Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 'Tom': An adventure in the life...
 Sai the panther
 The buzzard and the priest
 Cowper and his hares
 A rat tale
 Snake stories
 What elephants can do
 The dog of Mantargis
 How a beaver builds his house
 The war horse of Alexander
 Stories about bears
 Stories about ants
 The taming of an otter
 The story of Androcles and the...
 Monsieur Dumas and his beasts
 The adventures of Pyramus
 The story of a weasel
 Stories about wolves
 Two Highland dogs
 Monkey tricks and Sally at the...
 How the cayman was killed
 The story of Fido
 Beasts besieged
 Mr. Gully
 Stories from Pliny
 The strange history of Cagnott...
 Still waters run deep; or the dancing...
 Theo and his horses; Jane, Betsy,...
 Madame Theophile and the parro...
 The battle of the mullets and the...
 Monkey stories
 Eccentric bird builders
 The ship of the desert
 'Hame, Hame, Hame, where I fain...
 Nests for dinner
 Fire-eating Djijam
 The story of the dog Oscar
 Dolphins at play
 The starling of Segringen
 Grateful dogs
 Cockatoo stories
 The otter who was reared by...
 Stories about lions
 Builders and weavers
 'More faithful than favoured'
 Dolphins, turtles, and cod
 More about elephants
 Lions and their ways
 The history of Jacko I
 Signora and Lori
 Of the linnet, popinjay or parrot,...
 Patch and the chickens
 The fierce falcon
 Mr. Bolt, the Scotch terrier
 A raven's funeral
 A strange tiger
 Halcyons and their biographers
 The story of a frog
 The woodpecker tapping on the hollow...
 Dogs over the water
 The capocier and his mate
 Owls and marmots
 Eagles' nests
 Back Cover

Title: The animal story book
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00084152/00001
 Material Information
Title: The animal story book
Physical Description: xiv, 400 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Lang, Andrew, 1844-1912 ( Editor )
Ford, H. J ( Henry Justice ), 1860-1941 ( Illustrator )
Longmans, Green, and Co ( Publisher )
Spottiswoode & Co ( Printer )
Publisher: Longmans, Green, and Co.
Place of Publication: London ;
New York ;
Manufacturer: Spottiswoode and Co.
Publication Date: 1896, c1895
Copyright Date: 1895
Subject: Animals, Legends and stories of   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1896   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1896   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Children's stories
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
India -- Bombay
Bibliography: Includes bibliographical references.
Statement of Responsibility: edited by Andrew Lang ; with numerous illustrations by H.J. Ford.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements precede and follow text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00084152
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002232767
notis - ALH3163
oclc - 02986904

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Title Page
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page ix
        Page x
    Table of Contents
        Page xi
        Page xii
    List of Illustrations
        Page xiii
        Page xiv
    'Tom': An adventure in the life of a bear in Paris
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Sai the panther
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The buzzard and the priest
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Cowper and his hares
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    A rat tale
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Snake stories
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    What elephants can do
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    The dog of Mantargis
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    How a beaver builds his house
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    The war horse of Alexander
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    Stories about bears
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    Stories about ants
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    The taming of an otter
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    The story of Androcles and the lion
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    Monsieur Dumas and his beasts
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
    The adventures of Pyramus
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
    The story of a weasel
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
    Stories about wolves
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
    Two Highland dogs
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
    Monkey tricks and Sally at the zoo
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
    How the cayman was killed
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    The story of Fido
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
    Beasts besieged
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
    Mr. Gully
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
    Stories from Pliny
        Page 213
        Page 214
    The strange history of Cagnotte
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
    Still waters run deep; or the dancing dog
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
    Theo and his horses; Jane, Betsy, and Blanche
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
    Madame Theophile and the parrot
        Page 231
        Page 232
    The battle of the mullets and the dolphins
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
    Monkey stories
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
    Eccentric bird builders
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
    The ship of the desert
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
    'Hame, Hame, Hame, where I fain wad be'
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
    Nests for dinner
        Page 257
        Page 258
    Fire-eating Djijam
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
    The story of the dog Oscar
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
    Dolphins at play
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
    The starling of Segringen
        Page 278
        Page 279
    Grateful dogs
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
    Cockatoo stories
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
    The otter who was reared by a cat
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
    Stories about lions
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
    Builders and weavers
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
    'More faithful than favoured'
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
    Dolphins, turtles, and cod
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
        Page 320
    More about elephants
        Page 321
        Page 322
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
        Page 332
    Lions and their ways
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
    The history of Jacko I
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
        Page 343
        Page 344
        Page 345
        Page 346
        Page 347
    Signora and Lori
        Page 348
        Page 349
        Page 350
    Of the linnet, popinjay or parrot, and other birds that can speak
        Page 351
        Page 352
        Page 353
    Patch and the chickens
        Page 354
        Page 355
    The fierce falcon
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
        Page 359
    Mr. Bolt, the Scotch terrier
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
    A raven's funeral
        Page 364
        Page 365
        Page 366
        Page 367
    A strange tiger
        Page 368
        Page 369
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
    Halcyons and their biographers
        Page 373
        Page 374
    The story of a frog
        Page 375
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
    The woodpecker tapping on the hollow oak tree
        Page 384
        Page 385
        Page 386
    Dogs over the water
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
    The capocier and his mate
        Page 394
        Page 395
    Owls and marmots
        Page 396
        Page 397
        Page 398
    Eagles' nests
        Page 399
        Page 400
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

/~5c/ -




BAN and ARRIERE BAN. Fcp. 8vo. 5s. net.
ST. ANDREWS. 8vo. 15s. net.
HOMER AND THE EPIC. Crown 8vo. 9s. net.
CUSTOM AND MYTH: Studies of Early Usage and
Belief. With 15 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
Fcp. 8vo. 6s.
LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS. Fop. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
BOOKS AND BOOKMEN. With 2 Coloured Plates
and 17 Illustrations. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
OLD FRIENDS. Fop. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
LETTERS ON LITERATURE. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
GRASS OF PARNASSUS. Fop. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
ANGLING SKETCHES. With 20 Illustrations by
W. G. Burn-Murdoch. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
LANG. With 138 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
With100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
LANG. With 99 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
LANG. With 104 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
LANG. With 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
SCHOOL EDITION, without Illustrations. Fcp. 8vo. 2:. 6d.
SEcrIAL EDITION, printed on Indian paper. With Notes, but
without Illustrations. Crown 8vo.7s. 6d.
LANG. With 66 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
LANG. With 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
A MONK OF FIFE: a Romance of the Days of
Jeanne D'Aro. With Illustrations and Initial Letters by

London, New York, and Bombay.


:#$1~1 's;' '-:







.-. -:-



All rights reserved

Copyright in United States of America by
LON1rIANS, GREEN, & Co. 1896



This year our Book for Christmas varies,
Deals not with History nor Fairies
(I can't help thinking, children, you
Prefer a book which is not true).
We leave these intellectual feasts,
To talk of Fishes, Birds, and Beasts.
These-though his oimi is hardly steady-
These are, I think, a theme for Freddy !
Trout, though he is not up to fly,
He soon will catch-as well as 1
So, Freddy, take this artless rhyme,
And be a .;...*.. ... in your time !


CHILDREN who have read our Fairy Books may have
noticed that there are not so very many fairies in
the stories after all. The most common characters
are birds, beasts, and fishes, who talk and act like
Christians. The reason of this is that the first peo-
ple who told the stories were not very clever, or, if
they were clever, they had never been taught to read
and write, or to distinguish between Vegetable, Ani-
mal, and Mineral. They took it that all things were
'much of a muchness :' they were not proud, and
held that beast and bird could talk like themselves,
only, of course, in a different language.
After offering, then, so many Fairy Books, (though
the stories are not all told yet), we now present you
(in return for a coin or two) with a book about the
friends of children and of fairies-the beasts. The
stories are all true, more or less, but it is possible
that Monsieur Dumas and Monsieur ThBophile
Gautier rather improved upon their tales. I own
that I have my doubts about the bears and serpents
in the tales by the Baron Wogan. This gentleman's
ancestors were famous Irish people. One of them


held Cromwell's soldiers back when they. were pur-
suing Charles II. after Worcester fight. He also
led a troop of horse from Dover to the Highlands,
where he died of a wound, after fighting for the King.
The next Wogan was a friend of Pope and Swift;
he escaped from prison after Preston fight, in 1715,
and, later, rescued Prince Charlie's mother from con-
finement in Austria, and took her to marry King
James. He next became Governor of Don Quixote's
province, La Mancha, in Spain, and was still alive
and merry in 1752. Baron Wogan, descended from
these heroes, saw no longer any king to fight for, so
he went to America and fought bears. No doubt he
was as brave as his ancestors, but whether all his
stories of serpents are absolutely correct I am not
so certain. People have also been heard to express
doubts about Mr. Waterton and the Cayman. The
terrible tale of Mr. Gully and his deeds of war I know
to be accurate, and the story of Oscar, the sentimental
tyke, is believed in firmly by the lady who wrote it.
As for the stories about Greek and Roman beasts,
Pliny, who tells them, is a most respectable author.
On the whole, then, this is more or less of a true
There ought to be a moral; if so, it probably is
that we should be kind to all sorts of animals, and,
above all, knock trout on the head when they are
caught, and don't let the poor things jump about till
they die. A chapter of a very learned sort was written
about the cleverness of beasts, proving that there must


have been great inventive geniuses among beasts long
ago, and that now they have rather got into a habit
(which I think a very good one) of being content
with the discoveries of their ancestors. This led
naturally to some observations on Instinct and
Reason; but there may be children who are glad that
there was no room for this chapter.
The longer stories from Monsieur Dumas were
translated from the French by Miss Cheape.
'A Rat Tale' is by Miss Evelyn Grieve, who
knew the rats.
'Mr. Gully' is by Miss Elspeth Campbell, to
whom Mr. Gully belonged.
'The Dog of Montargis,' More Faithful than
Favoured,' and 'Androcles' are by Miss Eleanor
Snakes, Bears, Ants, Wolves, Monkeys, and some
Lions are by Miss Lang.
'Two Highland Dogs' is by Miss Goodrich Freer.
Fido' and Oscar' and 'Patch' are by Miss A.
M. Alleyne.
'Djijam' is by his master.
The Starling of Segringen and' Grateful Dogs
are by Mr. Bartells.
Tom the Bear,' The Frog,' 'Jacko the Monkey'
and Gazelle are from Dumas by Miss Blackley.
All the rest are by Mrs. Lang.


