger and privation, strode alongbravely on the longest marches, and, at last, stood proudly by whenCornwallis gave up his sword. Those old gentlemen did not look like anything of that sort. Theirold arms could hardly manage their old canes; their old legs couldjust about carry them on a march around the garden, and they were veryparticular indeed about heat and cold. But History and Art will better keep alive the memory of their gooddeeds, and call more vigorously upon the gratitude of theircountrymen, than those old Continentallers could themselves have doneit, had they lived on for years and years, and told generation aftergeneration how once they galloped proudly along the ranks, or, inhumbler station, beat with vigorous arm the stirring drum-roll thatcalled their comrades to the battle-field. [Illustration] A JUDGE OF MUSIC. [Illustration] It is not well to despise anybody or anything until you know what theycan do. I have known some very stupid-looking people who could do asum in the rule-of-three in a minute, and who could add up a column ofsix figures abreast while I was just making a beginning at theright-hand bottom corner. But stupid-looking beings are often good atother things besides arithmetic. I have seen doctors, with very dullfaces, who knew all about castor-oil and mustard-plasters, and aboveyou see a picture of a Donkey who understood music. This animal had a very fine ear for music. You can see how much ear hehad, and I have no doubt that he enjoyed the sweet sounds from one endto the other of those beautiful long flaps. Well, he very often had anopportunity of enjoying himself, for the lady of the house was a finemusician, and she used to sing and play upon the piano nearly everyday. And as soon as he heard the sweet sounds which thrilled hissoul, the Donkey would come to the parlor window and listen. One day the lady played and sang something which was particularlysweet and touching. I never heard the name of the song--whether it was"I'm sitting on the stile, Mary, " or "A watcher, pale and weary"--butif it was the latter, I am not surprised that it should have overcomeeven a jackass. At any rate, the music so moved the soul of Mr. Donkeythat he could no longer restrain himself, but entering the open doorhe stepped into the parlor, approached the lady, and with a voicefaltering from the excess of his emotion, he joined in the chorus! The lady jumped backwards and gave a dreadful scream, and the Donkey, thinking that the music went up very high in that part, commenced tobray at such a pitch that you could have heard him if you had been upin a balloon. That was a lively concert; but it was soon ended by the lady rushingfrom the room and sending her man John to drive out the musicaljackass with a big stick. Fortunately, all donkeys have not this taste for music. The nearestthat the majority of jackasses come to being votaries of music is whentheir skins are used for covering cases for musical instruments. Andif they have any ambition in the cause of harmony, that is better thannothing. THE SENSITIVE PLANT. There was never a better name for a plant than this, for the delicateleaves which grow on this slender stalk are almost as sensitive to thetouch as if they were alive. If you place your hand on a growingplant, you will soon see all the leaves on the stem that you havetouched fold themselves up as tightly as if they had been packed upcarefully to be sent away by mail or express. In some of the commonkinds of this plant, which grow about in our fields, it takes sometime for the leaves to fold after they have been touched or handled;but if you watch them long enough--five or ten minutes--you will seethat they never fail to close. They are not so sensitive as theircultivated kindred, but they still have the family disposition. Now this is certainly a wonderful property for a plant to possess, butit is not half so strange as another trait of these same pretty greenleaves. They will shut up when it is dark, and open when it is light. It may be said that many other plants will do this, but that is amistake. Many flowers and leaves close at _night_ and open in the_day-time_, but very few indeed exhibit the peculiar action of thesensitive plant in this respect. That plant will open at night if youbring a bright light into the room where it is growing, and it willclose its leaves if the room is made dark in the day-time. Other plants take note of times and seasons. The sensitive plant obeysno regular rules of this kind, but acts according to circumstances. When I was a boy, I often used to go to a green-house where there werea great many beautiful and rare plants; but I always thought that thesensitive plant was the most wonderful thing in the wholecollection, and I did not know then how susceptible it was to theinfluence of light. I was interested in it simply because it seemed tohave a sort of vegetable reason, and understood that it should shut upits leaves whenever I touched it. [Illustration: THE SENSITIVE PLANT. ] But there were things around me in the vegetable kingdom which werestill more wonderful than that, and I took no notice of them at all. In the garden and around the house, growing everywhere, in the mostcommon and ordinary places, were vines of various kinds--I think therewere more morning-glories than anything else--and these exhibited agreat deal more sense, and a much nearer approach to reasoning powers, than the sensitive plants, which were so carefully kept in thegreen-house. When one of these vines came up out of the earth, fresh from its seed, the first thing it wanted, after its tendrils began to showthemselves, was something to climb up upon. It would like a good highpole. Now, if there was such a pole within a few feet of the littlevine it would grow straight towards it, and climb up it! It would not grow first in one direction, and then in another and thenin another, until it ran against something to climb on, but it wouldgo right straight towards the pole, as if it saw it, and knew it was agood one for its purpose. I think that there is not much in the vegetable kingdom more wonderfulthan that. SIR MARMADUKE. [Illustration] Sir Marmaduke was a good old English gentleman, all of the olden time. There you see him, in his old-fashioned dining-room, with hisold-fashioned wife holding her old-fashioned distaff, while he issurrounded by his old-fashioned arms, pets, and furniture. On his hand he holds his hawk, and his dogs are enjoying the greatwood fire. His saddle is thrown on the floor; his hat and his pipeslie near it; his sword and his cross-bows are stood up, or throwndown, anywhere at all, and standing by his great chair is somethingwhich looks like a coal-scuttle, but which is only a helmet. Sir Marmaduke was certainly a fine old gentleman. In times of peace helived happily with his family, and was kind and generous to the pooraround him. In times of war he fought bravely for his country. But what a different old gentleman would he have been had he lived inour day! Then, instead of saying "Rebeck me!" and "Ods Boddikins!" when hishawk bit his finger or something else put him out of humor, he wouldhave exclaimed, "Oh, pshaw!" or, "Botheration!" Instead of playingwith a hawk, he would have had a black-and-tan terrier, --if he had anypet at all; and his wife would not have been bothering herself with adistaff, when linen, already spun and woven, could be bought for fiftycents a yard. Had she lived now, the good lady would have been mendingstockings or crocheting a tidy. Instead of a pitcher of ale on his supper-table, the good knight wouldhave had some tea or coffee; and instead of a chine of beef, a mess ofpottage, and a great loaf of brown bread for his evening meal, hewould have had some white bread, cakes, preserves, and other triflesof that sort, which in the olden days were considered only fit forchildren and women. The good old English gentlemen were tremendouseaters. They used to take five meals a day, and each one of them washeavy and substantial. If Sir Marmaduke had any sons or daughters, he would have treated themvery differently in the present day. Instead of keeping them at home, under the tuition of some young clergyman or ancient scholar, untilthey should be old enough and accomplished enough to become pages to agreat lord, or companions to some great lady, he would have sent themto school, and the boys--the younger ones, at least--would have beenprepared for some occupation which would support them, while the girlswould have been taught to play on the piano and to work slippers. In these days, instead of that old helmet on the floor, you would haveseen a high-top hat--that is, if the old gentleman should continue tobe as careless as the picture shows him; instead of a cross-bow on thefloor, and another leaning against the chair, you would have seen adouble-barrelled gun and a powder-horn; and instead of the picturesqueand becoming clothes in which you see Sir Marmaduke, he would haveworn some sort of a tight-fitting and ugly suit, such as old gentlemennow-a-days generally wear. There were a great many advantages in the old style of living, andalso a very great many disadvantages. On the whole, we should be verythankful indeed that we were born in this century, and not in the goodold times of yore. A little boy once made a very wise remark on this subject. He said: "Iwish I could have seen George Washington and Israel Putnam; but I'mglad I didn't, for if I'd been alive then, I should have been deadnow. " There is enough in that boy's remark for a whole composition, if anyone chose to write it. THE GIRAFFE. [Illustration] Some one once called the Giraffe a "two-story animal, " and the remarkwas not altogether inapplicable. As you see him in the picture, lying down, he seems to be high enoughfor all ordinary purposes; but when he stands up, you will see thathis legs--or his lower story--will elevate him to a surprising height. The ordinary giraffe measures about fifteen feet from the top of hishead to the ground, but some of them have been known to be oversixteen feet high. Most of this height is owing to their long necks, but their fore-legs are also very long. The hind-legs seem muchshorter, although, in reality, they are as long as the fore-legs. Thelegs and neck of the Giraffe are made long so that he can eat theleaves from the tops of young trees. This tender foliage is hisfavorite diet; but he will eat the foliage from any part of a tree, and he is content with the herbage on the ground, when there isnothing else. He is not a fighting animal. Those little horns which you see on hishead, and which look as if they had been broken off--although they arereally their full size--are of no use as offensive weapons. Whendanger threatens him he runs away, and a funny sight he is then. Hecan run very fast, but he is very awkward; he goes like a cow onstilts. But when there is no chance for him to run away, he can often defendhimself, for he can kick like a good fellow. His hind-legs fly so fastwhen he is kicking that you can hardly see them, and he has been knownto drive off a lion by this means of defence. When hunters wish to catch a giraffe alive, they generally drive himinto a thick woods, where his great height prevents him from runningvery rapidly; and as soon as they come up with him, they endeavor toentangle him in ropes, to throw him down, and to put a halter roundhis neck. If they only keep out of the way of his heels, there is noneed of being afraid of him. When they have secured him they lead himoff, if he will come; but if he is an old fellow he will not walkafter them, and he is too strong to be easily pulled along, no matterhow many men may be in the hunt. So in this case they generally killhim, for his skin is valuable, and his flesh is very good to eat. Butif the giraffe is a young one, he will follow his captors withoutdifficulty, for these animals are naturally very gentle. Why the natives of Africa should desire to obtain living giraffes, unless it is to sell them to people who wish to carry them to othercountries, travellers do not inform us. We have never heard that anydomestic use was made of them, nor that they were kept for the sake oftheir meat. But we suppose the hunters know their own business. It is probable that the lion is really the greatest enemy of thegiraffe. It is not often that this crafty and powerful hunter will puthimself within reach of his victim's heels. Approaching softly andslowly, the lion waits until he is quite near the giraffe, and then, with one bound, he springs upon his back. Sometimes the giraffesucceeds in shaking him off, but generally they both falltogether--the giraffe dead, and the lion with his appetite whetted foran enormous dinner. UP IN THE AIR. [Illustration: UP IN A BALLOON. ] [Illustration] We have already taken a journey under the earth, and now, if you like, we will try a trip in the air. Anything for a novelty. We have livedon the surface of the earth ever since we were born. We will make our ascent in a balloon. It has been thought by somefolks, that there were easier methods of ascending into the air thanby a cumbrous balloon, but their inventions never became popular. For instance, look at the picture of a flying-man. This gentleman had an idea that he could fly by the aid of thisingenious machinery. You will see that his wings are arranged so thatthey are moved by his legs, and also by cords attached to his arms. The umbrella over his head is not intended to ward off the rain or thesun, but is to act as a sort of parachute, to keep him from fallingwhile he is making his strokes. The basket, which hangs down lowenough to be out of the way of his feet, is filled with provisions, which he expects to need in the course of his journey. That journey lasted exactly as long as it took him to fall from thetop of a high rock to the ground below. But we are not going to trust ourselves to any such _harem-scarem_contrivance as this. We are going up in a regular balloon. We all know how balloons are made, and this one of ours is like mostothers. It is a great globular bag, made of strips of silk sewntogether, and varnished with a certain composition which renders theballoon air-tight. The car in which we will travel is made ofwicker-work, for that is both light and strong, and it is suspendedfrom a net-work of strong cord which covers the whole balloon. Itwould not do, you know, to attach a cord to any particular part of thesilk, for that would tear it. In the top of the balloon is a valve, and a cord from it comes down into the car. This valve is to be pulledopen when we wish to come down towards the earth. The gas thenescapes, and of course the balloon descends. In the car are bags ofsand, and these are to be emptied out when we think we are too heavyfor the balloon, and are either coming down too fast or are not ashigh as we wish to go. Relieved of the weight of a bag, the balloonrises. Sand is used because it can be emptied out and will not injure anybodyin its descent. It would be rather dangerous, if ballooning were acommon thing, for the aëronauts to throw out stones and old iron, suchas are used for the ballast of a ship. If you ever feel a shower ofsand coming down upon you through the air, look up, and you willprobably see a balloon--that is, if you do not get some of the sand inyour eyes. The gas with which our balloon is to be filled is hydrogen gas; but Ithink we will not use the pure hydrogen, for it is troublesome andexpensive to produce. We will get permission of the city gasauthorities to take gas from one of their pipes. That will carry us up very well indeed. When the balloon is nearlyfull--we never fill it entirely, for the gas expands when it risesinto lighter air, and the balloon would explode if we did not leaveroom for this expansion--it is almost as round as a ball, and swellsout proudly, struggling and pulling at the ropes which confine it tothe ground. [Illustration] Now we have but to attach the car, get in, and cut loose. But we aregoing to be very careful on this trip, and so we will attach aparachute to the balloon. I hope we may not use it, but it may save usin case of an accident. This is the manner in which the parachute willhang from the bottom of the car. It resembles, you see, a closed umbrella without a handle, and it hascords at the bottom, to which a car is attached. If we wish to comedown by means of this contrivance, we must descend from the car of theballoon to that of the parachute, and then we must unfasten the ropewhich attaches us to the balloon. We shall then drop like a shot; butas soon as the air gets under our parachute it will spread open, andour descent will immediately begin to be much more gradual, and ifnothing unusual occurs to us, we shall come gently to the ground. Thispicture shows the manner in which we would come down in a parachute. [Illustration] This man's balloon has probably burst, for we see it is tumbling down, and it will no doubt reach the ground before him. When all is ready and we are properly seated in the car, with ourinstruments and extra clothes and ballast, and some provisions, wewill give the word to "let her go. " There! Did you see that? The earth dropped right down. And it is dropping, but more slowly, yet. That is the sensation persons generally experience when they first goup in a balloon. Not being used to rising in the air, they think atfirst that they are stationary, and that the earth and all the peopleand houses on it are falling below them. Now, then, we are off! Look down and see how everything gets smaller, and smaller, and smaller. As we pass over a river, we can look down toits very bottom; and if we were not so high we could see the fishesswimming about. The houses soon begin to look like toy-cottages, andthe trees like bushes, and the creeks and rivers like silvery bands. The people now appear as black spots; we can just see some of themmoving about; but if they were to shout very loud we might hear them, for sound travels upward to a great distance. [Illustration: MOONLIGHT ABOVE THE CLOUDS. ] Soon everything begins to be mixed up below us. We can hardly tell thewoods from the fields; all seem pretty much alike. And now we think itis getting foggy; we can see nothing at all beneath us, and when welook up and around us we can see nothing but fog. [Illustration] We are in the clouds! Yes, these are the clouds. There is nothing verybeautiful about them--they are only masses of vapor. But how thickthat vapor is! Now, when we look up, we cannot even see the balloonabove us. We are sitting in our little basket-work car, and that isall we know! We are shut out from the whole world, closed up in acloud! But this foggy atmosphere is becoming thinner, and we soon shoot outof it! Now we can see clearly around us. Where are the clouds? Look!there they are, spread out like a great bed below us. How they glisten and sparkle in the bright sunlight! Is not this glorious, to ride above the clouds, in what seems to usillimitable space! The earth is only a few miles below us, it is true, but up and around us space _is_ illimitable. [Illustration] But we shall penetrate space no longer in an upward direction. It istime we were going back to the world. We are all very cold, and theeyes and ears of some of us are becoming painful. More than that, ourballoon is getting too large. The gas within it is expanding, onaccount of the rarity of the air. We shall pull the rope of the valve. Now we are descending. We are in the clouds, and before we think muchabout it we are out of them. We see the earth beneath us, like a greatcircular plain, with the centre a little elevated. Now we see therivers; the forests begin to define themselves; we can distinguishhouses, and we know that we are falling very rapidly. It is time tothrow out ballast. We do so, and we descend more slowly. Now we are not much higher than the tops of the trees. People arerunning towards us. Out with another bag of sand! We rise a little. Now we throw out the anchor. It drags along the ground for somedistance, as the wind carries us over a field, and then it catches ina fence. And now the people run up and pull us to the ground, and themost dangerous part of our expedition is over. [Illustration] For it is comparatively safe to go up in a balloon, but the descentis often very hazardous indeed. On the preceding page is a picture of a balloon which did not comedown so pleasantly as ours. With nine persons in it, it was driven over the ground by a tremendouswind; the anchors were broken; the car was bumped against the groundever so many times; and the balloon dashed into trees, breaking offtheir branches; it came near running into a railroad train; it struckand carried away part of a telegraph line, and at last became tangledup in a forest, and stopped. Several of the persons in it had theirlimbs broken, and it is a wonder they were not all killed. The balloon in which we ascended was a very plain, common-senseaffair; but when aerial ascents were first undertaken the balloonswere very fancifully decorated. For instance, Bagnolet's balloon and that of Le Flesselles, of whichwe have given you pictures, are much handsomer than anything we haveat present. But they were not any more serviceable for all theirornamentation, and they differed from ours in still another way--theywere "hot-air balloons. " Other balloons were furnished with all sorts of fans, rudders, etc. , for the purpose of steering them, or accelerating their motion up ordown. On the next page is one of that kind. This balloon ascended from Dijon, France, in 1784, but thesteering-apparatus did not prove to be of much use. There were other balloons devised by the early aëronauts, which werestill stranger than that one which arose from Dijon. The _Minerva_, the picture of which you can examine at your leisure, was invented bya Mr. Robertson, in the beginning of this century. He wished to makea grand aerial voyage of several months, with a company of about sixtypersons, and therefore he had to have a very large balloon. To procurethis he desired the co-operation of the scientific men throughoutEurope, and sent plans and descriptions of his projected balloon toall the learned societies. [Illustration] This great ship of the air was to be a regular little town, as you maysee. The balloon was to be one hundred and fifty feet in diameter, andwas to carry a large ship, on which the passengers would be safe ifthey descended in the water, even if it were the middle of the ocean. Everything was to be provided for the safety and convenience of thepassengers. Around the upper part of the balloon you will see aplatform, with sentries and tents. These soldiers were to be calledthe "air-marines. " There is a small balloon--about the commonsize--which could be sent off like a small boat whenever occasionrequired. If any one got tired of the expedition, and wanted to gohome, there was a parachute by which he might descend. On the deck ofthe ship, near the stern, was to be a little church; small houses hungfrom below, reached by ladders of silk, which were to be used asmedicine-rooms, gymnasiums, etc. ; and under the ship would hang agreat hogshead, as big as a house, which would contain provisions andstores, and keep them tight and dry. There was also a kitchen; and acannon, with which to fire off salutes, besides a number of guns, which you see projecting from the port-holes of the ship. These, Isuppose, were to be used against all enemies or pirates of the air, sea, or land. [Illustration] [Illustration] I cannot enumerate all the appendages of this wonderful balloon--yousee there are telescopes, sails, great speaking-trumpets, anchors, etc. ; but I will merely remark that it was never constructed. One of the safest, and sometimes the most profitable, methods of usinga balloon, is that shown in the picture, "Safe Ballooning. " Here abattle is going on, and the individuals in the balloon, safelywatching the progress of events and the movements of the enemy, transmit their observations to the army with which they are connected. Of course the men on the ground manage a balloon of this sort, andpull it around to any point that they please, lowering it by the ropeswhen the observations are concluded. Balloons are often used inwarfare in this manner. But during the late siege of Paris, balloons became more useful thanthey have ever been since their invention. A great many aëronauts leftthe besieged city, floated safely over the Prussian army, anddescended in friendly localities. Some of these balloons werecaptured, but they generally accomplished their purposes, and were ofgreat service to the French. On one occasion, however, a balloon fromParis was driven by adverse winds to the ocean, and its occupants weredrowned. It has not been one hundred years since the balloon was invented bythe brothers Montgolfier, of France. They used heated air instead ofgas, and their balloons were of course inferior to those of thepresent day. But we have not improved very much upon the originalballoon, and what progress will eventually be made in aerialnavigation it is difficult to prophesy. But there are persons whobelieve that in time air-ships will make regular trips in alldirections, like our present steamboats and railroad-trains. If this is ever the case, I hope we may all be living to see it. [Illustration: DRIVEN OUT TO SEA] THE HORSE OF ARABIA. The Arabian horse has long been celebrated as the most valuable of hisrace. He is considered an aristocrat among horses, and only thosesteeds which can trace their descent from Arabian ancestors have theright to be called "thorough-bred. " Occasionally an Arabian horse is brought to this country, but we donot often see them. In fact, they would not be as valuable here asthose horses which, besides Arabian descent, have also othercharacteristics which especially adapt them to our country andclimate. In Arabia the horse, as an individual, especially if he happens to beof the purest breed, is more highly prized than in any other part ofthe world. It is almost impossible to buy a favorite horse from anArab, and even if he can be induced to sell it, the transaction is avery complicated one. In the first place, all the relations and alliesof the owner must give their consent, for the parting with a horse toa stranger is a very important matter with them. The buyer must thenmake himself sure that the _whole of the horse_ belongs to the man whois selling him, for the Arabs, when they wish to raise money, veryoften do so by selling to a member of their tribe a fore-leg, ahind-leg, or an ear, of one of their horses; and in this case, theperson who is a part owner of the animal must have his proportionateshare of all profits which may arise from its sale or use. Thispractice is very much like our method of mortgaging our lands. When the horse is finally bought and paid for, it had better be takenaway as soon as possible, for the Arabs--even those who have nointerest whatever in the sale--cannot endure to see a horse which oncebelonged to their tribe passing into the hands of strangers. Andtherefore, in order to soothe their wounded sensibilities, theyoften steal the animal, if they can get a chance, before the buyercarries him out of their reach. [Illustration: ARABIAN HORSE. ] The Arabian horse is generally much more intelligent and docile thanthose of our country. But this is not altogether on account of hisgood blood. The Arab makes a friend and companion of his horse. Theanimal so constantly associates with man, is talked to so much, andtreated so kindly, that he sometimes shows the most surprisingintelligence. He will follow his master like a dog; come at his call;stand anywhere without moving, until his master returns to him; stopinstantly if his rider falls from his back, and wait until he mountsagain; and it has been said that an Arabian horse has been known topick up his wounded master from the field of battle, and by fasteninghis teeth in the man's clothes, to carry him to a place of safety. There is no doubt, if we were to treat our horses with gentleness andprudence, and in a measure make companions of them whenever it waspossible, that they would come to regard us with much of the affectionand obedience which the Arabian horse shows to his master. INDIAN PUDDINGS: PUMPKIN PIES. [Illustration] Some of the good old folks whom I well remember, called these things"Ingin-puddins and punkin pies, " but now we all know what veryincorrect expressions those were. Rut, even with such highly impropernames, these delicacies tasted quite--as well in those days as theydo now, and, if my youthful memory does not mislead me, they tasted alittle better. There is no stage of the rise and progress of Indian puddings andpumpkin pies, with which, when a youngster, I was not familiar. In thevery beginning of things, when the fields were being ploughed, "weboys" were there. True, we went with no intent to benefit either thecorn-crop or the pumpkin-vines. We merely searched in the newlyturned-up earth for fish-worms. But for all that, we were there. And when the corn was all planted, how zealous we used to be about thecrows! What benevolent but idiotic old scarecrows we used toconstruct, and how _extremely_ anxious we were to be intrusted withguns, that we might disperse, at once and forever, these blackmarauders! For well we knew that a few dead crows, stuck up here andthere on stakes, would frighten away all the rest of the flock. But we were not allowed the guns, and, even if we had had them, it isprobable that the crows would all have died of old age, had theydepended for an early death upon our powder and shot. With theirsagacity, their long sight, and their sentinels posted on the hightrees around the field, they were not likely to let a boy with a gunapproach very near to them. I have heard--and have no doubt of thetruth of the statement--that one of the best ways to shoot crows is togo after them in a wagon, keeping your gun, of course, as much out ofsight as possible. Crows seem to know exactly what guns are intendedfor. But they are seldom afraid of a wagon. They expect no danger fromit, and one can frequently drive along a country road while crows arequietly feeding in the field adjoining, quite close to the fence. But if any one goes out to shoot crows in this way he had better bevery careful that he has an excessively mild and unimpressible horse. For, if the horse is frightened at the report of the gun, and dashesaway, and smashes the wagon, and breaks his harness, and spillseverything out of the wagon into the dust, mud, and bramble-bushes, and throws the gunner heels over head into a ditch, it may be that adead crow will hardly pay him for his trouble and expense in procuringit. But after a time the corn got so high that it was not afraid of abird, and then we forgot the crows. But we liked to watch the corn inall its stages. We kept a sharp look-out for the young pumpkin-vines, and were glad to see the beans, which were planted in the hills withthe corn in some parts of the field. There is one great advantage in a corn-field which many other fieldsdo not possess: you can always walk in it! And when the corn is higherthan your head, and the great long leaves are rustling in the wind, and you can hardly see each other a dozen yards away, what a gloriousthing it is to wander about amidst all this cool greenness, and pickout the biggest and the fattest ears for roasting! You have then all the loveliness of Nature, combined with the hope ofa future joy, which Art--the art of your mother, or whoever roasts thecorn--will give you. But the triumph of the corn-field is not yet. The transformation ofits products into Indian puddings and pumpkin pies will not occuruntil the golden Autumn days, when the sun, and the corn, and thepumpkins are all yellow alike, and gold--if it was not soscarce--would be nothing to compare to any of them. Then come the men, with their corn-cutters--pieces of scythe-blades, with handles fittedto them--and down go the corn-stalks. Only one crack apiece, andsometimes a big cut will slice off the stalks on a whole hill. How we used to long to wield those corn-cutters! But our parents thought too much of our legs. When the corn has been cut and carried away, the pumpkins are enoughto astonish anybody. We never had any idea that there were so many! At last, when the days were getting short, and the mornings were alittle cool, and the corn was in the cribs, and the pumpkins were inthe barn, and some of us had taken a grist to the mill, then were thedays of the pudding of Indian corn and the pies of pumpkin! Then we stayed in the kitchen and saw the whole delightful process, from the first mixing of the yellow meal with water, and the first cutinto the round pumpkins, until the swelling pudding and the tranquilpie emerged in hot and savory grandeur from the oven. It is of no use to expect those days to return. It is easy enough toget the pies and the puddings, but it is very hard to be a boy again. LIVING IN SMOKE. [Illustration] Here is a mosquito of which the bravest man might be afraid; but, fortunately, these insects are not found quite so large as the one inthe drawing, for he is considerably magnified. But when we hear even avery small fellow buzzing around our heads, in the darkness of asummer night, we are very apt to think that he sounds as if he were atleast as big as a bat. In some parts of our country, mosquitoes are at certain seasons soplentiful and bloodthirsty that it is impossible to get alongcomfortably in their company. But, except in spots where no one wouldbe likely to live, whether there were mosquitoes there or not, theseinsects do not exist in sufficient numbers to cause us to give up ourordinary style of living and devote all our energies to keeping themat a distance. In some other countries, however, the people are not so fortunate. InSenegal, at certain seasons, the inhabitants are driven from theirhabitations by the clouds of mosquitoes which spread over the land, and are forced to take refuge on high platforms, under which they keepfires continually burning. The smoke from these fires will keep away the mosquitoes, but itcannot be very pleasant to the Senegalians. However, they become usedto it, and during the worst of the mosquito season, they eat, drink, sleep, and enjoy themselves to the best of their ability on theseplatforms, which for the time become their houses. [Illustration: A SMOKY DWELLING. ] It would probably seem to most of us, that to breathe an atmosphereconstantly filled with smoke, and to have it in our eyes and noses allthe time, would be almost as bad, if not quite, as suffering thestings of mosquitoes. But then we do not know anything about Senegalian mosquitoes, and theaccounts which Dr. Livingstone and other travellers give of theinsects in Africa, ought to make us feel pretty sure that thesewoolly-headed folks on the platforms know what is good for them. THE CANNON OF THE PALAIS ROYAL. [Illustration] In the Gardens of the Palais Royal, in Paris, there is a little cannonwhich stands on a pedestal, and is surrounded by a railing. Every dayit is loaded with powder and wadding, but no one on earth is allowedto fire it off. However, far away in the realms of space, ninety-threemillions of miles from our world, there is the great and glorious Sun, and every day, at twelve o'clock, he fires off that little cannon, provided there are no clouds in the way. Just before noon on brightdays, the people gather around the railing, with their watches intheir hands, --if they are so lucky as to have watches, --and preciselyat twelve o'clock, _bang!_ she goes. The arrangement which produces this novel artillery-practice is verysimple. A burning-glass is fixed over the cannon in such a manner thatwhen the sun comes to the meridian--which it does every day at noon, you know--its rays are concentrated on the touch-hole, and of coursethe powder is ignited and the cannon is fired. Most boys understand the power of a burning-glass, and know how easilydry grass or tinder, or a piece of paper, may be set on fire by a goodglass when the sun is bright; but they would find it very difficult toplace a glass over a little cannon so that it would infallibly bedischarged at any set hour. And even if they could do it, they wouldnot be sure of their cannon-clock being _exactly_ right, for the sundoes not keep the very best time. He varies a little, and there is adifference between solar time and true time. But the sun is alwaysnear enough right for all ordinary intents and purposes. I know boys--lazy fellows--and some girls of the same sort, for thatmatter, --who, if they could, would have, just outside of theirschool-doors, one of the largest cannon, which should go off every dayat the very earliest hour at which school would let out, and whichshould make such a tremendous report that it would be impossible forthe teacher to overlook the time and keep them in too long. But if these same boys and girls were putting up a cannon to go off atthe hour when school commenced, they would get such a little one thatit wouldn't frighten a mouse. WATERS, DEEP AND SHALLOW. With such a vast subject before us as the waters of our beautifulworld, we must be systematic. So we will at first confine ourselves tothe observation of _pleasant waters_. [Illustration] Let us begin at the beginning. This pretty little spring, with its cool water running day and nightinto the old barrel, and then gurgling over the staves, flowing awayamong the grass and flowers, is but a trifling thing perhaps, andmight be passed with but little notice by people who have always livedin cities. But country-folks know how to value a cool, unfailingspring. In the hot days of summer the thirsty and tired farmer wouldrather see that spring than an ice-cream saloon. Yes, even if he hasnothing to drink from but a gourd, which may be lying there among thestones. He may have a tin-cup with him, --and how shocking! he maydrink out of his hands! But, let him use what he may, he certainlygets a most delicious drink. I once knew a little girl who said she could not bear spring-water;she did not think it was clean, coming out of the ground in that way. I asked her if she liked well-water; but she thought that was worseyet, especially when it was hauled up in old buckets. River-water shewould not even consider, for that was too much exposed to all sorts ofdirty things to be fit to drink. I then wished to know what kind ofwater she did like, and she answered, readily enough, "hydrant-water. "I don't know where she imagined hydrant-water came from, but she mayhave thought it was manufactured, by some clean process, out at thewater-works. But let us follow this little stream which trickles from the barrel. We cannot walk by its banks all the time, for it winds so much andruns through places where the walking is very bad; but let us goacross the fields and walk a mile or two into the woods, and we willmeet with it again. Here it is! What a fine, tumbling stream it has grown to be now! It is even bigenough to have a bridge over it. It does not always rush so noisilyamong the rocks; but this is early summer; there has been plenty ofrain, and the brook is full and strong. Now, then, if this is a troutcountry, we ought to have our hooks and lines with us. Among theeddies of this stream we might find many a nice trout, and if we wereonly successful enough to catch some of them after we had found them, we would be sure of a reward for our walk, even if the beauty of thescene did not repay us. But let us go on. This stream does not stop here. After we have walked a mile or so more, we find that our noisy friendhas quieted down very much indeed. It is a little wider, and it may beit is a little deeper, but it flows along very placidly between itslow banks. It is doubtful if we should find any trout in it now, butthere may be cat-fish and perch, and some sun-fish and eels. [Illustration] And now the stream suddenly spreads out widely. It is a little lake!No, it is only a mill-pond. Let us walk around and come out in front of the mill. How the stream has diminished again! [Illustration] As it comes out of the mill-race and joins itself to that portionwhich flows over the dam, it is a considerable creek, to be sure, butit looks very small compared to the mill-pond. But what it wants insize it makes up in speed, like some little Morgan horses you may haveseen, and it goes rushing along quite rapidly again. Here, now, is asplendid chance to catch a chub. If we had some little minnows for bait, and could stand on the bankthere to the left, and throw our lines down into the race, we ought tobe able to hook a chub, if there are any there, and I think it is verylikely that there are. A chub, if he is a good-sized fellow, is a fishworth catching, even for people who have been fishing for trout. Onebig chub will make a meal for a small family. But let us follow the creek and see what new developments we shalldiscover. To be sure, you may say that following up a stream from itsvery source involves a great deal of walking; but I can answer withcertainty that a great deal of walking is a very easy thing--in books! So on we go, and it is not long before we find that our watery friendhas ceased to be a creek, and is quite worthy of being called a fineyoung river. But still it is scarcely fit yet for navigation. Thereare rocks in the very middle of the stream, and every now and then wecome to a waterfall. But how beautiful some of those cascades are! What a delightful thing it would be, on a warm summer evening, tobathe in that deliciously cool water. It is deep enough for a goodswim, and, if any of us want a shower-bath, it would be a splendidthing to sit on the rocks and let the spray from the fall dash overus! And there are fish here, I am sure. It is possible that, if wewere to sit quietly on the bank and fish, we might soon get a stringof very nice perch, and there is no knowing what else. This stream isnow just about big enough and little enough to make the character ofits fish doubtful. I have known pike--fellows two feet long--caught insuch streams as this; and then again, in other small rivers, very muchlike it, you can catch nothing but cat-fish, roach, and eels. If we were to follow up our river, we would soon find that it grewlarger and larger, until row-boats and sloops, and then schooners andperhaps large ships, sailed upon its surface. And at last we mightfollow it down to its mouth, and, if it happened to flow into the sea, we would probably behold a grand scene. Some rivers widen so greatlynear their mouths that it is difficult to believe that they are riversat all. [Illustration] On the next page we see a river which, at its junction with the ocean, seems almost like a little sea itself. [Illustration] We can hardly credit the fact that such a great river as the Amazonarose from a little spring, where you might span the body of thestream with your hand. But, at its source, there is no doubt just sucha little spring. The great trouble, however, with these long rivers, is to find out where their source really is. There are so many brooksand smaller rivers flowing into them that it is difficult to determinethe main line. You know that we have never settled that matter inregard to the Mississippi and Missouri. There are many who maintainthat the source of the Mississippi is to be found at the head of theMissouri, and that the latter is the main river. But we shall not tryto decide any questions of that sort. We are in quest of pleasantwaters, not difficult questions. [Illustration: FALLS OF GAVARNI. ] There is no form which water assumes more grand and beautiful than thecascade or waterfall. And these are of very varied shapes and sizes. Some of the most beautiful waterfalls depend for their celebrity, notupon their height, but upon their graceful forms and the scenery bywhich they are surrounded, while others, like the cascade of Gavarni, are renowned principally for their great height. There we see a comparatively narrow stream, precipitating itself