'Tom' : anAdventureinthe
Life of a Bear in Paris.
Sai the Panther .
The Buzzard and the
Cowper and his Hares .
A Rat Tale
Snake Stories
What .E' :7., .'. can Do
The Dog of Montargis .
How a Beaver builds his
The War Horse of Alex-
* ander. ..
Stories about Bears .
Stories about Ants
The _" ...... ; of an Otter
The Story of Androcles and
the Lion
Monsieur Dumas and his
The Adventures of Pyramus
The Story of a Weasel
Stories about Wolves .
Two Higihland Dogs.
-., ..... Tricks and Sally
at the Zoo .
How the Cayman was
Killed .
The Story of Fido.
Beasts Besieged.

Mr. Gully 209
Stories from Pliny 213
The Strange History of
Cagnotte 215
Still Waters Run Deep ;
or the Dancing Dog 219
Theo and his Horses : Jane,
Betsy, and Blanche 225
Madame Thdophile and the
Parrot 231
The Battle of the Mullets
and the Dolphins 233
Monkey Stories 237
Eccentric Bird Builders 245
The Ship of the Desert 248
Hame, hame, hame, where I
fain wad be 253
Nests for Dinner 257
Fire-eating D .,. 259
The Story of the Dog Oscar 264
Dolphins at Play 274
The Starling of Segringen. 278
Grateful Dogs 280
Gazelle 282
Cockatoo Stories .. 289
The Otter who was reared
by a Cat 292
Stories about Lions 295
Builders and Weavers 307
More .' i than Fa-
voured 310


Dolphins, Turtles, and Cod
More about Elephants
Lions and their Ways
The History of Jacko I.
Signora and Lori .
Of the Linnet, Popinjay or
Parrot, and other Birds
that can Speak
Patch and the Chickens .
The Fierce Falcon
Mr. Bolt, the Scotch Terrier

A Raven's Funeral
A Strange Tiger
Halcyons and their Bio-
The Story of a Frog .
The Woodpecker Tapping
on the Hollow Oak Tree.
Dogs Over the Water .
The Cajocier and his Mate
Owls and Marmots
Eagles' Nests


Tom is invited to the Ball 3
' The Minuet was Tom's greatest Triumph' 9
Tom discovered in the Box .. .12
' They at last all took hold of his Tail' 16
Terror of the Orang-outang at Sa~ . .17
Sai has to take a Pill .. 21
The Cats no match for the Buzzard . .27
The Buzzard carries off Hat and Wig .. .. 28
'Seeing such a number of Rats, he left his Horses and ran
for his Life .. .37
The Rats in the Larder 41
The Baron kills the Snake 44
The Baron slays the Horned Snake 46
How the Indians make the Horned Snake disgorge his Dinner 48
The Elephant helps the Gardener 53
De Narsac recogntses his Friend's Do 57
The Dog flies at Macaire in the presence of the King 61
The Baron kills the Bear .75
The Grizzly 79
Androcles in the Lion's Cave 93
Androcles in the Arena .. 97
' Monsieur Dumas, may I accommodate you with my Monkey
and myP Parrot ? 107
The Auvergnat and his Monkey 111
The Last of the Laidmanoirs and Mademoiselle Desgarcins .120
Dumas arrives at Stora with his Vulture .. .. 127
'It's a regular Kennel 131
Jugurtha becomes Diogenes 135
Pritchard and the Hens 142
' Pritchard reappeared next moment with a Hare in his Mouth' 145
Cartouche outwits Pyramus 156
Mademoiselle de Laistre and her Weasel . 161


SWhen Day broke' ... 166
The Death of the Famous Wolf of Gevaudan 171
' The Long Vigil' 187
The Capture of the Cayman. 197
The Wounding of Fido 201
The Dream of the Hungry Lion 207
Cagnotte comes out of his Skin 217
' And what do you Think she Saw' 221
Blanche telling Ghost Stories to Jane in the Stable .227
How the Dolphins helped the Fishermen to catch the Mullets .234
Two Oran Otans 238
The Baboons who stole the Poor Man's Dinner. .. 241
Birds' Nests for Dinner 258
' In the full enjoyment of a large lighted Log on the Dining-
room Carpet' 261
' Oscar would charge and rout them' . .. 265
' Oscar felt rather Frightened' 269
' Oh, Oscar, Oscar lad, what have you Done 271
The Boy goes to School on the Dolphin's back 275
Dumas finds Joseph standing on Gazelle's back 284
Dumas brings Gazelle to No. 109 ..; St.-Denis 288
The Lion caught in the Pit 297
The Ambush 300
' All Three stopped to gaze at the Man who dared to put
himself in their Path 303
' An. pinned iim to the Ground 314
'Long, Long Ago.' The Elephant dreams of his Old
Companions . 323
The Elephant falls on his knees before the little Scotch Terrier 327
Bungey at the Spanish Ambassador's House 331
The Hottentot noticed a huge Lion lying in the Water. .335
Annoyance of the Captain onfinding his Flask of Bum upset. 339
Lori refuses to Share with '... .. .. 349
A Raven's Funeral 365
The Tiger and his Friend .. 369
Love's disgraceful Belaviour out Shooting 377
The Sole Result of his Day's Sport .. 380
Mademoiselle Camargo becomes a Barometer 381
The Faithful Spaniel 389


SOME sixty years ago and more, a well-known artist named
Decamps lived in Paris. He was the intimate friend of
some of the first authors, artists, and scientific men of the
day, and was devotedly fond of animals of all sorts. He
loved to paint them, and he kept quite a small menagerie
in his studio where a bear, a monkey, a tortoise, and a
frog lived (more or less) in peace and harmony together.
The bear's name was 'Tom,' the monkey was called
'Jacko I.,' 2 the frog was 'Mademoiselle Camargo,' and
the tortoise 'Gazelle.'
Here follows the story of Tom, the bear.
It was the night of Shrove Tuesday in the year 1832.
Tom had as yet only spent six months in Paris, but he
was really one of the most attractive bears you could wish
to meet. ,
He ran to open the door when the bell rang, he
mounted guard for hours together, halberd in hand,
standing on his hind legs, and he danced a minuet with
infinite grace, holding a broomstick behind his head.
He had spent the whole day in the exercise of these
varied accomplishments, to the great -delight of the fre-
quenters of his master's studio, and had just retired to the
From Alexandre Dumas.
STo distinguish him from Jacko II., a monkey belonging to Tony
Johannot, the painter.


press which did duty as his hutch, to seek a little repose,
when-there was a knock at the street door. Jacko instantly
showed such signs of joy that Decamps made a shrewd
guess that the visitor could be no other than Fan, the
self-elected tutor in chief to the two animals-nor was he
mistaken. The door opened, Fan appeared, dressed as a
clown, and Jacko flung himself in rapture into his arms.
Very good, very good,' said Fan, placing the monkey
on the table and handing him a cane. You're really
a charming creature. Carry. arms, present arms, make
ready, fire Capital!'
'I'll have a complete uniform made for you, and you
shall mount guard instead of me. But I haven't come
for you to-night; it's your friend Tom I want. Where may
he be?'
Why, in his hutch, I suppose,' said D4camps.
'Tom! here, Tom !' cried Fan.
Tom gave a low growl, just to show that he knew very
well who they were talking of, but that he was in no
hurry to show himself.
'Well!' exclaimed Fan, 'is this how my orders are
obeyed? Tom, my friend, don't force me to resort to
extreme measures.
Tom stretched one great paw beyond the cupboard'
without allowing any more of his person to be seen, and
began to yawn plaintively like a child just wakened from
its first sleep.
'Where is the broomstick ?' inquired Fan in threaten-
ing tones, and rattling the collection of Indian bows,
arrows, and spears which stood behind the door.
Ready !' cried DBcamps, pointing to Tom, who, on
hearing these well known sounds, had roused himself
without more ado, and advanced towards his tutor with a
perfectly innocent and unconscious air.
That's right,' said Fan: now be a good fellow, par-
ticularly as one has come all this way on purpose to fetch

- ii k7



Tom waved his head up and down.
'So, so-now shake hands with your friends :-first
rate! '
'Do you mean to take him with you?' asked
ather !' replied Fan; 'and give him a good time
into the bargain.'
And where are you going?'
'To the Carnival Masked Ball, nothing less! Now
then Tom, my friend, come along. We've got a cab out-
side waiting by the hour.'
As though fully appreciating the force of this argu-
ment, Tom trundled down stairs four steps at a time
followed by his friend. The driver opened the cab door,
and Tom, under Fan's guidance, stepped in as if he had
done nothing else all his life.
'My eye! that's a queer sort of fancy dress,' said
cabby; 'anyone might take him for a real bear. Where
to, gentlemen?'
'OdBon Theatre,' said Fan.
'Grrrooonnn,' observed Tom.
'All right,' said the cabman. 'Keep your temper.
It's a good step from here, but we shall get there all in
good time.'
Half an hour later the cab drew up at the door of the
theatre. Fan got down first, paid the driver, handed out
Tom, took two tickets, and passed in without exciting any
special attention.
At the second turn they made round the crush-room
people began to follow Fan. The perfection with which
the newcomer imitated the walk and movements of the
animal whose skin he wore attracted the notice of some
lovers of natural history. They pressed closer and
closer, and anxious to find out whether he was equally
clever in imitating the bear's voice, they began to pull his
hairs and prick his ears-' Grrrooonnn,' said Tom.


A murmur of admiration ran through the crowd-
nothing could-be more lifelike.
Fan led Tom to the buffet and offered him some little
cakes, to which he was very partial, and which he pro-
ceeded to swallow with so admirable a pretence of voracity
that the bystanders burst out laughing. Then the mentor
poured out a tumbler full of water, which Tom took gingerly
between his paws, as he was accustomed to whenever
Decamps did him the honour of permitting him to appear
at table, and gulped down the contents at one draught.
Enthusiasm knew no bounds! Indeed such was the
delight and interest shown that when, at length, Fan
wished to leave the buffet, he found they were hemmed
in by so dense a crowd that he felt nervous lest Tom
should think of clearing the road with claws and teeth.
So he promptly.led his bear to a corner, placed him with
his back against the wall, and told him to stay there till
further orders.
As has been already mentioned, this kind of drill was
quite familiar to Tom, and was well suited to his natural.
indolence, and when a harlequin offered his hat to com-
plete the picture, he settled himself comfortably, gravely
laying one great paw on his wooden gun.
'Do you happen to know,' said Fan to the obliging
harlequin, 'who you have lent your hat to ?'
'No,' replied harlequin.
'You mean to say you don't guess ?'
Notin the least.'
'Come, take a good look at him. From the grace of
all his movements, from the manner in which he carries
his head, slightly on one side, like Alexander the Great--
from the admirable imitations of the bear's voice-you
don't mean to say you don't recognize him?'
Upon my word I don't.'
'Odry whispered Fan mysteriously; 'Odry, in his
costume from The Bear and the Pacha" '
SA well-known actor of the time.


Oh, but he acts a white bear, you know.
Just so; that's why he has chosen a brown bear's skin
as a disguise.'
'Ho, ho You're a good one,' cried harlequin.
Grrooonnn,' observed Tom.
'Well, now you mention it, I do recognize his voice.
Really, I wonder it had not struck me before. Do ask
him to disguise it better.'
'Yes, yes,' said Fan, moving towards the ball-room,
' but it will never do to worry him. However, I'll try to
persuade him to dance a minuet presently.'
Oh, could you really? '
He promised to do so. Just give a hint to your
friends and try to prevent their teasing him.'
'All right.'
Tom made his way through the crowd, whilst the
delighted harlequin moved from one mask to another,
telling his news with warnings to be discreet, which were
well received. Just then, too, the sounds of a lively galop
were heard, and a general rush to the ball-room took place,
harlequin only pausing to murmur in Tom's ear : 'I know
you, my fine mask.'
'Grroooonnn,' replied Tom.
'Ah, it's all very well to growl, but you'll dance a
minuet, won't you, old fellow?'
Tom waved his head up and down as his way was
when anyone asked him a question, and harlequin, satis-
fied with this silent consent, ran off to ~d. a columbine
and to dance the galop.
Meanwhile, Tom remained alone with the waiters;
motionless at his post, but with longing eyes turned
towards the counter on which the most tempting piles
of cake were heaped on numerous dishes. The waiters,
remarking his rapt attention, and .pleased to tempt a
customer, stretched out a dish, Tom extended his paw
and gingerly took a cake-then a second-then a third:
the waiters seemed never tired of offering, or Tom of


accepting these delicacies, and so, when the galop ended
and the dancers returned to the crush-room, he had
made short work of some dozens of little cakes.
Harlequin had recruited a columbine and a shepherdess,
and he introduced these ladies as partners for the promised
minuet. With all the air of an old friend he whispered a
few words to Tom, who, in the best of humours after so
many cakes, replied with his most gracious growl. The
harlequin, turning towards the gallery, announced that his
lordship had much pleasure in complying with the uni-
versal request, and amidst loud applause, the shepherdess
took one of Tom's paws and the columbine the other.
Tom, for his part, like an accomplished cavalier, walked
between his two partners, glancing at them by turns with
looks of some surprise, and soon found himself with them
in the middle of the pit of the theatre which was used as
a ball-room. All took their places, some in the boxes,
others in the galleries, the greater number forming a
circle round the dancers. The band struck up.
The minuet was Tom's greatest triumph and Fan's
masterpiece, and with the very first steps success was
assured and went on increasing with each movement,
till at the last figure the applause became delirious. Tom
was swept off in triumph to a stage box where the
shepherdess, removing her wreath of roses, crowned him
with it, whilst the whole theatre resounded with the
applause of the spectators.
Tom leant over the front of the box with a grace all
his own; at the same time the strains of a fresh dance
were heard, and everyone hurried to secure partners
except a few courtiers of the new star who hovered round
in hope of extracting an order for the play from him, but
Tom only replied to their broadest hints with his perpetual
By degrees this became rather monotonous, and gradu-
ally Tom's court dwindled away, people murmuring that,
though his dancing powers were certainly unrivalled, his


conversation was"'a trifle insipid. An hour later Tom was
alone So fleeting is public favour.
And now the hour of departure drew near. The pit


was thinning and the boxes empty, and pale rays of
morning light were glinting into the hall when the box-
opener, who was going her rounds, heard sounds of snor-
ing proceeding from one of the stage boxes. She opened


the door, and there was Tom, who, tired out after his event-
ful night, had fallen fast asleep on the floor. The box-
opener stepped in and politely hinted that it was six
o'clock and time to go home.
Grrooonnn,' said Tom.
'I hear you,' said the box-opener; you're asleep, my
good man, but you'll sleep better still in your own bed.
Come, come, your wife must be getting quite anxious !
Upon my word I don't believe he hears a word I say.
How heavily he sleeps 1 And she shook him by the
Grrrooonnn '
All right, all right! This isn't a time to make believe.
Besides, we all know you. There now, they're putting out
the lights. Shall I send for a cab for you?'
'Come, come, the Odeon Theatre isn't an inn; come,
be off! Oh, that's what you're after, is it? Fie, Monsieur
Odry, fie I shall call the guard; the inspector hasn't
gone to bed yet. Ah, indeed I You won't obey rules!
You are trying to beat me, are you? You would beat a
woman-and a former artiste to M. Odry, would you ? For
shame But we shall see. Here, help-police-inspector
-help !'
'What's the matter ? cried the fireman on duty.
Help screamed the box-opener, 'help !'
'What's the matter ? asked the sergeant commanding
the patrol.
Oh, it's old mother what's her name, shrieking for help
in one of the stage boxes.'
'Coming shouted the sergeant.
'This way, Mr. Sergeant, this way,' cried the box-
'All right, my dear, here I am. But where are you? '
'Don't be afraid; there are no steps-straight on this
way-he's in the corner. Oh, the rascal, he's as strong
as a Turk!'


Grrrooonnn,' said Tom.
'There, do you hear him? Is that to be called a Chris-
tian language ?'
'Come, come, my friend,' said the sergeant, who had
at last managed to distinguish Tom in the faint twilight.
'We all know what it is to be young-no one likes a joke
better than I do-but rules are rules, and the hour for
going home has struck, so right about face, march! and
quick step too.'
Grrrooonnn '-
'Very pretty; a first-rate imitation. But suppose we try
something else now for a change. Come, old fellow, step
out with a good will. Ah! you won't. You're going to
cut up rough, are you? Here, my man, lay hold and turn
him out.'
'He won't walk, sergeant.'
Well, what are the butt ends of your muskets for?
Come, a tap or two will do no harm.'
'Go on, give it him well!'
'I say, sergeant,' said one of the men, 'it strikes me
he's a real bear. I caught hold of him by the collar just
now, and the skin seems to grow on the flesh.'
Oh, if he's a real bear, treat him with every considera-
tion. His owner might claim damages. Go and fetch
the fireman's lantern.'
'Here's the lantern,' said a man; 'now then, throw
some light on the prisoner.'
The soldier obeyed.
'It is certainly a real snout,' declared the sergeant.
'Goodness gracious me !' shrieked the box-opener as
she took to her heels, a real live bear '
'Well, yes, a real live bear. Let's see if he has any
name or address on him and take him home. I expect he
has strayed, and being of a sociable disposition, came in
to the Masked Ball.'


There, you see, he agrees.'
'Hallo !' exclaimed one of the soldiers.
'What's the matter?'