downthe side of an enormous precipice in the Pyrenees. Although it appearsso small to us, it is really a considerable stream, and as it strikesupon the jutting rocks and dashes off into showers of spray, it istruly a beautiful sight. There are other cascades which are noted for a vast volume of water. Some of these are well known, but there is one, perhaps, of which youhave never heard. When Dr. Livingstone was travelling in Africa he was asked by some ofthe natives if in his country there was any "smoke which sounds. " Theyassured him that such a thing existed in their neighborhood, althoughsome of them did not seem to comprehend the nature of it. The Doctorsoon understood that their remarks referred to a waterfall, and so hetook a journey to it. When he came within five or six miles of thecataract, he saw five columns of smoke arising in the air; but when hereached the place he found that this was not smoke, but the vapor froma great fall in the river Zambesi. These falls are very peculiar, because they plunge into a great abyss, not more than eighty feet wide, and over three hundred feet deep. Thenthe river turns and flows, for many miles, at the bottom of this vastcrack in the earth. Dr. Livingstone thinks these falls are one of thewonders of the world. There is no doubt, however, about the king of cataracts. That isNiagara. If you have seen it you can understand its grandeur, butyou can never appreciate it from a written description. A picturewill give you some idea of it, but not a perfect one, by any means. [Illustration: FALLS OF ZAMBESI. ] The Indians called these falls "thundering water, " and it was anadmirable title. The waters thunder over the great precipice, as theyhave done for thousands of years before we were born, and willcontinue to do thousands of years after we are dead. The Falls of Niagara are divided by an island into two portions, called the Canadian and the American Falls. This island lies nearer tothe United States shore than to that of Canada. Therefore the AmericanFalls are the smallest. This island is named Goat Island, and you havea good view of it in the picture. [Illustration] It seems as if the resistless torrent would some day tear away thislonely promontory, as it rushes upon and around it. It is not unlikelythat in the course of ages the island may be carried away. Even now, portions of it are occasionally torn off by the rush of thewaters. You can cross over to Goat Island by means of a bridge, and when thereyou can go down _under the falls_. Standing in what is called the"Cave of the Winds, " you can look out at a thick curtain of water, from eighteen to thirty feet thick, pouring down from the rocks above. This curtain, dark and glittering, is a portion of the great falls. It is necessary to spend days at Niagara before its grandeur can befully appreciated. But we must pass on to other waters, and not tarryat this glorious cataract until we are carried away by our subject. We will now look at, for a short time, what may be called _ProfitableWaters_. The waters of the earth are profitable in so many ways thatit would be impossible for us to consider them all. But we will simplyglance at a few scenes, where we can easily perceive what advantagesman derives from the waters, deep or shallow. In our own country thereis no more common method of making a living out of the water than byfishing with a net. The men in the picture, when they have hauled their seine to shore, will probably find as good a reward for their labor as if they hadbeen working on the land instead of in the river; and if it is shadfor which they are fishing, their profits will probably be greater. You know that our shad fisheries are very important sources of incometo a great many people. And the oyster fisheries are still morevaluable. When we mention the subject, of making a living out of the water, wenaturally think first of nets, and hooks and lines. It is true thatmills, and steamships, and packet-lines, and manufactories, are farmore important; but they require capital as well as water. Men fishall over the world, but on some waters vessels or saw-mills are neverseen. [Illustration] The styles of fishing, however, are very various. Here is a company ofAfricans, fishing with javelins or spears. They build a sort of platform or pier out into the river, and on thisthey stand, with their spears in their hands, and when a fish is seenswimming in the water, down comes the sharp-pointed javelin, whichseldom misses him. Then he is drawn upon the platform by means of thecord which is fastened to the spear. A whole family will go outfishing in this way, and spend the day on the platform. Some willspear the fish, while others will clean them, and prepare them foruse. One advantage that this party possesses is, that if any of themshould tumble into the water, they would not get their clothes wet. [Illustration] But sometimes it will not do for the fisherman to endeavor to draw upthe treasures of the deep while he remains at the surface of thewater; very often he must go down after them. In this way a great manyof the most valuable fisheries are conducted. For instance, thesponge-fishers are obliged to dive down to the very bottom of thewater, and tear off the sponges from the rocks to which they fastenthemselves. Some of the most valuable sponge-fisheries are on thecoast of Syria, and you may here see how they carry on theiroperations. [Illustration] This is a very difficult and distressing business to the divers Theyhave to remain under the water as long as they can possibly hold theirbreath, and very often they are seriously injured by their exertionsin this way. But when we use the sponges we never think of this. Andif we did, what good would it do? All over the world men are to befound who are perfectly willing to injure their health, provided theyare paid for it. The pearl-fisheries are quite as disastrous in their effects upon thedivers as those of which we have just been speaking. The pearl-diver descends by the help of a long rope, to the end ofwhich is attached a heavy stone. He stands on the stone, holds therope with one hand and his nose with the other, and quickly sinks tothe bottom. Then he goes to work, as fast as he can, to fill a netwhich hangs from his neck, with the pearl-oysters. When he can staydown no longer, the net and stone are drawn up by the cord, and herises to the surface, often with blood running from his nose and ears. But then, those who employ them sometimes get an oyster with as finepearls as this one contains. [Illustration] It is perfectly possible, however, to dive to the bottom of the seawith very valuable results, without undergoing all this terribleinjury and suffering. In this country and Europe there are men who, clad in what is called submarine armor, will go to the bottom of ariver, or bay, or the sea, --where it is not very deep--and there walkabout almost as comfortably as if they were on land. Air is suppliedto them by long pipes, which reach to the surface, and these divershave been made very useful in discovering and removing wrecks, recovering sunken treasure, and in many other ways. [Illustration] For instance, you have a picture of some divers at the bottom of theport of Marseilles. A box of gold had fallen from a steamship, and thenext day these two men went down after it. They found it, and it washauled safely to the surface by means of the ropes which they attachedto it. You see how strangely they are dressed. An iron helmet, like a greatiron pot, is over each of their heads, and a reservoir, into which theair is pumped, is on their backs. They can see through little windowsin their masks or helmets, and all they have to do is to walk aboutand attend to their business, for men above supply them with asufficiency of air for all breathing purposes, by means of an air-pumpand a long flexible tube. We have not even alluded to many profitable waters; we have saidnothing about those vast seas where the great whale is found, or ofthe waters where men catch the valuable little sardine. We have not mentioned corals, nor said anything about thosecod-fisheries, which are considered of sufficient importance, sometimes, to go to war about. But these, with many other subjects ofthe kind, we must leave unnoticed, while we cast our eyes upon some_Dangerous Waters_. We all know that almost any water, if it be a few feet deep, isdangerous at certain times and under certain conditions. The creek, which in its deepest parts is not up to your chin, may bethe death of you if you venture upon it in winter, when the ice isthin, and you break through. Without help, you may be able neither toswim out or climb out. But oceans and seas are the waters where danger may nearly always beexpected. The sea may be as smooth as glass, the skies bright, and nota breath of wind be stirring; or a gentle breeze, just enough toripple the water, may send our vessel slowly before it, and in a fewhours the winds may be roaring, the waves dashing into the air, andthe skies dark with storm-clouds. If we are upon a large and strong steamer, we may perhaps feel safeenough among the raging waves; but if our vessel be a fishing-boat, ora small pleasure-craft, we have good reason to be afraid Yet many alittle sloop like this rides bravely and safely through the storms. But many other little vessels, as strong and as well steered, go tothe bottom of the ocean every year. If the sailor escapes severestorms, or sails in a vessel which is so stout and ably managed as tobid defiance to the angry waves, he has other dangers in his path. Hemay, for instance, meet with icebergs. If the weather is clear and thewind favorable, he need not fear these floating mountains of ice. Butif it be night, or foggy, and he cannot see them, or if, in spite ofall his endeavors, the wind drives him down upon them, then is hisvessel lost, and, in all probability, the lives of all upon it. Sometimes, however, the passengers and crew may escape in boats, andinstances have been related where they have taken refuge on theiceberg itself, remaining there until rescued by a passing ship. [Illustration] But, be the weather fair or foul, a ship is generally quick to leavethe company of so dangerous a neighbor as an iceberg. Sometimes greatmasses of ice take a notion to topple over, and, looking at the matterin what light you please, I think that they are not to be trusted. Then there is the hurricane! A large ship may bravely dare the dangers of an ordinary storm, butnothing that floats on the surface of the water can be safe when awhirlwind passes over the sea, driving everything straight before itGreat ships are tossed about like playthings, and strong masts aresnapped off as if they had been made of glass. [Illustration] If a ship is then near a coast, her crew is seldom able, if the windblows towards the land, to prevent her from being dashed upon therocks; and if she is out upon the open sea, she is often utterlydisabled and swallowed up by the waves. I have known boys who thought that it would be perfectly delightfulto be shipwrecked. They felt certain that they would be cast (verygently, no doubt) upon a desert island, and there they would findeverything that they needed to support life and make them comfortable;and what they did not get there they would obtain from the wreck ofthe ship, which would be lying on the rocks, at a convenient distancefrom the shore. And once on that island, they would be their ownmasters, and would not have to go to school or do anything which didnot please them. [Illustration] This is the good old Robinson Crusoe idea, which at one time oranother runs in the mind of nearly every boy, and many girls, too, Iexpect; but a real shipwreck is never desired the second time by anyperson who has experienced one. Sometimes, even when the crew think that they have safely battledthrough the storm, and have anchored in a secure place, the wavesdash upon the vessel with such force that the anchor drags, the mastsgo by the board, and the great ship, with the hundreds of pale facesthat crowd her deck, is dashed on the great rocks which loom up in thedistance. [Illustration] Among other dangers of the ocean are those great tidal waves, whichoften follow or accompany earthquakes, and which are almost asdisastrous to those living upon the sea-coast as to those in ships. Towns have been nearly destroyed by them, hundreds of people drowned, and great ships swept upon the land, and left there high and dry. Intropical latitudes these tremendous upheavals of the ocean appear tobe most common, but they are known in all regions which are subject toserious shocks of earthquakes. [Illustration] Waterspouts are other terrible enemies of the sailor. These, howeverdangerous they may be when they approach a ship, are not very common, and it is said that they may sometimes be entirely dispersed by firinga cannon-ball into the midst of the column of water. This statementis rather doubtful, for many instances have been related where theball went directly through the water-spout without any effect exceptto scatter the spray in every direction. I have no doubt that sailorsalways keep as far away from water-spouts as they can, and place verylittle reliance on their artillery for their safety. And now, have you had enough water? We have seen how the waters of the earth may be enjoyed, how they maybe made profitable to us, and when we should beware of them. [Illustration] But before we leave them, I wish to show you, at the very end of thisarticle, something which is a little curious in its appearance. Let ustake a step down to the very bottom of the sea; not in thosecomparatively shallow places, where the divers descend to look forwrecks and treasure, but in deep Water, miles below the surface. Downthere, on the very bottom, you will see this strange thing. What doyou suppose it is? It is not an animal or a fish, or a stone, or shell. But plants aregrowing upon it, while little animals and fishes are sticking fast toit, or swimming around it. It is not very thick--scarcely an inch--andwe do not see much of it here; but it stretches thousands of miles. Itreaches from America to Europe, and it is an Atlantic Cable. There isnothing in the water more wonderful than that. HANS, THE HERB-GATHERER. [Illustration] Many years ago, when people had not quite so much sense as they havenow, there was a poor widow woman who was sick. I do not know what wasthe matter with her, but she had been confined to her bed for a longtime. She had no doctor, for in those days many of the poor people, besideshaving but little money, had little faith in a regular physician. Theywould rather depend upon wonderful herbs and simples, which werereported to have a sort of magical power, and they often used toresort to charms and secret incantations when they wished to be curedof disease. This widow, whose name was Dame Martha, was a sensible woman, in themain, but she knew very little about sickness, and believed that sheought to do pretty much as her neighbors told her. And so she followedtheir advice, and got no better. There was an old man in the neighborhood named Hans, who made it aregular business to gather herbs and roots for moral and medicalpurposes. He was very particular as to time and place when he went outto collect his remedies, and some things he would not touch unless hefound them growing in the corner of a churchyard--or perhaps under agallows--and other plants he never gathered unless the moon was in itsfirst quarter, and there was a yellow streak in the northwest, about ahalf-hour after sunset. He had some herbs which he said were good forchills and fever; others which made children obedient; others whichcaused an old man's gray hair to turn black and his teeth to growagain--if he only took it long enough; and he had, besides, remedieswhich would cure chickens that had the pip, horses that kicked, oldwomen with the rheumatism, dogs that howled at the moon, boys whoplayed truant, and cats that stole milk. Now, to our enlightened minds it is very evident that this Hans wasnothing more than an old simpleton; but it is very doubtful if hethought so himself, and it is certain that his neighbors did not. Theyresorted to him on all occasions when things went wrong with them, whether it was the butter that would not come in their churns, ortheir little babies who had fevers. Therefore, you may be sure that Dame Martha sent for Hans as soon asshe was taken ill, and for about a year or so she had been using hisherbs, making plasters of his roots, putting little shells that hebrought under her pillow, and powwowing three times a day over bunchesof dried weeds ornamented with feathers from the tails of yellow hensthat had died of old age. But all that Hans, could do for her was ofno manner of use. In vain he went out at night with his lantern, andgathered leaves and roots in the most particular way. Whether the moonwas full or on the wane; whether the tail of the Great Dipper wasabove the steeple of the old church, or whether it had not yet risenas high as the roof; whether the bats flew to the east or the westwhen he first saw them; or whether the Jack o'lanterns sailed near theground (when they were carried by a little Jack), or whether they werehigh (when a tall Jack bore them), it made no difference. His herbswere powerless, and Dame Martha did not get well. About half a mile from the widow's cottage there lived a young girlnamed Patsey Moore. She was the daughter of the village Squire, and aprettier girl or a better one than Patsey is not often met with. Whenshe heard of Dame Martha's illness she sometimes used to stop at thecottage on her way to school, and leave with her some nice littlething that a sick person might like to eat. One day in spring, when the fields were full of blossoms and the airfull of sunshine and delicious odors, Patsey stopped on her way fromschool to gather a bunch of wild-flowers. They grew so thickly and there were so many different kinds, that shesoon had a bouquet that was quite fit for a parlor. On her way homeshe stopped at Dame Martha's cottage. "I am sorry, Dame Martha, " said she, "that I have nothing nice foryou to-day, but I thought perhaps you would like to have some flowers, as it's Spring-time and you can't go out. " [Illustration] "Indeed, Miss Patsey, " said the sick woman, "you could'nt have broughtme anything that would do my heart more good. It's like hearing thebirds sing and sittin' under the hedges in the blossoms, to hear youtalk and to see them flowers. " Patsey was very much pleased, of course, at this, and after that shebrought Dame Martha a bouquet every day. And soon the good woman looked for Patsey and her beautiful flowers aslongingly and eagerly as she looked for the rising of the sun. Old Hans very seldom came to see her now, and she took no more of hismedicines. It was of no use, and she had paid him every penny that shehad to spare, besides a great many other things in the way of littleodds and ends that lay about the house. But when Patsey stopped in, one afternoon, a month or two after she had brought the first bunch offlowers, she said to the widow: "Dame Martha, I believe you are a great deal better. " "Better!" said the good woman, "I'll tell you what it is, Miss Patsey, I've been a thinking over the matter a deal for the last week, andI've been a-trying my appetite, and a-trying my eyes, and a-trying howI could walk about, and work, and sew, and I just tell you what it is, Miss Patsey, I'm well!" And so it was. The widow was well, and nobody could see any reason forit, except good Dame Martha herself. She always persisted that it wasthose beautiful bunches of flowers that Patsey had brought her everyday. "Oh, Miss Patsey!" she said, "If you'd been a-coming to me with themviolets and buttercups, instead of old Hans with his nasty bitteryarbs, I'd a been off that bed many a day ago. There was nothing butdarkness, and the shadows of tomb-stones, and the damp smells of thelonely bogs about his roots and his leaves. But there was the heavenlysunshine in your flowers, Miss Patsey, and I could smell the sweetfields, when I looked at them, and hear the hum of the bees!" It may be that Dame Martha gave a little too much credit to Patsey'sflowers, but I am not at all sure about it. Certain it is, that thedaily visits of a bright young girl, with her heart full of kindnessand sympathy, and her hands full of flowers from the fragrant fields, would be far more welcome and of far more advantage to many sickchambers than all the old herb-gatherers in the world, with theirbitter, grave-yard roots, and their rank, evil-smelling plants thatgrow down in the swamps among the frogs and snakes. Perhaps you know some sick person. Try Patsey's treatment. SOME CUNNING INSECTS. [Illustration] We hear such wonderful stories about the sense and ingenuity displayedby insects, that we are almost led to the belief that some of themmust have a little reason--at least as much as a few men and womenthat we know. Of all, these wise insects, there is none with more intelligence andcunning than the ant. How many astonishing accounts have we had ofthese little creatures, who in some countries build great houses, almost large enough for a man to live in; who have a regular form ofgovernment, and classes of society--soldiers, workers, gentlemen andladies; and who, as some naturalists have declared, even have handsomefunerals on the occasion of the death of a queen! It is certain thatthey build, and work, and pursue their various occupations accordingto systems that are wisely conceived and most carefully carried out. [Illustration] Dr. Ebrard, who wrote a book about ants and their habits, tells astory of a little black ant who was building an arch at the foundationof a new ant-hill. It was necessary to have some means of supportingthis arch, which was made of wet mud, until the key-stone should beput in and all made secure. The ant might have put up a couple ofprops, but this is not their habit in building. Their laws say nothingabout props. But the arch must be supported, and so Mr. Ant thoughtthat it would be a good idea to bend down a tall stalk of wheat whichgrew near the hill, and make it support the arch until it wasfinished. This he did by carrying bits of wet mud up to the end of thestalk until he had piled and stuck so much upon it that the heavy topbent over. But, as this was not yet low enough, and more mud could notbe put on the slender stem without danger of breaking it, the antcrammed mud in between the stalk at its root and the other stalks, sothat it was forced over still more. Then he used the lowered end tosupport his arch! [Illustration] Some other ants once found a cockchafer's wing, which they thoughtwould be a capital thing to dry for winter, and they endeavored to getit into the entrance of their hill. But it was too big. So they drewit out and made the hole larger. Then they tried again, but the wingwas still too wide. They turned it and made several efforts to get itin sideways, and upside down, but it was impossible; so they lifted itaway, and again enlarged the hole. But the wing would not yet go in. Without losing patience, they once more went to work, and, afterhaving labored for three hours and a half, they at last had thepleasure of seeing their dried wing safely pulled into theirstore-room. [Illustration] Then, there are spiders. They frequently show the greatest skill andcunning in the construction of their webs and the capture of theirprey, and naturalists say that the spider has a very well developedbrain. They must certainly have a geometrical talent, or they couldnot arrange their webs with such regularity and scientific accuracy. Some spiders will throw their webs across streams that are quite wide. Now, to do this, they must show themselves to be engineers of no smallability. Sometimes they fasten one end of a thread to a twig on oneside of the stream, and, hanging on the other end, swing over untilthey can land on the other side. But this is not always possible, forthey cannot, in some places, get a chance for a fair swing. In such acase, they often wait until the wind is blowing across the streamfrom the side on which they are, and, weaving a long line, they let itout until the wind carries it over the stream, and it catches in thebushes or grass on the other side. Of course, after one thread isover, the spider can easily run backward and forward on it, and carryover all the rest of his lines. [Illustration] Bees have so much sense that we ought almost to beg their pardon whenwe speak of their instinct. Most of us have read what Huber and othershave told us of their plans, inventions, laws, and regular habits. Itis astonishing to read of a bee-supervisor, going the round of thecells where the larvæ are lying, to see if each of them has enoughfood. He never stops until he has finished his review, and then hemakes another circuit, depositing in each cell just enough food--alittle in this one, a great deal in the next, and so on. There were once some bees who were very much disturbed by a number ofgreat moths who made a practice of coming into their hives andstealing their honey. Do what they could, the bees could not drivethese strong creatures out. But they soon hit upon a plan to save their honey. They blocked upall the doors of the hive with wax, leaving only a little hole, justbig enough for one bee to enter at a time. Then the moths werecompletely dumbfounded, and gave up the honey business in despair. But the insect to which the epithet of cunning may be best ascribed, is, I think, the flea. If you doubt this, try to catch one. Whatdouble backsprings he will turn, what fancy dodges he will execute, and how, at last, you will have to give up the game and acknowledgeyourself beaten by this little gymnast! [Illustration] But fleas have been taught to perform their tricks of strength andactivity in an orderly and highly proper manner. They have beentrained to go through military exercises, carrying little sticks forguns; to work and pull about small cannon, although the accounts saynothing about their firing them off; and, what seems the mostwonderful of all, two fleas have been harnessed to a little coachwhile another one sat on the box and drove! The whole of thiswonderful exhibition was so small that a microscope had to be used inorder to properly observe it. The last instance of the intelligence of insects which I will give issomething almost too wonderful to believe, and yet the statement ismade by a Dr. Lincecum, who studied the habits of the insect inquestion for twelve years, and his investigations were published inthe _Journal of the Linnæan Society_. Dr. Lincecum says, that in Texasthere is an ant called by him the Agricultural Ant, which not onlylays up stores of grain, but prepares the soil for the crop; plantsthe seed (of a certain plant called ant-rice); keeps the ground freefrom weeds; and finally reaps the harvest, and separating the chafffrom the grain, packs away the latter, and throws the chaff outside ofthe plantation. In "Wood's Bible Animals" you can read a full accountof this ant, and I think that after hearing of its exploits, we canbelieve almost anything that we hear about the intelligence ofinsects. A FIRST SIGHT OF THE SEA. [Illustration] If you have ever seen the ocean, you will understand what a grandthing it is to look for the first time upon its mighty waters, stretching away into the distance, and losing themselves in the cloudsand sky. We know it is thousands of miles over to the other shore, butfor all that we have a pretty good idea of that shore. We know itsname, and have read about the people who live there. But when, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, Vasco Nuñez deBalboa stood upon the shore of the Pacific, and gazed over itsboundless waters, the sight to him was both grand and mysterious. Hesaw that a vast sea lay beneath and before him--but that was all heknew. Europeans had not visited it before, and the Indians, who hadacted as his guides, knew but little about it. If he had desired tosail across those vast blue waters, Balboa would have had no idea uponwhat shores he would land or what wonderful countries and continentshe would discover. Now-a-days, any school-boy could tell that proud, brave soldier, whatlay beyond those billows. Supposing little Johnny Green (we all knowhim, don't we?) had been there, how quickly he would have settledmatters for the Spanish chieftain. "Ah, Mr. Balboa, " Johnny would have said, "you want to know what liesoff in that direction--straight across? Well, I can tell you, sir. Ifyou are standing, as I think you are, on a point of the Isthmus ofDarien, where you can look directly westward, you may cast your eyes, as far as they will go, over a body of water, which, at this point, isabout eleven thousand miles wide. No wonder you jump, sir, but such isthe fact. If you were to sail directly west upon this ocean you wouldhave a very long passage before you came upon any land at all, and thefirst place which you would reach, if you kept straight on yourwestward course, would be the Mulgrave Islands. But you would havepassed about seven or eight hundred miles to the southward of theSandwich Islands, which are a very important group, where there is anenormous volcano, and where Captain Cook will be killed in about twohundred and fifty years. If you then keep on, you will pass among theCaroline Islands, which your countrymen will claim some day; and ifyou are not eaten up by the natives, who will no doubt coax you toland on some of their islands and will then have you for supper, youwill at last reach the Philippine Islands, and will probably land, fora time, at Mindanao, to get water and things. Then, if you still keepon, you will pass to the north of a big island, which is Borneo, andwill sail right up to the first land to the west, which will be partof a continent; or else you will go down around a peninsula, whichlies directly in your course, and sail upon the other side of it, intoa great gulf, and land anywhere you please. Do you know where you willbe then, Mr. Balboa? Don't, eh? Well, sir, you would be just whereColumbus hoped he would be, when he reached the end of his greatvoyage across the Atlantic--in the Indies! Yes, sir, all among thegold, and ivory, and spices, and elephants and other things! "If you can get any ships here and will start off and steer carefullyamong the islands, you won't find anything in your way until you getthere. But, it was different with Columbus, you see, sir. He had awhole continent blocking up his road to the Indies; but, for my part, I'm very glad, for various reasons, that it happened so. " [Illustration] It is probable that if Johnny Green could have delivered this littlespeech, that Vasco Nuñez de Balboa would have been one of the mostastonished men in the world! Whether he and his fellow-adventurers would ever have set out to sailover those blue waters, in search of the treasures of the East, ismore than I can say, but it is certain that if he had started off onsuch an expedition, he would have found things pretty much as JohnnyGreen had told him. THE LARGEST CHURCH IN THE WORLD. [Illustration] This is St. Peter's at Rome. Is it possible to look upon such amagnificent edifice without acknowledging it as the grandest of allchurches? There are some others in the world more beautiful, and somemore architecturally perfect; but there is none so vast, soimpressive, so grand! This great building was commenced in 1506, but it was a century and ahalf before it was finished. Among other great architects, MichaelAngelo assisted in its construction. The building is estimated to havecost, simply for its erection, about fifty millions of dollars, and ithas cost a great deal in addition in later years. Its dimensions are enormous. You cannot understand what a greatbuilding it is unless you could see it side by side with some houseor church with which you are familiar. Several of the largest churchesin this country could be stood up inside of St. Peter's withouttouching walls or roof, or crowding each other in the least. [Illustration] There are but three works of man in the whole world which are higherthan the little knob which you see on the cupola surmounting the greatdome of St. Peter's. These more lofty buildings are the Great Pyramidof Egypt, the Spire of Strasbourg, and the Tower of Amiens. Thehighest of these, the pyramid, is, however, only forty-two feet aboveSt. Peter's. The great dome is supported by four pillars, each ofwhich is seventy feet thick! But let us step inside of this great edifice. I think you will bethere even more impressed with its height and extent than you werewhen you stood on the outside. Is not here a vast and lofty expanse? But even from this favorablepoint you cannot get a complete view of the interior. In front of you, you see in the distance the light striking down from above. There isthe great dome, and when you walk beneath it you will be amazed at itsenormous height. There are four great halls like this one directlybefore us, for the church is built in the form of a cross, with thedome at the intersection of the arms. There are also openings invarious directions, which lead into what are called chapels, but whichare in reality as large as ordinary sized churches. The pavement of the whole edifice is made of colored marble, and, asyou see, the interior is heavily decorated with carving and statuary. Much of this is bronze and gold. But if you should mount (and there are stairs by which you may makethe ascent) into the cupola at the top of the dome, and look down intothe vast church, and see the people crawling about like little insectsso far below you, you would perhaps understand better than at anyother time that it is not at all surprising that this church should beone of the wonders of the world. If we ever go to Europe, we must not fail to see St. Peter's Church atRome. THE SOFT PLACE. There was once a young Jaguar (he was very intimately related to thePanther family, as you may remember), and he sat upon a bit of hardrock, and cogitated. The subject of his reflections was very simpleindeed, for it was nothing more nor less than this--where should heget his supper? He would not have cared so much for his supper, if it had been that hehad had no dinner, and even this would not have made so muchdifference if he had had his breakfast. But in truth he had eatennothing all day. During the summer of that year the meat-markets in that section of thecountry were remarkably bad. It was sometimes difficult for a pantheror a wildcat to find enough food to keep her family at all decently, and there were cases of great destitution. In years before there hadbeen plenty of deer, wild turkey, raccoons, and all sorts of goodthings, but they were very scarce now. This was not the first timethat our young Jaguar had gone hungry for a whole day. While he thus sat, wondering where he should go to get something toeat, he fell asleep, and had a dream. And this is what he dreamed. He dreamed that he saw on the grass beneath the rock where he waslying five fat young deer. Three of them were sisters, and the othertwo were cousins. They were discussing the propriety of taking a napon the grass by the river-bank, and one of them had already stretchedherself out. "Now, " thought the Jaguar in his dream, "shall I waituntil they all go to sleep, and then pounce down softly and kill themall, or shall I spring on that one on the ground and make sure of agood supper at any rate?" While he was thus deliberating in his mindwhich it would be best for him to do, the oldest cousin cocked up herears as if she heard something, and just as the Jaguar was going tomake a big spring and get one out of the family before they took totheir heels, he woke up! [Illustration] What a dreadful disappointment! Not a deer, or a sign of one, to beseen, and nothing living within a mile. But no! There is somethingmoving! It is--yes, it is a big Alligator, lying down there on therocks! After looking for a few minutes with disgust at the uglycreature, the Jaguar said to himself, "He must have come on shorewhile I was asleep. But what matters it! An Alligator! Very differentindeed from five fat young deer! Ah me! I wish he had not that greathorny skin, and I'd see if I could make a supper off of him. Let mesee! There is a soft place, as I've been told, about the alligator! IfI could but manage and get a grip of that, I think that I could settleold Mr. Hardskin, in spite of his long teeth. I've a mind and a halfto try. Yes, I'll do it!" [Illustration] So saying, the Jaguar settled himself down as flat as he could andcrept a little nearer to the Alligator, and then, with a tremendousspring, he threw himself upon him. The Alligator was asleep, but hisnap came to a very sudden close, you may be sure, and he opened hiseyes and his mouth both at the same time. But he soon found that hewould have to bestir himself in a very lively manner, for a strongand hungry Jaguar had got hold of him. It had never before enteredinto the Alligator's head that anybody would want to eat him, but hedid not stop to think about this, but immediately went to work todefend himself with all his might. He lashed his great tail around, hesnapped his mighty jaws at his enemy, and he made the dust flygenerally. But it all seemed of little use. The Jaguar had fixed histeeth in a certain soft place in his chest, under his fore-leg, andthere he hung on like grim death. The Alligator could not get at himwith his tail, nor could he turn his head around so as to get a goodbite. The Alligator had been in a hard case all his life, but he reallythought that this surprising conduct of the Jaguar was something worsethan anything he had ever been called upon to bear. "Does he really think, I wonder, " said the Alligator to himself, "thathe is going to have me for his supper?" It certainly looked very much as if Mr. Jaguar had that idea, and asif he would be able to carry out his intention, for he was so charmedat having discovered the soft place of which he had so often been toldthat he resolved never to let go until his victim was dead; and in themidst of the struggle he could not but regret that he had neverthought of hunting Alligators before. As it may well be imagined, the Alligator soon began to be very tiredof this sort of thing. He could do nothing at all to damage hisantagonist, and the Jaguar hurt him, keeping his teeth jammed into thevery tenderest spot in his whole body. So he came to the conclusionthat, if he could do nothing else, he would go home. If the Jaguarchose to follow him, he could not help it, of course. So, gradually, he pulled himself, Jaguar and all, down to the river, and, as thebanks sloped quite suddenly at this place, he soon plunged into deepwater, with his bloodthirsty enemy still hanging fiercely to him. As soon as he found himself in the water, the Alligator rolled himselfover and got on top. Then they both sank down, and there was nothingseen on the surface of the water but bubbles. The fight did not last very long after this, but the Jaguar succeededperfectly in his intentions. He found a soft place--in the mud at thebottom of the river--and he stayed there. A FEW FEATHERED FRIENDS. [Illustration: A FEW FEATHERED FRIENDS. ] Whether dressed in broadcloth, silk, calico, home-spun, or feathers, friends are such valuable possessions that we must pay these folks whoare now announced as much attention as possible. And if we do this andin every way endeavor to make them feel comfortable and entirely athome, we will soon perceive a very great difference between them andmany of our friends who dress in coats and frocks. For the more we dofor our feathered friends, the more they will do for us. Now, youcan't say that of all the men and women and boys and girls that youknow. I wish most sincerely that you could. The first family who calls upon us (and the head of this family makesthe very earliest calls that I know anything about) are too well knownto all of us to need the slightest introduction. You will see in aninstant that you have met them before. And there is no doubt but that these are among the very best featheredfriends we have. Those hens are liberal with their eggs, and thoselittle chickens that are running around like two-legged puff-balls, are so willing to grow up and be broiled and roasted and stewed, thatit would now be almost impossible for us to do without them. Eggs seemto come into use on so many occasions that, if there was to be anegg-famine, it would make itself felt in every family in the land. Notonly would we miss them when boiled, fried, and cooked in omelets forbreakfast; not only without them would ham seem lonely, puddings andsponge-cakes go into decline, and pound-cake utterly die, but the artsand manufactures of the whole country would feel the deprivation. Merely in the photographic business hundreds of thousands of eggs areneeded every year, from which to procure the albumen used in thepreparation of photographic paper. [Illustration] Do without eggs? Impossible. And to do without "chicken" for dinner would seem almost as impossiblefor some folks. To be sure, we might live along very comfortablywithout those delightful broils, and roasts, and fricassees, but itwould be a great pity. And, if we live in the country, there is nomeat which is so cheap and easily procured all the year round aschicken. I wonder what country-people would do, especially in thesummer time, when they have little other fresh meat, without theirchickens. Very badly, I imagine. Next to these good old friends comes the pigeon family. These are veryintimate with many of us. [Illustration] Pigeons are in one respect even more closely associated with man thanthe domestic fowls, because they live with him as readily in cities asin the country. City chickens always seem out of place, but citypigeons are as much at home as anybody else. There are few houses sosmall that there is not room somewhere for a pigeon-box, and there areno roofs or yards so humble that the handsomest and proudest "pouters"and "tumblers" and "fan-tails" will not willingly come and strut andcoo about them as long as they receive good treatment and plenty offood. But apart from the pleasure and profit which these beautiful birdsordinarily afford to their owners, some of them--the carriers--areoften of the greatest value, and perform important business that wouldhave to be left undone if it were not for them. The late war in Francehas fully proved this. I remember hearing persons say that now, sincetelegraph lines had become so common, they supposed carrier-pigeonswould no longer be held in esteem, and that the breed would besuffered to die out. [Illustration] But that is a mistake. There are times, especially during wars, whentelegraphic and railroad lines are utterly useless, and then thecarrier-pigeon remains master of the situation. The doves are such near relations of the pigeons that we might supposethey would resemble them in their character as much as in appearance. But they are not very much alike. Doves are not ambitious; they don'tpout, or tumble, or have fan-tails. As to carrying messages, or doinganything to give themselves renown, they never think of it. They arecontent to be affectionate and happy. And that is a great deal. If they did nothing all their lives but setexamples to children (and to their parents also, sometimes), the doveswould be among our most useful little birds. [Illustration] I suppose we all have some friends whom we are always glad to see, even if they are of no particular service to us. And this is right; weshould not value people's society in exact proportion to what we thinkwe can get out of them. Now, the swan is a feathered friend, and agood one, but I must say he is of very little practical use to us. Butthere is something more to be desired than victuals, clothes, feather-beds, and Easter-eggs. We should love the beautiful as well asthe useful. Not so much, to be sure, but still very much. The boy orman who despises a rose