' He has a little bag hung round his neck.'
'Open the bag.'
'A card.'
' ead the card.'
The soldier took it and read:


My name is Tom. I live at No. 109 Rue Faubourg
St.-Denis. I have five francs in my purse. Two for a cab,
and three for whoever takes me home.'
'True enough; there are the five francs,' cried the ser-
geant. 'Now then, two volunteers for escort duty.'
'Here !' cried the guard in chorus.
'Don't all speak at once Let the two seniors have
the benefit of the job; off with you, my lads.'
Two of the municipal guards advanced towards Tom,
slipped a rope round his neck and, for precaution's sake,
gave it a twist or two round his snout. Tom offered no
resistance-the butt ends of the muskets had made him
as supple as a glove. When they were fifty yards from
the theatre, Bah !' said one of the soldiers, ''tis a fine
morning. Suppose we don't take a cab. The walk will
do him good.'
'Besides,' remarked the other, we should each have
two and a half francs instead of only one and a half.'
Half an hour later they stood at the door of 109. After
some knocking, a very sleepy portress looked out.
'Look here, Mother Wideawake,' said one of the guard;
'here's one of your lodgers. Do you recognize him?'
Why, I should rather think so. It's Monsieur
Decamps' bear!'
The same day, Odry the actor received a bill for little
cakes, amounting to seven francs and a half.


ABOUT seventy or eighty years ago two little panthers
were deserted by their mother in one of the forests of
Ashantee. They were too young to get food for them-
selves, and would probably have died had they not been
found by a passing traveller, and by him taken to the
palace as a present to the king. Here they lived and
played happily for several weeks, when one day the elder
and larger, whose name was Sai, gave his brother, in fun,
such a dreadful squeeze that, without meaning it, he suffo-
cated him. This frightened the king, who did not care to
keep such a powerful pet about him, and he gave him away
to Mr. Hutchison, an English gentleman, who was a sort
of governor for the English traders settled in that part of
Mr. Hutchison and Sai took a great fancy to each
other, and spent a great deal of time together, and when,
a few months later, Mr. Hutchison returned to Cape
Coast he brought Sai with him. The two friends always
had dinner at the same time, Sai sitting at his master's
side and eating quietly whatever was given him. In
general he was quite content with his portion, but once or
twice, when he was hungrier than usual, he managed to
steal a fowl out of the dish. For the sake of his manners
the fowl was always taken from him, although he was
invariably given some other food to satisfy his hunger.
At first the inhabitants of the castle and the children
were much afraid of him, but he soon became very tame,
From Loudon's Magazine of Natural History.


and his teeth and claws were filed so that he should not hurt
anyone, even in play. When he got a little accustomed
to the place, he was allowed to go where he liked within
the castle grounds, and a boy was told off to look after
him. Sometimes the boy would go to sleep when he
ought to have been watching his charge, and then Sai,
who knew perfectly well that this was not at all right,
would steal quietly away and amuse himself till he thought
his keeper would be awake again. One day, when he re-
turned from his wanderings, he found the boy, as usual,
comfortably curled up in a cool corner of the doorstep
sound asleep. Sai looked at him for a moment, and then,
thinking that it was full time for him to be taught his
duty, he gave him one pat on his head, which sent the
boy over like a ninepin and gave him a good fright, though
it did not do him any harm.
Sai was very popular with everybody, but he had his
own favourites, and the chief of these was the governor,
whom he could not bear to let out of his sight. When
his master went out he would station himself at the
drawing-room window, where he could watch all that was
going on, and catch the first sight of his returning friend.
Being by this time nearly grown up, Sai's great body took
up all the space, to the great disgust of the children, who
could see nothing. They tried to make him move, first by
coaxings and then by threats, but as Sai did not pay the
smallest attention to either one or the other, they at last
all took hold of his tail and pulled so hard that he was
forced to move.
Strange to say, the black people were a great deal
more afraid of Sai than any of the white ones, and one of
his pranks nearly caused the death of an old woman who
was the object of it. It was her business to sweep out
-and keep clean the great hall of the castle, and one morn-
ing she was crouching down on all fours with a short
broom in her hand, thinking of nothing but how to get
the dust out of the floor, when Sai, who had hidden him-


self under a sofa, and was biding his time, suddenly sprang
on to her back, where he stood triumphantly. The old


woman believed her last hour had come, and the other
servants all ran away shrieking, lest it should be their




t \~


turn next. Sai would not budge from his position till the
governor, who had been alarmed by the terrible noise, came
to see what was the matter, and soon made Master Sal
behave himself.
At this time it was settled that Sai was to travel to
England under the care of one of his Cape Coast friends
and be presented to the Duchess of York, who was very
fond of animals. In those days, of course, journeys took
much longer than they do now, and there were other
dangers than any which might arise from storms and
tempests. While the strong cage of wood and iron was
being built which was to form Sai's house on the way to
England, his lady keeper thought it would be a good
opportunity to make friends with him, and used to spend
part of every day talking to him and playing with him;
for this, as everyone knows, is the only way to gain
the affection of bird or beast. It was very easy to love
Sai; he was so gentle and caressing, especially with
children; and he was very handsome besides in his silky
yellow coat with black spots, which, as the French say,
does not spoil anything. Many creatures and many men
might have made a great fuss at being shut into a cage
instead of being allowed to walk about their own house
and grounds, but everyone had always been kind to Sai,
so he took for granted it was all right, and made himself
as comfortable as he could, and was quite prepared to
submit to anything disagreeable that he thought reason-
able. But it very nearly happened that poor Sai had no
voyage at all, for while he was being hauled from the
canoe which had brought him from the shore into the ship,
the men were so afraid to come near him that they let
his cage fall into the sea, and if the sailors from the vessel
had not been very quick in lowering a boat it would have
been too late to save him. As it was, for many days he
would not look up or eat or speak, and his friend was
quite unhappy about him, although the same symptoms
have sometimes been shown by human beings who have


only been on the sea instead of in it. At last he was
roused from his sad condition by hearing the lady's voice.
He raised his head and cocked his ears, first a little, then
more; and when she came up to the cage he rolled over
and over with delight, and howled and cried and tried to
reach her. When he got a little calmer she told him to
put his paws through the bars and shake hands, and from
that moment Sal was himself again.
Now it was a very strange taste on the part of a
panther whose fathers and grandfathers had lived and
died in the heart of African forests, but Sai loved nothing
so much as lavender water, which white people use a
great deal in hot countries. If anyone took out a hand-
kerchief which had been sprinkled with lavender water,
Sal would instantly snatch it away, and in his delight
would handle it so roughly that it was soon torn to atoms.
His friend in charge knew of this odd fancy, and on the
voyage she amused herself regularly twice a week with
making a little cup of paper, which she filled with the
scent and passed through the bars, taking care never to
give it him till he had drawn back his claws into their
sheaths. Directly he got hold of the cup Sai would roll
over and over it, and would pay no attention to anyone as
long as the smell lasted. It almost seemed as if he liked
it better than his food !
F...i -..! ni reason or other the. vessel lay at anchor for
nearly two months in the river Gaboon, and Sal might
have been allowed to leave his cage if he had not been an
animal of such very strong prejudices. Black people he
could not endure, and, of course, they came daily in swarms
with food for the ship. Pigs, too, he hated, and they ran
constantly past his cage, while as for an orang-outang
monkey about three feet high, which a black trader once
tried to sell to the sailors, Sai showed such mad symptoms
II the.very sight of it that the poor beast rushed in terror
to the other end of the vessel, knocking down everything
that came in its way. If the monkey took some time to



recover from his fright, it was very long before SaY could
forget the shock he had received. Day and night he
watched and listened, and sometimes, when he fancied his
enemy was near, he would give a low growl and arch his
back and set up his tail; yet, as far as we know, he had
never from his babyhood killed anything.
But when at last the winds were favourable, and the
ship set sail for the open sea, other adventures were in
store for the passengers. Pirates infested the coast of
Africa in those days, and they came on board and carried
off everything of value, including the stores of provisions.
The only things they did not think worth removing were
the parrots, of which three hundred had been brought
by the sailors, and as these birds could not stand the cold,
and died off fast as the ship steered north, Sai was allowed
one a day, which just managed to keep him alive. Still,
there is very little nourishment to be got out of a parrot,
especially when you eat it with the feathers on, and Sai
soon became very ill and did not care even for parrots.
His keeper felt his nose and found it dry and feverish, so
she begged that she might take him out of his cage and
doctor him herself. A little while before, Sai would have
been enchanted to be free, but now he was too ill to
enjoy anything, and he just stretched himself out on deck,
with his head on his mistress's feet. Luckily she had
some fever medicine with her, good for panthers as well
as men and women, and she made up three large pills
which she hoped might cure Sai. Of course it was not to
be expected that he would take them of his own free will,
so she got the boy who looked after him to hold open his
mouth, while she pushed down the pills. Then he was
put back into his cage, the boy insisting on going with
him, and both slept comfortably together. In a few days,
with the help of better food than he had been having, he
got quite well, and on his arrival in England won the
admiration of the Duchess of York, his new mistress, by
his beauty and gentle ways. As his country house was

not quite ready for him, he was left for a few weeks
with a man who understood animals, and seemed con-
tented and happy, and was allowed to walk about as he
liked. Here the Duchess of York used constantly to visit
him and play with him, even going to see him the very
day before he-and she-were to move into the country.
He was in excellent spirits, and appeared perfectly well,
but he must somehow have taken a chill, for when, on the
following day, the Duchess's coachman came to fetch him,
he found poor SaY had died after a few hours' illness from
inflammation of the lungs.
After all he is not so much to be pitied. He had had
a very happy life, with plenty of fun and plenty of kind-
ness, and he had a very rapid and painless death.


ABOUT one hundred and forty years ago a French priest
received a present of a large brown and grey bird, which
had been taken in a snare intended for some other
creature, and was very wild and savage. The man who
brought it was quite ignorant what kind of bird it was,
but the priest knew it to be the common buzzard, and
made up his mind to try to tame it. He began by
keeping it shut up, and allowing it to take no food except
out of his hand, and after about six weeks of this treat-
ment it grew much quieter, and had learnt to know its
master. The priest then thought it would be safe to give
the buzzard a little more freedom, and after carefully
tying its wings, so that it could not fly away, he turned it
out into the garden. Of course it was highly delighted to
find itself in the sun once more, and hopped about with
joy, and the time passed quickly till it began to get
hungry, when it was glad to hear its master calling it to
come in to dinner. Indeed, the bird always seemed so fond
of the priest, that in a few days he thought he might
leave it quite free, so he unfastened its wings and left them
loose, merely hanging a label with his own name round
its neck, and putting a little bell round its leg. But what
was the poor man's disgust, to see the buzzard instantly
spread out its great wings and make for the neighboring
forest, deaf to all his calls He naturally expected that,
in spite of his trouble and precautions, the bird had
flown away for ever, and sat sadly down to prepare his
1 Bingley's Animal Biography.


next day's sermon. Now sermons are things that take
up a great deal of attention, and he had almost forgotten
his lost favourite when he was startled by a tremendous
noise in the hall outside his study, and on opening the
door to see what was the matter, he saw his buzzard
rushing about, followed by five others, who were so
jealous of its copper plate and bell, that they had tried to
peck them off, and the poor thing had flown as fast as it
could to its master's house, where it knew it was safe.
After this it took care not to wander too far from
home, and came back every night to sleep on the priest's
window sill. Soon it grew bolder still, and would sit on the
corner of the table when he was at dinner, and now and
then would rub its head against his shoulder, uttering
a low cry of affection and pleasure. Sometimes it would
even do more, and follow him for several miles when he
happened to be riding.
But the buzzard was not the only pet the priest had
to look after. There were ducks, and chickens, and dogs,
and four large cats. The ducks and chickens it did not
mind, at least those that belonged to the house, and it
would even take its bath at the same time with the
ducklings, and never trod upon them when they got in
its way, or got cross and pecked them. And if hawks or
any such birds tried to snap up the little ones who had
left their mother's wing to take a peep at the world,
the buzzard would instantly fly to their help, and never
once was beaten in the battle. Curiously enough, how-
ever, it seemed to think it might do as it liked with the
fowls and ducks that belonged to other people, and so
many were the complaints of cocks and hens lamed and
killed, that the priest was obliged to let it be known that
he would pay for all such damage, in order to save his
favourite's life. As to dogs and cats, it always got the
better of them; in any experiment which it amused the
priest to make. One day he threw a piece of raw meat
into the garden where the cats were collected, to be


scrambled for. A young and active puss instantly seized
it and ran away with her prize, with all the other cats
after her. But quick as she was, the buzzard, who had
been watching her movements from the bough of a tree,
was quicker still. Down it pounced on her back, squeezed
her sides with its claws, and bit her ears so sharply, that
she was forced to let go. In one moment another cat
had picked the morsel up in its teeth, but it did not hold

. ., i


it long. The process that had answered for one cat
would answer for a second, as the buzzard very well
knew. Down he swooped again, and even when the
whole four cats, who saw in him a common enemy,
attacked the bird at once, they proved no match for him,
and in the end they were clever enough to find that out.
It is not easy to know what buzzards in general think
about things, but this one hated scarlet as much as any
bull. Whenever he saw a red cap on any of the peasants'


heads, he would hide himself among the thick boughs
overhanging the road where the man had to pass, and
would nip it off so softly that the peasant never felt his
loss. He would even
manage to take off
the wigs which every
one wore then, and
that was cleverer
still, and off he would
crry both ,li .'i ,nd

caps to a tall tree in a
Spark near by, and hang
'i them all over it, like a
S new kind of fruit.
As may be imagined,
a bird so bold made
'' many enemies, and was
'. 'often shot at by the
S' .: keepers, but for a long
time it appeared to bear
a charmed life, and no-
I thing did it any harm.
However, one unlucky
-- day a keeper who was
going his rounds in the
-.- *forest, and who did not
know what a strange and
!' clever bird this buzzard
was, saw him on the back
~of a fox which he had at-
THE BUZZARD CARRIES OFF HAT AND WIG tacked for want of some-
thing better to do, and
fired two shots at them. One shot killed the fox; the
other broke the wing of the buzzard, but he managed to


fly out of reach of the keeper, and hid himself. Mean-
while the tinkling of the bell made the keeper guess
that this must be the priest's pet, of which he had so
often heard; and being anxious to do what he could to
repair the damage he had done, he at once told the
priest what had happened. The priest went out directly
to the forest, and gave his usual whistle, but neither
on that evening nor on several others was there any
reply. At last on the seventh night he heard a low
answer, and on searching narrowly all through the wood,
the priest found the poor buzzard, which had hopped
nearly two miles towards its old home, dragging its broken
wing after it. The bird was very thin, but was enchanted
to see his old master, who carried him home and nursed
him for six weeks, when he got quite well, and was able
to fly about as boldly as ever.


No one was fonder of animals, or kinder to them, than
Cowper the poet, who lived towards the end of the last
century; but of all creatures he loved hares best, per-
haps because he, like them, was timid and easily frightened.
He has left a very interesting account of three hares that
were given to him when he was living in the country in
the year 1774, and as far as possible the poet shall tell
his own story of the friendship between himself and his
pets-Puss, Tiney, and Bess, as he called them.
Cowper was not at all a strong man, and suffered
terribly from fits of low spirits, and at these times he
could not read, and disliked the company of people, who
teased him by giving him advice or asking him questions.
It was during one of these seasons of solitude and
melancholy that he noticed a poor little hare belonging
to the children of one of his neighbours, who, without
meaning really to be unkind, had worried the little thing
almost to death. Soon they got tired even of playing
with it, and the poor hare was in danger of being starved
to death, when their father, whose heart was more tender
than theirs, proposed that it should be given to their
neighbour Mr. Cowper.
Now Cowper, besides feeling pity for the poor little
creature, felt that he should like to teach and train it,
and as just then he was too unhappy to care for his usual
occupations, he gladly accepted the present. In a very
short time Puss was given two companions, Tiney and
SFrom Bingley's British Quadrupeds.


Bess, and could have had dozens more if Cowper had
wanted them, for the villagers offered to catch him enough
to have filled the whole countryside if he would only give
the order.
However, Cowper decided that three would be ample
for his purposes, and as he wished them to learn nice
clean habits, he began with his own hands to build them
a house. The house contained a large hall and three
bedrooms, each with a separate bed, and it was astonish-
ing how soon every hare knew its own bedroom, and how
careful he was (for in spite of their names they were all
males) never to go into those of his friends.
Very soon all three made themselves much at home
in their comfortable quarters, and Puss, the first comer,
would jump on his master's lap and, standing up on
his hind legs, would bite the hair on his temples. He
enjoyed being carried about like a baby, and would even
go to sleep in Cowper's arms, which is a very strange
thing for a hare to do. Once Puss got ill, and then the
poet took care to keep him apart from the other two, for
animals have a horror of their sick companions, and are
generally very unkind to them. So he nursed Puss him-
self, and gave him all sorts of herbs and grasses as medi-
cine, and at last Puss began to get better, and took notice
of what was going on round him. When he was strong
enough to take his first little walk, his pleasure knew no
bounds; and in token of his gratitude he licked his
master's hand, first back, then front, and then between
every finger. As soon as he felt himself quite strong
again, he went with the poet every day, after breakfast,
into the garden, where he lay all the morning under a
trailing cucumber, sometimes asleep, but every now and
then eating a leaf or two by way of luncheon. If the
poet was ever later than usual in leaving the house, Puss
would down on his knees and look up into his eyes with
a pleading expression, or, if these means failed, he would
seize his master's coat between his teeth, and pull as


hard as he could towards the window. Puss was, perhaps,
the pleasantest of all the hares, but Bess, who died young,
was the cleverest and most amusing. He had his little
tempers, and when he was not feeling very well, he was
glad to be petted and made much of ; but no sooner had he
recovered than he resented any little attentions, and would
growl and run away or even bite if you attempted to touch
him. It was impossible really to tame Tiney, but there
was something so serious and solemn in all he did, that
it made you laugh even to watch him.
Bess, the third, was very different from the other two.
He did not need 1.i, 1 -. for he was tame from the
beginning, as it never entered into his head that anyone
could be unkind to him. In many things he had the
same tastes as his friends. All three loved lettuces,
dandelions, and oats; and every night little dishes were
placed in their bedrooms, in case they might feel hungry.
One day their master was clearing out a birdcage while
his three hares were sitting by, and he placed on the floor
a pot containing some white sand, such as birds use
instead of a carpet. The moment they saw the sand, they
made a rush for it and ate it up greedily. Cowper took
the hint, and always saw, after that, that sand was placed
where the hares could get at it.
After supper they all spent the evenings in the parlour,
and would tumble over together, and jump over each
other's backs, and see which could spring the farthest, just
like a set of kittens. But the cleverest of them all was
Bess, and he was also the strongest.
Poor Bess he was the first to die, soon after he
was grown up, and Tiney and Puss had to get on as best
they could without him, which was not half as much fun.
There was no one now to invent queer games, or to keep
the cat in order when it tried to take liberties; and no
one, too, to prevent Tiney from bullying Puss, as he was
rather fond of doing. Tiney lived to be nine, quite a re-
spectable age for a hare, and died at last from the effects


of a fall. Puss went on for another three years, and
showed no signs of decay, except that he was a little
less playful, which was only to be expected. His last act
was to make friends with a dog called Marquis, to whom
he was introduced by his master; and though the spaniel
could not take the place of Puss's early companions,
he was better than nobody, and the two got on quite
happily together, till the sad day (March 9, 1796) when
Puss stretched himself at his master's feet and died
peacefully and without pain, aged eleven years and eleven