because it is not a cabbage is much morenearly related to the cows and hogs than he imagines. If we accustomourselves to look for beauty, and enjoy it, we will find it, afterawhile, where we never supposed it existed--in the caterpillar, forinstance, and in the snakes. There is beauty as well as practicalvalue in almost everything around us, and we are not the lords ofcreation that we suppose we are, unless we are able to see it. Now, then, I have preached you a little sermon, with the swans for atext. But they are certainly beautiful subjects. A goose, when it is swimming, is a very handsome bird, and it is mostadmirable when it appears on the table roasted of a delightful brown, with a dish of apple-sauce to keep it company. But, for some reason, the goose has never been treated with proper consideration. It has forhundreds of years, I expect, been considered as a silly bird. Butthere never was a greater mistake. If we looked at the thing in theproper light, we would not be at all ashamed to be called a goose. Ifany one were to call you an ostrich, I don't believe you would be veryangry, but in reality it would be much more of an insult than to callyou a goose, for an ostrich at times is a very silly bird. But geese have been known to do as many sensible things as anyfeathered creatures of which we know anything. I am not going to sayanything about the geese which saved Rome, for we have no record thatthey _intended_ to do anything of the kind; but I will instance thecase of a goose which belonged to an old blind woman, who lived inGermany. Every Sunday these two friends used to go to church together, thegoose carefully leading the old woman by her frock. When they reached the church, the goose would lead his mistress to herseat and then go outside and eat grass until the services were over. When the people began to come out the goose would go in, and, takingthe old woman in charge, would lead her home. At other times also hewas the companion of her walks, and her family knew that old blindGrandmother was all right if she had the goose with her when she wentout. [Illustration] There was another goose, in a town in Scotland, who had a greatattachment for a young gentleman to whom she belonged. She wouldfollow him in his walks about the town, and always testified herdelight when she saw him start for a ramble. When he went into a barber's shop to be shaved, she would wait on thepavement until he came out; and in many of his visits she accompaniedhim, very decorously remaining outside while her master was enjoyingthe society of his friends. [Illustration] Ducks, too, have been known to exhibit sociable and friendly traits. There is a story told of a drake who once came into a room where ayoung lady was sitting, and approaching her, caught hold of her dresswith his bill and commenced to pull vigorously at it. The lady wasvery much surprised at this performance, and tried to drive the drakeaway. But he would neither depart or stop tugging at her dress, andshe soon perceived that he wanted her to do something for him. So sherose from her chair, and the drake immediately began to lead hertowards the door. When he had conducted her out on to the lawn, heled her to a little lake near the house, and there she saw what it wasthat troubled Mr. Drake. A duck, very probably his wife, had beenswimming in the lake, and in poking her head about, she had caught herneck in the narrow opening of a sluice-gate and there she was, fastand tight. The lady lifted the gate, Mrs. Duck drew out her head andwent quacking away, while Mr. Drake testified his delight andgratitude by flapping his wings and quacking at the top of his voice. [Illustration] We have also friends among the feathered tribes, who are not quite sointimate and sociable as those to which we have already alluded, butwhich still are very well deserving of our friendship and esteem. Forinstance, what charming little companions are the canary-birds! To besure, they would not often stay with us, if we did not confine them incages; but they seem perfectly at home in their little wire houses, and sing and twitter with as much glee as if they were flying about inthe woods of their native land--or rather, of the native land of theirforefathers, for most of our canary-birds were born in the midst ofcivilization and in cages. [Illustration] There are some birds, however, no bigger than canaries, which seem tohave an attachment for their masters and mistresses, and which do notneed the restraint of a cage. There was once a gold-finch whichbelonged to a gentleman who lived in a town in Picardy, France, butwho was often obliged to go to Paris, where he also had apartments. Whenever he was obliged to go to the great city, his gold-finch wouldfly on ahead of him, and, arriving there some time in advance of thecarriage, the servants would know that their master was coming, intime to have the rooms ready for him. And when the gentleman drove upto the door he would generally see his little gold-finch sitting onthe finger of a cook or a chamber-maid, and twittering away as if hewas endeavoring to inform the good people of all the incidents of thejourney. Some of these little birds, however, which are very friendly andcomparatively sociable as long as they are not troubled and annoyed, are not only able to distinguish their friends from their foes, butare very apt to stand up vigorously in defence of their rights. Thoselittle sparrows, which hop about so cunningly in the streets of manyof our cities, understand very well that no one will hurt them, andthat they may pick up crumbs wherever they can find them. But let afew boys get into the habit of throwing sticks and stones at them, andthe little things will leave that neighborhood as quickly as if therents of all their tiny houses had been raised beyond their means. [Illustration] Magpies, too, are very companionable in their own way, if they arewell treated; but if a boy should undertake to steal away with one oftheir nests, when it was full of young ones, he would run a very greatrisk of having his eyes picked out. There is a feathered friend of ours who keeps himself so secluded, atleast during the day-time, that he is very apt to escape our notice. Irefer to the owl. It may not be supposed, by some, that the owl is a friend of mankind, and I am perfectly willing to admit that very often he acts very muchlike an enemy, especially when he kills our young chickens andturkeys. But for all that, he has his good points, and very oftenbehaves in a commendable manner. If you have a barn or a house that isoverrun with mice, there is nothing that will be more certain to drivethem out than an owl. And he will not be so apt to steal your milk orkill your canary as many of the cats which you have taken into yourfamily without a recommendation. [Illustration] We once had an owl living in our house. He belonged to my youngbrother, who caught him in a trap, I believe. All day long, thissolemn little fellow (for he was a small brown one), would sit on theback of a chair, or some such convenient place, and if any of us camenear him, he would turn his head and look at us, although he could notsee very well in the day-time; and if we walked behind him, or ondifferent sides of him, he would always keep his eyes on us, turninghis head around exactly as if it was set on a pivot. It was astonishing how easily he could turn his head without movinghis body. Some folks told us that if we walked around and around him, he would turn and turn his head, until he twisted it off, but we nevertried that. It was really astonishing how soon the mice found out that there wasan owl in the house. He had the range of a great part of the house allnight, and in a very short time he had driven every mouse away. Andthe first time he found a window open, he went away himself. There isthat objection to owls, as mousers. They are very good so long as theywill hold the situation, but they are exceedingly apt to leave withoutgiving the family any notice. You won't find a cat doing that. Thetrouble with her very often is that she will not go when you give_her_ notice to leave. When we speak of our feathered friends, it is hardly fair to excludeall but those which are domesticated with us, or which are willing, sometimes, to come and live in our houses. In the country, and veryoften in towns, our homes are surrounded, at certain seasons, bybeautiful birds, that flutter and twitter about in the trees, and singmost charmingly in the bright hours of the early morning, making thespring-time and the summer tenfold more delightful than they would bewithout them. These birds ask nothing of us but a few cherries orberries now and then, and they pay well for these by picking up theworms and grubs from our gardens. I think that these little warblers and twitterers, who fill the airwith their songs and frolic about on the trees and bushes, who buildtheir nests under our eaves and in any little box that we may put upfor them, who come regularly back to us every spring, although theymay have been hundreds of miles away during the cold weather, and whohave chosen, of their own accord, to live around our houses and tosing in our trees and bushes, ought to be called our friends, as muchas the fowls in our poultry-yards. [Illustration] [Illustration] IN A WELL. Perhaps very few of you have ever seen such an old-fashioned well asthis. No pump, no windlass, no arrangement that you are apt to call atall convenient for raising the water. Nothing but that upright stake, on top of which moves a long pole, with the bucket hanging from oneend of it. But the artist does not show in the picture the mostimportant part of this arrangement. On the other end of this long polea heavy stone is fastened, and it is easy to see that a bucket ofwater may be raised without much trouble, with the stone bearing downthe other end of the pole. To be sure, the stone must be raised whenthe bucket is lowered, but that is done by pulling downward on therope, which is not so hard as to haul a rope upward when theresistance is equal in both cases. Try it some time, and you will seethat the weight of your body will count for a great deal in theoperation. In old Mr. Naylor's yard--he lived in a little town inPennsylvania--there was one of these wells. It had been dug by hisfather, and, as it had answered all his needs from his childhood, Mr. Naylor very justly considered it would continue to do so until hisdeath, and he would listen to no one who proposed to put up a pump forhim, or make him a windlass. One afternoon in the summer-time, Jenny Naylor, his granddaughter, hadcompany, and after they had been playing around the orchard for anhour or two, and had slid down the straw-stacks to their heart'scontent, the children all went to the well to get a drink. A bucket ofwater was soon hauled up, and Tommy Barrett with a tin-cup ladled outthe refreshment to the company. When they had all drank enough theybegan to play with the well-pole. Boys and girls will play, you know, with things that no grown person would imagine could be tortured intomeans of amusement. In less than five minutes they had invented agame. That is, the boys had. I will give the girls the credit ofstanding by and looking on, in a very disapproving manner, while thisgame was going on. The pastime was a very simple one. When thestone-end of the pole rested on the ground, on account of the bucketbeing empty, one of the boys stood by the well-curb, and, seizing therope as high up as he could, pulled upon it, the other boys liftingthe stone-end at the same time. When the stone was a foot or two fromthe ground the boys at that end sat on the pole and endeavored tohoist up the fellow at the other end. A glorious game! The sport went on very nicely until Tommy Barrett took hold of therope. He was the biggest boy, and the little fellows could not raisehim. No, it was no use, so they gave it up and jumped off of the pole. But what was their amazement to see the stone rise in the air, whileat the same time Tommy Barrett disappeared down the well! The fact was, Tommy had been trying to "show off" a little before thegirls, and when he found the boys could not raise him, had stepped onthe well-curb, and pushing the bucket off, had stood on it, trying, onhis part, to raise the boys. So, when they jumped off, down he sank. The stone was not nearly so heavy as Tommy, but it was weighty enoughto prevent his going down very fast, and he arrived safely at thebottom, where the boys and girls saw him, when they crowded around thewell, standing up to his arm-pits in water. "Pull me up, quick!" cried Tommy, who still stood on the bucket, andhad hold of the rope. The children did not wait to be asked twice. They seized the rope andpulled their very best. But they could not move Tommy one inch. Therope hung right down the middle of the well, and as they had to reachover a good deal even to touch it, they could get no opportunity ofexerting their full strength upon it. And it is very well that theycould not, for had they been able to raise Tommy, it is probable thatone or two of them would have been jerked down the well every time heslipped down again, which he would have been certain to do a greatmany times before he reached the top. They soon perceived that they could not draw Tommy from the well inthat way. And the stone-end of the pole was far out of their reach. What should they do? There was no one at the house but the two old people, and they werescarcely as strong as the children. They all said a great deal, butJenny Naylor, who was much older than any of the others, saw thatsomething must be done instantly, for Tommy was crying out that he wasnearly frozen to death, and she was afraid that he would let go of therope, slip off of the bucket, and be drowned. So, without a word to anybody, she ran to the upright stake and beganto climb it. This was a very unlady-like proceeding, perhaps, butJenny did not think about anything of that kind. She was the oldestand the largest of them all, and there was no time to explain mattersto the boys. Up she went, as actively as any boy, and scrambling tothe crotch of the stake, she seated herself upon the pole. Then she began to work herself slowly up towards the stone-end. And asshe gradually approached the stone, so she gradually began to sink alittle, and the nearer she got to it the more she sank and the higherTommy Barrett rose in the well! She and the stone were heavier than he was, and some of the childrenstood, with open mouths, looking at Jenny slowly coming down, whilethe others crowded around the well to see Tommy slowly coming up. When Jenny had nearly touched the ground, there was Tommy hangingabove the well! Half a dozen little hands seized the bucket, and Tommy, as wet as adish-rag, stepped on to the curb. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that whenever there is a party ofchildren, playing around an open well, that there could be a girl likeJenny Naylor with them. A VEGETABLE GAS MANUFACTORY. [Illustration] There is a plant, called by botanists the Fraxinella, which has thepeculiar property of giving out, from its leaves and stalks, a gaswhich is inflammable. Sometimes, on a very still day, when there isno wind to blow it away as fast as it is produced, this gas may beignited by a match, when the plant is growing in the open air. Butthis is very seldom the case, for the air must be very quiet, and theplant very productive, for enough gas to be found around it to ignitewhen a flame is applied. But it is perfectly possible, as you may see in the engraving, tocollect sufficient gas from the Fraxinella to produce combustionwhenever desired. If the plant is surrounded by a glass case, the gas, as fast as produced, is confined in the case, and at last there is somuch collected in this novel gasometer, that it is only necessary toopen the case, and apply a match, to see plant-gas burning. It is not at all probable that the least use in the world could bemade of this gas, but it is certainly a very pretty experiment tocollect and ignite it. There are other plants which have this property of exudingilluminating gas in very small quantities, but none, I believe, exceptthe Fraxinella, will produce enough of it to allow this experiment tobe performed. A FEW WORDS ABOUT BEARS. [Illustration: A COMPANY OF BEARS. ] If you should ever be going up a hill, and should meet such aprocession as that on the opposite page, coming down, I wouldrecommend you to get just as far to one side as you can possibly go. Bears, especially when there are so many of them together, are by nomeans pleasant companions in a walk. But it is likely that you might wander about the world for the rest ofyour lives, and never meet so many bears together as you see in theengraving. They are generally solitary animals, and unless youhappened to fall in with a mother and her cubs, you would not belikely to see more than one at a time. In our own country, in the unsettled parts of many of the States, theblack bear is still quite common; and I could tell you of placeswhere, if you pushed carefully up mountain-paths and through lonelyforests, you might come upon a fine black bear, sitting at theentrance of her cave, with two or three of her young ones playingabout her. If it should so happen that the bear neither heard you, saw you, orsmelt you, you might see this great beast fondling her young ones, andlicking their fur as gently and tenderly as a cat with her kittens. If she perceived you at last, and you were at a distance, it is veryprobable that she and her young ones, if they were big enough, wouldall scramble out of sight in a very short time, for the black bearsare very shy of man if circumstances will permit them to get awaybefore he approaches too near to them. But if you are so near as tomake the old bear-mother fearful for the safety of her children, youwill find that she will face you in a minute, and if you are not wellable to take care of yourself, you will wish you had never seen abear. [Illustration] But, in the western part of our country, especially in the RockyMountain region, the grizzly bear is found, and he is a very differentanimal from his black relations. He is the most savage and formidable animal on this continent, andvery seldom is it that he runs away from a man. He is glad enough toget a chance to fight one. He is so large and powerful that he is verydifficult to kill, and the hunter who has slain a grizzly bear maywell be proud of the exploit. Washington Irving tells of a hunter who accidentally fell into a deephole, out in the prairies, and he tumbled right on top of a greatgrizzly bear! How the bear got down there is not stated, and I don'tsuppose the hunter stopped to inquire. A fight immediately commencedbetween these two involuntary companions, and after a long struggle, in which the man had an arm and leg broken, and was severely bittenand torn besides, he killed the bear. The hunter had a very hard time after that, but after passing throughadventures of various kinds, he floated down the Mississippi on a logand was taken in at a fort. He recovered, but was maimed for life. [Illustration] I think it is probable that no other man ever killed a grizzly bear insingle combat, and I also have my doubts about this one having doneso. It is very likely that his victim was a black bear. Few men care to hunt the grizzly bear except on horseback, so that ifthey have to run away, they may have better legs than their own underthem. The other great bear of this continent is the white or Polar bear, ofwhich we have all heard so much. Up in the regions of ice and snowthis bear lives just as comfortably as the tiger in the hot jungles ofAsia, and while he is not quite so savage as the tiger, he is almostas hard to kill. But, in speaking of his disposition, I have nointention whatever to give him a character for amiability. In fact, heis very ferocious at times. He has often been known to attack partiesof men, and when wounded can make a most soul-stirring defence. The Polar bear is a big fellow, with long white hair, and he lives onseals and fish, and almost anything he can pick up. Sometimes he takesa fancy to have a man or two for his supper, as the following storywill prove. A ship, returning from Nova Zembla, anchored near an island in theArctic Ocean, and two of the sailors went on land. They were standingon the shore, talking to each other, when one of them cried out, "Stopsqueezing me!" The other one looked around, and there was a white bear, very largebut very lean and scraggy, which had sneaked up behind the sailors, and now had clutched one of them, whom he very speedily killed andcommenced to eat, while the other sailor ran away. The whole crew of the ship now landed, and came after the bear, endeavoring to drive him away from the body of their comrade; but asthey approached him, he quietly looked at them for a minute, and thenjumped right into the middle of the crowd, seized another man, andkilled him. Upon this, the crew ran away as fast as they could, andscuttling into their boats, rowed away to the ship. There were three of these sailors, however, who were too brave tostay there and see a bear devouring the bodies of their friends, andthey returned to the island. The bear did not move as they approached him, and they fired on him, without seeming to injure him in the least. At length one of themstepped up quite close to him, and put a ball into his head just abovehis eye. [Illustration] But even this did not kill him, although it is probable that itlessened his vigor, for he soon began to stagger, and the sailors, falling upon him with their swords, were able to put him to death, andto rescue the remains of their comrades. After these stories, I think that we will all agree that when we meeta procession of bears, be they black, white, or grizzly, we will bevery wise to give them the right of way, and to endeavor to drive fromour minds, as far as possible, such ideas of the animals as we mayhave derived from those individuals which we have seen in ruralmenageries, nimbly climbing poles, or sedately drinking soda-water. [Illustration] AN OLD COUNTRY-HOUSE. [Illustration] Here is a picture of a handsome summer residence. It apparentlybelongs to a rich man, and a man of taste. The house is large andcommodious; the grounds are well laid out; there is a garden, evidently a fine one, close at hand; there is shade, water, fruit, flowers, and apparently everything that a country-house ought to have. But yet there is a certain something strange and unusual about it. There are handsome porticos, but they are differently arranged fromthose to which we have been accustomed. Such as those in front we haveoften seen; but the upper one, which appears to go nearly around thehouse, with short pillars on the sides, is different from anythingthat we see in our country neighborhoods. Those long pillars at therear of the house seem very peculiar. We have never noticed anythinglike them in such positions. There seems to be scarcely any portico atthe back, and those slim pillars are certainly useless, and, to oureyes, not very ornamental. The windows, too, are remarkable. They arenot only very small, but they are wider at the bottom than the top--astrange idea of the architect to make them in that way. The upperstory of the house does not appear to have any windows at all, but wesuppose that they must be in the back and front, or the artist mayhave accidentally left them out. Even if that floor was used forlumber-rooms, there ought to be windows. The garden has a very high wall for a private estate. It is evidentthat there must be great fear of thieves in that neighborhood. But it is no wonder that some things about this house and its groundsstrike us as peculiar, for it was built more than three thousand yearsago. It was the country residence of an Egyptian gentleman, and was, nodoubt, replete with all the modern conveniences of the period. Even inthe present day he might consider himself a very fortunate man who hadso good a house and grounds as these. If the windows were made alittle larger, a few changes effected in the interior of theestablishment, and some chimneys and fire-places built, none of ourrich men need be ashamed of such a house. But, handsome as it is, it is not probable that this house cost theEgyptian gentleman very much. It is very likely, indeed, that it was built, under the supervision ofan architect, by his own slaves, and that the materials came from hisown estates. But he may, of course, have spent large sums on itsdecoration and furniture, and it is very probable, judging from theoutside of his house, that he did so. Some of those old Egyptianswere most luxurious fellows. If you wish to see how his slaves worked while they were building hishouse, just examine this picture. To be sure, it is a temple which these men are building, but thebricklayers, hod-carriers, etc. , worked in the same way when they wereputting up a private house. [Illustration] These poor men whom you see toiling here were probably not bornslaves, and it is very likely that many of them are equal in birth andeducation to those who own them. A great proportion of them are captives taken in war, and condemnedfor the rest of their lives to labor for their victorious enemiesThat will be a vast temple which they are building. Look at thefoundations--what enormously thick walls! It is probable that severalgenerations of slaves will labor upon that temple before it isfinished. They do not work exactly as we do in the present day. The hod-carrier, who is bringing bricks from the background, has a very good way ofcarrying them; but those who are bearing a pile of bricks between themseem to make a very awkward business of it. And the man who iscarrying mortar on his shoulder, as he ascends the ladder, might veryprofitably take a lesson from some of our Irish hod-carriers. Anearthen pot with a round bottom is certainly a poor thing in which tocarry mortar up a ladder. The man who is apparently squaring a stone, and the one who issmoothing or trimming off some bricks, are using very peculiarchopping tools. But they may have answered their purpose very well. Atany rate, most magnificent edifices were built by the men who usedthem, although it is probable that the poor fellows progressed veryslowly with their work. It may be, when three thousand years more have elapsed, that ourcountry-houses and our methods of building may appear as strange asthis mansion of the Egyptian gentleman, and the customs of theEgyptian bricklayers, seem to us. But then we shall be the ancient Americans, and it will make no sortof difference to us what the future moderns say about us. FAR-AWAY FORESTS. [Illustration: PINE FOREST. ] I have no doubt that you all like to wander in the woods, but supposewe ramble for an hour or two in forests so far away that it isprobable none of you have ever seen them. Let us first enter a pine forest. We have plenty of pines in our own country, and it is probable thatmost of you have walked in the pine woods, on many a summer's day, when the soft carpet of "needles, " or "pine-shatters, " as some peoplecall them, was so pleasant to the feet, the aromatic perfume of theleaves and trees was so delicious, and everything was so quiet andsolemn. But here is a pine forest in the Eastern hemisphere. These woods are vast and lonely. The ground is torn up by torrents, for it is a mountainous district, and the branches have been torn andbroken by many a storm. It is not a pleasant place for those who lovecheerful scenery, and moreover, it is not so safe to ramble here as inour own woods at home. Companies of bandits inhabit many of theseforests, especially those that stretch over the mountainous portionsof Italy. It seems strange that in this enlightened era and in one ofthe civilized countries of Europe, bandits should still exist toterrify the traveller; but so it is. Let us get out of this pine forest, so gloomy and perhaps sodangerous. Here, now, is a very different place. This is a forest in the tropics. You will not be likely to meet with bandits here. In fact, it is veryimprobable indeed that you will meet with any one. There are vastportions of these woods which have never been trodden by the foot ofman, and which you can never see unless you cut your way, hatchet inhand, among the thick undergrowth and the interlacing vines. [Illustration] Here are ferns as large as trees--great masses of flowers that seem asif a whole garden had been emptied down before us--vast wildernessesof green, which we know extend for miles and miles, and which, although apparently so thick and impenetrable, are full of all kindsof life, vegetable and animal. The trees are enormous, but many ofthem are so covered with vines and creepers that we can scarcelydistinguish the massive trunks and luxuriant foliage. Every color ishere, rich green, royal purple, red, yellow, lilac, brown, and gray. The vines, which overrun everything, are filled with gorgeous flowers, and hang from the branches in the most graceful forms. Monkeys chatteramong the trees, beautiful parrots fly from limb to limb, butterfliesof the most gorgeous hues flutter about the grass-tops and the leavesnear the ground, and on every log and trunk are myriads of insects, lizards and little living things of endless varieties, all strange andwonderful to us. [Illustration] In some parts of this interminable forest, where the light breaksthrough the foliage, we see suspended from the trees the wonderfulair-plants or orchids. They seem like hanging-baskets of flowers, andare far more beautiful and luxuriant than anything of the kind that wehave in our hothouses at home. But we shall not find it easy to walk through all these beauties. As Isaid before, we shall often be obliged to cut a path with ourhatchets, and even then we may be unable to penetrate very far intothis jungle of beauties. The natives of these countries, when they arecompelled to pass through these dense forests, often take to thesmall streams and wade along in the water, which is sometimes up totheir shoulders, occasionally finding shallower places, or a littlespace on the banks where they can pick their way along for a fewhundred yards before they are obliged to take to the stream again. [Illustration: GIANT TREES OF CALIFORNIA. ] Everything is lovely and luxuriant here, but it will not do to staytoo long. There are fevers and snakes. Let us now go to the greatest woods in the whole world. I do not meanthe most extensive forest, but that one where the trees are thegrandest. This is the region where the giant trees of California grow. Nowhere on the face of the earth are there such trees as these. Someof them stand over four hundred feet high, and are thirty feet indiameter! Their age is believed to be about eighteen hundred years. Think of it!They have been growing there during the whole of the Christian era! One of them, the very largest of all, has been lying on the ground forabout one hundred and fifty years. When it was standing its diameterwas about forty feet. Another trunk, which is lying on the ground, has been hollowed out byfire, and through this great bore or tube a whole company of horsemenhas ridden. One of these trees was cut down some years ago by a party of men, who, I think, should have been sent to prison for the deed. It took fivemen twenty-five days to cut it through with augers and saws, and thenthey were obliged to use a great wedge and a battering-ram to make itfall. These are the kings of all trees. After such a grand sight, we willnot want to see any more trees to-day, and we will leave the forestsof Far-away and sit and think of them under our humble grape-vines andhoneysuckles. BUILDING SHIPS. [Illustration: BOAT BUILDING. ] It is a grand thing to own great ships, and to send them over theocean to distant countries; but I will venture to say that few menhave derived so much pleasure from their fine vessels, laden with allkinds of valuable freight, as many a boy has had in the possession ofa little schooner, which would be overloaded with a quart ofchestnuts. And it is not only in the ownership of these little craftsthat boys delight; they enjoy the building of them quite as much. And a boy who can build a good ship is not to be laughed at by anymechanic or architect, no matter how tall or how old he may be. The young ship-builder who understands his trade, when he is about toput a vessel on the stocks--to speak technically--first makes up hismind whether it is to be a ship, a schooner, a sloop, or merely asail-boat, and determines its size. Then he selects a good piece ofsolid, but light wood, which will be large enough for the hull. Pineis generally used; but if he can get a piece of well-seasoned whitewillow, he will find it to work very easily. Then he shapes his hullwith knife and saw, according to the best of his ability. On thisprocess the success of the whole undertaking depends. If the bottom isnot cut perfectly true on both sides, if the bow is not shapely andeven, if the stern is not rounded off and cut up in the orthodoxfashion, his ship will never sail well, no matter how admirably he mayexecute the rest of his work. If there is a ship or boat builder'sestablishment anywhere within reasonable walking distance, it willwell pay our young shipwright to go there, and study the forms ofhulls. Even if he should never build a ship, he ought to know how theylook out of the water. When the hull is properly shaped it must be hollowed out. This isdone by means of a "gouge, " or chisel with a curved edge. A smallvessel can be hollowed by means of a knife or ordinary chisel, but itis best to have a "gouge, " if there is much wood to be taken out. Whenhe has made the interior of his vessel as deep and wide as he thinksproper, he will put a deck on it, if it is a ship or a schooner; butif it is a sail-boat or sloop, he will probably only put in seats (or"thwarts, " as the sailors call them), or else half-deck it. Then comes the most interesting part of the work--the rigging. Firstthe masts, which must be light and tapering, and standing back at aslight angle, are set up, and the booms and yards are attached. Agreat deal of ingenuity can be displayed: in making the booms workwell on the masts. The bowsprit is a simple matter, and the stays, orropes which support and strengthen the masts, are very easilyattached, as they are stationary affairs. But the working-tackle andthe sails will show whether our young friend has a genius forboat-building or not. If his vessel has but a single mast, and hemerely makes a mainsail and a jib, he will not have much trouble; butif he intends to fit out a schooner, a brig, or a ship, with sailsthat will work (and where is the boy with soul so dead as to have anyother kind?), he will find that he will have a difficult job beforehim. But if he tries hard, and examines the construction and workingof sails in real ships, he will also find that he can do it. If the vessel is a fine one, she ought to be painted (this, of course, to be done before the sails are finally fastened to the booms andyards), and her name should be tastefully painted on her stern, whereof course, a rudder, carefully working on little hooks, is alreadyhung. It will be very difficult to tell when the ship will be actuallyfinished. There will always be a great deal to do after you think allis done. Flags must be made, and little halyards running nicelythrough little pulleys or rings; ballast must be provided andadjusted; conveniences for storing away freight, if the ship is largeand voyages are contemplated, must be provided; a crew; perhaps alittle cannon for salutes; an anchor and windlass, and I am sure Icannot tell you what else besides, will be thought of before the shipis done. But it will be done some time, and then comes the happy hour! If the owner is fortunate enough to live near a pond or a brook, sothat he can send her right across to where his partner stands ready toreceive her, he is a lucky boy indeed. What a proud moment, when, with all sails set and her rudder fixed atthe proper angle, she is launched! How straight she sits in the water, and how her little streamer beginsto float in the wind! Now see her sails gradually puff out! She movesgently from the shore. Now she bends over a little as the wind fillsher sails, and she is off! Faster and faster she glides along, hercutwater rippling the water in front of her, and her flags flutteringbravely in the air; and her delighted owner, with laughing eyes, beholds her triumphantly scudding over the surface of the pond! I tell you what it is, boys, I have built a great many ships, and Ifeel very much like building another. THE ORANG-OUTANG. [Illustration] The Orang-outang and the Chimpanzee approach nearer to man in theirformation and disposition than any other animals, and yet these Apesseldom evince as much apparent sense and good feeling as the dog orelephant. They imitate man very often, but they exhibit few inherentqualities which should raise them to the level of many of man's brutecompanions. I do not wish, however, to cast any aspersions on an animal generallyso good-tempered and agreeable in captivity as the Orang-outang. Whathe might become, after his family had been for several generations ina condition of domestic servitude, I cannot tell. He might then evensurpass the dog in his attachment to man and his general intelligence. At all events, the Orang-outang has a certain sense of humor which isnot possessed by animals in general. He is very fond of imitatingpeople, and sometimes acts in the most grotesque and amusing way, but, like many human wits of whom we read, his manner is always verysolemn, even when performing his funniest feats. An old gentleman once went to see a very large and fine Orang-outang, and was very much surprised when the animal approached him, and takinghis hat and his cane from him, put on the hat, and, with the cane inhis hand, began to walk up and down the room, imitating, as nearly aspossible, the gait and figure of his venerable visitor. There was another Orang-outang, who belonged to a missionary, whoperformed a trick even more amusing than this. His master waspreaching one Sunday to his congregation, when Mr. Orang-outang, having escaped from the room where he had been shut up, slipped veryquietly into the church, and climbed up on the top of the organ, justover the pulpit, where his master was delivering his sermon. Afterlooking about him for a minute or two, the ape commenced to imitatethe preacher, making all his gestures and motions. Of course thepeople began to smile when they saw this, and the minister, thinkingthat they were behaving very improperly, rebuked them for theirinattention, and preached away more earnestly than before. TheOrang-outang, of course, followed his example, and commenced togesticulate so earnestly and powerfully that the congregation burstinto laughter, and pointed out the irreverent ape. When he turned and saw the performance of his imitator, the preachercould not help laughing himself, and the Orang-outang, after a gooddeal of time had been spent in catching him, was put out of church, and the services went on as usual. Nobody likes to be made an object of ridicule, and it is probable thatthis disposition of making fun of people, which seems so natural tothe Orang-outang, would prevent his becoming a domesticated member ofour families, no matter how useful and susceptible of training hemight prove to be. Nearly all of us have some comical peculiarity, and we would not wantan animal in the house who would be sure, at some time, to expose usto laughter by his imitative powers. So I am afraid that the Orang-outangs, intelligent as they are, willhave to stay in the woods. LITTLE BRIDGET'S BATH. Little Bridget was a good girl and a pretty one, but she had ideas ofher own. She liked to study her lessons, to mind her mother, and tobehave herself as a little girl should, but she did despise to bewashed. There was something about the very smell of soap and the touchof water which made her shrink and shiver, and she would rather haveseen the doctor come to her with a teaspoonful of medicine than tohave her Aunt Ann approach with a bowlful of water, a towel, and agreat piece of soap. [Illustration] For a long time little Bridget believed that there was no escape fromthis terrible daily trial, but one bright morning, when she awoke veryearly, long before any one else in the house, she thought that it wastoo bad, when everything else was so happy, --when the birds andbutterflies were flying about so gayly in the early sunbeams, and theflowers were all so gay and bright, and smelling so sweet andcontented, that she should have to lie there on her little bed untilher Aunt Ann came with that horrible soap and towel! She made up hermind! She wouldn't stand it; she would run away before she came towash her. For one morning she would be happy. So up she jumped, and without stopping to dress herself, ran out amongthe birds and flowers. She rambled along by the brook, where the sand felt so nice and softto her bare feet; she wandered through the woods, where she foundblackberries and wild strawberries, and beautiful ferns; and shewandered on and on, among the rocks and the trees, and over the grassand the flowers, until she sat down by a great tree to rest. Then, without intending anything of the kind, she went fast asleep. She had not slept more than five minutes, before along came a troop offairies, and you may be assured that they were astonished enough tosee a little girl lying fast asleep on the grass, at that time in themorning. "Well, I never!" said the largest fairy, who was the Principal One. "Nor I, " said the Next Biggest; "It's little Bridget, and with such adirty face! Just look! She has been eating blackberries andstrawberries--and raspberries too, for all I know; for you remember, brother, that a face dirtied with raspberries is very much like onedirtied with strawberries. " "Very like, indeed, brother, " said the Principal One, "and look at herfeet! She's been walking in the wet sand!" "And her hands!" cried the Very Least, "what hands! They're allsmeared over with mixtures of things. " "Well, " said the Next Biggest, "she is certainly a dirty little girl, but what's to be done?" "Done?" said the Principal One. "There is only one thing to be done, and that is to wash her. There can be no doubt about that. " All the fairies agreed that nothing could be more sensible than towash little Bridget, and so they gathered around her, and, with allgentleness, some of them lifted her up and carried her down towardsthe brook, while the others danced about her, and jumped over her, andhung on to long fern leaves, and scrambled among the bushes, and wereas merry as a boxful of crickets. When they approached the brook, one of the fairies jumped in to see ifthe water was warm enough, and the Principal One and the Next Biggestheld a consultation, as to how little Bridget should be washed. "Shall we just souse her in?" said the Next Biggest. "I hardly think so, " said the Principal One. "She may not be used tothat sort of thing, and she might take cold. It will be best just tolay her down on the bank and wash her there. " So little Bridget, who had never opened her eyes all this time (and nowonder, for you will find, if you are ever carried by fairies whileyou are asleep, that they will bear you along so gently that you willnever know it), was brought to the brook and laid softly down by thewater's edge. Then all the fairies set to work in good earnest. Some dipped cloverblossoms in the water, and washed and rubbed her mouth and cheeksuntil there was not a sign left of strawberry or blackberry stain;others gathered fern leaves and soft grass, and washed her little feetuntil they were as white as lambs' wool; and the Very Least, who hadbeen the one to carry her hand, now washed it with ever so manymorning-glory-blossom-fuls of water and rubbed it dry with soft cleanmoss. Other fairies curled her hair around flower stalks, while somescattered