HUGGY was an old rat when he died-very old indeed.
He was born in the middle of a corn-rick, and there he
might have lived his little life had not the farmer who
owned the rick caused it to be pulled down. That was
Huggy's first experience of flitting, and it was done in
such a hurry that he had hardly time to be sorry. It
was pitch dark when his mother shook him up roughly
and told him to come along, or he would be killed by
the farmer,' and poor Huggy, blinking his sleepy eyes,
struggled out of his snug little bed into the cold black
Several old rats met him at the entrance, and sternly
bade him stay where he was and make no noise, for the
leader was about to speak. Huggy was wide-awake by
this time. The rat spirit of adventure was roused within
him by the scent of coming danger, and eagerly he
listened to the shrill, clear voice of the leader:
'Friends, old and young, this is not a time for many
words, but I want you all to know the cause of this
sudden disturbance. Last night I was scavenging round
the farmer's kitchen, seeking what I might devour, when
in came the stable-boy tapping an empty corn-sieve
which he had in his hand. He said a few words to
the farmer, who rose hastily, and together they left the
kitchen, I following at a convenient distance. They went
straight to the stable, and talked for some time with their
backs to the corn-bin, which was standing open in the
window. After a while I managed to scramble up and


peer into it, only to confirm what I dreaded most-
the corn-bin was empty To-morrow they will pull down
this rick, thresh the corn, and replenish the empty bin.
So, my friends, unless we mean to die by dog, stick, or
fork, we had better be off as soon as it is daylight.'
There was a shuffle of feet all round, and a general
rush of anxious mothers into the rick to fetch out their
young. Huggy was waiting at the entrance; so, as soon
as he caught sight of his mother, he raced off with her to
join the fast-assembling crowd at the back of the rick.
The leader ranged them in lines of ten abreast, and, after
ili:,1 up and down to see that all were in their places,
he gave a shrill squeak, and the column started. They
marched steadily for about two miles-slowly, of course,
because of the young ones. Nothing proved an obstacle
to them. Sometimes a high wall crossed their path, but
they merely ran up one side and down the other, as if it
was level road. Sometimes it was a broad river which
confronted them, but that they swam without hesitation
-rats will not stop at such trifles.
At length they came to a field where a man with a
pair of horses was ploughing. His coat, in which his
dinner was wrapt, lay on the wall some little distance
from him. Seeing such a number of rats, he left his horses
and ran for his life, and hid behind a knoll, whence he
could view the proceedings without himself being seen.
To his great disgust, he saw the creatures first crowd
round his coat, then run over it, and finally eat out of his
pocket the bread and cheese his wife had provided for his
dinner !
That was a stroke of luck for the rats. They had not
counted on so early a breakfast; so it was with lightsome
hearts they performed the rest of their journey.
Huggy was very glad when it was over. He had never
been so far in his life-he was only three weeks old.
Their new home proved to be a cellar, which communi-
cated on one side with sundry pipes running straight to


the kitchen, and on the other with a large ventilator
opening to the outside air. A paradise for rats! and as to
the inhabitants of the house-we shall see.
It was early in the afternoon when they arrived, so
they had plenty of time to settle down before night.
Huggy, having selected his corner, left his mother to
make it comfortable for him, and scampered off for 'a
poke round,' as he called it. First he went to the
kitchen, peeped up through a hole in the floor, and,
seeing no one about, cautiously crept out and sniffed into
all the cupboards As he was emerging from the last
he beheld a sight which made his little heart turn sick.
There, in a corner which Huggy had not noticed before, lay
a huge dog half asleep And so great was Huggy's fright
that he squeaked, very faintly indeed, yet loud enough to
set Master Dog upon his feet. Next minute they were
both tearing across the kitchen. Huggy was a wee bit in
front, but so little that he could feel the dog's hot breath
behind him. There was the hole-bump-scrabble,
scrabble-Huggy was safe Safe! yes-but oh, so
frightened !-and what made him smart so dreadfully?
Why, his tail was gone-bitten off by the dog Ah,
Huggy, my poor little rat, if it had not been for that
foolish little squeak of fright you might have been as
other rats are-but now Huggy almost squeaked again,
it was so very sad-and painful. Slowly he crept back
to the cellar, where he had to endure the jeers of his
young companions and the good advice of his elders.
It was some weeks before Huggy fully recovered him-
self, and more weeks still before he could screw up his
courage to appear among his companions as the 'tailless
rat; but at long and at last he did crawl out, and,
because he looked so shy and frightened, the other rats
were merciful, and let him alone. The old rat, too-the
leader-took a great fancy to him, and used to allow
Huggy to accompany him on his various exploits, which
was considered a greater privilege among the older rats,

~.II- sp



and Huggy was very proud of it. One night he and the
leader were out together, when their walk happened to
take them (as it generally did) round by the pantry. As a
matter of course, they went in, and had a good meal off a
loaf which the careless table-maid had left standing on the
shell. Beside the loaf was a box of matches, and Huggy
could not be happy till he had found out what was inside.
First he gnawed the box a little, then he dragged it up
and down, then he gnawed a little more, and, finding it
was not very good to eat, he began to play with it. Sud-
denly, without any warning, there was a splutter and a
flare. Huggy and the leader were outside in a twinkling,
leaving the pantry in a blaze. Luckily no great damage
was done, for the flames were seen and put out in
So, little by little, Huggy was led on. In vain did his
mother plead with him to be careful. He was a big rat
now, and could look after himself,' he said. The following
week the leader organised a party to invade the hen-house.
Of course Huggy was among the number chosen. It re-
quired no little skill to creep .i...i--1 .-1--, up the broken
ladder, visiting the various nests ranged along each side
of the walls; for laying hens are nervous ladies, and, if
startled, make erino.1. --:.;-.- to waken a town. But the
leader had selected his party well, and not a sound was
made i ill th,: proper time came. Once up the ladder, each
rat took it in turn to slip in behind the hen, and gently
roll one egg at a time from under her. The poor birds
rarely resisted; experience had taught them long since
the futility of such conduct. It was the young and igno-
rant fowls who gave all the trouble; they fluttered about
in a fright and disturbed the whole house. But the rats
knew pretty well which to go to ; so they worked on with-
out interruption. When they had collected about a dozen
eggs, the next move was to take them safely down the
ladder into the cellar. This was very soon done. Huggy
lay down on his back, nestled an egg cosily between himself


and his two front paws; a feather was put through his
mouth, by which means a rat on either side dragged him
along. Huggy found it rather rough on his back going
down the ladder, but, with a good supper in view, he could
bear most things. The eggs having been brought thus to
the level of the ground, the rats dragged them in the same
way slowly and carefully down to the cellar.
So time went on. Night after night parties of rats went
out, and each morning they returned with tales of adven-
ture and cunning-all more or less daring. But the leader
was getting old. Huggy had noticed for some time how
grey and feeble he was becoming; nor was he much sur-
prised when, one day, the leader told him that he (Huggy)
would have to take his place as leader of the rats. Two
days after this the old rat died, leaving Huggy to succeed
him; and a fine lot of scrapes did that rat and his
followers get into.
The larder was their favourite haunt, where joints of
meat were hung on hooks quite out o' reach o' them rats,'
as the cook said. But Huggy thought differently, and in
a trice ten large rats had run up the wall and down the
hook, and were gobbling the meat as fast as they could.
But there was one hook in the centre of the ceiling which
Huggy could not reach; from this hook a nice fat duck
was suspended by a string. 'If only I could get on to
that hook I should gnaw the string, and the duck would
fall, and--'
Huggy got no further. An idea had come to him
which he communicated quickly to the others. The plan
seemed to be appreciated, for they all ran to an old chair,
which was standing just under this difficult centre hook.
The strongest rat went first, climbed up the back of the
chair, and balanced himself on the top; Number 2 followed,
and carefully balanced on Number 1; Number 1 then
squeaked, which meant he could bear no more. It was
a pity he could not stand one more; for, as they were, the
topmost rat could just reach the prize, and though he


nibbled all round as far as he
could, it was not what might
be called a square meal.'
The cook was indeed amazed
when, next morning, she
found only three-fourths of
her precious duck remaining.
' Ah she said, 'I'll be even
with you yet, you cunning
beasts And that night she
sliced up part of a duck with
some cheese, and put it in
a plate on the larder floor.
At his usual hour, when all
was dark and quiet, Huggy
and his followers arrived,
and, seeing their much-
coveted prize under their
very noses, were cautious.
But Huggy was up to the
trick. 'To-night and to-
morrow night you may eat
it,' he said, 'but beware of
the third.' So they partook
of the duck, and enjoyed it
that night and the next, but
the third the dish was left
The cook was up betimes
that morning, so that she
might bury the corpses before
breakfast. Her dog (the
same who had robbed Huggy
of his tail), according to his
custom, followed her into the
larder. On seeing the plate
just as she had left it the


night before, the cook, in her astonishment, forgot the
dog, who, finding no one gainsay him, licked the dish
with infinite relish. Poor dog In spite of all efforts to
save him he died ten minutes afterwards; and the cook
learnt her lesson also, for she never tried poisoning rats
Here end the chief events of Huggy's life-all, at least,
that are worth recording.
Some years after the death of the dog I was sitting in
the gloaming close to a steep path which led from the
cellar down to the river, when what should I see but
three large rats coming slowly towards me. The middle
one was the largest, and evidently blind, for he had in his
mouth a long straw, by which the other two led him care-
fully down the path. As the trio passed I recognized the
centre one to be Huggy the Tailless.
Next morning my little Irish terrier, Jick, brought him
to me in his mouth, dead ; and I buried him under a Gloire
de Dijon in a sunny corner of the garden.