sweet smelling blossoms about her, until there was neversuch a sweet, clean, and fragrant little girl in the whole world. And all this time she never opened her eyes. But no wonder, for if youare ever washed by fairies while you are asleep, you will find thatyou will never know it. When all was done, and not a speck of dirt was to be seen anywhere onlittle Bridget, the fairies took her gently up and carried her to hermother's house, for they knew very well where she lived. There theylaid her down on the doorstep, where it was both warm and shady, andthey all scampered away as fast as their funny little legs could carrythem. It was now about the right time in the morning to get up, and verysoon the front door opened and out came Aunt Ann, with a bucket on herarm, which she was going to fill at the well for the purpose of givinglittle Bridget her morning wash. When Aunt Ann saw the little girl lying on the door step she was soastonished that she came very near dropping the bucket. "Well, I never!" said she, "if it isn't little Bridget, and just asclean as a new pin! I do declare I believe the sweet innocent hasjumped out of bed early, and gone and washed and combed herself, justto save me the trouble!" Aunt Ann's voice was nothing like so soft and gentle as a fairy's, andit woke up little Bridget. "You lovely dear!" cried her Aunt, "I hadn't the least idea in theworld that you were such a smart little thing, and there is no doubtbut that you are now old enough to wash and dress yourself, and afterthis you may do it!" So, after that, Bridget washed and dressed herself, and was just ashappy as the birds, the butterflies, and flowers. SOME NOVEL FISHING. [Illustration] Fishing has one great peculiarity which makes it often vastly moreinteresting than hunting, gunning, or many other sports of the kind, and that is that you never know exactly what you are going to get. If we fish in waters known to us, we may be pretty sure of what weshall _not_ get, but even in our most familiar creeks and rivers, whocan say that the fish which is tugging at our line is certainly aperch, a cat-fish, or an eel? We know that we shall not pull up a shador a salmon, but there is always a chance for some of those greatprizes which are to be found, by rare good luck, in every river andgood-sized stream; a rock-fish, or striped-bass perhaps, or a pike, orenormous chub. But there are some fish which would not only gratify but astonishmost of us, if we could be so fortunate as to pull them out of thewater. For instance, here are some fish with both their eyes on oneside of their heads. [Illustration] These are Turbots, and are accounted most excellent eating. Theyresemble, in their conformation but not in their color, our floundersor flat-fish, which some of you may have caught, and many of you haveeaten. These fish lie on one side, at the very bottom of the water inwhich they live, and consequently one eye would be buried in the mudand would be of no use, if they were formed like common fish. But astheir enemies and their food must come from above them, they need boththeir eyes placed so that they can always look upwards. In the pictureat the head of this article, you will see some Soles lying togetherat the bottom. These are formed in the same way. They are white on oneside, which is always down except when they are swimming about, and avery dark green on the other, so that they can scarcely bedistinguished from the mud when they are lying at the bottom. TheTurbot, however, as you see, is very handsomely spotted. But there are much stranger fish than these flat fellows, and we musttake a look at some of them. What would you say if you were to pull upsuch a fish as this on your hook? [Illustration] This is a _Hippocampus_, or sea-horse. He is a little fellow, only afew inches in length, but he is certainly a curiosity. With a head andneck very much like those of a horse, he seems to take pleasure inkeeping himself in such a position as will enable him to imitate ahigh mettled charger to the greatest advantage. He curves his neck andholds up his head in a manner which few horses adopt, unless they arereined up very tightly. I have seen these little fellows in aquariums, and have always regarded them as the most interesting of fishes. But although it is by no means probable that any of us will ever catcha sea-horse, we might get even stranger fish upon our hooks. If we hada very large hook, a long and strong line, and a tempting bait, it isjust possible, if we were to go to exactly the right spot, and hadextraordinary good fortune, that we might catch such a beauty as this. [Illustration] This fellow you will probably recognize as the Cuttle-fish. Somepersons call it the Devil-fish, but the name is misapplied. TheDevil-fish is a different kind of a sea monster. But the Cuttle-fishis bad enough to have the very worst name that could be bestowed uponhim. Those great arms, which sometimes grow to a length of severalfeet, he uses to wrap around his prey, and they are strong and tough. He has two eyes and a little mouth, and is about as pugnacious a fishas is to be found anywhere. If I should ever haul a Cuttle-fish intomy boat, I think I should feel very much like getting out, no matterhow deep the water might be. There was once a sea captain, who was walking on a beach with some ofhis men, when he spied one of these Cuttle-fish, travelling over thesand towards the water. He thought it would be a fine thing to capturesuch a strange fish, and he ran after it, and caught hold of one ofits legs. But he soon wished that it had got away from him, for thehorrid creature turned on him, and wrapped several of its long arms orlegs--whichever they may be--around him, and the poor captain soonbegan to fear that he himself would not be able to escape. Nothing that he could do would loosen the hold of the monster uponhim, and if it had not been for a sailor who ran up with a hatchet andcut the limbs of the Cuttle-fish from its body, the poor captain mighthave perished in the embrace of this most disagreeable of all fishes. There are a great many stories told of this fish, and it is veryprobable that all the worst ones are true. Canary birds are very fondof pecking at the bones taken from small Cuttle-fish, and India-ink ismade from a black substance that it secretes, but I would rather dowithout canary birds altogether, and never use India-ink, than to beobliged to catch my own Cuttle-fish. But while we are hauling strange things up from the deep, suppose wetake something that is not exactly a fish, but which is alive andlives in the water. What do you think of a living thing like this? This is a polypier, and its particular name is the _fungia_ being socalled because it resembles a vegetable fungus. The animal livesinside of that circular shell, which is formed something like theunder side of a toad-stool. Between the thin plates, or leaves, thepolypier thrusts out its arms with little suckers at the ends. Withthese it seizes its food and conveys it to its mouth, which issituated at the centre of its body. [Illustration] But there are more strange fish in the sea than we can ever mention, and the strange fish are by no means the most profitable. Still thereis a pleasure in fishing, no matter what we pull up. The greatest fishers in the world are fish. The Whale will catch, inthe course of a day, enough herring to last a family for many years, and in all the rivers and oceans and lakes, fishing is going on soconstantly and extensively that the efforts of man in that directionseem ridiculous, by contrast. [Illustration] The Tunny, a large fish, measuring from two to five feet in ordinarylength, is a great fisher. He, like the Whale, is fond of herrings, and he likes them fresh, not salt, smoked, or pickled. Often, when thefishermen are busy in their boats, setting their nets for herring, atroupe of Tunnies will come along, and chase the herring in everydirection, swallowing every unfortunate fellow that they can catch. Some of the fishers that live in the sea are terrible fellows, and areby no means content with such small game as herring. The Sword-fish, for instance, always appears to prefer large victims, and he has suchstrong tastes of that kind, that he has been known to attack ships, driving his long sword clean through the bottom of the vessel. But hegenerally comes off second best on such occasions, for his sword isvery often broken off and left sticking fast in the thick hull. [Illustration] The Sword-fish has a better chance when he attacks a Whale, and thishe has often been known to do. The Whale could probably kill theSword-fish, if he could get one good crack at him, but the smallerfish is generally active enough to keep out of the way of harm, whilehe drives his sword into the Whale again and again, until the greatcreature often perishes from loss of blood. The Shark, as you all know, is the most ferocious and dangerous ofall the fishers in the sea. He considers anything suitable for a mealwhich will go into his mouth; he will eagerly snap at a man, a mouse, or even a tin coffee-pot, or a band-box. So savage and relentless isthis "tiger of the sea" as he is sometimes called, that it isgratifying to think that he occasionally goes out fishing and getscaught himself. Many instances have been related of natives of thePacific Islands, who are accustomed to bathe so much in the ocean thatthey swim almost like fishes themselves, who have successfully givenbattle to Sharks which have pursued them. The Shark is unable, fromthe peculiar formation of his mouth, to seize the man, unless he canturn partially over. Therefore the man takes care to keep below theShark, and a few stabs with his long knife are generally sufficient tofinish the combat, and to slay the monster. [Illustration] Still, although it appears so easy to kill a Shark in this way, Ithink it will generally be found preferable to try for some other kindof fish. Let others go seek the Shark, the Sword-fish, or the squirmingCuttle-fish. Give us the humble Perch and the tender Trout. Don't yousay so? EAGLES AND LITTLE GIRLS. [Illustration: THE CHILD AND THE EAGLE. ] Many years ago, among the mountains of Switzerland, an Eagle pounceddown upon a little girl, and carried her away. Her parents wereharvesting in the field, and they did not notice the danger of theirlittle daughter, until the great bird had lifted her up in his talons, and was flying away with her to his nest in the mountain crags. I remember having read all the particulars of this remarkable affair, but I forget whether the child was rescued alive or not. At any ratelet us hope that she was. But this incident suggests the following question: Ought little girlsto be allowed to play out of doors in countries where there areEagles? Many a child, after looking at such a picture as that upon theopposite page, might reasonably stand in awe of the national bird ofour country; but I will state that it is my firm belief that a childruns quite as much risk of being swallowed up by an earthquake as itdoes of being carried away by an Eagle. There have been a few instances where the bald-headed Eagle of thiscountry--(so called, not because its head is bald, but because it isgray)--has attacked children, but these cases are very rare indeed. The Eagle which carried off the little girl in Switzerland was of avery different kind from the national emblem of America, --much morepowerful and fierce. But even in Switzerland, if the children alllived until they were carried away by Eagles, the country would soonbecome like one great school-house yard. So, looking at the matter in all its various aspects, I think that wemay reasonably conclude that little girls, when they play out ofdoors, are in more danger from horses, dogs, snakes, and bad company, than of being attacked by Eagles, and the children may all look uponthe picture of the Eagle of the Alps and its baby prey without ashudder on their own account. CLIMBING MOUNTAINS. [Illustration] There is nothing which can give us grander ideas of Nature than tostand on the top of a high Mountain. But it is very hard to get there. And yet there are very few Mountains in the world which have not beenascended by man. For hundreds of years, Mont Blanc, that lofty peak of the Alps, wasconsidered absolutely inaccessible, but it is now frequently ascended. Even ladies, and some of them Americans, have stood upon its summit. But few persons, except those who have actually made the ascent ofhigh and precipitous Mountains, have any idea of the dangers anddifficulties of the undertaking. The adventurers are obliged to wearshoes studded with strong iron spikes to prevent slipping; they carrylong poles with iron points by which they assist themselves up thesteep inclines; they are provided with ladders, and very often thewhole party fasten themselves together with a long rope, so that ifone slips the others may prevent him from falling. Where there are steep and lofty precipices, crumbling rocks, andoverhanging cliffs, such as those which obstruct the path of the partywhose toilsome journey is illustrated in the accompanying engraving, the feat of climbing a Mountain is hazardous and difficult enough; butwhen heights are reached where the rocks are covered with ice, wheredeep clefts are concealed by a treacherous covering of snow whereavalanches threaten the traveller at every step, and where themountain-side often seems as difficult to climb as a pane of glass, the prospect seems as if it ought to appal the stoutest heart. But some hearts are stouter than we think, and up those icy rocks, along the edges of bewildering precipices, over, under, and aroundgreat masses of rock, across steep glaciers where every footstep mustbe made in a hole cut in the ice, brave men have climbed and crept andgradually and painfully worked their way, until at last they stoodproudly on the summit, and gazed around at the vast expanse ofmountains, plains, valleys, and forests, spread far and wide beneaththem. In Europe there are regular associations or clubs ofmountain-climbers, which at favorable periods endeavor to make theascent of lofty and difficult Mountains. Nearly every peak of thePyrenees and the Alps has felt the feet of these adventurers, who takeas much delight in their dangerous pursuits as is generally found bythe happiest of those who are content with the joys of ordinaryaltitudes. We have very many grand Mountains in our country, but we have not yetreduced their ascent to such a system as that which these Alpine clubshave adopted. But very many of our countrymen have climbed to theloftiest peaks of the White Mountains, the Catskills, the Alleghenies, and the Rocky Mountains. Mountain-climbing is certainly dangerous, and it is about the hardestlabor of which man is capable, but the proud satisfaction of standingupon a mountain-top repays the climber for all the labor, and makeshim forget all the dangers that he has passed through. ANDREW'S PLAN. [Illustration] "Oh, Andy!" said little Jenny Murdock, "I'm so glad you came alongthis way. I can't get over. " "Can't get over?" said Andrew; "why, what's the matter?" "The bridge is gone, " said Jenny. "When I came across after breakfastit was there, and now it's over on the other side, and how can I getback home?" "Why so it is, " said Andrew. "It was all right when I came over alittle while ago, but Old Donald pulls it on the other side everymorning after he has driven his cows across, and I don't think he hasany right to do it. I expect he thinks the bridge was made for him andhis cows. " "Now I must go down to the big bridge, Andy, and I want you to comewith me. I'm afraid to go through all those dark woods by myself, "said Jenny. "But I can't go, Jenny, " said Andrew; "it's nearly school time now. " Andrew was a Scotch boy, and a fine fellow. He was next to the head ofhis school, and he was as good at play as he was at his books. JennyPatterson, his most particular friend, was a little girl who livedvery near Andrew's home. She had no brothers or sisters, but Andrewhad always been as good as a brother to her, and therefore, when shestood by the water's edge that morning, just ready to burst intotears, she thought all her troubles over when she saw Andrew approach. He had always helped her out of her difficulties before, and she sawno reason why he should not do it now. She had crossed the creek insearch of wild flowers, and when she wished to return had found thebridge removed, as Andrew supposed, by Old Donald McKenzie, whopastured his cows on this side of the creek. This stream was not verywide, nor very deep at its edges, but in the centre it was four orfive feet deep, and in the Spring there was quite a strong current, sothat wading across it, either by cattle or men, was quite a difficultundertaking. As for Jenny, she could not get across at all without abridge, and there was none nearer than the wagon bridge, a mile and ahalf below. "You will go with me, Andy, won't you?" said the little girl. "And be late to school?" said he. "I have never been late yet, youknow, Jenny. " "Perhaps Dominie Black will think you have been sick, or had to mindthe cows, " said Jenny. "He won't think so unless I tell him, " said Andrew, "and you know Iwon't do that. " "If we were to run all the way, would you be too late?" said Jenny. "If we were to run all the way to the bridge and I was to run all theway back, I would not get to school till after copy-time. I expectevery minute to hear the school-bell ring, " said Andrew. "But what can I do, then?" said poor little Jenny. "I can't wait heretill school's out, and I don't want to go up to the school-house, forall the boys to laugh at me. " "No, " said Andrew, reflecting very seriously, "I must take you homesome way or other. It won't do to leave you here, and no matter whereyou might stay, your mother would be troubled to death about you. " "Yes, " said Jenny, "she would think I was drowned. " Time pressed, and Jenny's countenance became more and more overcast, but Andrew could think of no way in which he could take the littlegirl home without being late and losing his standing in the school. It was impossible to get her across the stream at any place nearerthan the "big bridge;" he would not take her that way and make up afalse story to account for his lateness at school, and he could notleave her alone or take her with him. What in the world was to be done? While several absurd and impracticable projects were passing throughhis brain the school-bell began to ring, and he must start immediatelyto reach the school-house in time. And now his anxiety and perplexity became more intense than ever, andJenny, looking up into his troubled countenance, began to cry. Andrew, who never before had failed to be at the school door beforethe first tap of the bell, began to despair. Was there nothing to be done? Yes! a happy thought passed through his mind. How strange that heshould not have thought of it before! He would ask Dominie Black to let him take Jenny home. What could be more sensible and straightforward than such a plan? Of course the good old Schoolmaster gave Andrew the desiredpermission, and everything ended happily. But the best thing about thewhole affair was the lesson that young Scotch boy learned that day. And the lesson was this: when we are puzzling our brains with plans tohelp ourselves out of our troubles, let us always stop a moment in ourplanning, and try to think if there is not some simple way out of thedifficulty, which shall be in every respect _perfectly right_. If wedo that we shall probably find the way, and also find it much moresatisfactory as well as easier than any of our ingenious and elaborateplans. THE WILD ASS. [Illustration: WILD ASSES. ] If there is any animal in the whole world that receives worsetreatment or is held in less esteem than the ordinary Jackass, I amvery sorry for it. With the exception of a few warm countries, where this animal grows toa large size, and is highly valued, the Jackass or Donkey iseverywhere considered a stupid beast, a lazy beast, an obstinatebeast, and very often a vicious beast. To liken any one to a Jackassis to use very strong language. In many cases, this character of the Donkey (with the exception of thestupidity, for very few Donkeys are stupid, although they try to seemso) is correct, but nevertheless it is doubtful if the animal is muchto blame for it. There is every reason to believe that the dullnessand laziness of the Donkey is owing entirely to his association withman. For proof of this assertion, we have but to consider the Ass in hisnatural state. There can be no reasonable doubt but that the domestic Ass isdescended from the Wild Ass of Asia and Africa, for the two animalsare so much alike that it would be impossible, by the eye alone, todistinguish the one from the other. But, except in appearance, they differ very much. The tame Ass isgentle, and generally fond of the society of man; the wild Ass is oneof the shyest creatures in the world; even when caught it is almostimpossible to tame him. The tame Ass is slow, plodding, dull, andlazy; the wild Ass is as swift as a race-horse and as wild as a Deer. The best mounted horsemen can seldom approach him, and it is generallynecessary to send a rifle-ball after him, if he is wanted very much. His flesh is considered a great delicacy, which is another differencebetween him and the tame animal. If any of you were by accident to get near enough to a wild Ass toobserve him closely, you would be very apt to suppose him to be one ofthose long-eared fellows which must be beaten and stoned and punchedwith sticks, if you want to get them into the least bit of a trot, andwhich always want to stop by the roadside, if they see so much as acabbage-leaf or a tempting thistle. But you would find yourself greatly mistaken and astonished when, assoon as this wild creature discovered your presence, he went dashingaway, bounding over the gullies and brooks, clipping it over therocks, scudding over the plains, and disappearing in the distance likea runaway cannon-ball. And yet if some of these fleet and spirited animals should becaptured, and they and their descendants for several generationsshould be exposed to all sorts of privations and hardships; workedhard as soon as their spirits were broken, fed on mean food and verylittle of it; beaten, kicked, and abused; exposed to cold climates, towhich their nature does not suit them, and treated in every way as ourJackasses are generally treated, they would soon become as slow, poky, and dull as any Donkey you ever saw. If we have nothing else, it is very well to have a good ancestry, andno nobleman in Europe is proportionately as well descended as theJackass. ANCIENT RIDING. There are a great many different methods by which we can take a ride. When we are very young we are generally very well pleased with whatmost boys and girls call "piggy-back" riding, and when we get older wedelight in horses and carriages, and some of us even take pleasure inthe motion of railroad cars. Other methods are not so pleasant. Persons who have tried it say thatriding a Camel, a little Donkey, or a rail, is exceedinglydisagreeable until you are used to it, and there are various otherstyles of progression which are not nearly so comfortable as walking. [Illustration] There were in ancient times contrivances for riding which are atpresent entirely unknown, except among half-civilized nations, andwhich must have been exceedingly pleasant. When, for instance, an Egyptian Princess wished to take the air, sheseated herself in a Palanquin, which was nothing but a comfortablechair, with poles at the sides, and her bearers, with the ends of thepoles upon their shoulders, bore her gently and easily along, while anattendant with a threefold fan kept the sun from her face and gentlyfanned her as she rode. Such a method of riding must have been very agreeable, for theshoulders of practised walkers impart to the rider a much more elasticand agreeable motion than the best made springs, and, for a well fed, lazy Princess nothing could have been more charming than to be bornethus beneath the waving palm-trees, and by the banks of the streamswhere the lotus blossomed at the water's edge, and the Ibis sniffedthe cooling breeze. But when the father or brother of the Princess wished to ride, especially if it happened to be a time of war, he frequently used avery different vehicle from an easy-going Palanquin. He sprang into his war-chariot, and his driver lashed the two fieryhorses into a gallop, while their master aimed his arrows or hurledhis javelin at the foe. Riding in these chariots was not a very great luxury, especially tothose who were not accustomed to that kind of carriage exercise. Therewere no seats, nor any springs. The riders were obliged to stand up, and take all the bumps that stones and roots chose to give them, andas they generally drove at full speed, these were doubtless many andhard. There was in general no back to these Chariots, and a suddenjerk of the horses would shoot the rider out behind, unless he knewhow to avoid such accidents. We of the present day would be apt to turn up our noses at theseancient conveyances, but there can be no doubt that the EgyptianPrincesses and warriors derived just as much pleasure from theirPalanquins and rough-going war-chariots as the ladies of to-day findin an easy-rolling barouche, or the gentlemen in a light buggy and afast horse. BEAUTIFUL BUGS. [Illustration] We are not apt--I am speaking now of mankind in general--to be veryfond of bugs. There is a certain prejudice against these littlecreatures, which is, in very many cases, entirely unwarranted. Thefact is that most bugs are harmless, and a great many of them arepositively beautiful, if we will but take the trouble to look at themproperly, and consider their wonderful forms and colors. To be sure, many insects to which we give the general name of bugs are quitedestructive in our orchards and gardens, but, for all that, they areonly eating their natural food, and although we may be very glad toget rid of our garden bugs as a body, we can have nothing to sayagainst any particular bug. None of them are more to blame than therobins and other birds, which eat our cherries and whatever else wehave that they like, and we never call a robin "horrid" because hedestroys our fruit. True, the insects exist in such great numbers thatit is absolutely necessary for us to kill as many of them as possible, and it is very fortunate that the robins and black-birds are of somuch benefit to us that we are glad to let them live. But all this should not make us despise the bugs any more than theydeserve, particularly as they are just as beautiful as the birds, ifwe only look at them in the right way. A microscope will revealbeauties in some of the commonest insects, which will positivelyastonish those who have never before studied bugs as they ought to bestudied. The most brilliant colors, the most delicate tracery andlace-work over the wings and bodies; often the most graceful forms andbeautifully-contrived limbs and bodies and wing-cases and antennæ, areto be seen in many bugs when they are placed beneath the glasses ofthe microscope. [Illustration: TRANSFORMATIONS OF BEETLES. ] But there are insects which do not need the aid of magnifying glassesto show us their beauties. Some of the Beetles, especially the large ones, are so gorgeouslycolored and so richly polished that they are imitated, as closely asArt can imitate Nature, in precious stones and worn as ornaments. There are few living things more beautiful than a great Beetle, glittering in resplendent green and gold, and the girl (or womaneither) who will hold one of these in her hand or let it crawl uponher arm while she examines its varied colors, shows a capacity forperceiving and enjoying the beauties of nature that should be enviedby those who would dash the pretty creature upon the floor, exclaiming, "That horrid bug!" There are many insects with which we need not desire to be toofamiliar, such as Mosquitoes, Fleas, Wasps, and Bees; but when a "bug"is harmless as well as beautiful, there is no reason why we should nottreat it as a friend. Who is afraid of a Butterfly? And yet a Butterfly is really just as much a bug as a Beetle is. Thefact is that the term "bug" is applied with a certain propriety tomany insects which are not at all pleasant (although the Lightning Bugis an exception), and we should therefore be very careful about givingwhat has grown to be a bad name to insects that do not deserve it, andshould avoid treating such as if they were as ugly and disagreeable asthe name would seem to imply. A BATTLE ON STILTS [Illustration: A BATTLE ON STILTS. ] In the year 1748 the great Marshal Saxe, who was travelling throughthe Low Countries, came to the town of Namur in Belgium. There thecitizens did everything in their power to make his stay pleasant andto do him honor, and among other things they got up a battle onstilts. These inhabitants of Namur were well used to stilts, for theirtown, which has a river on each side of it, lay very low, and wassubject to overflows, when the people were obliged to use stilts inorder to walk about the streets. In this way they became very expertin the use of these slim, wooden legs, and to make their stiltsamusing as well as useful they used to have stilt-battles on allholidays and great occasions. The young men of the town, two or three hundred on each side, wouldthen form themselves into opposing armies, and with flags flying andtrumpets blowing they would advance to the attack. And they fought hard and well. It was against the rule to use any clubor similar weapon, or to strike with the fists. Punching with theirelbows, to push each other down, and kicking with their stilts, toknock their opponents' legs from under them, were the methods ofassault in this kind of warfare. The battle often lasted for an hour or two, the armies fighting andshouting, advancing and retreating; while their wives and sistersstood around them, encouraging them by shouts and hand-clapping, andwhen an unfortunate fellow was knocked down, these women would hastento his assistance, and help him up again as soon as he had recoveredfrom his fall. This was pretty rough sport, for the combatants fought as if theirlives and fortunes depended upon the victory, and although they didnot often seriously injure one another, there must have been many asore head and bruised leg and arm after the battle was over. Marshal Saxe knew all about fighting, and on this occasion hedeclared, that if two real armies should engage with as much fury asthese young fellows on stilts, the battle would be a butchery. At another time, when the Archduke Albert came to Namur, the citizenshad one of these stilt-battles, and it proved a very profitable one tothem. Before the fight began, the governor of the city promised theArchduke to show him a battle between two bodies of men, who would beneither on horseback nor on foot; and when the engagement was over, Albert was so much pleased that he gave the town the privilege ofbeing forever exempt from the duties on beer. As the good folks of Namur were nearly as good at drinking beer asthey were at walking on stilts, this was a most valuable present forthem. Things are different in this country. It is said that in 1859 a manwalked across the rapids of the Niagara river on stilts, but I neverheard of any of his taxes being remitted on that account. DRAWING THE LONG BOW. [Illustration] When a man has a bow and arrows as long as those used by some of thenatives of Brazil, so that he has to lie down on his back, and holdthe bow with his foot when he shoots, he may well be said to draw along bow, but it is not of these people that I now intend to speak. Without describing any particular school of archery, I merely wish togive a few instances where "the long bow" has been drawn in words, about feats with the bow and arrows. This expression, "drawing the long bow, " does not always mean that afalsehood has been told. It often refers to a very wonderful story, which may be true enough, but which is so marvellous that it requiresa firm trust in the veracity of the narrator for us to believe it. So now let us see what long bows have been drawn about bows andarrows. Such stories commenced long ago. The poet Virgil, in the "Æneid, "tells of four archers who were shooting for a prize, the mark being apigeon, tied by a cord to the mast of a ship. The first man struck themast with his arrow, the second cut the cord, and the third shot thepigeon while it was flying away. There now being nothing for thefourth archer to shoot at, he just drew his bow, and sent his arrowflying towards the sky with such velocity that the friction of the airset the feathers on fire, and it swept on, like a fiery meteor, untilit disappeared in the clouds. It would be very hard, even in this progressive age, to beat thatstory. The Greeks could tell tall stories, too, of their archers. Anhistorian, named Zosimus, tells of a man who shot, at the same time, three arrows from the same bow at three different targets, and hitthem all! It is to be hoped that his histories contained some thingseasier to believe than this. But as we approach the present age we still find wonderful narrationsabout archers. Robin Hood, for instance, was a great fellow with thebow. It is said that on one occasion he shot an arrow so that it fella mile from where he was standing! A long shot, and hard to beequalled by the crack rifles of the present day. Sir Walter Scott, in "Ivanhoe, " introduces Robin Hood under the nameof Locksley, and in a shooting match, when his opponent had plantedhis arrow right in the centre of the bull's-eye, and everybody, ofcourse, thought that nothing better than that could be done, MasterRobin just steps up and lets fly his arrow, driving it into the arrowthat was sticking in the target, splitting it from end to end! And then there is that famous story about William Tell. Many personshave their doubts about this performance, and either assert that therenever was such a person as Tell, or that no man could have confidenceenough in his own skill to shoot at an apple on his son's head. But Iprefer to believe this good old story, and, in fact, I see no goodreason to doubt it. There was a Dane, named Foke, of whom the samestory is told, and an Englishman, named William of Cloudesley, is saidto have shot an apple from his son's head merely to show hisexpertness. Most of the stories of bows and arrows relate to the accurate aim ofthe archers, but here is one which shows the tremendous force by whichan arrow may be propelled, if the bow is strong and long enough. AFrench gentleman named Blaise de Vigenère, says that he _saw_ a Turk, named Barbarossa, an admiral of a ship called the Grand Solyman, sendan arrow from his bow, right through a cannon-ball! He did not statewhether the cannon-ball had a hole through it, or not. But I think that the most wonderful, astounding, and altogetheramazing story about arrow-shooting is told of the Indians who used toinhabit Florida. It is stated that these Indians were in the habit ofassembling, in parties of ten or a dozen, for the purpose of havingsome amusement in archery. They would form themselves into a circle, and one of them throwing an ear of maize or Indian corn into the air, the rest would shoot at it and would shell it of every grain of cornbefore it fell to the ground. Sometimes, the arrows would strike it sohard and fast that it would remain suspended in the air for severalminutes, and the cob never fell until the very last grain had beenshot from it! After such a specimen of the drawing of the long bow as this, it wouldnot be well to introduce any feebler illustrations, and so I will keepthe rest of my anecdotal arrows in my quiver. AN ANCIENT THEATRE. [Illustration] I suppose you are all familiar with pictures of the Colosseum at Rome, but unless you have carefully studied detailed descriptions of thisedifice it is impossible for you to properly comprehend the grandstyle in which the ancients amused themselves. This great theatre, the ruins of which are now standing in Rome, andwhich will probably stand for hundreds of years longer, was builtnearly eighteen hundred years ago. It is a vast oval building, fourstories high, and capable of containing ninety thousand spectators! Seats, one row above the other like steps, were placed around thewalls, from top to bottom. There was no roof to the building, and ifthe sun was hot, or it rained, the people were obliged to shelterthemselves as well as they could, although it is probable that theseats for the emperors and other great dignitaries were protected byawnings. In the centre of the building, down at the foot of the seats, was the great amphitheatre where the performances took place. Andwonderful performances they were. There were sometimes great fightsbetween lions, tigers, bulls, and bears; sometimes wild beasts wereslain by men, and sometimes men were slain by wild beasts. There weregladiatorial combats, executions of criminals, and many other kinds ofcruel and barbarous amusements. When the Colosseum was inaugurated, five thousand wild beasts were put to death, and afterwards, at thecelebration of a great victory, eleven thousand animals perished. Under the ground, in two vast basement stories, the beasts were keptin cages until they were brought up to destroy human life or to bebutchered themselves. For six hundred years these barbarous games were celebrated in theColosseum, but it afterwards became a fortress, and it was used at onetime for a hospital. When it began to decay, many of the inhabitantsof Rome carried away portions of its materials to build houses forthemselves, but such depredations have long been forbidden and now theColosseum stands, useless and ruined, a silent memento of thewickedness of man. People are bad enough in our age, but the day ispast, when ninety thousand men, women, and children could be gatheredtogether to see other men, women, and children torn and devoured bylions and tigers. Let us hope, that by the time the Colosseum hasentirely crumbled away, men will no longer meet in thousands to killand mangle each other on the battle-field. BIRD CHAT. [Illustration: BIRD CHAT. ] In a far-off country, on a summer day, it chanced that two Cormorantsstood on a great rock, lazily dozing. This rock was by the side of alittle river that, only a few miles below, flowed into the sea; forthe Cormorant is a marine bird, and haunts the sea-coast. It was alovely place, although not very far from the habitations of men, and anumber of cows had laid themselves down in the grassy field thatsurrounded an old ruined temple on the gentle slope of a hill abovethe river. The day had been still and hot, but now a soft breeze wasstirring the long grasses, and bending the tassels of the reedsgracefully over the water, and the scent of flowers came floating downfrom the vines clambering over the old ruin, and the hum of insectsfilled the air. But I do not think the Cormorants noticed any of these things. Theirlong necks were folded so that their heads nearly rested on theirbacks, for, as I said before, they were dozing. The truth is, thesebirds had eaten so much they had made themselves perfectly stupid, which is a bad way the Cormorant has, as, no doubt, you know; for ithas probably happened to you some time in your life to have indulgedyourself so freely in eating something that you liked that you havebeen scornfully called "a little Cormorant!" But this state of insensibility was passing away, and they were now ina gentle doze, and sleeping, thinking of the company they were toentertain. For these Cormorants had come to this spot to meet theircousin the Pelican to consult with him on some family matters. Upontheir first arrival at the place they had set to work to get togethera good supply of fish, for this is the only food of both the Cormorantand the Pelican. In a short time they landed a great number, andbestowed them in a safe place, and then they set to work catchingfish for themselves and eating them greedily. You might suppose such a lazy-looking bird would find it impossible tocatch anything so active as fish. But you should see it when it isfully awake and hungry. The bird darts through the water with a speedgreater than that of the fishes. Its wings can be closed so tightlythat they do not hinder its progress, and the tail serves for arudder, while the broadly-webbed feet act as paddles. Its long, snake-like neck gives it the power of darting its beak with greatrapidity, and the hook at the end of the beak prevents the prey fromescaping. The bird is also a diver, and can stay a long time underwater. [Illustration] Our two Cormorants opened their eyes when they heard a slightsplashing in the water. Something was about to invade their retreat. They had not long to wait. Slowly into the stream waded a Bittern. Seeing the Cormorants there he stopped; and, drawing himself up intoas small a compass as possible, he sunk his head in his shoulders, andnothing could be seen of his long neck, while his bill was thrust upin the air as if he cared nothing for his neighbors or their affairs. The Cormorants heartily wished he would go away, and they kept theireyes open and watched him, for fear he would spy the fish they hadcarefully hidden in the wet grass, for the Bittern also lives on fish. So the Cormorants winked and blinked, and thought how different theBittern looked when on the alert for his prey, or calling his mate. Many a time had they been roused out of their sleep by the terriblenight-cry of the Bittern--a fearful sound, something between theneighing of a horse, the bellow of a bull, and a shriek of savagelaughter, and so loud and deep it seemed to shake the marshy ground. [Illustration] Soon there appeared hovering over them a snowy cloud. As it floatednearer it proved to be a magnificent Pelican with its gigantic wingsoutspread. It alighted near the Cormorants, at the foot of a littlegrassy hill. It was an old male bird, very wise and very cunning. Hegreeted his cousin Cormorants cordially, but, ruffling up the crest ofcurled feathers on his head, and shaking his half-folded wingsangrily, he looked askance at the Bittern. Now the Bittern is a very unsocial bird, and as he took not the leastnotice of the new comer, the Pelican could not pick a quarrel withhim. Therefore he turned to his cousins, and said: "I have just comefrom my pleasant home on a rocky island. The waters make music thereall day long, and the green moss gleams through the white foam, andgay-colored fish sparkle in the sunlight; so that when men behold itthey exclaim: 'See! what a beautiful spot!' There are some birds thatlike dingy pools, where only coarse rushes grow, where there isnothing but blight and mildew, where even carrion crows will not fly, and at which men shudder. " Now this exactly described the places the Bittern prefers to allothers; but, as he really considered them very captivating, and hatedthe very sight of mankind, he did not feel abashed by the Pelican'sstinging rebuke, and perhaps took it for a compliment; and there is noknowing how long he would have staid there, if a frisky little Hoopoehad not chanced to alight on a tree that had fallen across a foamingbrook not very far from the group of birds. Not liking so much company, the Bittern stalked away. The Hoopoenodded so often to the birds that its beautiful tall crest trembled asif a breeze stirred it, and having preened its prettily-barredfeathers for awhile, it began to talk as fast as ever it could. "I have came from a long distance, and only stopped twice on my way toget a meal of insects, which I can dig out of decaying wood with mylong curved beak, very fast, I can tell you. And what do you think Isaw in that place I came from? You would never guess. Why, men hadsome pet Cormorants that they had trained to catch fish for them! Oh!it was fun! And I heard these men say that in the days of Charles I. Of England (I hope you know who he is, for I'm sure I don't), Cormorants were kept by nobles and kings for the purpose of catchingfish, and that there was attached to the Court an officer called theKing's Master of the Cormorants. Did you ever hear the like of that?" [Illustration] Although this was strictly true, the Cormorants had never heard of it;but, before they could answer, a loud, deep voice cried; "Heigho! Whatis all that?" The startled birds turned towards the spot from whence the voiceproceeded, and there, perched on a lonely rock, a good distance to theleft of them, was a great bird with very large bright eyes andpowerful curved beak. Neither the Hoopoe nor Pelican had ever before seen him, but theCormorants knew him very well. He was the Peregrine Falcon. And theyknew him because, like them, he chose rocky ledges, high andinaccessible, for his nest. And although his nests were usually onloftier crags than theirs, they were quite neighborly, especially asthey did not chase the same prey, the Cormorants drawing theirs fromthe sea, and the Falcons finding theirs in the air. [Illustration] "Those people you speak of, " said he sternly to the frightened Hoopoe, "_may_ have had Cormorants to catch their fish, but I never heard ofit before. Whereas all history is full of the exploits of myancestors, and monarchs and nobles spent immense fortunes in buyingand keeping Falcons that hunted birds grandly. " Now the Hoopoe knew very well that it was not this Falcon, but thegreat Gerfalcon, his cousin, that was formerly held in such highesteem; but he did not dare to say so, and, as he must be sayingsomething, he turned to the Pelican. "I have long wanted to meet with you to ask you if is true that youtear open your breast with your hooked bill, and feed your young withyour own blood?" "Not a word of truth in it!" replied the Pelican scornfully, "I amoften obliged to gather food in places far from home. I do not diveinto the water like the Cormorant, but catch, with a sidelong snatchof my bill, the fish that rise to the surface. This loose skin, thatis now so folded up under my beak that you can scarcely see it, I candistend into an enormous pouch. This I fill with fish, and my wingsbeing wide and powerful, I can easily carry a great weight of fishthrough the air. When I reach home I feed my young by pressing my beakagainst my breast, and thus forcing out the enclosed fish. And on thetip of my beak is a little curved hook as red as a drop of blood. Andnow you know the whole story. " "Thank you, " said the Hoopoe, "I must go and tell the storks all aboutit. " And away he darted like a streak of colored light. The Falcon, too, lazily spread out his large wings, and soared majestically upinto the air, leaving the Pelican and Cormorants to discuss theirfamily affairs and their dinner in peace. MUMMIES. [Illustration] A mummy is not a very pretty thing to look at; but, consideredproperly, it is certainly interesting. That stiff form, wrapped uptightly in ever so many dirty cloths, with a black shrivelled facewhich looks as if it had been cut out of a piece of wood and thensmoked, was once, no doubt, a very pleasant person to know. If it wasa woman, it played with the children; sewed a little, perhaps;complained of the heat, and went to parties. If it was a man, itprobably whistled a little, and sang; settled up its accounts, wasfond of horses, and took an interest in the vegetable garden. Most of the mummies that have been brought from Egypt to this countrywere originally kings, princes, princesses, noblemen, and priests, forfew but those high-born folks could afford to be so well preserved asto last all this time; but it is very certain that none of them everimagined that, thousands of years after their death, they would becarried away to countries never heard of in their day, and be gazed atby people who wore chignons and high-top hats, and who were not bornuntil they had been dead three thousand years. When we consider the care and skill with which the dead Egyptians usedto be embalmed and encased in their sarcophagi, it is not surprisingthat their poor bodies have been so well preserved. At the head ofthis article you see a mummy as it appears when it has been embalmedand wrapped in its bandages. Here is the stand on which it is thenplaced. [Illustration] Very often, when the body had been a king or some great personage, itsface was covered with a mask of thin gold, and its bandages wereornamented with pictures and inscriptions. [Illustration] When this work of decoration was completed, it was placed in a coffinwhich was made large enough to hold the stand. This coffin was very handsomely ornamented, and then, in order tomake everything very secure indeed, it was enclosed in another orexterior coffin, which was also decorated in the highest style knownto Egyptian artists. [Illustration] One would now suppose that this great king or priest was safe enough, looking at the matter in an ordinary light. But the Egyptians did notlook at these matters in ordinary lights. Quite otherwise. Theyintended the useless bodies of their grandees to be packed away sothat they should not be disturbed as long as the world lasted, littledreaming of the Americans and Europeans who would come along, in a fewthousand years, and buy them for their museums. So they put the mummy, with its stand and its two coffins, into agreat stone box called a sarcophagus, and this was fastened andplastered up so as to seem like one solid rock. Then, if the inmate had ever done anything wonderful (or sometimes, nodoubt, if he had not been famous for anything in particular), thehistory of his great achievements, real or fancied, was sculptured onthe stone. These hieroglyphics have been deciphered in severalinstances, and we have learned from them a great deal of Egyptianhistory. [Illustration] Dead poor people, as well as kings and princes, were made into mummiesin Egypt, but they were not preserved by such costly means as those Ihave mentioned. After they had been embalmed, they were wrapped up aswell as the means of their relatives would allow, and were placed intombs and vaults, sometimes with but one coffin, and sometimes withoutany. In many cases the mummy was not buried at all, but kept in the houseof the family, so that the friends and relatives could always have itwith them. This may have been very consoling to the ancient Egyptians, but to us it seems a truly mournful custom. And it is by no means distressing to think, that though the people whomay be in this country three thousand years hence may possibly findsome of our monuments, they will discover none of our bodies. TAME SNAKES. [Illustration] We have often heard of the tamed snakes belonging to theserpent-charmers of India and Africa, but it is seldom that theharmless serpents of civilized countries have been domesticated. Butthe common snake, sometimes called the garter-snake, which harmlesslyshows its dark green and yellow colors among the grass and bushes, hasbeen tamed and has shown quite a fair amount of respect and affectionfor its human friends. A French writer relates that he knew a lady who had a snake which wasso tame that it came when it was called, followed its mistress about, climbed up into her lap, and gave many signs of knowing and likingher. It would even swim after her when she threw it into the waterfrom a boat. But this last feat proved fatal to it, for once swimmingthus and endeavoring to keep up with the boat, the tide became toostrong for it, and it was carried away and drowned. I am very much afraid that that lady did not deserve even as muchaffection as the snake gave her. The boys and girls in France sometimes amuse themselves by getting upa snake-team. [Illustration] They tie strings to the tails of two common harmless snakes, and thenthey drive them about, using a whip (I hope gently) to make thesestrange steeds keep together and go along lively. It is said that snakes which have been played with in this way soonbegin to like their new life, and will allow the children to do whatthey please with them, showing all the time the most amiabledisposition. There is nothing very strange in a tamed snake. Toads, tortoises, spiders, and many other unpromising animals have been known to show acapacity for human companionship, and to become quite tame andfriendly. In fact, there are very few animals in the world that cannotbe tamed by man, if man is but kind enough and patient enough. GYMNASTICS. Every one who has a body that is worth anything at all, ought to dohis best to keep it in good order, and there is no better way ofattaining this desirable object than by a proper course of gymnastics. And to know just what is proper for certain ages and certainindividuals, demands a great deal of thought and judgment. Impropergymnastics are much worse than none. We can generally, however, findthose who are able to advise us in regard to the exercise one ought totake. This necessity of training the body as well as the mind has beenrecognized from the earliest ages, and the ancient Greeks and Romanspaid as much attention to their gymnasiums as they did to theiracademies; and from their youth, their boys and girls were taughtthose exercises which develop the muscles and ensure good health. Someof their methods, however, were not exactly the most praiseworthy. Forinstance, they would encourage their youngsters to fight. [Illustration] This engraving, copied from an ancient picture, shows how spiritedlythe children practised this exercise. It would have been better if the individual with the stick had laid itover the backs of the young combatants, instead of using it to directtheir struggles. There are three kinds of gymnastics. By the first we take exercise, simply for the sake of the good we gain from it; by the second wecombine pleasure with our muscular exertion; and the third kind ofgymnastics is practised for the sake of making money. The exercises of the first division are carried on in regulargymnasiums or at home, and consist of exercises with dumb-bells, bars, suspended rings, poles, and many other appliances with which most boysand girls are familiar. Regular practice in a good gymnasium, underthe direction of a competent teacher, is considered, by those who bestunderstand the education of young people, an exceedingly necessarypart of their education, and gymnastic instruction, both for boys andgirls, is becoming more popular every year. We need give but little time to this well understood division ofgymnastics, but will pass at once to the second class, where diversionand exercise are combined. This is by far the best method of gaininghealth and strength, and should be preferred by all instructorswhenever it is possible to adopt it. It is of no use to say anything in favor of this plan to the boys andgirls themselves, for they never fail to choose that form of exercisewhich has a good deal of play in it. And it is well they like it, forthey will get more benefit from an hour of good, vigorous play, thanfrom many lessons in the monotonous exercises in use in thegymnasiums. I shall not now speak of the lively games of boys and girls, by whichtheir cheeks grow rosy and their legs and arms grow strong, for we allknow enough about them, but I will describe some of the athleticsports of grown-up folks. There are a great many of these, some ofwhich are of great antiquity. Wrestling, boxing, vaulting, foot-racing, and similar exercises have been popular for thousands ofyears, and are carried on now with the same spirit as of old. Out-door sports differ very much in different countries. In the UnitedStates the great game is, at present, base-ball; in England cricketis preferred, and Scotland has athletic amusements peculiar to itselfIn the latter country a very popular game among the strong folks iscalled "throwing the hammer. " [Illustration] These hammers are not exactly what their name implies, being heavyballs of brass or iron, fitted to a long handle. The hammer is whirledaround the head several times and then thrown as far as possible. Theman who throws it to the greatest distance wins the game. Another game, very much of this order, consists in tossing a heavystone, instead of a hammer. The Scotch call this game "putting thestone, " sometimes using stones that might be called young rocks, andthey "put" or throw them in a different way from the people of othercountries where the game is popular. In some of the mountainousregions of the continent of Europe the game is played in the mannershown in the accompanying engraving. [Illustration] But it is impossible, in a short article like this, even to allude toall the different kinds of athletic games, and I will now notice someof the gymnastics by which people make a living. Rope-walkers, circus-riders, and acrobats of every kind are now socommon, that a description of their ordinary performances isunnecessary. They are found on every portion of the globe, some of themost proficient being now seen in China and Japan. If any of you have seen the Japanese troupe of acrobats with which"Little Allright" was connected, you will understand to what a highstate of perfection physical exercises may be brought by people whogive up their whole lives to the study and practice of their variousfeats. [Illustration] In Europe and this country very remarkable gymnastic performers haveappeared before the public. About the middle of the last century, there lived in Derby, England, aman by the name of Thomas Topham, who performed in public somewonderful feats of strength. At one time he lifted, by a band passedover his shoulders, three great casks of water which collectivelyweighed 1, 836 pounds. He had a platform built for this performance, which was constructed insuch a way that he could use the whole power of his body and limbs. Inthis feat, however, he has been surpassed by Dr. Winship, of Boston, who has lifted, in public, heavier weights than Topham ever attempted. The latter, however, was enormously strong, and performed a great manyfeats which made him quite famous throughout England. A favorite exhibition of public acrobats is that of pyramids, pillars, and other tall edifices, built of men, instead of bricks and stones. The Venetians used to be very expert and artistic in their arrangementof these exhibitions, and the men composing the human edifice stood asimmovably and gracefully as if they had been carved out of solidstone, instead of being formed of flesh and blood. [Illustration] This performance has been made quite common in late years, and I haveseen the celebrated "Arabs" and other acrobats pile themselves up in amost astonishing manner. [Illustration] One of the most popular, and at the same time dangerous, of all publicgymnastic exhibitions, is that of rope-walking, and most marvellousfeats on the tight-rope have been performed in many parts of theworld. Even in Greece and Rome, men practised this form of gymnastics. In later days no one has become more famous than Blondin, who crossedthe Niagara River on a tight-rope, performing all sorts of eccentricfeats while balanced on his slender support. He carried a man over onhis shoulders; he wheeled a wheelbarrow across; he walked the ropeblindfolded, and did many other things which would be very difficultto most people, even if they were standing on solid ground instead ofbeing poised on a slender rope stretched high above the waters of arapid river. In this country, however, the taste for out-door anddangerous rope-walking is not so general as it is in some countries ofEurope, where it is quite common to see acrobats walking on ropesstretched from the top of one high building, or steeple, to another. In Venice, for instance, rope-dancers have often skipped and played onropes reaching from the summits of two of the loftiest towers of thatbeautiful city. The Turks were once noted for their great proficiency in rope walking, but they have been equalled by Japanese, European, and Americanperformers. Many women have been famous in this line, and a MadameSacqui, a Frenchwoman, was such an expert artist that one of hercountrymen likened her to a "Homeric goddess" (although I do not knowhow Juno or Minerva would have looked on a tight-rope), and assertedthat her boldness and agility were the glory of the First Empire! Thisinfatuated Frenchman must have considered glory to have been veryscarce in his country in Madame Sacqui's day. There was a French baby, however, who surpassed this lady, for the little one walked on thetight-rope before she could walk on the ground, and afterwards becamefamous enough to perform, in 1814, before an assembly of kings--theallied sovereigns of Europe. The public performers of different kinds of gymnastic feats often makea great deal of money; but they sometimes break their necks, andfrequently injure their health by over-exertion. So that exercises for health and amusement are the only kinds ofgymnastics that I recommend. BUYING "THE MIRROR. " Miss Harper came into the room where George and Mary Conly and EllaLee were playing with jack-straws. They had played everything elsethey could think of, and, feeling tired, had quietly settledthemselves down to jack-straws. They could have amused themselves frommorning until night out of doors without being weary; but Mr. Conly'shouse was in the city, and had such a tiny bit of a yard that onlyfairies could have got up a frolic in it. When they were in thecountry there were so many things they could do, and when they weretired running about, there was the see-saw on the big log under theold elm. [Illustration] But they were not in the country now, and children have not the spiritto keep up their sports in the house as they do out of doors. So, when Miss Harper appeared with a book in her hand, George and Marysprang up from the table in delight, and exclaimed: "Oh, cousin Fanny! are you going to read to us?" "Yes, " said Miss Harper, "I thought you would like to hear some moreof those pretty stories I read to you yesterday. " "That we will!" cried George, skipping about the room, while Mary, with eyes sparkling with pleasure, hastily raked the jack-straws intoa pile. "We can both get into this big chair, Ella, " she said, "and then wecan hear cumfible. " Now Ella would much rather have played jack-straws, for she thoughtlistening to reading was very dull business indeed; but she was apolite little girl, which is pretty much the same thing as saying shewas not selfish, and seeing that George and Mary were so pleased, andexpected her to be so also, she made no objection, and climbed up intothe big chair, and found it "cumfible, " as Mary had said. "It will be awfully stupid, " she thought, "and this chair is so nice Iam afraid I'll go to sleep, and mamma says that is very rude when anyone is reading or talking to you. " You see Ella had not learned to be fond of books. Her parents had notbeen in the habit of reading to her, and, although in school she couldread books that had quite long words in them, still she could not readwith sufficient ease to make it a pleasure to her. But she did not go to sleep, but, on the contrary, got wider and widerawake. The stories were all short, so that when the end came sheremembered the beginning perfectly, and they were such lovely storiesabout little fairies, and how they helped children to be good, thatElla was very sorry when the servant came to take her home. "I thank you very much, Miss Harper, for reading to us, " she said, "Will you please tell me the name of the book?" "It is 'The Mirror, '" said Miss Harper, "and I will read to you oftenif you will come to see us. " Ella thought about the book all the way home, but she was so tired shewas glad to go to bed after supper, and the next morning she had notime before school to say anything to her mother about the wonderful"Mirror. " But after dinner there was a pleasant surprise for her. Her fathercalled her into his study, and, taking her up, kissed her tenderly, and said: "I saw your teacher yesterday, and she gave me such a goodaccount of my little girl that I am very much pleased with her. Andnow, if there is anything you would particularly like to have, I willget it for you, if it does not cost too much. Think a moment, now!Don't be in a hurry!" "Oh, papa, " exclaimed Ella, "I don't need to think a bit! I know whatI want! I do so want to have a 'Mirror!'" "A _what_?" said Mr. Lee, suddenly putting Ella down on the floor. "A 'Mirror, ' papa. When will you get it for me? Oh! I am so glad!" Andshe clapped her little hands softly together. "You are a very little girl to be so vain, " said Mr. Lee gravely, "butas I said you should have what you wanted, I will keep my promise. Goand dress yourself, and we will get it this very afternoon. " Ella was so full of her own happy thoughts that she did not noticewhat he said about her being vain, or that he looked displeased, andshe skipped merrily away to be dressed. In a short time she had holdof her father's hand, and was walking down Broadway, looking in at theshop windows, and talking as fast as her little tongue could go. Mr. Lee, who knew nothing about the book with such a queer title, andsupposed his daughter wanted a mirror in which to look at herself, began to hope that, as Ella stopped so often to admire the prettythings in the windows, she would see something she would prefer for apresent. For, though it is a very proper thing to look in the glass tosee that one's face is clean, and hair smooth, he did not like it thathis daughter should want a looking-glass above everything in theworld. "O, papa, isn't that a lovely baby?" And Ella paused in admirationbefore a wax doll. "Yes, " said Mr. Lee, eagerly. "Would not you rather have that prettybaby than a mirror?" Ella considered for a moment. She had a dolly she loved, though shewas not as pretty as this one. "No, papa, I'd rather have a 'Mirror. ' It will be so nice to have oneof my own. I hope you know where to go to get it?" she addedanxiously. "Certainly, " said Mr. Lee, rather sharply, "I know just where to go. " And so they went on by windows filled with floating ribbons, andshining silks; and others where there were glittering jewels, and someof the rings small enough for Ella's fingers; and others where therewere white fur capes spread out, with muffs that had such gay linings, and tassels; and windows hung to the very top with toys, and some ofthem such cunning ones--mice that could be made to run and squeak, andjumping frogs--but none of these things would Ella have. At last theycame to one all filled with flowers, and with this Ella was inraptures. "What a very good man must live here, " she said, "to put all thesethings out for us to see! I can smell them through the glass!" "They are put here to sell, " said Mr. Lee, "and I know you will likethat beautiful pink rose-bush a great deal better than a mirror--orthat great white lily. " "No, no, papa, " said Ella, moving impatiently away. "When will we cometo the place?" "Here it is, " said Mr. Lee, as they stopped at a store where then weretwo huge windows filled with mirrors of all sizes. "Now which one willyou have? Not a very large one for such a very little lady. But thereis a nice little one that will just suit you, and it has a very prettyframe. " "Where? where, papa? I don't see it!" And Ella looked about the windowin a very bewildered manner. "There. In that corner, leaning against the window-frame. " "Why, papa, that's a looking-glass!" "And is not that what you want?" "No, sir; I want a '_Mirror_'--a book. " "Oh! that's it!" said Mr. Lee, with a brighter face. "I expect youwant a book called 'The Mirror. '" "Yes, sir, " said Ella, laughing, as they walked on. "How funny thatyou should think I wanted a looking-glass! There it is now!" she criedexcitedly, pointing into the window of a book-store. It was a large sheet of paper Ella saw, called a Poster, but it had"The Mirror" on it in very big letters. So Mr. Lee and Ella went in, and the shopman brought her the book, but it was red, and she did notwant it, and then he took down a green one, and then a brown, but Ellawould only have a blue one. After some trouble a blue one was found, and Ella walked off hugging it close up to her. The book Miss Harperread had a blue cover, and I believe that Ella was afraid that anyother color would not contain the same stories. BIG GAME. When a man or a boy goes hunting--in a book--he might just as well goafter good big game as after these little things that you see abouthome. So let us leave chipmunks, rabbits, and tit-birds to those poorfellows who have to shoot with real guns, and are obliged to be homein time for supper, and let us go out into the wide world, to hunt thevery largest and most savage beasts we can find. It is perfectlysafe, --in a book. As we can go wherever we please, suppose we try our skill in huntingthe Wild Boar. He will be a good beast to begin with, because he istolerably convenient, being found in Southern Europe, Palestine, andneighboring countries, and also because he is such a destructiverascal, when he comes into the neighborhood of civilization, thatevery one will be much obliged to us for killing him. If he chances toget into a vineyard, in company with a set of his reckless fellows, there is small chance for a vintage that year. He tears down thevines, devours the grapes, green and ripe, and breaks and ruinstrellises and everything within his reach. If we are so fortunate as to get sight of him, we will find that he isno easy game to bag. Very different is he from his tame brethren withwhich we are acquainted--old grunters, who wallow about themud-puddles and sleep serenely for hours, with their fat sides bakingin the sun. The wild boar is as fast as a horse, and as savage as thecrossest bull. He can run so that you can scarcely catch up to himwith your nag at the top of his speed, and when you do reach him hewill be very apt, if you are not watchful, to rip up your horse withhis tusks and cut some terrible gashes in your own legs, besides. [Illustration: WILD BOAR. ] We must shoot this fellow as soon as we can get a good chance, forthose sharp tusks will be ready for us, if we come too close, and ifhe increases the distance between us, he may get among the rocks andhills, where he will surely escape, for our horses cannot go overthose rough ascents at the rate the boar would gallop. When at last he is shot, the boar is capital eating. His flesh is farsuperior to common pork, possessing the peculiar delicate flavor whichbelongs to most wild meat. If we could shoot a wild boar every fewdays, we would be sure to fare very well during our huntingexpedition. But we must press on after other game, and we will now try and get ashot at a musk-ox. We shall have to go somewhat out of our way to findthis animal, for he lives in the upper portions of North America, butan ocean and a continent or two are not at all difficult to cross--ina book. The musk-ox is about as large as a small cow; he has very short legs, and horns which are very large and heavy. They extend over hisforehead and seem as if they were parted in the middle, like a dandy'sfront hair. It is probable, if we get near enough to one of them, thatwe shall have no trouble in shooting him; but there is sometimesdanger in this sport. A sailor once went out to hunt musk-oxen, and, to his great surprise, soon found that they intended to hunt him. Aherd got after him, and one big fellow was on the point of crushinghim with his great horns, when he dodged behind a rock, against whichthe furious animal came like a battering-ram. In the fall and winter the flesh of the musk-ox is very good indeed, but in the spring it is not so nice. It then smells like your sister'sglove-box (if she uses musk), only about one hundred times as strong. If we were to cut up one of these animals when his flesh is in thiscondition, we would find it almost impossible to get the smell off ofour knives. The winter is certainly the time to shoot this game, forthen not only is his flesh very good, but his skin is covered withvery long and warm hair, and we would find it even better, to keep uswarm, than a buffalo robe. [Illustration: THE MUSK-OX AND THE SAILOR. ] While we are thinking of skins, we might as well get a variety ofthem, and we will find the fur of the brown bear very valuable. So now for a brown bear. He, too, is found in the regions of ice andsnow, and in the North of Europe he is hunted by the peasants in a waywhich we will not imitate. When they find a den or cave in the rocksin which they think a bear is concealed, these sturdy hunters make allsorts of noises to worry him out, and when at last the bear comesforth to see what is the matter, he finds a man standing in front ofhis den, armed with a short lance with a long sharp head, and a bar ofiron placed crosswise on the handle just below the head. Now, afull-grown brown bear is not afraid of a man who is armed with alittle weapon like this, and so he approaches the hunter, and rearingon his hind legs, reaches forth his arms to give the man a good hug, if he comes any nearer. [Illustration: HUNTING THE BROWN BEAR. ] The man does come nearer, and, to the bear's great surprise, hethrusts forth his lance, which is longer than it looked, and drivesthe head of it into the animal's breast. The iron bar prevents thelance from entering too far into the body of the bear--a verynecessary precaution, for if it was not there, the bear would pushhimself up along the handle of the lance and have his great paws onthe man in a minute or two. But the bar keeps the bear back, and theloss of blood soon renders him so weak that the hunter can throw himdown and despatch him. It is strange that the bear never tries to pullthe lance out of his body. He keeps pressing it in, trying all thetime to get over it at his enemy. This may be a good way to kill a bear, but I don't like it. It iscruel to the animal, and decidedly dangerous to the hunter. If I couldnot get a bear skin in any other way than by killing the animal with aspear, I would let the bear keep his fur. If we see any brown bears wewill shoot them with our rifles, a much safer and more humane methodthan the pike fashion. After the bears, what shall we hunt? What do you say to ahippopotamus? That will be something that we are not accustomed to, atany rate. So away we go to the waters of Africa. If we travel alongthe shores of the Nile and other African rivers, we shall, no doubt, see some of these great creatures. But we must not expect to get agood sight of any of them, unless we are very careful to hideourselves somewhere near where they are in the habit of coming out ofthe water to take a walk on land. Ordinarily all that can be seen of ahippopotamus is his head or his back, sticking up out of the water. They can stay under water for a long time, occasionally sticking uptheir noses to get a breath of air. At night they often come on shore to see what they can find to eat. They live on grass and grains, which they find in the water and onland. These animals are generally shot or harpooned at night, whenthey come out of the water, but occasionally a hunter sees one onshore in the daytime, and he seldom finds any difficulty in shootingit, if he can hit it in the ear, which is its most vulnerable spot. The hippopotamus is naturally a timid animal, and seldom turns on itshunters, but sometimes it shows a courageous disposition. Somehunters, having shot a young but apparently a tolerably well-grownhippopotamus, were running up to their prize, when they were astoundedby the old mother beast coming up out of the water and chargingtowards them with tremendous roars. [Illustration: A BRAVE HIPPOPOTAMUS. ] The hunters fired at her and then took to their heels, but havingfound her offspring, she stayed with it and did not pursue the men. Ifshe had overtaken them, she would have been a terrible enemy toencounter. If, during our night-watches on the river-banks, we are so fortunateas to shoot a hippopotamus, we shall find that we have a good supplyof very fine meat And what we cannot eat the natives will bedelighted to get. They consider a hippopotamus a most valuable prize, and as the meat is good and there is so very much of it, their joywhen they kill one is not at all surprising. The only thing thattroubles them after a successful hunt is that there are so fewhippopotami killed, and so many negroes to eat them. [Illustration: A RHINOCEROS TURNING THE TABLES. ] And now let us try a rhinoceros hunt. This animal is found in the sameregions that the hippopotamus inhabits, but he also lives in Asia. Heis rather a dangerous animal to hunt. He is a savage fellow whenprovoked; he has a great horn on his nose, and a skin so thick that itis almost bullet-proof, and, besides that, he is the largest andstrongest animal on the earth, excepting the elephant. So no wonderhe is a little unsafe to hunt. The rhinoceros lives on grass and herbs, and makes his home entirelyon the land. His flesh, like that of the hippopotamus, is very good toeat, but rhinoceros-beef ought to be dear, if the trouble and dangerin getting it is taken into consideration when the price is fixed. Hevery often turns and charges on the hunters, and if he gets his hornunder a man or a horse, he is likely to cause trouble. It is said that a rhinoceros can kill an elephant, by ripping him upwith his horn, and that the lion and all wild beasts are afraid ofhim. I am not at all surprised that this is the case, for I haveexamined the skin of a rhinoceros which I saw in a menagerie, and itwas so thick and heavy that scarcely any animal could tear it, withteeth or claws, so as to get at the enemy within it. The rhinoceroswhich I saw in a cage was not quite full-grown. His horn was not morethan an inch or two above his nose, but he was an enormous fellow, andhis great hide, which was as hard as the sole of your shoe, hung onhim in great folds, as if it had been made large so as to give himroom to grow. He was gentle enough, and let me put my hand through thebars of his cage and take hold of his horn without making theslightest objection. But we will not find that kind of rhinoceros onthe plains of Africa, and if we hunt one we must kill him very soon, or be prepared to get out of his way. After a rhinoceros hunt we will not be apt to be easily frightened, nomatter what beast we pursue, so we might as well go to India and huntthe Bengal tiger. There is no animal more graceful in its movements, handsomer in shapeand color, or more bloody and ferocious in its nature, than the RoyalBengal tiger. Even in a cage he is a magnificent creature. When I goto a menagerie, I always look first for the Bengal tigers. If we go to hunt these animals, we had better ride upon elephants, forwe must go into the jungles, where the tall reeds, through which thetigers roam, are higher than our heads. [Illustration: "A TIGER HUNT. "] When we are well in the jungle, we must be careful. It is sometimesvery difficult to see a tiger, even if you are quite near to him, forthe stripes on his skin are very much like the reeds and leaves of thejungle, and we must keep a very sharp look-out, and as soon as we seeone we must be ready with our rifles, for a tiger is very apt to beginthe fight, and he will think nothing of springing on the back of anelephant and dragging one of us to the ground. Sometimes the elephantsare not used to hunting tigers, and when they see the savage beaststhey turn and run. In that case there is often great danger, for noone can fire coolly and with certain aim from the back of a boundingelephant. If we find a tiger, and we get a good shot--or perhaps many goodshots--at him, and he falls wounded or apparently dead, we must stillbe very careful about approaching him, for he is very hard to kill. Often, when pierced with many balls, a tiger is considered to havebreathed his last, he springs up all of a sudden, seizes one of hishunters in his great jaws, tears him with his claws, and then fallsback dead. Hunters accustomed to the pursuit of tigers, always make sure that atiger is dead before they come near his fallen body, and they oftenput many balls into him after he is stretched upon the ground. We must by this time be so inured to danger in the pursuit of our biggame, that we will go and hunt an animal which is, I think, the mostdangerous creature with which man can contend. I mean the Gorilla. This tremendous ape, as tall as a man, and as strong as a dozen men, has been called the king of the African forests. For many yearstravellers in Africa had heard from the natives wonderful stories ofthis gigantic and savage beast. The negroes believed that the gorilla, or pongo, as he was called by some tribes, was not only as ferociousand dangerous as a tiger, but almost as intelligent as a man. Some ofthem thought that he could talk, and that the only reason that he didnot do so was because he did not wish to give himself the trouble. Notwithstanding the stories of some travellers, it is probable that nowhite man ever saw a gorilla until Paul du Chaillu found them inAfrica, where he went, in 1853, for the purpose of exploring thecountry which they inhabit. As Mr. Chaillu has written several books for young folks, in which hetells his experience with gorillas, I shall not relate any of hiswonderful adventures with these animals, in which he killed someenormous fellows and at different times captured young ones, all ofwhich, however, soon died. But the researches of this indefatigableand intrepid explorer have proved that the gorilla is, as the negroesreported him to be, a most terrible animal to encounter. When found, he often comes forward to meet the hunter, roaring like a great lion, and beating his breast in defiance. If a rifle-ball does not quicklyput an end to him, he will rush upon his assailants, and one blow fromhis powerful arm will be enough to stretch a man senseless or deadupon the ground. [Illustration: "FIGHT WITH A GORILLA. "] In a hand-to-hand combat with a gorilla, a man, even though armedwith a knife, has not the slightest chance for his life. If we should be fortunate enough to shoot a gorilla, we may callourselves great hunters, even without counting in the bears, therhinoceroses, the tigers, and the other animals. And when we return, proud and satisfied with our endeavors, we willprove to the poor fellows who were obliged to stay at home and shoottit-birds and rabbits, with real guns, what an easy thing it is tohunt the biggest kind of game--in a book. THE BOOTBLACK'S DOG. [Illustration] Once upon a time there lived, in Paris, a bootblack. He was not a boy, but a man, and he had a family to support. The profits of his businesswould have been sufficient for his humble wants and those of hisfamily had it not been for one circumstance, which made trade verydull with him. And that disastrous circumstance was this: nearly everyone who passed his stand had their boots and shoes already blackened!Now this was hard upon our friend. There was nothing to astonish himin the fact of so many persons passing with polished boots, for hisstand was in the middle of a block, and there were bootblacks at eachcorner. But all he could do was to bear his fate as patiently aspossible, and black the few boots which came to him, and talk to hisdog, his only companion, as he sat all day on the sidewalk by his box. One day, when he had just blackened his own boots (he did not chargehimself anything--he only did it so as to have the air of being busy), his dog came running up to him from the muddy street, and accidentallyput his dirty paw on his master's bright boots. The man, who was of anamiable disposition, did not scold much, but as he was brushing offthe mud he said: "You little rascal! I wish it had been the boots of some other manthat you had covered with dirt. That would have been sensible. " Just at that moment a thought struck the bootblack. He would teach his dog to muddy other people's boots! The man immediately acted on this idea, and gave his dog lessons everyday in the art of muddying boots. In a week or two, no gentleman withhighly polished boots could pass the bootblack's stand without seeinga dog rush into the street and gutter, and then come and jump on hisfeet, spattering his boots with mud and water, and making it necessaryfor him to go immediately to the nearest bootblack--which was of coursethe dog's master. The bootblack now had constant custom, and his circumstances beganrapidly to improve. His children, being better fed, grew round andchubby; his wife had three good meals a day, and some warm flannels, and she soon lost the wan and feeble look which she had worn so long. As for the man himself, he and his dog were gay and busy all the daylong. But people began to suspect something after a while. One gentleman whohad his boots muddied regularly every day, once questioned thebootblack very closely, for he saw that the dog belonged to him, andthe man was obliged to confess that he had taught the dog the trick. The gentleman, pleased with the smartness of the dog, and perhapsdesirous of ridding his fellow-citizens of annoyance and expense, purchased the animal and took him home. But he did not keep him long. In a few days the dog escaped, and cameback to his old master and his muddy trade. But I do not think that that bootblack always prospered. People wholive by tricks seldom do. I have no doubt that a great many peoplefound out his practices, and that the authorities drove him away fromhis stand, and that he was obliged to give up his business, andperhaps go into the army; while his wife supported the family bytaking in washing and going out to scrub. I am not sure that all thishappened, but I would not be at all surprised if it turned out exactlyas I say. GOING AFTER THE COWS. [Illustration] If there is anything which a little country-boy likes, and which a bigcountry-boy dislikes, it is to go after the cows. There is no need ofgiving the reasons why the big boy does not like this duty. It isenough to say that it is a small boy's business, and the big boy knowsit. The excitement of hunting up and driving home a lot of slow, meandering cattle is not sufficient for a mind capable of grapplingwith the highest grade of agricultural ideas, and the youth who hasreached the mature age of fifteen or sixteen is very apt to think thathis mind is one of that kind. But it is very different with the little boy. To go down into thefields, with a big stick and a fixed purpose; to cross over theditches on boards that a few years ago he would not have been allowedto put his foot upon; to take down the bars of the fences, just as ifhe was a real man, and when he reaches the pasture, to go up to thosegreat cows, and even to the old bull himself, and to shake his stickat them, and shout: "Go along there, now!"