Fantastic as some of the incidents may sound, they are,
nevertheless, true, having been collected mainly from an
old rat-catcher living in the town of Hawick.


IN 1850 Baron de Wogan, a French gentleman, left his
native land and set sail for North America, to seek his
fortune and adventures. He was descended from two
noble adventurers, the Wogan who led a cavalry troop
from Dover to the Highlands, to fight for Charles II., and
the Wogan who rescued Queen Clementina, wife of James
III., from prison in Innspruck. In 1850 adventures, wild
beasts, and Red Indians were more plentiful than now, and
Wogan had some narrow escapes from snakes and bears.
Soon after coming to North America he had his first
adventure with a rattlesnake; he was then camping at the
gold fields of California, seeking for gold in order to have
money enough to start on his voyages of discovery. His
house was a log hut, built by himself, and his bed a sack
filled with dry oak leaves.
One day, finding that his mattress required renewing,
he went out with the sack and his gun. Having filled the
sack with leaves, he went off with his gun in search of
game for his larder, and only came home at nightfall.
After having cooked and eaten his supper, he threw him-
self on his new mattress, and soon was asleep. He
awoke about three, and would soon have fallen asleep
again, but he felt something moving in the sack. His
first thought was that it was a rat, but he soon felt by the
way it moved that it was no quadruped, but a reptile, no
rat, but a snake He must have put it in the sack with
the leaves, as might easily happen in winter when these
creatures are torpid from the cold, and sleep all curled


up. With one leap the Baron was out of its reach, but
wishing to examine it more closely, he took his gun to
protect him in case of danger, and came near the bed
again; but the ungrateful beast, forgetting that they had
been bedfellows, threw itself on the gun and began to bite
the muzzle. Fearing that it might turn and bite him next
the Baron pulled the trigger, and hitting the serpent,
literally cut it in two. It measured two feet long, and
when the Baron cut off its tail, he found a quantity of
scales which made the
rattling sound from
1 hi.:1 tn!:, -,-pent gets

S.- ........ theBaron
I 1 ":.i.. .1i .. ,, ugh gold,
,,I-,, I- I. ule whom
S,:."II ,,I tCadi, and
..... ,. i-came very
t ,. ... .. ,et off into
Il-I. I-. -, .i- Isinsearch
S" .,. -I,.: r ,,,..i adventure .
S:'', i eventually

A -

~ ~ r ,: -,f- --- :, .



met a terrible end, but that is a Bear story.) He soon
added another companion, a young Indian girl, Calooa by
name. She was the daughter of a chief of the Utah
tribe, and had been taken prisoner, with several other
women, by a tribe of hostile Indians whom the Baron
fell in with. She would have been tortured and then
burnt with the other prisoners had the Baron not saved
her life by buying her for a silk handkerchief, a knife
and fork, and some coloured pictures. She wandered
with him and shared all his adventures, till she was found
again by her tribe and taken back to them. One hot day
they had been marching together about thirty miles
through a country infested with panthers and pumas. The
Baron was heading the little procession, when suddenly a
cry from Calooa that she only used in moments of danger
made him turn round. Then he saw that what he had
taken to be a huge rotten branch of a tree, and had even
thought of taking with him for their camp fire, that even-
ing, was in reality an enormous serpent. It lay across
the path asleep, its head resting on the trunk of a tree.
The Baron raised his gun to his shoulder, and came nearer
the monster to get a good aim. He fired, but missed.
The horrid creature reared itself nearly on end and looked
at him with that fixed stare by which the serpent fasci-
nates and paralyses its victim. The Baron felt all the
fascination, but conquering it, he fired a second time,
and this time wounded the creature without killing it
outright. Though mortally wounded, the snake's dying
struggles were so violent that the young trees all round
were levelled as if they had been cut with a scythe. As
soon as they were sure that life was extinct, Calooa and
the Baron came nearer to examine the snake's dead body.
Though part of his tail was missing, he measured never-
theless five yards long and eighteen inches round.
Thinking that it seemed of unusual girth, the Baron cut
it open with an axe, and found inside the body of a young
prairie wolf, probably about a week old. The peculiarity

."t of this snake was that
... r it gave out a strong
: i the sea serpent in Mr.
;' ".-I Kipling's book.
The most horrible
'serpent that the Baron
S' J encountered and slew
was the horned snake;
-h.e learned afterwards
From the Indians that
it is the most deadly
of all the snakes of
North America, for
not only is its bite
S- venomous, but its tail
has a sting which con-

I- l"1:

Ii. I b'I'l

~i~;n '1
~ i I/U

., L I
" ; '- -',- J' "'.*;. I- -
1 *

P" -
,~r.N. ..-



head forward and tail raised, thus attacking with both
ends at once. If by chance it misses its aim and its
tail strikes a young tree and penetrates the bark, that
tree immediately begins to droop, and before long withers
and dies. On the occasion when the Baron encountered
it, Calooa and he had been fleeing all night fearing an
attack of hostile Indians. About daylight they ventured
to stop to take rest and food. While Calooa lit the fire
the Baron took his gun and went in search of game. In
about half an hour he returned with a wild turkey.
When they had cooked and eaten it, he lay down and
fell asleep, but had only slept two hours when he awoke,
feeling his hand touched. It was Calooa, who woke him
with a terror-stricken face. Looking in the direction she
pointed, he saw about fifty yards away ai enormous
horned snake wound round a branch of sassafras. It
was lying in wait for a poor little squirrel, that cowered
in the hollow of an oak. As soon as the squirrel dared
to show even the tip of its nose, the serpent flung itself
at it, but in vain, as its great head could not get into the
'Fortunately,' the Baron says, 'my gun was by my
side. I rose and went to the rescue of the defenceless
little creature. When the serpent saw me he knew he had.
another sort of enemy to deal with, and hissing furiously
hurled himself in my direction, though without quitting his
branch. I stopped and took aim. The serpent evidently
understood my attitude perfectly, for unwinding himself
he began to crawl with all his speed towards me. Between
us there was fortunately an obstacle, a fallen chestnut tree ;
to reach me he must either climb over it or go round, and
he was too furious to put up with any delay. Ten paces
from the tree I waited for him to appear, one knee on
the ground, my gun at my shoulder, and the other elbow
resting on my knee to steady my aim. At last I saw his
horrid head appear above the fallen tree, at the same
moment I fired, and the ball pierced his head through


and through, though without instantly killing him.
Quick as lightning he wound- himself round a branch,
lashing out wihh his tail in all directions. It was his dying
struggle; slowly his fury subsided, and uncoiling himself
he fell dead alongside the tree. I measured him and
found he was eight feet long, and seven or eight inches
round. He was dark brown, and his head had two horns,

.-.. ;,^ ^ ,':, ."- _

i I '

^ ^.: ,;,,: ".-


or rather hard knobs. Wishing to carry away some
souvenir to remember him by when I should be at home
again in France, I tried to cut off his horns, but found
it impossible. Out of curiosity I then took an axe and
cut him open, when I found inside a little bird, dazed
but living. Presently it revived and began to flutter


about, and soon flew away among the bushes and was
lost to sight. I did not then know that this is a common
occurrence, and that when the Indians find a serpent
asleep, as is generally the case after the creature has
gorged itself, they hit it on the head with a stick, which
makes it throw up what it has swallowed whole, and
its victims are often still living.'
Calooa on one occasion had a narrow escape. She had
put her hand into a hollow in a branch of a cherry-tree
where was a blue jay's nest, to take eggs as she thought.
Hardly had she put in her hand when she screamed with
pain; a rattlesnake that had taken possession of the nest
had stung her. The Baron, much alarmed, expected to
see Calooa die before his eyes. He did not know of the
remedy the Indians use for snake bites. Calooa herself
was quite undisturbed, and hunted about among the
bushes till she found the plant she knew of, then crushing
some of the leaves between two stones, she applied them
to the bite, and in a couple of hours was completely
Besides these snakes the Baron learned from the
Indians that there is another even more dangerous, not
from its sting, which is not poisonous, but because it
winds itself round its victim, and strangles him to death.
Fortunately the Baron never met one, or he would pro-
bably not have lived to tell his snake stories.