--these are proud things todo. And then what a feeling of power it gives him to make those bigcreatures walk along the very road he chooses for them, and to hurrythem up, or let them go slowly, just as he pleases! If, on the way, a wayward cow should make a sudden incursion over somelow bars into a forbidden field, the young director of her eveningcourse is equal to the emergency. He is over the fence in an instant, and his little legs soon place himbefore her, and then what are her horns, her threatening countenance, and her great body to his shrill voice and brandished stick? Admittinghis superior power, she soon gallops back to the herd, with whackafter whack resounding upon her thick hide. When at last the great, gentle beasts file, one by one, into thebarn-yard, there is a consciousness of having done something veryimportant in the air of the little fellow who brings up the rear ofthe procession, and who shuts the gate as closely as possible on theheels of the hindmost cow. There are also many little outside circumstances connected with asmall boy's trip after the cows which make it pleasant to him. Sometimes there are tremendous bull-frogs in the ditch. There are ripewild-cherries--splendid, bitter, and scarce--on the tree in the cornerof the field. The pears on the little tree by old Mrs. Hopkins's don'tdraw your mouth up so very much, if you peel the skins off with yourknife. There is always a chance of seeing a rabbit, and although thereis no particular chance of getting it, the small boy does not think ofthat. Now, although it would hardly be worth while to walk very farfor any of these things, they are very pleasant when you are goingafter the cows. So I think it is no wonder that the little boys like to go after thecows, and I wish that hundreds and thousands of pale-faced andthin-legged little fellows had cows to go after. THE REFLECTIVE STAG. The more we study the habits and natures of animals the more firmlyare we convinced that, in many of them, what we call instinct is verymuch like what we call reason. In the case of a domestic animal, we may attribute, perhaps, a greatdeal of its cleverness to its association with man and its capabilityof receiving instruction. But wild animals have not the advantages ofhuman companionship, and what they know is due to the strength andquality of their own understanding. And some of them appear to know agreat deal. There are few animals which prove this assertion more frequently thanthe stag. As his home is generally somewhere near the abodes of men, and as his flesh is so highly prized by them, it is absolutelynecessary that he should take every possible precaution to preservehis life from their guns and dogs. Accordingly, he has devised a greatmany plans by which he endeavors--often successfully--to circumventhis hunters. And to do this certainly requires reflection, and a gooddeal of it, too. He even finds out that his scent assists the dogs infollowing him. How he knows this I have not the slightest idea, but hedoes know it. Therefore it is that, when he is hunted, he avoids running throughthick bushes, where his scent would remain on the foliage; and, ifpossible, he dashes into the water, and runs along the beds of shallowstreams, where the hounds often lose all trace of him. When this isimpossible, he bounds over the ground, making as wide gaps as he canbetween his tracks. Sometimes, too, he runs into a herd of cattle, andso confuses the dogs; and he has been known to jump up on the back ofan ox, and take a ride on the frightened creature, in order to gethis own feet partly off of the ground for a time, and thus to breakthe line of his scent. When very hard pressed, a stag has suddenlydropped on the ground, and when most of the dogs, unable to stopthemselves, dash over him, he springs to his feet, and darts off in anopposite direction. [Illustration] He will also run back on his own track, and employ many other means ofthe kind to deceive the dogs, showing most conclusively that heunderstands the theory of scent, and the dogs' power of perceiving it;and also that he has been able to devise the very best plans to eludehis pursuers. Not only do stags reflect in this general manner in regard to theirmost common and greatest danger, but they make particularreflections, suited to particular places and occasions. The tricksand manoeuvres which would be very successful in one forest and in oneseason would not answer at all in another place and at another time, and so they reflect on the subject and lay their plans to suit theoccasion. There are many animals which possess great acuteness in eluding theirhunters, but the tricks of the stag are sufficient to show us to whatan extent some animals are capable of reflection. WHEN WE MUST NOT BELIEVE OUR EYES. There are a great number of marvellous things told us of phantom formsand ghostly apparitions--of spectres that flit about lonely roads onmoonlight nights, or haunt peaceful people in their own homes; offuneral processions, with long trains of mourners, watched from adistance, but which, on nearer approach, melt into a line of mist; ofwild witch-dances in deserted houses, and balls of fire bounding outof doors and windows--stories which cause the flesh of children tocreep upon their bones, and make cowards of them where there is noreason for fear. For you may lay it down as a fact, established beyonddispute, that not one of these things is a _reality_. The person whotells these marvels has always what seems the best of reasons for hisbelief. He either saw these things himself or knew somebody, strictlytruthful, who had seen them. He did not know, what I am going to proveto you, that a thing may be _true_ and yet not be _real_. In otherwords, that there are times when we do actually see marvels that seemsupernatural, but that, on such occasions, _we must not believe ourown eyes_, but search for a natural cause, and, if we look faithfully, we are sure to find one. Once a vessel was sailing over a northern ocean in the midst of theshort, Arctic summer. The sun was hot, the air was still, and a groupof sailors lying lazily upon the deck were almost asleep, when anexclamation of fear from one of them made them all spring to theirfeet. The one who had uttered the cry pointed into the air at a littledistance, and there the awe-stricken sailors saw a large ship, withall sails set, gliding over what seemed to be a placid ocean, forbeneath the ship was the reflection of it. [Illustration] The news soon spread through the vessel that a phantom-ship with aghostly crew was sailing in the air over a phantom-ocean, and that itwas a bad omen, and meant that not one of them should ever see landagain. The captain was told the wonderful tale, and coming on deck, heexplained to the sailors that this strange appearance was caused bythe reflection of some ship that was sailing on the water below thisimage, but at such a distance they could not see it. There werecertain conditions of the atmosphere, he said, when the sun's rayscould form a perfect picture in the air of objects on the earth, likethe images one sees in glass or water, but they were not generallyupright, as in the case of this ship, but reversed--turned bottomupwards. This appearance in the air is called a mirage. He told asailor to go up to the foretop and look beyond the phantom-ship. Theman obeyed, and reported that he could see on the water, below theship in the air, one precisely like it. Just then another ship wasseen in the air, only this one was a steamship, and wasbottom-upwards, as the captain had said these mirages generallyappeared. Soon after, the steamship itself came in sight. The sailorswere now convinced, and never afterwards believed in phantom-ships. A French army marching across the burning sands of an Egyptian desert, fainting with thirst and choked with fine sand, were suddenly revivedin spirit by the sight of a sheet of water in the distance. In it weremirrored the trees and villages, gardens and pretty houses of acultivated land, all reversed. The blue sky was mirrored there, too, just as you can see the banks of a lake, and the sky that bends overit, in its calm waters. The soldiers rushed towards the place, franticwith joy, but when they got there they found nothing but the hotsands. Again they saw the lake at a distance, and made anotherheadlong rush, only to be again disappointed. This happenedfrequently, until the men were in despair, and imagined that somedemon was tormenting them. But there happened to be with this army awise man, who did not trust entirely to his own eyes, and although hesaw exactly what the others did, he did not believe that there wasanything there but air. He set to work to investigate it, and foundout that the whole thing was an illusion--it was the reflection of thegardens and villages that were on the river Nile, thrown up into theair, like the ships the sailors saw, only in the clear atmosphere ofEgypt these images are projected to a long distance. And demons hadnothing whatever to do with it. People used to believe in a fairy called Fata Morgana. Wonderfulthings were said of her, and her dominions were in the air, where shehad large cities which she sometimes amused herself by turning into avariety of shapes. The cities were often seen by dwellers on theMediterranean sea-coast. Sometimes one of them would be like anearthly city, with houses and churches, and nearly always with abackground of mountains. In a moment it would change into a confusedmass of long colonnades, lofty towers, and battlements waving withflags, and then the mountains reeling and falling, a long row ofwindows would appear glowing with rainbow colors, and perhaps, inanother instant, all this would be swept away, and nothing be seen butgloomy cypress trees. [Illustration] These things can be seen now occasionally, as of old, but they are nolonger in Fairyland. Now we know that they are the images of citiesand mountains on the coast, and the reason they assume thesefantastic forms is that the layers of air through which the rays oflight pass are curved and irregular. [Illustration] A gigantic figure haunts the Vosges Mountains, known by the name of"The Spectre of the Brocken. " The ignorant peasants were, in formertimes, in great fear of it, thinking it a supernatural being, andfancying that it brought upon them all manner of evil. And it must beconfessed it was a fearful sight to behold suddenly upon the summit ofa lofty mountain an immense giant, sometimes pointing in a threateningattitude to a village below, as if dooming it to destruction;sometimes with arms upraised, as if invoking ruin upon all thecountry; and sometimes stalking along with such tremendous strides asto make but one step from peak to peak; often dwarfing himself tonothingness, and again stretching up until his head is in the clouds, then disappearing entirely for a moment, only to reappear moreformidable than before. But now the Spectre of the Brocken is no longer an object of fear. Why? Because men have found him out, and he is nothing in the worldbut a shadow. When the sun is in the right position, an ordinary-sizedman on a lower mountain will see a gigantic shadow of himself thrownupon a cloud beyond the Brocken, though it appears to be on themountain itself, and it is so perfect a representation that it isdifficult to believe it is only a shadow. But it can be easily proved. If the man stoops to pick up anything, down goes the spectre; if heraises his hand, so does the spectre; if he takes a step of two feet, the spectre takes one of miles; if he raises his hat, the spectrepolitely returns his salute. When you behold anything marvellous, and your eyes tell you that youhave seen some ghostly thing, don't believe them, but investigate thematter closely, and you will find it no more a phantom than the mirageor the Spectre of the Brocken. A CITY UNDER THE GROUND. Under the bright skies of Italy, in a picturesque valley, with themountains close at hand and the blue waves of the Mediterraneanrolling at a little distance--at the foot of wonderful Vesuvius, greenand fertile, and covered with vines to its very top, from which smokeis perpetually escaping, and in whose heart fires are eternallyraging, in this beautiful valley stands the city of Pompeii. [Illustration: CLEARING OUT A NARROW STREET IN POMPEII. ] You might, however, remain upon the spot a long time and never findout that there was a city there. All around you would see groves andvineyards, and cultivated fields and villas. For the city is beneathyour feet. Under the vineyards and orchards are temples filled withstatues, houses with furniture, pictures, and all homelike things. Nothing is wanting there but life. For Pompeii is a buried city, andfully two-thirds of it has not yet been excavated. But a short walk from this place will bring you to the spot whereexcavations have been made, and about one-third of the ancient citylies once more under the light of heaven. It is doubtful whether youcan see it when you get to it for the mounds of ashes and rubbishpiled around. But, clambering over these, you will pay forty cents foradmission, and pass through a turnstile into a street where you willsee long rows of ruined houses, and empty shops, and broken temples, and niches which have contained statues of heathen gods and goddesses. As you wander about you will come across laborers busily employed inclearing away rubbish in obstructed streets. It is a very livelyscene, as you can see in the picture. Men are digging zealously intothe heaps of earth and rubbish, and filling baskets which thebare-footed peasant-girls carry to the cars at a little distance. Arailroad has been built expressly to carry away the earth. The carsare drawn by mules. The girls prefer carrying their baskets on theirheads. The men have to dig carefully, for there is no knowing whenthey may come across some rare and valuable work of art. The excavations are conducted in this manner. Among the trees, and inthe cultivated fields there can be traced little hillocks, which arepretty regular in form and size. These indicate the blocks of housesin the buried city, and, of course, the streets run between them. After the land is bought from the owners, these streets are carefullymarked out, the vines are cleared away, the trees cut down, and thedigging out of these streets is commenced from the top. The work iscarried on pretty steadily at present, but it is only within the lastfew years that it has been conducted with any degree of enterprise andskill. [Illustration: A CLEARED STREET IN POMPEII. ] Let us leave this rubbish, and go into a street that has already beencleared. The first thing you will observe is that it is very narrow. It is evidently not intended for a fashionable drive. But few of thestreets are any wider than this one. The greatest width of a street inPompeii is seven yards, and some are only two and a half yards, sidewalks and all. The middle of the street is paved with blocks oflava. The sidewalks are raised, and it is evident the owners of thehouses were allowed to put any pavement they pleased in front oftheir dwellings. In one place you will see handsome stone flags thenext pavement may be nothing but soil beaten down, while the next willbe costly marble. The upper stories of the houses are in ruins. It is probable, therefore, that they were built of wood, while the lower stories, being of stone, still remain. They had few windows on the street, asthe Pompeiians preferred that these should look out on an inner squareor court. To the right of the picture is a small monument, and in theleft-hand corner is a fountain, or rather the stone slabs that onceenclosed a fountain. As we walk slowly up the solitary street, we think of the busy, restless feet that trod these very stones eighteen hundred years ago. Our minds go back to the year of our Lord 79, when there was highcarnival in the little city of Pompeii, with its thirty thousandpeople, when the town was filled with strangers who had come to thegreat show; at the time of an election, when politicians were schemingand working to get themselves or their friends into power; when gaylydressed crowds thronged the streets on their way to the amphitheatreto see the gladiatorial fight; when there was feasting and revelry inevery house; when merchants were exulting in the midst of thrivingtrade; when the pagan temples were hung with garlands and filled withgifts; when the slaves were at work in the mills, the kitchens, andthe baths; when the gladiators were fighting the wild beasts of thearena--then it was that a swift destruction swept over the city andburied it in a silence that lasted for centuries. Vesuvius, the volcano so near them, but which had been silent so manyyears that they had ceased to dread it, suddenly woke into activity, and threw out of its summit a torrent of burning lava and ashes, andin a few short hours buried the two cities of Herculaneum and Pompeiiso completely that two centuries after no one could tell the preciseplace where they had stood, and men built houses and cultivated farmsover the spot, never dreaming that cities lay beneath them. [Illustration: THE ATRIUM IN THE HOUSE OF PANSA RESTORED. ] But here we are at the house of Pansa. Let us go in. We do not waitfor any invitation from the owner, for he left it nearly two thousandyears ago, and his descendants, if he have any, are totally ignorantof their illustrious descent. First we enter a large hall called theAtrium. You can see from the magnificence of this apartment in whatstyle the rich Pompeiians lived. The floor is paved in black and whitemosaic, with a marble basin in the centre. The doors opening fromthis hall conduct us to smaller apartments, two reception rooms, aparlor, the library, and six diminutive bedrooms, only large enough tocontain a bedstead, and with no window. It must have been the fashionto sleep with open doors, or the sleepers must inevitably have beensuffocated. At the end of the Atrium you see a large court with a fountain in themiddle. This was called the Peristyle. Around it was a portico withcolumns. To the left were three bedchambers and the kitchen, and tothe right three bedchambers and the dining-room. Behind the Peristylewas a grand saloon, and back of this the garden. The upper stories ofthis house have entirely disappeared. This is a spacious house, butthere are some in the city more beautifully decorated, with paintingsand mosaics. When the rubbish was cleared out of this house, much of Pansa's costlyfurniture was found to be in perfect preservation, and also thestatues. In the library were found a few books, not quite destroyed;in the kitchen the coal was in the fire-places; and the kitchenutensils of bronze and terra-cotta were in their proper places. Nearlyall of the valuable portable things found in Pompeii have been carriedaway and placed in the museum at Naples. This Pansa was candidate for the office of ædile, or mayor of thecity, at the time of the eruption of Vesuvius. We know this from theplacards that were found posted in various parts of the city, andwhich were as fresh and clean as on the day they were written. Theseplacards, or posters, were very numerous, and there seem to have beena great many candidates for the various city offices; and it is veryevident, from the inscriptions on the houses, on the walls of publicbuildings and the baths, that party feeling ran quite as high in thisluxurious city of ancient times as it does now in any city in America. For these Pompeiians had no newspaper, and expressed their sentimentson the walls, and they have consequently come down to us of thepresent day. These inscriptions not only related to politics, but referred often tosocial and domestic matters, and, taken in connection with thepictures of home scenes that were painted on the walls of the houses, give us such accurate and vivid accounts of the people that it is easyto imagine them all back in their places, and living the old life overagain. Pansa, and Paratus, and Sallust, and Diomed, and Julia, andSabina seem to be our own friends, with whom we have often visited theForum or the theatre, and gone home to dine. That curious-looking pin with a Cupid on it is a lady's hair-pin. Thenecklaces are in the form of serpents, which were favorite symbolswith the ancients. The stands of their tables, candelabra, &c. , werecarved into grotesque or beautiful designs, and even the kitchenutensils were made graceful with figures of exquisite workmanship, andwere sometimes fashioned out of silver. Among the pretty things found in Pompeiian houses I will mention thefollowing:-- A bronze statuette of a Dancing Faun, with head and arms uplifted;every muscle seems to be in motion, and the whole body dancing. Another of a boy with head bent forward, and the whole body in theattitude of listening. Then there is a fine group of statuaryrepresenting the mighty Hercules holding a stag bent over his knee;another of the beautiful Apollo with his lyre in his hand leaningagainst a pillar. There are figures of huntsmen in full chase, and offishermen sitting patiently and quietly "waiting for a bite. " A verycelebrated curiosity is the large urn or vase of blue glass, withfigures carved on it in half relief, in white. (For the ancients knewhow to carve glass. ) These white figures look as if made of the finestivory instead of being carved in glass. They represent masksenveloped in festoons of vine tendrils, loaded with clusters ofgrapes, mingled with other foliage, on which birds are swinging, children plucking grapes or treading them under foot, or blowing onflutes, or tumbling over each other in frolicsome glee. This superburn, which is like nothing we have nowadays, is supposed to have beenintended to hold the ashes of the dead. For it was a custom of ancientdays to burn the bodies of the dead, and place the urns containingtheir ashes in magnificent tombs. [Illustration: ORNAMENTS FROM POMPEII. ] Instead of hanging pictures as we do, the Pompeiians generally hadthem painted upon the smoothly prepared walls of their halls andsaloons. The ashes of Vesuvius preserved these paintings so well that, when first exposed to the light, the coloring on them is fresh andvivid, and every line and figure clear and distinct. But the sunlightsoon fades them. They are very beautiful, and teach us much about thebeliefs and customs of the old city. Lovely and graceful as were these pictures, the floors of the housesare much more wonderful. They are marvels of art. Not only are flowersand running vines and complicated designs there laid in mosaics, butpictures that startle with their life-like beauty. There are many ofthese, but perhaps the finest of all is the one found in the samehouse with the Dancing Faun. It represents a battle. A squadron ofvictorious Greeks is rushing upon part of a Persian army. The latterare turning to flee. Those around the vanquished Persian king thinkonly of their safety, but the king, with his hand extended towards hisdying general, turns his back upon his flying forces, and invitesdeath. Every figure in it seems to be in motion. You seem to hear thenoise of battle, and to see the rage, fear, triumph, and pityexpressed by the different faces. Think of such wonderful effectsbeing produced by putting together pieces of glass and marble, coloredenamel, and various stones! But, leaving all these beauties, anddescending to homely everyday life, we will go into a bakery. Here isone in a good state of preservation. [Illustration: DISCOVERIES OF LOAVES OF BREAD BAKED EIGHTEEN HUNDREDYEARS AGO. ] It is a mill and bakery together. The Pompeiians sent their grain tothe baker, and he ground it into flour, and, making it into dough, baked it and sent back loaves of bread. The mills look like hugehour-glasses. They are made of two cone-shaped stones with the smallends together. The upper one revolved, and crushed the grain betweenthe stones. They were worked sometimes by a slave, but oftenest by adonkey. There is the trough for kneading the bread, the arched oven, the cavity below for the ashes, the large vase for water with which tosprinkle the crust and make it "shiny, " and the pipe to carry off thesmoke. In one of these ovens were found eighty-one loaves, weighing apound each, whole, hard, and black, in the order in which they hadbeen placed on the 23d of November, 79. Suppose the baker who placedthem there had been told that eighteen hundred years would elapsebefore they would be taken out! Having wandered about the city, and looked at all the streets, monuments, and dwellings, and having seen very much more than I havehere described--the Forum, or Town Hall, the theatres, baths, stores, temples, the street where the tombs are--and having looked at the rudecross carved on a wall, showing that the religion of Christ hadpenetrated to this Pagan city--having examined all these, you willvisit the amphitheatre. To do this we must leave the part of the city that has interested usso much, and, passing once more through the vineyards and orchardsthat still cover a large portion of the city, descend again into asort of ravine, where we will find the amphitheatre. It was quite asthe end of the city, next to the wall. It is a circus. The large openspace in the centre was called the arena. Here there were fierce andbloody fights; wild beasts fought with each other, or with men trainedto the business and called gladiators, and these gladiators oftenfought with each other--all for the amusement of the people, who werenever satisfied unless a quantity of blood was shed, and many werekilled. This arena was covered with sand, and a ditch filled withwater separated it from the seats. The seats arose from this arena, tier above tier. There were threedivisions of them, separating the rich from the middle class, andthese again from the slaves. It was well arranged for the comfort ofthe audience, having wide aisles and plenty of places of exit. Thewhole was covered with an awning. In the wall around the arena are theholes where thick iron bars were inserted as a precaution against thebounds of the panthers. To the right of the principal entrance are twosquare rooms with gratings where the wild beasts were kept. Thisamphitheatre would hold twenty thousand persons! [Illustration: THE AMPHITHEATRE OF POMPEII. ] We visit this place last because it was while the amphitheatre wascrowded with people intent upon the bloody spectacle; while wildbeasts, and men more cruel than the beasts, were fighting together, and spectators less pitiful than either were greedily enjoying it, that suddenly the ground trembled violently. This perhaps was notperceived in the circus, on account of the excitement all were in, andthe noise that was going on in the arena. But it was soon followed bya whirlwind of ashes, and lurid flashes of flame darted across thesky. The beasts were instantly tamed, and cowered down in abjectterror, and the gladiators, for the first time in their lives, grewpale with fear. Then the startled crowd within the vast building heardfrom the streets the fearful cry: "Vesuvius is on fire!" In an instantthe spectacle is forgotten; the terrified crowd rush out of thebuilding, and happy is it for them that the architects have providedso many places of exit. Some fled towards the sea, and some to theopen country. Those who reached the ships were saved, but woe to thosewho went to their homes to collect their valuables to take with them, or who took refuge under cover in the cellars. After the rain of ashes came a shower of blazing stones, which felluninterruptedly, setting fire to all parts of the city and blocking upthe streets with burning masses. And then a fresh storm of ashessweeping down would partly smother the flames, but, blocking up thedoorways, would stifle those within the houses. And to add to thehorror, the volumes of smoke that poured from the mountain caused adarkness deeper than night to settle on the doomed city, through whichthe people groped their way, except when lighted by the burninghouses. What horror and confusion in the streets! Friends seeking eachother with faces of utter despair; the groans of the dying mingledwith the crash of falling buildings; the pelting of the fiery stones;the shrieks of women and children; the terrific peals of thunder. So ended the day, and the dreadful scene went on far into the night. In a few hours the silence of death fell upon the city. The ashescontinued to pour steadily down upon it, and drifting into everycrevice of the buildings, and settling like a closely-fitting shroudaround the thousands and thousands of dead bodies, preserved all thatthe flames had spared for the eyes of the curious who should livecenturies after. And a gray ashy hill blotted out Pompeii from thesight of that generation. Hundreds of skeletons have already been found, and their expressiveattitudes tell us the story of their death. We know of the pitifulavarice and vanity of many of the rich ladies who went to their homesto save their jewels, and fell with them clutched tightly in theirhands. One woman in the house of the Faun was loaded with jewels, andhad died in the vain effort to hold up with her outstretched arms theceiling that was crushing down upon her. But women were not the onlyones who showed an avaricious disposition in the midst of the thundersand flames of Vesuvius. Men had tried to carry off their money, andthe delay had cost them their lives, and they were buried in the asheswith the coins they so highly valued. Diomed, one of the richest menof Pompeii, abandoned his wife and daughters and was fleeing with abag of silver when he was stifled in front of his garden by noxiousvapors. In the cellar of his house were found the corpses of seventeenwomen and children. A priest was discovered in the temple of Isis, holding fast to an axewith which he had cut his way through two walls, and died at thethird. In a shop two lovers had died in each other's arms. A womancarrying a baby had sought refuge in a tomb, but the ashes had walledthem tightly in. A soldier died bravely at his post, erect before acity gate, one hand on his spear and the other on his mouth, as if tokeep from breathing the stifling gases. Thus perished in a short time over thirty thousand citizens andstrangers in the city of Pompeii, now a city under the ground. THE COACHMAN. [Illustration] When a boy sees a coachman driving two showy, high-stepping horsesalong the street, or, better still, over a level country road, withhis long whip curling in the air, which whip he now and then flirts soas to make a sharp, cracking noise over the horses' heads, andoccasionally brings down with a light flick upon the flanks of theright or left horse, --the carriage, shining with varnish and plate, rolling along swiftly and smoothly, --the little boy is apt to thinkthat coachman must be a very happy mortal. If the man on the carriage-box sees the boy looking at him with somuch admiration, he will probably throw him a jolly little laugh and afriendly nod, and, gathering up the reins and drawing them in tightlyso as to arch the horses' necks and make them look prouder and morestately than before, he will give a loud crack with his curlingwhip-lash, and the horses will start off at a rapid trot, and thecarriage will sweep around a curve in the road so gracefully that theboy's heart will be filled with envy--not of the persons in thecarriage--oh, no! riding in a close carriage is a very tame and dullaffair; but he will envy the driver. An ambition springs up in hismind at that instant. Of all things in the world he would rather be acoachman! That shall be his business when he grows up to be a man. Andthe chances are that when he goes home he tells his father so. But if the little boy, instead of lying tucked in his warm bed, shouldbe set down at twelve o'clock at night upon the pavement in front ofthat great house with the tall lamps on the steps, he would see thissame coachman under conditions that he would not envy at all. The empty carriage is close to the curb-stone, with the door swingingopen as if to urge the owners to hurry and take possession. Thehigh-stepping trotters are covered with blankets to protect them fromthe piercing cold, and, with their heads drooping, are either asleepor wondering why they are not put into the stable to take theirnight's rest; and the coachman is dancing about on the pavement tokeep his feet warm--not by any means a merry kind of dance, althoughhe moves about pretty briskly. He has taken off his gloves, for theyseem to make his hands colder, and now he has thrust one hand into hispocket and is blowing on the other with all his might. His whip, thatcurled so defiantly in the air, is now pushed under his arm, and thelash is trailing, limp and draggled, on the stones. He is warmly clad, and his great-coat has three capes, but all cannot put sufficient heatinto his body, for it is a bitter cold night, and the wind comeshowling down the street as if it would like to bite off everybody'sears and noses. It shakes the leafless branches of the trees untilthey all seem to be moaning and groaning together. The moon is justrising over the church, and the coachman is standing right in a broadpatch of its light. But moonlight, though very beautiful when you arewhere you can comfortably admire it, never warmed anybody yet. And sothe poor coachman gets no good out of that. There is a party in the great house. The boy is standing where he canonly see the lower steps and the tall lamps, but the coachman can seethat it is lighted from garret to cellar. He knows that it is warm assummer in there. There are stands of flowers all the way up thestairways, baskets of them are swinging from the ceilings, and vinesare trailing over the walls. Who in there could ever guess how bleak and cold it is outside! Ladiesin shimmering silks and satins, and glittering with jewels, areflitting about the halls, and floating up and down the rooms ingraceful dances, to the sound of music that only comes out to thecoachman in fitful bursts. He has amused himself watching all this during part of the evening, but now he is looking in at the side-light of the door to see if thereare any signs of the breaking up of the party, or if those he is totake home are ready to go away. He is getting very impatient, and letus hope they will soon come out and relieve him. GEYSERS, AND HOW THEY WORK. [Illustration: THE GRAND GEYSER OF ICELAND. ] Geysers, or fountains of hot water or mud, are found in several partsof the world. Iceland possesses the grandest one, but in Californiathere are a great many of these natural hot fountains, most of whichthrow forth mud as well as water. Some of the American Geysers areterrible things to behold. They are generally found near each other, in particular localities, and any one wandering about among them seesin one place a great pool full of black bubbling contents, so hot thatan egg thrown in the spring will be boiled in a minute or two; therehe sees another spring throwing up boiling mud a few feet in the air;there another one, quiet now, but which may at any time burst out andsend its hot contents high above the heads of the spectators; here agreat hole in the ground, out of which constantly issues a column ofsteam, and everywhere are cracks and crevices in the earth, out ofwhich come little jets of steam, and which give the idea that it wouldnot require a very heavy blow to break in, at any point, the crust ofthe earth, and let the adventurous traveller drop down into theboiling mass below. In Iceland the Geysers are not quite so terrible in their aspect asthose in California, but they are bad enough. Their contents aregenerally water, some hot and bubbling, and some hot and still; whilethe Great Geyser, the grandest work of the kind in the world, burstsforth at times with great violence, sending jets of hot water hundredsof feet into the air. These wonderful hot springs, wherever they have been found, haveexcited the greatest attention and interest, in travellers andscientific men, and their workings have been explained somewhat inthis way:-- Water having gradually accumulated in vast underground crevices andcavities, is heated by the fires, which, in volcanic regions, are notvery far from the surface of the earth. If there is a channel or tubefrom the reservoir to the surface, the water will expand and riseuntil it fills the basin which is generally found at the mouth of hotsprings. But the water beneath, being still further heated, will bechanged into steam, which will at times burst out with great force, carrying with it a column of water high into the air. When this waterfalls back into the basin it is much cooler, on account of its contactwith the air, and it cools the water in the basin, and also condensesthe steam in the tube or channel leading from the reservoir. Thespring is then quiet until enough steam is again formed to causeanother eruption. A celebrated German chemist named Bunsenconstructed an apparatus for the purpose of showing the operations ofGeysers. Here it is. [Illustration: THE ARTIFICIAL GEYSER. ] You see that the two fires in the engraving--one lower and larger thanthe other, because the heat of the earth increases as we get fartherfrom the surface--will heat the water in the iron tube very much aswater is heated in a real Geyser; and when steam enough is formed, acolumn of hot water is thrown out of the basin. The great subterraneanreservoir is not imitated in this apparatus, but the action is thesame as if the tube arose from an iron vessel. There is a great dealin Bunsen's description of this contrivance, in regard to thedifference in the temperature of the water in that part of the tubebetween the two fires, and that in the upper portion, which explainsthe intermittent character of the eruptions of a Geyser, but it is notnecessary for us to go into all his details. When we know that under a Geyser the water is boiling in a greatreservoir which communicates with the surface by a natural tube orspout, we need not wonder that occasionally a volume of steam burstsforth, sending a column of water far into the air. A GIANT PUFF-BALL. [Illustration] I suppose you have all seen puff-balls, which grow in the fields likemushrooms and toadstools, but I am quite sure that you never sawanything of the kind quite so large as that one in the picture. Andyet that engraving was made from a drawing from the puff-ball itself. So we need not suppose that there is anything fanciful about it. The vegetable in question is a kind of _fungi_ called the GigantiLycoperdon, and it attains its enormous size in one night! It springsfrom a seed so small that you could not see it, and grows, while youare asleep, to be bigger, perhaps, than you are yourself! Think of that! How would you like to plant the whole garden, someafternoon, with that kind of seed? Would not your father and mother, and everybody else, be astounded when they woke up and saw a couple ofhundred of those things, as big as barrels, filling up every bed! They would certainly think it was the most astonishing crop they hadever seen, and there might be people who would suppose that fairies ormagicians had been about. The great trouble about such a crop would be that it would be good fornothing. I cannot imagine what any one would do with a barnful of Lycoperdons. But it would be wonderfully interesting to watch the growth of such a_fungus_. You could see it grow. In one night you could see its wholelife, from almost nothing at all to that enormous ball in the picture. Nature could hardly show us a more astonishing sight than that. TICKLED BY A STRAW. [Illustration] From his dreams of tops and marbles, Where the soaring kites he saw, Is that little urchin wakened, Tickled by a wheaten straw. How do you suppose he likes it, Young one with annoying paw? If I only were your mother, I'd tickle you with birchen straw. Soon enough, from pleasant dreaming, You'll be wakened by the law, Which provides for every vision Some sort of provoking straw. In dreams of play, or hope, or loving, When plans of happiness you draw, Underneath _your_ nose may wiggle Life's most aggravating straw THE LIGHT IN THE CASTLE. On a high hill, in a lonely part of Europe, there stood a ruinedcastle. No one lived there, for the windows were destitute of glass;there were but few planks left of the floors; the roof was gone; andthe doors had long ago rotted off their hinges. So that any personswho should take up their residence in this castle would be exposed tothe rain, when there was a storm; to the wind, when it blew; and torobbers, if they should come; besides running the risk of breakingtheir necks by falling between the rafters, every time they attemptedto walk about the house. It was a very solemn, lonely, and desolate castle, and for many andmany a year no human being had been known to set foot inside of it. It was about ten o'clock of a summer night that Hubert Flamry and hissister Hulda were returning to their home from an errand to a distantvillage, where they had been belated. Their path led them quite nearto the ruined castle, but they did not trouble themselves at all onthis account, for they had often passed it, both by night and day. Butto-night they had scarcely caught sight of the venerable structurewhen Hubert started back, and, seizing his sister's arm, exclaimed: "Look, Hulda! look! A light in the castle!" Little Hulda looked quickly in the direction in which her brother waspointing, and, sure enough, there was a light moving about the castleas if some one was inside, carrying a lantern from room to room. Thechildren stopped and stood almost motionless. "What can it be, Hubert?" whispered Hulda. "I don't know, " said he. "It may be a man, but he could not walk wherethere are no floors. I'm afraid it's a ghost. " "Would a ghost have to carry a light to see by?" asked Hulda. "I don't know, " said Hubert, trembling in both his knees, "but I thinkhe is coming out. " It did seem as if the individual with the light was about to leave thecastle. At one moment he would be seen near one of the lower windows, and then he would pass along on the outside of the walls, and directlyHubert and Hulda both made up their minds that he was coming down thehill. "Had we better run?" said Hulda. "No, " replied her brother. "Let's hide in the bushes. " So they hid. In a few minutes Hubert grasped his sister by the shoulder. He wastrembling so much that the bushes shook as if there was a wind. "Hulda!" he whispered, "he's walking along the brook, right on top ofthe water!" "Is he coming this way?" said Hulda, who had wrapped her head in herapron. "Right straight!" cried Hubert. "Give me your hand, Hulda!" And, without another word, the boy and girl burst out of the bushes and ranaway like rabbits. When Hulda, breathless, fell down on the grass, Hubert also stoppedand looked behind him. They were near the edge of the brook, andthere, coming right down the middle of the stream, was the light whichhad so frightened them. "Oh-h! Bother!" said Hubert. "What?" asked poor little Hulda, looking up from the ground. "Why, it's only a Jack-o'-lantern!" said Hubert. "Let's go home, Hulda. " As they were hurrying along the path to their home, Hubert seemed verymuch provoked, and he said to his sister: [Illustration] "Hulda, it was very foolish for you to be frightened at such a thingas that. " "Me?" said Hulda, opening her eyes very wide, "I guess you were justas much frightened as I was. " "You might have known that no real person would be wandering about thecastle at night, and a ghost couldn't carry anything, for his fingersare all smoke. " "You ought to have known that too, I should say, Mr. Hubert, " answeredHulda. "And then, I don't believe the light was in the castle at all. It wasjust bobbing about between us and the castle, and we thought it wasinside. You ought to have thought of that, Hulda. " "Me!" exclaimed little Hulda, her eyes almost as big as two silverdollars. It always seems to me a great pity that there should be such boys asHubert Flamry. THE OAK TREE. [Illustration] I really don't know which liked the great oak best, Harry or hisgrandfather. Harry was a sturdy little fellow, seven years old, andcould play ball, and fly kites, and all such things, when he hadanybody to play with. But his father's house was a long distance fromthe village, and so he did not often have playmates, and it is poorsport to play marbles or ball by one's self. He did sometimes roll hishoop or fly his kite when alone, but he would soon get tired, andthen, if it was a clear day, he would most likely say: "Grandpa, don't you want to go to the big oak?" And Grandpa would answer: "Of course, child, we will go. I am always glad to give you thatpleasure. " This he said, but everybody knew he liked to go for his own pleasuretoo. So Harry would bring Grandpa his cane and hat, and away theywould go down the crooked path through the field. When they got to thedraw-bars, Harry took them down for his Grandpa to pass through, andthen put them carefully up again, so that the cows should not get outof the pasture. And, when this was done, there they were at theoak-tree. This was a very large tree, indeed, and its branches extended over theroad quite to the opposite side. Right at the foot of the tree was aclear, cold spring, from which a little brook trickled, and lostitself in the grass. A dipper was fastened to a projecting root abovethe spring, that thirsty travellers might drink. The road by the sideof which the oak stood was a very public one, for it led to a citytwenty miles away. So a great many persons passed the tree, andstopped at the spring to drink. And that was the reason why littleHarry and his Grandpa were so fond of going there. It was really quitea lively place. Carriages would bowl along, all glittering with plateand glass, and with drivers in livery; market wagons would rattle bywith geese squawking, ducks quacking, and pigs squealing; horsemenwould gallop past on splendid horses; hay wagons would creak slowlyby, drawn by great oxen; and, best of all, the stage would dashfuriously up, with the horses in a swinging trot, and the drivercracking his whip, and the bright red stage swaying from side to side. It generally happened that somebody in the stage wanted a drink fromthe spring, and Harry would take the cup handed out of the window, anddip it full of the cold, sparkling water, and then there would be afew minutes of friendly chat. But the most of the talk was with the foot-passengers. The old man saton a bench in the cool shade, and the child would run about and playuntil some one came along. Then he would march up to the tree andstand with his hands in his pockets to hear what was said, very oftenhaving a good deal to say himself. Sometimes these people would stay along time under the shade of the tree, and there were so manydifferent people, and they had so many different kinds of things tosay, that Harry thought it was like hearing a book read, only a greatdeal better. At one time it would be a soldier, who had wonderful things to tell ofthe battles he had fought. Another day it would be a sailor, who, while smoking his pipe, would talk about the trackless deserts ofburning sands; and of the groves of cinnamon, and all sweet spices, where bright-colored parrots are found; and of the great storms atsea, when the waves dashed ships to pieces. Another time a foreignerwould have much to say about the strange people and customs of otherlands; and sometimes they talked in a strange language, and could notbe understood, and that was very amusing. The organ-grinders were the best, for they would play such beautifultunes, and perhaps there would be children who would tinkle theirtambourines, and sing the songs that the girls sing in Italy when theytread out the grapes for wine. And sometimes there would be--oh, joy!a monkey! And then what fun Harry would have! And sometimes there were poor men and women, tired and sick, who hadnothing to say but what was sad. Occasionally an artist would stop under the tree. He would have agreat many of his sketches with him, which he would show to Harry andGrandpa. And then he would go off to a distance, and make a picture ofthe splendid oak, with the old man and child under it, and perhaps hewould put into it some poor woman with her baby, who happened to bethere, and some poor girl drinking out of the spring. And Harry andGrandpa always thought this better than any of the other pictures heshowed them. [Illustration] THE SEA-SIDE. The ocean is so wonderful itself, that it invests with some of itspeculiar interest the very sands and rocks that lie upon its edges. There is always something to see at the sea-side; whether you walkalong the lonely coast; go down among the fishermen, and their netsand boats; or pass along the sands, lively with crowds ofmany-colored bathers. But if there was nothing but the grand old ocean itself, it would beenough. Whether it is calm and quiet, just rolling in steadily uponthe shore, in long lines of waves, which come sweeping and curlingupon the beach and then breaking, spread far out over the sand--orwhether the storm-waves, tossing high their lofty heads, come rushingmadly upon the coast, dashing themselves upon the sands and thunderingup against the rocks, the sea is grand! What a tremendous thing an ocean is! Ever in powerful motion; sowonderful and awful in its unknown depths, and stretching so far, far, far away! But, even on the coasts of this great ocean, our days seem all tooshort, as we search among the rocks and in the little pools for thecuriosities of the sea-side. Here are shells, and shells, andshells, --from the great conch, which you put up to your ear to hearthe sound of the sea within, to the tiny things which we find storedaway in little round cases, which are all fastened together in astring, like the rattles of a snake. In the shallow pools that have been left by the tide we may find acrab or two, perhaps, some jelly-fish, star-fish, and those wonderfulliving flowers, the sea-anemones. And then we will watch the greatgulls sweeping about in the air, and if we are lucky, we may see anarmy of little fiddler-crabs marching along, each one with one claw inthe air. We may gather sea-side diamonds; we may, perhaps, go in andbathe, and who can tell everything that we may do on the shores of thegrand old ocean! [Illustration] And if we ever get among the fishermen, then we are sure to have goodtimes of still another kind. Then we shall see the men who live by thesea, and on the sea. We shall wander along the shore, and look attheir fishing-vessels, which seem so small when they are on the water, but which loom up high above our heads when they are drawn up on theshore--some with their clumsy-looking rudders hauled up out ofdanger, and others with rudder and keel resting together on the roughbeach. Anchors, buoys, bits of chains, and hawsers lie about theshore, while nets are hanging at the doors of the fishermen'scottages, some hung up to dry and some hung up to mend. Here we may often watch the fishermen putting out to sea in theirdirty, but strong, little vessels, which go bouncing away on thewaves, their big sails appearing so much too large for the boats thatit seems to us, every now and then, as if they must certainly toppleover. And then, at other times, we will see the fishermen returning, and will be on the beach when the boats are drawn up on the sand, andthe fish, some white, some gray, some black, but all glittering andsmooth, are tumbled into baskets and carried up to the houses to besalted down, or sent away fresh for the markets. Then the gulls come circling about the scene, and the ducks that liveat the fishermen's houses come waddling down to see about any littlefishes that may be thrown away upon the sand; and men with tarpaulincoats and flannel shirts sit on old anchors and lean up against theboats, smoking short pipes while they talk about cod, and mackerel, and mainsails and booms; and, best of all, the delightful sea-breezecomes sweeping in, browning our cheeks, reddening our blood, andgiving us such a splendid appetite that even the fishermen themselvescould not throw us very far into the shade, at meal-times. As for bathing in the sea, plunging into the surf, with the wavesbreaking over your head and the water dashing and sparkling all aboutyou, I need not say much about that. I might as well try to describethe pleasure of eating a saucer of strawberries-and-cream, and youknow I could not do it. There are nations who never see the ocean, nor have anything to dowith it. They have not even a name for it. They are to be pitied for many things, but for nothing more than this. THE SICK PIKE. There is no reason why a pike should not be sick. Everything that haslife is subject to illness, but it is very seldom that any fish hasthe good sense and the good fortune of the pike that I am going totell you about. This pike was a good-sized fellow, weighing about six pounds, and hebelonged to the Earl of Stamford, who lived near Durham, England. Hisstory was read by Dr. Warwick to the Literary and PhilosophicalSociety of Liverpool. I am particular about these authorities becausethis story is a little out of the common run. Dr. Warwick was walking by a lake, in the Earl's park, and the pikewas lying in the water near the shore, probably asleep. At any rate, when it saw the doctor it made a sudden dart into deep water anddashed its head against a sunken post. This accident seemed to givethe fish great pain, for it pitched and tossed about in the lake, andfinally rushed up to the surface and threw itself right out of thewater on to the bank. The doctor now stooped to examine it, and to his surprise the fishremained perfectly quiet in his hands. He found that the skull wasfractured and one eye was injured by the violence with which the fishhad struck the post. With a silver tooth-pick (he had not hisinstruments with him) the doctor arranged the broken portion of thepike's skull, and when the operation was completed he placed the fishin the water. For a minute or two the Pike seemed satisfied, but thenit jumped out of the water on to the bank again. The doctor put thefish back, but it jumped out again, and repeated this performanceseveral times. It seemed to know (and how, I am sure I have not theleast idea) that that man was a doctor, and it did not intend toleave him until it had been properly treated--just as if it was oneof his best patients. The doctor began to see that something more was expected of him, andso he called a game-keeper to him, and with his assistance he put abandage around the pike's head. [Illustration] When this surgical operation had been completed the pike was put backinto the water, and this time it appeared perfectly satisfied, andswam away. The next day, as Dr. Warwick was sitting by the lake, the pike, with, the bandage around its head, swam up and stuck its head out of thewater, near the doctor's feet. The good physician took up the fish, examined the wound, and finding that it was getting on very well, replaced the bandage and put Mr. Pike into the lake again. This was a very grateful pike. After the excellent surgical treatmentit received from Dr. Warwick, it became very fond of him, and wheneverhe walked by the side of the lake it would swim along by him, andalthough it was quite shy and gloomy when other people came to thewaterside, it was always glad to see the doctor, and would come whenhe whistled, and eat out of his hand. I suppose in the whole ocean, and in all the rivers and lakes of theworld, there are not more than two or three fish as sensible andgrateful as this pike. In fact, it was very well for Dr. Warwick thatthere were no more such on the Earl of Stamford's estate. A largepractice in the lake must soon have made a poor man of him, for I donot suppose that even that sensible pike would have paid a doctor'sbill, if it had been presented to him. TWO KINDS OF BLOSSOMS. [Illustration] When the winter has entirely gone, and there is not the slightestvestige left of snow or ice; when the grass is beginning to bebeautifully green, and the crocuses and jonquils are thrusting theirpretty heads up out of the ground; when the sun is getting to bequite warm and the breezes very pleasant, then is the time forblossoms. Then it is especially the time for apple-blossoms. Not that the peachand the pear and the cherry trees do not fill their branches with pinkand white flowers, and make as lovely a spring opening as anyapple-trees in the land. Oh no! It is only because there are so manyapple-trees and so many apple-orchards, that the peaches and pears area little overlooked in blossom-time. A sweet place is the apple-orchard, when the grass is green, the treesare full of flowers, the air full of fragrance, and when every breezebrings down the most beautiful showers of flowery snow. And how beautiful and delicate is every individual flower! We are soaccustomed to looking at blossoms in the mass--at treesful and wholeorchardsful--that we are not apt to think that those great heaps ofpink and loveliness are composed of little flowers, each one perfectin itself. And not only is each blossom formed of the most beautiful whitepetals, shaded with pink; not only does each one of them possess amost pleasant and delicate perfume, but every one of these littleflowers--every one which comes to perfection, I mean--is but theprecursor of an apple. This one may be a Golden Pippin; that one whichlooks just like it may be the forerunner of a Belle-flower; while thelittle green speck at the bottom of this one may turn into a Russet, with his sober coat. The birds that are flying among the branches do not think much aboutthe apples that are to come, I reckon, and neither do the earlybutterflies that flutter about, looking very much like fallingblossoms themselves. And, for that matter, we ourselves need not thinktoo much about the coming apple crop. We ought sometimes to think ofand enjoy beauty for its own sake, without reference to what it may doin the future for our pockets and our stomachs. There are other kinds of blossoms than apple-blossoms, or those of anytree whatever. There are little flowers which bloom as well or betterin winter than in summer, and which are not, in fact, flowers at all. These are ice-blossoms. Perhaps you have never seen any of them, and I think it is verylikely, for they can only be formed and perceived by the means ofsuitable instruments. And so here is a picture of some ice-blossoms. [Illustration] These curious formations, some of which appear like stars, others likevery simple blossoms, while others are very complex; and some of whichtake the form of fern-leaves, are caused to appear in the centre of ablock of ice by means of concentrated rays of lights which aredirected through the ice by means of mirrors and lenses. Sometimesthey are observed by means of a magnifying-glass, and in otherexperiments their images are thrown upon a white screen. [Illustration] We may consider these ice-flowers as very beautiful and verywonderful, but they are not a whit more so than our little blossoms ofthe apple-orchard. The latter are more common, and have to produce apples, while theice-flowers are uncommon, and of no possible use. That is the difference between them. ABOUT GLASS. Glass is so common and so cheap that we never think of being gratefulfor it. But if we had lived a few centuries ago, when the richestpeople had only wooden shutters to their windows, which, of course, had to be closed whenever it was cold or stormy, making the house asdark as night, and had then been placed in a house lighted by glasswindows, we would scarcely have found words to express ourthankfulness. It would have been like taking a man out of a drearyprison and setting him in the bright world of God's blessed sunshine. After a time men made small windows of stones that were partlytransparent; and then they used skins prepared something likeparchment, and finally they used sashes similar to ours, but in themthey put oiled paper. And when at last glass came into use, it was socostly that very few were able to buy it, and they had it taken out ofthe windows and stored carefully away when they went on a journey, aspeople now store away pictures and silver-plate. Now, when a boy wants a clear, white glass vial for any purpose, hecan buy it for five cents; and for a few pennies a little girl can buya large box of colored beads that will make her a necklace to goseveral times around her neck, and bracelets besides. These her eldersister regards with contempt; but there was a time when queens wereproud to wear such. The oldest article of glass manufacture inexistence is a bead. It has an inscription on it, but the writing, instead of being in letters, is in tiny little pictures. Here you see the bead, and the funny little pictures on it. Thepictures mean this: "The good Queen Ramaka, the loved of Athor, protectress of Thebes. " This Queen Ramaka was the wife of a king whoreigned in Thebes more than three thousand years ago, which iscertainly a very long time for a little glass bead to remain unbroken!The great city of Thebes, where it was made, has been in ruins forhundreds of years. No doubt this bead was part of a necklace thatQueen Ramaka wore, and esteemed as highly as ladies now value theirrubies. It was found in the ruins of Thebes by an Englishman. [Illustration] It may be thought that this bead contradicts what has been said aboutthere being a time when glass was unknown, and that time only a fewcenturies ago. But it is a singular fact that a nation will perfectlyunderstand some art or manufacture that seems absolutely necessary tomen's comfort and convenience, and yet this art in time will becompletely lost, and things that were in common use will pass ascompletely out of existence as if they had never been, until, in afterages, some of them will be found among the ruins of cities and in oldtombs. In this way we have found out that ancient nations knew how tomake a great many things that enabled them to live as comfortably andluxuriously as we do now. But these things seem to have perished withthe nations who used them, and for centuries people livedcomfortlessly without them, until, in comparatively modern times, theyhave all been revived. Glass-making is one of these arts. It was known in the early ages ofthe world's history. There are pictures that were painted on tombs twothousand years before Christ's birth which represent men blowingglass, pretty much as it is done now, while others are taking pots ofit out of the furnaces in a melted state. But in those days it wasprobably costly, and not in common use; but the rich had glass untilthe first century after Christ, when it disappeared, and the art ofmaking it was lost. [Illustration] The city of Venice was founded in the fifth century, and here we findthat glass-making had been revived. You will see by this picture of aVenetian bottle how well they succeeded in the manufacture of glassarticles. Venice soon became celebrated for this manufacture, and was for a longtime the only place where glass was made. The manufacturers took greatpains to keep their art a secret from other nations, and so did thegovernment, because they were all growing rich from the money itbrought into the city. In almost any part of the world to which you may chance to go youwill find Silica. You may not know it by that name, but it is thatshining, flinty substance you see in sand and rock-crystal. It isfound in a very great number of things besides these two, but theseare the most common. Lime is also found everywhere--in earth, in stones, in vegetables andbones, and hundreds of other substances. Soda is a common article, and is very easily produced by artificialmeans. Potash, which has the same properties as soda, exists in allashes. Now silica, and lime, and soda, or potash, when melted together, formglass. So you see that the materials for making this substance whichadds so much to our comfort and pleasure are freely given to allcountries. And after Venice had set the example, other nations turnedtheir attention to the study of glass-making, and soon found out thisfact, in spite of the secrecy of the Venetians. After a time theGermans began to manufacture glass; and then the Bohemians. The latterinvented engraving on glass, which art had also been known to theancients, and then been lost. They also learned to color glass sobrilliantly that Bohemian glass became more fashionable than Venetian, and has been highly thought of down to the present day. On the next page we see an immense drinking-glass of Germanmanufacture, but this one was made many years after glass-making wasfirst started there. This great goblet, which it takes several bottles of wine to fill, waspassed around at the end of a feast, and every guest was expected totake a sip out of it. This was a very social way of drinking, but Ithink on the whole it is just as well that it has gone out of fashion. The old Egyptians made glass bottles, and so did the early Romans, andused them just as we do for a very great variety of things. Theirwine-bottles were of glass, sealed and labelled like ours. We mightsuppose that, having once had them, people would never be withoutglass bottles. But history tells a different story. There evidentlycame a time when glass bottles vanished from the face of the earth;for we read of wooden bottles and those of goat-skin and leather, butthere is no mention of glass. And men were satisfied with theseclumsy contrivances, because in process of time it had been forgottenthat any other were ever made. [Illustration] Hundreds of years rolled away, and then, behold! glass bottlesappeared again. Now there is such a demand for them that one countryalone--France--makes sixty thousand tons of bottles every year. Tomake bottle-glass, oxide of iron and alumina is added to the silica, lime, and soda. It seems scarcely possible that these few commonsubstances melted over the fire and blown with the breath can beformed into a material as thin and gossamer, almost, as a spider'sweb, and made to assume such a graceful shape as this jug. [Illustration] This is how glass bottles, vases, etc. , are made. When the substancesmentioned above are melted together properly, a man dips a long, hollow iron tube into a pot filled with the boiling liquid glass, andtakes up a little on the end of it. This he passes quickly to anotherman, who dips it once more, and, having twirled the tube around so asto lengthen the glass ball at the end, gives it to a third man, whoplaces this glass ball in an earthen mould, and blows into the otherend of the tube, and soon the shapeless mass of glass becomes abottle. But it is not quite finished, for the bottom has to becompleted, and the neck to have the glass band put around it. Thebottom is finished by pressing it with a cone-shaped instrument assoon as it comes out of the mould. A thick glass thread is woundaround the neck. And, if a name is to be put on, fresh glass is addedto the side, and stamped with a seal. [Illustration] This is also the process of making the beautiful jug just mentioned, except that three workmen are engaged at the same time on the threeparts--one blows the vase itself, another the foot, and the third thehandle. They are then fastened together, and the top cut into thedesired shape with shears, for glass can be easily cut when in a softstate. You see how clearly and brightly, and yet with what softness, thewindows of the room are reflected in that exquisite jug It was madeonly a few years ago. I will now show you an old Venetian goblet, but you will have tohandle it very carefully, or you will certainly break off one of thedelicate leaves, or snap the stem of that curious flower. Such glasses as these were certainly never intended for use. They wereprobably put upon the table as ornaments. The bowl is a white glasscup, with wavy lines of light blue. The spiral stem is red and white, and has projecting from it five leaves of yellow glass, separated inthe middle by another leaf of a deep blue color. The large flower hassix pale-blue petals. [Illustration] And now we will look at some goblets intended for use. They are ofmodern manufacture, and are plain and simple, but have a beauty oftheir own. The right-hand one is of a very graceful shape, and the onein the middle is odd-looking, and ingeniously made with rollers, andall of them have a transparent clearness, and are almost as thin asthe fragile soap-bubbles that children blow out of pipe-bowls. They donot look unlike these, and one can easily fancy that, like them, theywill melt into air at a touch. [Illustration] Because the ancients by some means discovered that the union ofsilica, lime, and soda made a perfectly transparent and hard substanceit by no means follows that they knew how to make looking-glasses Forthis requires something behind the glass to throw back the image. Butvanity is not of modern invention, and people having from thebeginning of time had a desire to look at themselves, they were notslow in providing the means. The first mirrors used were of polished metal, and for ages nobodyknew of anything better. But there came a time when the idea enteredthe mind of man that "glass lined with a sheet of metal will give backthe image presented to it, " for these are the exact words of a writerwho lived four centuries before Christ. And you may be sure thatglass-makers took advantage of this suggestion, if they had notalready found out the fact for themselves. So we know that theancients did make glass mirrors. It is matter of history thatlooking-glasses were made in the first century of the Christian era, but whether quicksilver was poured upon the back, as it is now, orwhether some other metal was used, we do not know. But these mirrors disappeared with the bottles and other glassarticles; and metal mirrors again became the fashion. For fourteenhundred years we hear nothing of looking-glasses, and then we findthem in Venice, at the time that city had the monopoly of the glasstrade. Metal mirrors were soon thrown aside, for the images in themwere very imperfect compared with the others. These Venetian glasses were all small, because at that time sheetglass was blown by the mouth of man, like bottles, vases, etc. , andtherefore it was impossible to make them large. Two hundred yearsafterward, a Frenchman discovered a method of making sheet glass bymachinery, which is called _founding_, and by this process it can bemade of any size. But even after the comparatively cheap process of founding came intouse, looking-glasses were very expensive, and happy was the richfamily that possessed one. A French countess sold a farm to buy amirror! Queens had theirs ornamented in the most costly manner. Hereis a picture of one that belonged to a queen of France, the frame ofwhich is entirely composed of precious stones. [Illustration] I have told you how the Venetians kept glass-making a secret, and how, at last, the Germans learned it, and then the French, and their workcame to be better liked than that of the Venetians. But these laststill managed to keep the process of making mirrors a profound secret, and the French were determined to get at the mystery. Several youngglass-makers went from France to Venice, and applied to all thelooking-glass makers of Venice for situations as workmen, that theymight learn the art. But all positively refused to receive them, andkept their doors and windows tightly closed while they were at work, that no one might see what they did. The young Frenchmen tookadvantage of this, and climbed up on the roofs, and cautiously madeholes through which they could look; and thus they learned thecarefully-kept secret, and went back to France and commenced themanufacture of glass mirrors. Twenty years after, a Frenchman inventedfounding glass, which gave France such a great advantage that thetrade of Venice in looking-glasses was ruined. You would be very much interested in watching this process of foundingglass. This is the way it is done. As soon as the glass is melted tothe proper consistency, the furnaces are opened, and the pots arelifted into the air by machinery, and passed along a beam to animmense table of cast iron. A signal is given, and the brilliant, transparent liquid glass falls out and spreads over the table. At asecond signal a roller is passed by machinery over the red-hot glass, and twenty men stand ready with long shovels to push the sheet ofglass into an oven, not very hot, where it can slowly cool. When takenout of the oven the glass is thick, and not perfectly smooth, and ithas to be rubbed with sand, imbedded in plaster of Paris, smoothedwith emery, and polished by rubbing it with a woollen cloth coveredwith red oxide of iron, all of which is done by machinery. We know that cut glass is expensive, and the reason is that cutting itis a slow process. Four wheels have to be used in succession, iron, sandstone, wood, and cork. Sand is thrown upon these wheels in such away that the glass is finely and delicately cut. But this is imitatedin pressed glass, which is blown in a mould inside of which the designis cut. This is much cheaper than the cut glass. [Illustration] A higher art than cutting is engraving on glass, by which the figuresare brought out in relief. Distinguished artists are employed to drawthe designs, and then skilful engravers follow the lines with theirdelicate tools. If you will examine carefully the engraving on thisBohemian goblet, you will see what a wonderful piece of workmanship itis. It seems almost a pity that so much time and labor, skill and geniusshould be given to a thing so easily broken. And yet we have seen thata good many glass articles have been preserved for centuries. Theengraving on the Bohemian goblet is ingenious, and curious, andfaithful in detail, but the flowers on this modern French flagon arereally more graceful and beautiful. [Illustration] About four hundred years ago there was found in a marble coffin, in atomb near Rome, a glass vase which is now famous throughout the world. There is good reason for supposing it to have been made one hundredand thirty-eight years before Christ, consequently it is now about twothousand years old. For many years this was in the Barberini palace inRome, and was called the Barberini Vase. Then it was bought by theDuchess of Portland, of England, for nine thousand dollars, and sincethen has been known as the Portland Vase. She loaned it to the British Museum, and everybody who went to Londonwanted to see this celebrated vase. [Illustration] One day a crazy man got into the Museum, and with a smart blow of hiscane laid in ruins the glass vase that had survived all the world'sgreat convulsions and changes for two thousand years! This misfortunewas supposed to be irreparable, but it has been repaired by an artistso cleverly that it is impossible to tell where it is joined together. [Illustration] This vase is composed of two layers of glass, one over the other. Thelower is of a deep blue color, and the upper an opaque white, so thatthe figures stand out in white on a deep blue background. [Illustration] The picture on it represents the marriage of Peleus and Thetis. Thewoman seated, holding a serpent in her left hand, is Thetis, and theman to whom she is giving her right hand is Peleus. The god in frontof Thetis is Neptune, and a Cupid hovers in the air above. On thereverse side are Thetis and Peleus, and a goddess, all seated. At thefoot of the vase is a bust of Ganymede, and on each side of this inthe picture are copies of the masks on the handles. Now I have shown you a few of the beautiful things that have been madeof glass, but there are very many other uses to which glass is appliedthat have not even been alluded to. Steam engines, that work like realones, have been made of glass; palaces have been built of it; greattelescopes, by which the wonders of the heavens have been revealed, owe their power to it; and, in fact, it would seem to us, to-day, asif we could as well do without our iron as without our glass. CARL. In the middle of a dark and gloomy forest lived Carl and Greta. Theirfather was a forester, who, when he was well, was accustomed to beaway all day with his gun and dogs, leaving the two children with noone but old Nurse Heine; for their mother died when they were verylittle. Now Carl was twelve years old, and Greta nine. Carl was afine-looking boy, but Nurse Heine said that he had a melancholycountenance. Greta, however, was a pretty, bright-faced, merry littlegirl. They were allowed to wander through a certain part of theforest, where their father thought there was no especial danger tofear. In truth, Carl was not melancholy at all, but was just as happy in hisway as Greta was in hers. In the summer, while she was pulling thewood flowers and weaving them into garlands, or playing with her dogs, or chasing squirrels, Carl would be seated on some root or stone witha large sheet of coarse card-board on his knee, on which he drewpictures with a piece of sharpened charcoal. He had sketched, in hisrough way, every pretty mass of foliage, and every picturesque rockand waterfall within his range. And in the winter, when the icicleswere hanging from the cliffs, and the snow wound white arms around thedark green cypress boughs, Carl still found beautiful pictureseverywhere, and Greta plenty of play in building snow-houses andstatues. And, moreover, Carl had lately discovered in the brooks somecolored stones, which were soft enough to sharpen sufficiently to givea blue tint to his skies, and green to his trees; and thus he madepictures that Nurse Heine said were more wonderful than those in thechapel of the little village of Evergode. I have said that the forest was dark and gloomy, because it wascomposed chiefly of pines and cypresses, but it never seemed so tothe children. They knew how to read, but had no books that told themof any lands brighter and sunnier than their own. And then, too, beyond the belt of pines in which was their home, there was a longstretch of forest of oaks and beeches, and in this the birds liked tobuild their nests and sing; and there were such splendid vines, andlovely flowers! And, right through the pine forest, not more than halfa mile from their cottage, there was a broad road. It is true, it wasa very rough one, and but little used, but it represented the world toCarl and Greta. For it did sometimes happen that loaded wagons wouldjolt over it, or a rough soldier gallop along, and more rarely still, a gay cavalier would prance by the wondering children. For there was a war in the land. And when, after a time, the armiescame near enough to the forest for the children to hear occasionallythe roll of the heavy guns, a strange thing happened. One evening when they arrived at home, they found in their humblelittle cottage one of the gay-looking cavaliers they had sometimesseen on the forest road, and with him was a very beautiful lady. OldNurse Heine was getting the spare room ready by beating up the greatfeather bed, and laying down on the floor the few strips of carpetthey possessed. Their father was talking with the strangers, and hetold them that Carl and Greta were his children; but they took nonotice of them, for they were completely taken up with each other, forthe gentleman, it appeared, was going away, and to leave the ladythere. Carl greatly admired this cavalier, and had no doubt he was thenoblest-looking man in the world, and studied him so closely that hewould have known him among a thousand. Presently the forester led hischildren out of the cottage, and soon after the cavalier came out, andspringing upon his horse, galloped away among the dark pines. [Illustration] The strange lady was at the cottage several weeks, and the childrensoon learned to love her dearly. She was fond of rambling about withthem, and was seldom to be found within the house when the weather wasfair. She never went near the road, but preferred the oak wood, andsometimes when the children were amusing themselves she would sit forhours absorbed in deep thought or singing to herself in a sad anddreamy way. At other times she would interest herself in the children, and tellthem of things in the world outside the forest. She praised Carl'spictures, and showed him how to work in his colors so as to moreeffectively bring out the perspective, and tried to educate his taste, as far as she could, by describing the pictures of the great masters. She often said afterwards that she could never have lived throughthose dark days but for the comfort she found in the children. Carl saw that she was sorrowful, and he understood that her sadnesswas not because of the plain fare and the way of living at theforester's cottage, which he knew must seem rough indeed to her, butbecause of some great grief. What this grief was he could not guess, for the children had been told nothing about the beautiful lady, except that her name was Lady Clarice. She never complained, but theboy's wistful eyes would follow her as she moved among the trees, andhis heart would swell with pity; and how he would long to do somethingto prove to her how he loved her! The forester told Carl that the cavalier was with the army. But he didnot come to the cottage, and there was no way for the Lady Clarice tohear from him, and she shuddered at the sound of the great guns. Andfinally she fell sick. Nurse Heine did what she could for her, but thelady grew worse. She felt that she should die, and it almost brokeCarl's heart to hear her moaning: "Oh! if I could but see him oncemore!" He knew she meant the noble cavalier, but how should he getword to him? The old forester was just then stiff with rheumatism, andcould scarcely move from his chair. "I will go myself!" said Carl to himself one day, "or she will diewith grief!" Without saying a word to anybody about the matter, for fear that hewould not be allowed to go, he stole out of the house in the gray ofthe morning, while all were asleep, and, making his way to the openroad, he turned in the direction from whence, at times, had come thesound of the cannon. As long as he was in the part of the road that heknew, he kept up a stout heart, but when he left that he began to growfrightened. The road was so lonely, and strange sounds seemed to comeout of the forest that stretched away, so black and thick, on eachside! He wondered if any fierce beasts were there, or if robbers werelurking behind the rocks. But he thought of the beautiful lady, hiskind friend, sick and dying, and that thought was more powerful thanhis fear. At noon he rested for awhile, and ate a few dry biscuits hehad put in his pockets. It was near sunset when he saw that the trees stood less closelytogether, the road looked more travel-worn, and there came with thewind a confused and continuous noise. Then Carl was seized withterror. "I am now near the camp, " he thought. "Suppose a battle isgoing on, and I am struck with a ball. I shall die, and father andlittle Greta will not know what became of me, and the beautiful ladywill never know that I died in her service! Or if I meet a soldier, and he don't believe my story, maybe he'll run a bayonet through me!" It was not too late then to turn back and flee swiftly up the forestroad, and Carl paused. But in a few moments he went on, animated by the noblest kind ofcourage--that which feels there is danger, but is determined to faceit in the cause of duty, affection, and humanity. At last he stepped out of the forest, and there, before him, wasspread out the vast encampment of the army! There was not time towonder at the sight before he was challenged by a sentinel. Carl hadmade up his mind what to say, and that he would not mention the lady. So he promptly replied that he wanted to see a noble lord who had asick friend at a cottage in the forest. As the boy could not tell the name or rank of the noble lord, thesentinel sent him to an officer, and to him Carl told the same story, but he described the man of whom he was in search so accurately thatthe officer sent him at once to the proper person. And Carl found thathe was a very great personage indeed, and held a high command in thearmy. He did not recognize Carl, but as soon as the boy told hiserrand he became very much agitated. "I will go at once, " he said; "but I cannot leave you here, my braveboy! Can you ride?" Now Carl knew how to sit on a horse, and how to hold the bridle, forhe had ridden the wood-cutters' horses sometimes, so he answered thathe thought he could ride. The Duke (for such was his title) orderedsome refreshments set before the boy, and then went out to make hisarrangements, choosing his gentlest horse for Carl. In half an hour they were in the forest, speeding like the wind. Carlfelt as if he was flying. The horse chose his own gait, and tried tokeep up with the one that the Duke was riding; but finally, findingthis impossible, he slackened his pace, greatly to Carl's relief. Butthe Duke was too anxious about his lady to accommodate himself to theslower speed of the boy, and soon swept out of sight around a bend inthe road. His cloak and the long feathers of his hat streamed on thenight wind for a moment longer. Then they vanished, and Carl wasalone. Carl was somewhat afraid of the horse, for he was not used to such ahigh-mettled steed; but, on the whole, he was glad he was mounted onit. For if the woods had seemed lonely in the daylight they were tentimes more so in the night. And the noises seemed more fearful thanbefore. And Carl thought if any furious beast or robber should dartupon him, he could make the horse carry him swiftly away. As it was helet the horse do as he pleased, and as Carl sat quietly and did notworry him in any way, he pleased to go along very smoothly, andrather slowly, so it was past midnight when they reached home. [Illustration] Carl found that the Duke had been there a long time; that the lady wasoverjoyed to see him, and Nurse Heine said she began to grow betterfrom that moment. The next morning the Duke went away; but before he left he thankedCarl for the great service he had done him, and gave him a piece ofgold. But Carl was better pleased when the lady called him into herroom, and kissed him, and cried over him, and praised him for a kind, brave boy, and said he had saved her life. And when she got well Carl noticed that she was brighter and happierthan she had been before. In a short time, however, she went away with the Duke, in a grandcoach, with servants and outriders. And Carl and Greta watched them asthey were whirled up the forest road, and then walked home through thepines with sad hearts. Then the forester told his children that the Duke had married thislady secretly, against the king's command, and he had so many bitterand cruel enemies that he was afraid they would do her some evil whilehe was away in the war. She knew of the forester, because his wife hadbeen a maid of her mother's, so she came to this lonely place forsafety. But now the king was pleased, and it was all right. The winter came and went. The war was over. And then Lady Clarice, whom the children never expected to see again, sent for them, and theforester, and Nurse Heine, to her castle. She provided for them all, and Greta grew up into a pretty and well-bred young lady. Lady Clarice had not forgotten the brave act of the boy, and alsoremembered what he liked best in the world. So she had him taught todraw and paint, and in process of time he became a great artist, andall the world knew of his name and fame. SCHOOL'S OUT! [Illustration] What a welcome and joyful sound! In the winter, when the days areshort, and the sun, near the end of the six school hours, sinks so lowthat the light in the room grows dim and gray, with what impatience, my dear child, do you wait for this signal! But it is in the longsummer days that you find school most tiresome. The air in the room ishot and drowsy, and outside you can see there is a breeze blowing, forthe trees are gently tossing their green boughs as if to twit you withhaving to work out sums in such glorious weather. And there come toyour ears the pleasant sounds of the buzzing of insects and twitteringof birds, and the brook splashing over the stones. Then the four wallsof the school-room look very dreary, and the maps glare at you, andthe black-boards frown darkly, and the benches seem very hard, and theink-bespattered desks appear more grimy than ever. This was the time when the heart of the Dominie would be touched withpity, and he would say in his bright way: "Now, children, I am goingto read you something!" Instantly the half-closed eyes would open, the drooping heads would beraised, the vacant faces would brighten, and the little cramped legswould be stretched out with a sigh of relief. And then the Dominiewould read them something that was not only instructive, but veryentertaining. Sometimes, instead of reading to them, he would set themto declaiming or reciting poetry, or they would choose sides and havea spelling match. They would get so interested that they would forgetall about the birds and sunshine without. They did not even know thatthey were learning all this time. For the Dominie had all sorts of pleasant ways of teaching hisscholars. Not but what they had to work hard too, for nobody canaccomplish anything worth having without putting a good deal of hardwork in it. You see the Dominie's portrait in the picture. The fringe of hairaround his bald head was as white as snow; his black eyes were brightand merry; and he had a kindly face. His name was Morris Harvey, buteverybody called him Dominie, and he liked that name best. All thevillage people respected and loved the old man; and every child in thevillage school that he taught, from the largest boy, whose legs wereso long that he did not know what to do with them, down to BessieGay, who could scarcely reach up to the top of a desk, were very fondindeed of him. But even under the Dominie's kindly rule, "School's out!" was always awelcome sound. What a noise there would be in the school-room for aminute; and then such a grand rush out into the open air! and suchmerry shouts! The Dominie would look after them with a smile. Hewanted them to study, but he was glad that it was natural for them tolove to play. If little Charlie Lane had known this he would not have had such a crythe morning he went to school for the first time. He thought hismother very cruel to make him go, and, I am sorry to say, not onlycried before he started, but all the way to the school-house. TheDominie took no notice of this, and Charlie soon found that school wasnot such a very dreadful place. And there was the nice playtime in themiddle of the day. And, when school was out, the Dominie took him onhis knee and gave him a big apple, and showed him a book full ofbright pictures, and told him a story about every one of them. You can see the little fellow on the Dominie's lap, looking earnestlyat a picture in the book; and the old man is pleased that the child ispleased. The Dominie is sitting in his big chair, and his dinner-bagis hanging on the back of it. On the black-board over his head you seelittle Charlie's lesson for that day. It is on the right, and consistsof the letters A, B, C, which the child has been staring at until heknows them perfectly in any book that is given to him. On the left, isa sum; and somebody has tried to draw an almanac sun on the lower partof the board. Across the top the Dominie has written a copy. You canread it plainly. It was a favorite saying of his; and a very good onetoo. Have we not, all of us, a great deal to make us happy? What pleasureis it to you to go about with a cross or melancholy face? Try to thinkof something pleasant, and call up a smile. Put the ill-naturedfeelings out of your heart, and then the brightness will come to yourface without further trouble. If you have a hard task to do, beingcross won't help you along one bit. Go to work at it with a will, andyou will be surprised to find how soon it will be done. Then, with aclear conscience and a glad heart, you can sit waiting for the welcomesound, "School's out!" NEST-BUILDERS. "Birds in their little nests agree, " but they do not at all agree intheir manner of building the said nests. They have all sorts of ideas on this subject. Nearly every species ofbird has a nest peculiar to itself, and the variety is astonishing. There are nests like cups, and nests like saucers; nests which arefirmly fixed among the solid rocks, and nests which wave about on theends of slender branches; nests which are perched on the very tops ofthe tallest trees, and nests which are hidden in the ground. There aregreat nests, which will hold a bushel or two of eggs, and little bitsof things, into which you could scarcely put half a dozen peas. In mentioning some of these nests, it will be needless for us to saymuch of those with which we are all familiar. In our rambles togetherwe must try and see as many novelties as possible, for we may notalways have the chance of wandering freely into any part of the worldto which our fancy may lead us. I remember a little girl who used tocome to our house when I was a boy, and who never cared for anythingat table that was not something of a novelty to her. When offeredpotatoes, she would frankly say: "No, thank you; I can get them athome. " So we will not meddle with hens' nests, robins' nests, and all thenests, big and little, that we find about our homes, for they are the"potatoes" of a subject like this, but will try and find some neststhat are a little out of the way, and curious. But we must stop--just one moment--before we leave home, and look at awren's nest. The Wren, although a very common little bird with us, does not build acommon nest. She makes it round, like a ball, or a woolly orange, with a little hole at one side for a door. Inside, it is just as softand comfortable as anything can be. Being such a little bird herself, she could not cover and protect her young ones from cold and danger sowell as the larger cat-birds and robins, and her nest is contrived sothat there will not be much covering to do. [Illustration] That beautiful bird, the Baltimore Oriole, which may be familiar tosome of you, makes its nest somewhat on the plan of the wren, thesimilarity consisting in the fact that the structure is intended toshelter both parent and young. The oriole, which is a great deallarger than a wren, builds a much larger nest, forming it like a bag, with a hole in one end, and hangs it on the branch of a tree. [Illustration] It is scarcely possible for any harm to come to the young orioles, when they are lying snugly at the bottom of the deep nest and theirmother is sitting on a twig near by, ready to protect them at thehazard of her life. But, for all the apparent security of this nest, so deep, so warm, sofirmly secured to the twigs and branches, the little orioles are notentirely safe. Their mother may protect them from rain and cold; fromwinged enemies and creeping serpents, but she cannot defend themagainst the attacks of boys and men. An oriole's nest is such acurious structure, and the birds are known to be of such fine form andgorgeous plumage, that many boys cannot resist the temptation ofclimbing up after them and, if there are young ones within, ofcarrying the whole affair away in order to try and "raise" the youngbirds. Sometimes the nest is put in a cage, where the old bird cancome and feed its young, and in other cases the captor undertakes todo the feeding himself. I have seen experiments of this kind tried, but never knew the slightest success to follow them, and the attempt, generally useless, is always cruel. But we must positively get away from home and look at some nests towhich few or none of us are accustomed. There, for instance, is the nest of the Burrowing-Owl, a native ofSouth America and the regions west of the Rocky Mountains. This littlebird, much smaller than our common owls, likes to live in the ground. But not having been provided by nature with digging appendages, hecannot make a hole or burrow for himself, and so he takes up his abodein the underground holes made by the little prairie-dogs for their ownhomes. It is not at all certain that these owls should be calledusurpers or thieves. They may, in some cases, get entire possession ofthe holes, but very often they live very sociably with theprairie-dogs, and may, for all we know, pay for their lodgings bybringing in grain and seeds, along with the worms and insects whichthey reserve for their own table. Any one who does not possess ahabitation of his own, must occasionally expect to be thrown amongstrange companions, and this very often happens to the burrowing-owl. Travellers tell us that not only do the prairie-dogs and owls livetogether in these burrows, but that great rattlesnakes sometimes takeup their residence therein--all three families seeming to livetogether in peace and unity. I think that it is probable, however, that the little dogs and owls are not at all pleased with the companyof the snakes. A prairie-dog will not eat an owl, and without the dogis very young indeed, an owl will not eat him; but a great snake wouldjust as soon swallow either of them as not, if he happened to behungry, which fortunately is not often the case, for a good meal lastsa snake a long time. But the owls and the prairie-dogs have no way ofridding themselves of their unwelcome roommates, and, like humanbeings, they are obliged to patiently endure the ills they cannotbanish. Perhaps, like human beings again, they become so accustomed tothese ills that they forget how disagreeable they are. [Illustration] There is a bird--and it is a Flamingo--which builds a nest which looksto me as if it must be very unpleasant to sit upon. And yet it suitsthe bird very well. In fact, on any other kind of a nest, theflamingo might not know what to do with its legs. [Illustration] It would appear as if there had been a waste of material in makingsuch a large high nest, when only two or three moderate-sized eggs areplaced in the slight depression at the top; but, when we consider thatthe flamingo uses this tall affair as a seat, as well as a nest, wecan easily understand that flamingoes, like most other birds, understand how to adapt their nests to their own convenience andpeculiarities. Sitting astraddle on one of these tall nests, whichlook something like peach-baskets turned upside down, with her headstuck as far under her wing as she can get it, the flamingo dozesaway, during the long sultry hours of day, as comfortably and happilyas if she was a little wren snugly curled up inside of its cosey nest. It is not mere situation which makes us happy. Some people enjoy lifein cottages, others in palaces, and some birds sit in a pile of hardsticks and think themselves quite as cosey as those which repose uponthe softest down. It is almost impossible to comprehend the different fancies of birdsin regard to their nests. For instance, why should any bird want tosail about in its nest? Yet there is one--called the LittleGrebe--which builds a water-tight nest, in which she lays her eggs, and, while she is hatching them, she paddles herself around on thewater. It seems to me that these birds must have a very pleasant time duringthe setting season. To start out some fine morning, after it has hadits breakfast of bugs and things, to gently push its nest from shore;to jump on board; to sit down comfortably on the eggs, and stickingout its web-footed legs on each side, to paddle away among thewater-lilies and the beautiful green rushes, in company with otherlittle grebes, all uniting business and pleasure in the same way, mustbe, indeed, quite charming to an appreciative duck. [Illustration] If it were to happen to storm, however, when the grebe was at adistance from shore, her little craft might be upset and her cargo ofeggs go to the bottom. But I expect the grebes are very good sailors, and know when to look for bad weather. A nest full of young grebes just hatched, with the mother swimmingbehind, pushing them along with her beak, or towing them by the looseend of a twig, must be a very singular and interesting sight. [Illustration] An Ostrich has very different views in regard to a nest from a littlegrebe. Instead of wishing to take its nest about with it, wherever itgoes, the ostrich does not care for a great deal of nest-work. It is, however, a bird of more domestic habits than some writers wouldhave us believe; for although it does cover up its eggs in the sand, and then let the sun help hatch them, it is not altogether inattentiveto its nest. The ostrich makes a large nest in the sand, where, it issaid, the eggs of several families are deposited. These eggs are verycarefully arranged in the great hole or basin that has been formed inthe soft sand, and, during the daytime, they are often covered up andleft to be gently heated by the rays of the sun. But the ostrich sitsupon her nest at night, and in many cases the male bird has been knownto sit upon the eggs all day. An ostrich nest is a sort of a wholesaleestablishment. There are not only a great many eggs in the nest, butdozens of them are often found lying about on the sand around it. This apparent waste is explained by some naturalists by the statementthat these scattered eggs are intended for the food of the young oneswhen they are hatched. This may be true; but in that case youngostriches cannot be very particular about the flavor of the eggs theyeat. A few days in the hot sun of the desert would be very likely tomake eggs of any kind taste rather strongly. But ostrich eggs are solarge, and their shells are so thick, that they may keep better thanthe eggs to which we are accustomed. From nests which are built flat on the ground, let us now go to somethat are placed as high from the earth as their builders can get them. The nests of the Storks are of this kind. A pair of storks will select, as a site for their nest, a lofty placeamong the rocks; the top of some old ruins; or, when domesticated, asthey often are, the top of a chimney. But when there are a number ofstorks living together in a community, they very often settle in agrove of tall trees and build their nests on the highest branches. [Illustration: THE NEST OF A STORK. ] In these they lay their eggs, and hatch out their young ones. Soonafter the time when these young storks are able to fly, the wholecommunity generally starts off on its winter pilgrimage to warmcountries; but the old storks always return in the spring to the samenest that they left, while the young ones, if they choose to join thatcommunity at all, must make nests for themselves. Although these nestsare nothing but rude structures of sticks and twigs, made apparentlyin the roughest manner, each pair of storks evidently thinks thatthere is no home like its own. The stork is a very kind parent, and is, in fact, more careful of thewelfare of its young than most birds; but it never goes to the lengthof surrendering its homestead to its children. The young storks will be carefully nurtured and reared by theirparents; when they grow old enough they will be taught to fly, andencouraged in the most earnest way to strengthen and develop theirwings by exercise; and, in the annual expedition to the south, theyare not left to themselves, but are conducted to the happy lands whereall good storks spend their winters. But the young storks cannot haveeverything. If they wish to live in the nest in which they were born, they must wait until their parents are dead. It may be that we have now seen enough of birds' nests, and so I willnot show you any more. The next nest which we will examine-- "But I thought you were not going to show us any more birds' nests!"you will say. That is true. I did say so, and this next one is not a bird's nest buta fish's nest. It is probably that very few of you, if any, ever saw a fish's nest;but there certainly are such things. [Illustration] The fish which builds them is called the Stickleback. It is a littlefish, but it knows how to make a good nest. The male stickleback isthe builder, and when he thinks of making a nest he commences byburrowing a hole in the mud at the bottom of the stream where helives. When with his nose and body he has made this hole large enough, he collects bits of grass, roots, and weeds, and builds his nest overthis hole, which seems to be dug for the purpose of giving security tothe structure. The grass and other materials are fastened to the mudand earth by means of a sticky substance, which exudes from the bodyof the fish, and every part of the nest is stuck together andinterlaced so that it will not be disturbed by the currents. There aregenerally two openings to this nest, which is something like a lady'smuff, although, of course, it is by no means so smooth and regular. The fish can generally stick its head out of one end, and its tail outof the other. When the eggs have been laid in the nest, and the young sticklebackshave been born, the male fish is said to be very strict and particularin the government of his children. For some time--while they are yetvery small--(and the father himself is a very little fellow) he makesthem stay in the nest, and if any of them come swimming out, he drivesthem back again, and forces them to stay at home until they are of aproper age to swim about by themselves. We have now seen quite a variety of nests, and I think that we maycome to this conclusion about their builders:--The bird or othercreature which can carefully select the materials for the home of itsyoung, can decide what is most suitable for the rough outside and whatwill be soft and nice for the inner lining, and can choose a positionfor its nest where the peculiar wants and habits of its little onescan be best provided for, must certainly be credited with a degree ofintelligence which is something more than what is generally suggestedby the term instinct. [Illustration] THE BOOMERANG. Civilized folks are superior in so very many respects to theirbarbarous brethren that it is well, when we discover anything which asavage can do better than we can, to make a note of it, and give thesubject some attention. And it is certain that there are savages who can surpass us in oneparticular--they can make and throw boomerangs. It is very possible that an American mechanic could imitate anAustralian boomerang, so that few persons could tell the difference;but I do not believe that boomerang would work properly. Either in thequality of the wood, or in the seasoning, or in some particular whichwe would not be apt to notice, it would, in all probability, differvery much from the weapon carved out by the savage. If the Americanmechanic was to throw his boomerang away from him, I think it wouldstay away. There is no reason to believe that it would ever come back. And yet there is nothing at all wonderful in the appearance of thereal boomerang. It is simply a bent club, about two feet long, smoothon one side and slightly hollowed out on the other. No one wouldimagine, merely from looking at it, that it could behave in any waydifferently from any other piece of stick of its size and weight. But it does behave differently, at least when an Australian savagethrows it. I have never heard of an American or European who was ableto make the boomerang perform the tricks for which it has becomefamous. Throwing this weapon is like piano-playing; you have to bebrought up to it in order to do it well. In the hands of the natives of Australia, however, the boomerangperforms most wonderful feats. Sometimes the savage takes hold of itby one end, and gives it a sort of careless jerk, so that it falls onthe ground at a short distance from him. As soon as it strikes theearth it bounds up into the air, turns, twists, and pitches about inevery direction, knocking with great force against everything in itsway. It is said that when it bounds in this way into the midst of aflock of birds, it kills and wounds great numbers of them. At othertimes the boomerang-thrower will hurl his weapon at an object at agreat distance, and when it has struck the mark it will turn and fallat the feet of its owner, turning and twisting on its swift andcrooked way. This little engraving shows how the boomerang will goaround a tree and return again to the thrower. The twisted lineindicates its course. Most astonishing stories are told of the skill with which theAustralians use this weapon. They will aim at birds or small animalsthat are hidden behind trees and rocks, and the boomerang will goaround the trees and rocks and kill the game. They are the only peoplewho can with any certainty shoot around a corner. Not only do theythrow the boomerang with unerring accuracy, but with tremendous force, and when it hits a man on the head, giving him two or three terribleraps as it twists about him, it is very apt to kill him. To ward offthese dangerous blows, the natives generally carry shields when theygo out to fight. Sometimes an Australian throws two boomerangs atonce, one with his right hand and one with his left, and then theunfortunate man that he aims at has a hard time of it. Many persons have endeavored to explain the peculiar turning andtwisting properties of the boomerang, but they have not been entirelysuccessful, for so much depends not only on the form of the weapon, but on the skill of the thrower. But it is known that the form of theboomerang, and the fact that one of its limbs is longer and heavierthan the other, gives its centre of gravity a very peculiar situation;and when the weapon is thrown by one end, it has naturally a tendencyto rotate, and the manner of this rotation is determined by thepeculiar impetus given it by the hand of the man who throws it. It is well that we are able to explain the boomerang a little, forthat is all we can do with it. The savage cannot explain it at all;but he can use it. But, after all, I do not know that a boomerang would be of muchservice to us even if we could use it. There is only one thing that Ican now think of that it would be good for. It would be a splendid toknock down chestnuts with! Just think of a boomerang going twirling into a chestnut-tree, twisting, turning, banging, and cracking on every side, knocking downthe chestnuts in a perfect shower, and then coming gently back intoyour hand, all ready for another throw! It would be well worth while to go out chestnuting, if we had aboomerang to do the work for us. * * * * * Now our Ramblings must come to an end. We cannot walk about the worldfor ever, you know, no matter how pleasant it may be. And I wish I was quite sure that you have all found these wanderingspleasant. As for me, there were some things that I did not like so well asothers, and I suppose that that was the case with all of you. But it could not be helped. In this world some things will be betterthan others, do what we may. One of these days, perhaps, we may ramble about again. Until then, good-by! THE END. _Charles Scribner's Sons Books for Young Readers. _ * * * * * Written and Illustrated by Howard Pyle _A NEW BOOK JUST PUBLISHED. _ THE STORY OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND HIS COMPANIONS Profusely illustrated. Royal 8vo, $2. 50 _net_. The account of the adventures and deeds of Sir Launcelot, fully andbeautifully illustrated in Mr. Pyle's characteristic style, anduniform with his other two books, "The Story of King Arthur and HisKnights" and "The Story of the Champions of the Round Table. " Thisbook takes up the adventures of the greatest of the Arthurian heroes, from the very beginning, and also that of his son Sir Galahad. "There is nobody quite like Howard Pyle, after all, when it comes tostories for children, nobody with his peculiar freshness andenthusiasm, and his power of choosing quaint and lovely settings forthe sometimes quiet, sometimes stirring tales that appeal at once tohis readers by their truth and naturalness. "--THE SPRINGFIELDREPUBLICAN. * * * * * _OTHER BOOKS BY MR. PYLE_. THE STORY OF THE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE. Profusely illustrated. Royal 8vo, $2. 50 _net_. "He has caught the very spirit of chivalry. It is one of the best ofholiday books. "--SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. THE STORY OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. Profusely illustrated. Royal8vo, $2. 50 _net_. "Nothing could be better to give a boy or girl for Christmas than Mr. Pyle's rendition of these stately, ennobling old legends. "--CHICAGORECORD-HERALD. THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD. Illustrated. Royal 8vo, $3. 00. "This superb book is unquestionably the most original and elaborateever produced by any American author. Mr. Pyle has told, with penciland pen, the complete and consecutive story of Robin Hood and hismerry men in their haunts in Sherwood Forest, gathered from the oldballads and legends. "--BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND. Illustrated. Royal 8vo, $2. 00. "The scene of the story is mediæval Germany in the time of the feudsand robber barons and romance. The kidnapping of Otto, his adventuresamong rough soldiers and his daring rescue make up a spirited andthrilling story. "--CHRISTIAN UNION. * * * * * Heroes of the Olden Time. By JAMES BALDWIN. Three volumes, 12mo, each beautifully illustrated. Singly, $1. 50; the set, $4. 00. A STORY OF THE GOLDEN AGE. Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE. "Mr. Baldwin's book is redolent with the spirit of the Odyssey, thatglorious primitive epic, fresh with the dew of the morning of time. Itis an unalloyed pleasure to read his recital of the adventures of thewily Odysseus. Howard Pyle's illustrations render the spirit of theHomeric age with admirable felicity. "--PROF. H. H. BOYESEN. THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED. Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE. "The story of 'Siegfried' is charmingly told. The author makes up thestory from the various myths in a fascinating way which cannot fail tointerest the reader. It is as enjoyable as any fairy tale. "--HARTFORDCOURANT. THE STORY OF ROLAND. Illustrated by R. B. BIRCH. "Mr. Baldwin has culled from a wide range of epics, French, Italian, andGerman, and has once more proved his aptitude as a story-teller for theyoung. "--THE NATION. * * * * * The Boy's Library of Legend and Chivalry. Edited by SIDNEY LANIER, and richly illustrated byFREDERICKS, BENSELL, and KAPPES. Four volumes, cloth, uniform binding, price per set, $7. 00. Sold separately, price per volume, $2. 00. Mr. Lanier's books present to boy readers the old English classics ofhistory and legend in an attractive form. While they are stories ofaction and stirring incident, they teach those lessons which manly, honest boys ought to learn. THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR. THE BOY'S FROISSART. THE BOY'S PERCY. THE KNIGHTLY LEGENDS OF WALES. "Amid all the strange and fanciful scenery of these stories, characterand ideals of character remain at the simplest and purest. The romantichistory transpires in the healthy atmosphere of the open air on thegreen earth beneath the open sky. "--THE INDEPENDENT. * * * * * Stories for Boys. By RICHARD HARDING DAVIS. With 6 full-page illustrations. 12mo, $1. 00 CONTENTS: The Reporter who made himself King--MidsummerPirates--Richard Carr's Baby, a Football Story--The Great Tri-ClubTennis Tournament--The Jump at Corey's Slip--The Van Bibber BaseballClub--The Story of a Jockey. "It will be astonishing indeed if youths of all ages are not fascinatedwith these 'Stories for Boys. ' Mr. Davis knows infallibly what willinterest his young readers. "--BOSTON BEACON. * * * * * Marvels of Animal Life Series. By CHARLES F. HOLDER. Three volumes, 8vo, each profusely illustrated. Singly, $1. 75; the Set, $5. 00. THE IVORY KING. A POPULAR HISTORY OF THE ELEPHANT AND ITS ALLIES. "The author talks in a lively and pleasant way about white elephants, rogue elephants, baby elephants, trick elephants, of the elephant inwar, pageantry, sports and games. A charming accession to books foryoung people. "--CHICAGO INTERIOR. MARVELS OF ANIMAL LIFE. "Mr. Holder combines his description of these odd creatures withstories of his own adventures in pursuit of them in many parts of theworld. These are told with much spirit, and add greatly to thefascination of the book. "--WORCESTER SPY. LIVING LIGHTS. A POPULAR ACCOUNT OF PHOSPHORESCENT ANIMALS ANDVEGETABLES. "A very curious branch of natural history is expounded in mostagreeable style by this delightful book. He has revealed a world ofnew wonders. "--PHILADELPHIA BULLETIN. * * * * * White Cockades. An Incident of the "Forty-five. " By EDWARD I. STEVENSON. 12mo, $1. 00. "A bright historical tale. The scene is Scotland; the time that ofPrince Charles' rebellion. The hero is a certain gallant youngnobleman devoted to the last of the Stuarts and his cause. The actionturns mainly upon the hiding, the hunting, and the narrow escapes ofLord Geoffrey Armitage from the spies and soldiers of the King. "--NEWYORK MAIL AND EXPRESS. * * * * * Prince Peerless. A Fairy-Folk Story Book. By MARGARET COLLIER (Madam Gelletti DiCadilhac). Illustrated by John Collier. 12mo, $1. 25. "More admirable and fascinating a fairy-story book we have not latelyset eyes upon. The stories are most airily conceived and gracefullyexecuted. "--HARTFORD POST. * * * * * By William Henry Frost. FAIRIES AND FOLK OF IRELAND. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1. 50. "Fresh and delightful materials are incorporated in witty andinteresting narratives. "--PHILADELPHIA PRESS. THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. Stories of King Arthur and the HolyGrail. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1. 50. "The book is especially commended to boys, who will delight in themartial spirit breathed through the tales, and cannot fail to bebenefited by reading of the courage, honor, and truth of these 'braveknights of old. '"--CHICAGO INTER-OCEAN. THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR. Stories from the Land of the Round Table. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1. 50. "Mr. William Henry Frost in 'The Court of King Arthur' has succeededadmirably in his attempt to make the doughty knights and fair ladiesof ancient days seem distinct and interesting to boys and girls of ourown time. "--PUBLIC OPINION. THE WAGNER STORY BOOK. Firelight Tales of the Great Music Dramas. Illustrated by SIDNEY R. BURLEIGH. 12mo, $1. 50. "The story of the Knight of the Swan, of the Ring of the Nibelungen, the Search for the Grail, of Lohengrin and of Parsifal, are among therichest and deepest of the great mediæval stories. They arepre-eminently the natural food for children of imagination, and inthis volume these stories are retold in a very effective way. "--THEOUTLOOK. * * * * * Robert Grant's Two Books for Boys. JACK HALL; or, the School Days of an American Boy. Illustrated by F. G. ATTWOOD. 12mo, $1. 25. "A better book for boys has never been written. It is pure, clean andhealthy, and has throughout a vigorous action that holds the readerbreathless. "--BOSTON HERALD. "A capital story for boys, wholesome and interesting. It reminds oneof 'Tom Brown. '"--BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. JACK IN THE BUSH; or, a Summer on a Salmon River. Illustrated by F. T. MERRILL. 12mo, $1. 25. "A clever book for boys. It is the story of the camp-life of a lot ofboys, and is destined to please every boy reader. It is attractivelyillustrated. "--DETROIT FREE PRESS. "An ideal story of out-door life and genuine experiences. "--BOSTONTRAVELLER. * * * * * Books by Kirk Munroe. A SON OF SATSUMA; or, WITH PERRY IN JAPAN. Illustrated by RUFUS F. ZOGBAUM. 12mo, $1. 00 _net_. "If there is a man who understands writing a story for boys betterthan another, it is Kirk Munroe. "--SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN. BRETHREN OF THE COAST: A TALE OF WEST INDIAN PIRATES. Illustrated byRUFUS F. ZOGBAUM. 12mo, $1. 25. "There is enough of history and enough of action in this story to makeit valuable as well as readable, and this story of adventure anddescription will be read with interest and profit. "--HERALD ANDPRESBYTER. MIDSHIPMAN STUART; OR, THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ESSEX. A tale of 1812. Illustrated. 12mo, $1. 25. The story tells of the exciting adventures of an unusually plucky andenterprising American boy whose career at sea is marked withhairbreadth escapes. IN PIRATE WATERS: A TALE OF THE AMERICAN NAVY. Illustrated by I. W. TABER. 12mo, $1. 25. The boy hero of this book assists in the extinction of this cowardlysystem, taking part in some of the sea fights which brought glory tothe American navy. * * * * * The White Conqueror's Series. Each 12mo, $1. 25. The set in a box, four volumes, $5. 00. WITH CROCKETT AND BOWIE; or, Fighting for the Lone Star State. Illustrated by VICTOR S. PÉRARD. "One of the most spirited and interesting tales that he haswritten. "--NEWS AND COURIER. THROUGH SWAMP AND GLADE. A tale of the Seminole War. Illustrated by VICTOR S. PÉRARD. "No boy can get hold of this story without being carried away with it. "--BOSTON COURIER. AT WAR WITH PONTIAC; or, the Totem of the Bear. A tale of redcoat andredskin. Illustrated by J. FENNEMORE. "The book is admirably written throughout and has not a dull page init. "--BOSTON BEACON. THE WHITE CONQUERORS. A tale of Toltec and Aztec. Illustratedby W. S. STACEY. "The book is filled with incident and permeated with the high colorand life of the period and country. "--CAMBRIDGE TRIBUNE. * * * * * Frank R. Stockton's Books for the Young. "_His books for boys and girls are classics_. "--NEWARK ADVERTISER. THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE, AND OTHER STORIES. With 24 illustrations byBLASHFIELD, ROGERS, BEARD, and others. Square 8vo; $1. 50. PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. Illustrated by PENNELL, PARSONS, and others. Sq. 8vo, $2. 00. THE STORY OF VITEAU. Illustrated by R. B. BIRCH. 12mo, $1. 50. A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP. With 20 illustrations. 12mo, $1. 50. THE FLOATING PRINCE AND OTHER FAIRY TALES. Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1. 50. THE TING-A-LING TALES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1. 00. ROUND-ABOUT RAMBLES IN LANDS OF FACT AND FICTION. Illustrated. Square8vo, $1. 50. TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. With nearly 200 illustrations. Square 8vo, $1. 50. "The volumes are profusely illustrated and contain the mostentertaining sketches in Mr. Stockton's most entertainingmanner. "--CHRISTIAN UNION. * * * * * Edward Eggleston's Two Popular Books. THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-BOY. Illustrated. 12mo, $1. 00. "'The Hoosier School-Boy' depicts some of the characteristics ofboy-life years ago on the Ohio; characteristics, however, that werenot peculiar to that section. The story presents a vivid andinteresting picture of the difficulties which in those days beset thepath of the youth aspiring for an education. "--CHICAGO INTER-OCEAN. QUEER STORIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 12mo, $1. 00. "A very bright and attractive little volume for young readers. Thestories are fresh, breezy, and healthy, with a good point to them anda good, sound American view of life and the road to success. The bookabounds in good feeling and good sense, and is written in a style ofhomely art. "--INDEPENDENT. * * * * * Evening Tales. Done into English from the French of Frederic Ortoli, by JOEL CHANDLERHARRIS. 12mo, $1. 00. "It is a veritable French 'Uncle Remus' that Mr. Harris has discoveredin Frederic Ortoli. The book has the genuine piquancy of Gallic wit, and will be sure to charm American children. Mr. Harris's version isdelightfully written. "--BOSTON BEACON. * * * * * Hans Brinker: Or, The Silver Skates. A Story of Life in Holland. ByMary Mapes Dodge. With 60 illustrations. 12mo, $1. 50. "The author has shown, in her former works for the young, a very rareability to meet their wants; but she has produced nothing better thanthis charming tale--alive with incident and action, adorned rather thanfreighted with useful facts, and moral without moralization. "--THENATION. * * * * * The Norseland Series. _BY H. H. BOYESEN_. NORSELAND TALES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1. 25. BOYHOOD IN NORWAY: NINE STORIES OF DEEDS OF THE SONS OF THE VIKINGS. With 8 illustrations. 12mo, $1. 25 AGAINST HEAVY ODDS, AND A FEARLESS TRIO. With 13 full-pageillustrations by W. L. TAYLOR. 12mo, $1. 25. THE MODERN VIKINGS: STORIES OF LIFE AND SPORT IN THE NORSELAND. Withmany full-page illustrations. 12mo, $1. 25. The four above volumes in a box, $5. 00. "Charmingly told stories of boy-life in the Land of the Midnight Sun, illustrated with pictures giving a capital idea of the incidents andscenes described. The tales have a delight all their own, as they tellof scenes and sports and circumstances so different from those of ourAmerican life. "--N. Y. OBSERVER. * * * * * Two Books by Rossiter Johnson. THE END OF A RAINBOW. AN AMERICAN STORY. Illustrated. 12mo, $1. 50. "It will be read with breathless interest. It is interesting and fullof boyish experiences. "--N. Y. INDEPENDENT. PHAETON ROGERS. A NOVEL OF BOY LIFE. Illustrated. 12mo, $1. 50. "Mr. Johnson has shown in this book capabilities of a really highquality, for his story abounds with humor, and there are endless bitsof quiet fun in it, which bring out the hearty laugh, even when it isread by older people. It is a capital book for boys. "--NEW YORK TIMES. * * * * * Mrs. Burton Harrison's Tales. BRIC-A-BRAC STORIES. With 24 illustrations by Walter Crane. 12mo, $1. 50. "When the little boy, for whose benefit the various articles ofbric-a-brac in his father's drawing-room relate stories appropriate totheir several native countries, exclaims at the conclusion of one ofthem: 'I almost think there can't be a better one than that!' thereader, of whatever age, will probably feel inclined to agree withhim. Upon the whole, it is to be wished that every boy and girl mightbecome acquainted with the contents of this book. "--JULIAN HAWTHORNE. THE OLD FASHIONED FAIRY BOOK. Illustrated by ROSINA EMMET, 16mo, $1. 25. "The little ones, who so willingly go back with us to 'Jack the GiantKiller, ' 'Bluebeard, ' and the kindred stories of our childhood, willgladly welcome Mrs. Burton Harrison's 'Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales. ' Thegraceful pencil of Miss Rosina Emmet has given a pictorial interest tothe book. "--FRANK R. STOCKTON. * * * * * Thomas Nelson Page's Two Books. AMONG THE CAMPS: OR, YOUNG PEOPLE'S STORIES OF THE WAR. With 8full-page illustrations. Square, 8vo, $1. 50. "They are five in number, each having reference to some incident ofthe Civil War. A vein of mingled pathos and humor runs through themall, and greatly heightens the charm of them. It is the earlyexperience of the author himself, doubtless, which makes his picturesof life in a Southern home during the great struggle so vivid andtruthful. "--THE NATION. TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. With 8 full-page illustrations by KEMBLE andREDWOOD. Square, 8vo, $1. 50. "Mr. Page was 'raised' in Virginia, and he knows the 'darkey' of theSouth better than any one who writes about them. And he knows 'whitefolks, ' too, and his stories, whether for old or young people, havethe charm of sincerity and beauty and reality. "--HARPER'S YOUNGPEOPLE. * * * * * W. O. Stoddard's Books for Boys. DAB KINZER. A STORY OF A GROWING BOY. THE QUARTET. A SEQUEL TO DABKINZER SALTILLO BOYS. AMONG THE LAKES. WINTER FUN. _Five volumes, 12mo, in a box, $5. 00. Sold separately, each, $1. 00_. "William O. Stoddard has written capital books for boys. His 'DabKinzer' and 'The Quartet' are among the best specimens of 'Juveniles'produced anywhere. In his latest volume, 'Winter Fun, ' Mr. Stoddardgives free rein to his remarkable gift of story-telling for boys. Healthful works of this kind cannot be too freely distributed amongthe little men of America. "--NEW YORK JOURNAL OF COMMERCE. * * * * * Little People And their Homes in Meadows, Woods, and Waters. By STELLA LOUISE HOOK. Illustrated by DAN BEARD and HARRY BEARD. One volume, square 8vo, $1. 50. "A delightful excursion for the little ones into the fairy-land ofnature, telling all about the little people and all in such pleasantlanguage and such pretty illustrations that the little readers will becharmed as much as they will be instructed by the book. "--NEW YORKEVANGELIST. * * * * * Two Books by Robert Louis Stevenson. THE BLACK ARROW: A Tale of the Two Roses. By R. L. STEVENSON. With 12 full-pageillustrations by WILL H. LOW and ALFRED BRENNAN. 12mo, $1. 25. "The story is one of the strongest pieces of romantic writing everdone by Mr. Stevenson. "--THE BOSTON TIMES. KIDNAPPED: Being Memoirs of the Adventures of David Balfour in theYear 1751. By R. L. STEVENSON. 12mo, with 16 full-page illustrations, $1. 50. "Mr. Stevenson has never appeared to greater advantage than in'Kidnapped. '"--THE NATION. * * * * * Two Books by Henry M. Stanley. MY DARK COMPANIONS And Their Strange Stories. With 64 illustrations. 8vo, $2. 00 "The following legends, " says Mr. Stanley in his introduction, "arethe choicest and most curious of those that were related to me duringseventeen years, and which have not been hitherto published in any ofmy books of travel. " There are in all nineteen stories, new andstriking in motive and quaint in language. MY KALULU. Prince, King, and Slave. A Story of Central Africa. By HENRY M. STANLEY. One volume, 12mo, new edition, with many illustrations, $1. 50. "A fresh, breezy, stirring story for youths, interesting in itself andfull of information regarding life in the interior of the continent inwhich its scenes are laid. "--NEW YORK TIMES. "If the young reader is fond of strange adventures, he will findenough in this volume to delight him all winter, and he will be hardto please who is not charmed by its graphic pages. "--BOSTON JOURNAL. * * * * * Jules Verne's Greatest Work. "THE EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD. " "M. Verne's scheme in this work is to tell fully how man has madeacquaintance with the world in which he lives, to combine into asingle work in three volumes the wonderful stories of all the greatexplorers, navigators, and travelers who have sought out, one afteranother, the once uttermost parts of the earth. "--THE NEW YORK EVENINGPOST. The three volumes in a set, $7. 50; singly, $2. 50. FAMOUS TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS. With over 100 full-page illustrations, maps, etc. , 8vo, $2. 50. THE GREAT NAVIGATORS OF THE XVIIITH CENTURY. With 96 full-page illustrations and 19 maps, 8vo, $2. 50. THE GREAT EXPLORERS OF THE XIXTH CENTURY. With over 100 full-page illustrations, facsimiles, etc. , 8vo, $2. 50. Jules Verne's Stories. Uniform Illustrated Edition. Nine volumes, 8vo, extra cloth, with over 750 full-page illustrations. Price, per set, in a box, $17. 50. Sold also in separate volumes. MICHAEL STROGOFF; or, The Courier of the Czar, $2. 00. A FLOATING CITYAND THE BLOCKADE RUNNERS, $2. 00. HECTOR SERVADAC, $2. 00. A JOURNEY TOTHE CENTRE OF THE EARTH, $2. 00. FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON DIRECT INNINETY-SEVEN HOURS, TWENTY MINUTES; AND A JOURNEY AROUND IT, $2. 00. DICK SANDS, $2. 00. THE STEAM HOUSE, $2. 00. THE GIANT RAFT, $2. 00. THEMYSTERIOUS ISLAND, $2. 50. * * * * * Czar and Sultan. The adventures of a British Lad in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. By ARCHIBALD FORBES. Illustrated. 12mo, $2. 00. "Very fascinating and graphic. Mr. Forbes is a forcible writer, andthe present work has the vigor and intensity associated with his name. It is sure to be popular with youthful readers. "--BOSTON BEACON. "A brilliant and exciting narrative, and the drawings add to itsinterest and value. "--N. Y. OBSERVER. * * * * * Books of Adventure by Robert Leighton. OLAF THE GLORIOUS. A Story of Olaf Triggvison, King of Norway, A. D. 995-1000. Crown 8vo, with numerous full-page illustrations, $1. 50. THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE. The Story of a North Sea Fisher Boy. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1. 50. THE THIRSTY SWORD. A Story of the Norse Invasion of Scotland, 1262-65. With 8illustrations and a map. Crown 8vo, $1. 50. THE PILOTS OF POMONA. A Story of the Orkney Islands. With 8 illustrations and a map. Crown8vo, $1. 50. "Mr. Leighton as a writer for boys needs no praise, as his books placehim in the front rank. "--NEW YORK OBSERVER. * * * * * Things Will Take a Turn. By BEATRICE HARRADEN, author of "Ships that Pass in the Night. "Illustrated. 12mo, $1, 00. The charm of this tale is its delicate, wistful sympathy. It is thestory of a sunny-hearted child, Rosebud, who assists her grandfatherin his dusty, second-hand bookshop. One cannot help being fascinatedby the sweet little heroine, she is so engaging, so natural; and tolove Rosebud is to love all her friends and enter sympathetically intothe good fortune she brought them. * * * * * Among the Lawmakers. By EDMUND ALTON. Illustrated. Sq. 8vo, $1. 50. "The book is a diverting as well as an instructive one. Mr. Alton wasin his early days a page in the Senate, and he relates the doings ofCongress from the point of view he then obtained. His narrative iseasy and piquant, and abounds in personal anecdotes about the greatmen whom the pages waited on. "--CHRISTIAN UNION.