LONG, long ago the earth was very different from what
it is now, and was covered with huge forests made up
of enormous trees, and in these forests there roamed
immense beasts, whose skeletons may sometimes be seen
in our museums.
Of all these beasts there is only one remaining, and
that is the elephant. Now the elephant is so big and
shapeless that he makes one think he has been turned
out by a child who did not know how to finish his work
properly. He seems to need some feet badly and to want
pinching about his body. He would also be the better
for a more imposing tail; but such as he is, the elephant
is more useful and interesting than many creatures of ten
times his beauty. Large and clumsy though he may be,
he alone of all animals has 'between his eyes a serpent
for a hand,' and he turns his trunk to better account than
most men do their two hands.
Ever since we first read about elephants in history
they were just the same as they are now. They have not
learnt, from associating with men, fresh habits which they
hand down from father to son; each elephant, quick though
he is to learn, has to be taught everything over again.
Yet there is no beast who has lived in such unbroken
contact with man for so many thousands of years. We
do not know when he first began to be distinguished for
his qualities from the other wild animals, but as far back
as we can trace the sculptures which adorn the Indian
temples the elephant has a place. Several hundred years


before Christ, the Greek traveller Herodotus was passing
through Babylon and found a large number of elephants
employed in the daily life of the city, and from time to
time we catch glimpses of them in Eastern warfare,
though it was not till the third century B.c. that they
were introduced into Europe by Alexander the Great.
The Mediterranean nations were quick to see the immense
profit to which the elephant could be put, both in respect
to the great weights he could carry, and also for his
extraordinary teachableness. In India at the present day
he performs all kinds of varied duties, and many are the
stories told about his cleverness, for he is the only animal
that can be taught to push as well as pull.
Most of us have seen elephants trained to perform in
a circus, and there is something rather sad in watching
their great clumsy bodies gambolling about in a way that
is unnatural as well as ungraceful. But there is no
question as to the amount that elephants can be taught,
particularly by kindness, or how skilfully they will revenge
themselves for any ill-treatment.
In the early part of this century an elephant was sent
by a lady in India as a present to the Duke of Devon-
shire, who had a large villa at Chiswick.
This lucky captive had a roomy house of its own,
built expressly for it in the park, a field to walk about in,
and a keeper to look after it,, and to do a little light
gardening besides. This man treated the elephant (a
female) with great kindness, and they soon became the
best of friends. The moment he called out she stopped,
and at his bidding would take a broom in her trunk and
sweep the dead leaves off the grass; after which she
would carefully carry after him a large pail of water for
him to re-fill his watering pot-for in those days the
garden-hose was not invented. When the tidying up was
all done, the elephant was given a carrot and some of the
water, but very often the keeper would amuse himself
with handing her.a soda-water bottle tightly corked, and

telling her to empty it. This she did by placing the
bottle in an inclined position on the ground and holding
it at the proper angle with her foot, while she twisted the
cork out with her trunk. This accomplished, she would
empty all the water into her trunk without spilling a drop,
and then hand the bottle back to her keeper.
In India small children are often given into the
charge of an elephant, and it is wonderful to see what
care the animals take of them. One elephant took such
a fancy to a small baby, that it used to stand over its
cradle, and drive away the flies that teased it while it
slept. When it grew restless the elephant would rock the
cradle, or gently lift it to the floor and let it crawl about
between its legs, till the child at last declined to take any
food unless her friend was by to see her eat it.
Amazing tales have been told of what elephants can
be trained to do, but none is stranger than a story related
by a missionary named Caunter, about some wild
elephants in Ceylon. Some native soldiers who had been
set to guard a large storehouse containing rice, were
suddenly ordered off to put down a rising in a village a
little distance away. Hardly were their backs turned
when a wild elephant was seen advancing to the store-
house, which was situated in a lonely place, and after
walking carefully round it, he returned whence he came.
In a short time he was noticed advancing for the second
time, accompanied by a whole herd of elephants, all
marching in an orderly and military manner.
Now in order to secure the granary as much as possi-
ble, the only entrance had been made in the roof, and had
to be reached by a ladder. This was soon found out by
the elephants, who examined the whole building atten-
tively, and being baffled in their designs, retired to con-
sult as to what they should do .next. Finally one of the
largest among them began to attack one of the corners
with his tusks, and some of the others followed his
example. When the first relay was tired out, another set

II rn ~ -


.*A^~ 1-i



took its place, but all their efforts seemed useless; the
building was too strong for them. At length a third
elephant came forward and attacked the place at which
the others had labored with such ill-success, and, by a
prodigious effort, he managed to loosen one brick. After
this it did not take long to dig a hole big enough to let
the whole herd pass through, and soon the two spectators,
hidden in a banyan-tree, saw little companies of three or
four enter the granary and take their fill of rice until
they all were satisfied. The last batch were still eating
busily, when a shrill- noise from the sentinel they had
set on guard caused them to rush out. From afar they
could perceive the white dress of the soldiers who had
subdued the unruly villagers and were returning to their
post, and the elephants, trunks in air, took refuge in the
jungle, and only wagged their tails mockingly at the bullets
sent after them by the discomfited soldiers.


FoE three days Aubrey de Montdidier had not been seen
by his friends and comrades in arms. On Sunday morn-
ing he had attended mass in the Church of Our Lady,
but it was noticed that in the afternoon he was absent from
the great tournament which was held at Saint Katherine's.
This astonished his friend the young Sieur de Narsac,
who,had appointed to meet him there, that they might
watch together the encounter between a Burgundian
knight' and a gentleman from Provence, both renowned
in tilting, who were to meet together for the first time
that day in Paris. It was unlike Aubrey to fail to be
present on such an occasion, and when for three successive
days he did not appear at his accustomed haunts, his
friends grew anxious, and began to question among them-
selves whether some accident might not have befallen
him. Early on the morning of the fourth day De Narsac
was awakened by a continuous sound, as of something
scratching against his door. Starting up to listen, he
heard, in the intervals of the scratching, a low whine, as
of a dog in pain. Thoroughly aroused, he got up and
opened the door. Stretched before it, apparently too
weak to stand, was a great, gaunt greyhound, spent with
exhaustion and hunger. His ribs stood out like the bars
of a gridiron beneath his smooth coat; his tongue hung
down between his jaws, parched and stiff; his eyes were
bloodshot, and he trembled in every limb.
On seeing De Narsac the poor creature struggled to
his feet, feebly wagged his tail, and thrust his nose into


the young man's hands. Then only did De Narsac re-
cognise in the half-starved skeleton before him the
favourite dog and constant companion of his friend,


Aubrey de Montdidier. It was clear from the poor
animal's emaciated appearance that it was in the last
stage of exhaustion. Summoning his servant, De Narsac


ordered food and water to be brought at once, and the
dog devoured the huge meal set before it. From his
starved appearance, and from the voracity with which he
devoured the food set before him, it was evident that
he had had nothing to eat for some days. No sooner
was his hunger appeased than he began to move uneasily
about the room. Uttering low howls of distress from
time to time, he approached the door; then, returning
to De Narsac's side, he looked up in his face and gently
tugged at his mantle, as if to attract his attention. There
was something at once so appealing and peculiar in the
dog's behaviour that De Narsac's curiosity was aroused,
and he became convinced that there was some connection
between the dog's starved appearance and strange manner
and the unaccountable disappearance of his master.
Perhaps the dog might supply the clue to Aubrey's place
of concealment. Watching the dog's behaviour closely,
De Narsac became aware that the dumb beast was in-
viting him to accompany him. Accordingly he yielded to
the dog's apparent wish, and, leaving the house, followed
him out into the streets of Paris.
Looking round from time to time to see that De
Narsac was coming after him, the greyhound pursued
its way through the narrow, tortuous streets of the
ancient city, over the Bridge, and out by the Porte St.-
Martin, into the open country outside the gates of the
town. Then, continuing on its track, the dog headed for
the Forest of Bondy, a place of evil fame in those far-off
days, as its solitudes were known to be infested by bands
of robbers. Stopping suddenly in a deep and densely
wooded glade of the wood, the dog uttered a succession
of low, angry growls; then, tugging at De Narsac's
mantle, it led him to some freshly turned-up earth, beneath
a wide-spreading oak-tree. With a piteous whine the
dog stretched himself on the spot, and could not be induced
by De Narsac to follow him back to Paris, where he
straightway betook himself, as he at once suspected foul


play. A few hours later a party of men, guided to the
spot by the young Sieur de Narsac, removed the earth
and dead leaves and ferns from the hole into which they
had been hastily flung, and discovered the murdered body
of Aubrey de Montdidier. Hurriedly a litter was con-
structed of boughs of trees, and, followed by the dog, the
body was borne into Paris, where it was soon afterwards
From that hour the greyhound attached himself to the
Sieur de Narsac. It slept in his room, ate from his table,
and followed close at his heels when he went out of doors.
One morning, as the two were threading their way through
the crowded Rue St.-Martin, De Narsac was startled by
hearing a low, fierce growl from the greyhound. Looking
down he saw that the creature was shaking in every limb;
his smooth coat was bristling, his tail was straight and
stiff, and he was showing his teeth. In another moment
he had made a dart from De Narsac's side, and had
sprung on a young gentleman named Macaire, in the
uniform of the king's bodyguard, who, with several
comrades in arms, was sauntering along on the opposite
side of the street. There was something so sudden in
the attack that the Chevalier Macaire was almost thrown
on the ground. With their walking-canes he and his
friends beat off the dog, and on De Narsac coming up,
it was called away, and; still trembling and growling,
followed its master down the street.
A few days later the same thing occurred. De Narsac
and the Chevalier Macaire chanced to encounter each
other walking in the royal park. In a moment the dog
had rushed at Macaire, and, with a fierce spring at his
throat, had tried to pull him to the ground. De Narsac
and some officers of the king's bodyguard came to Macaire's
assistance, and the dog was called off. The rumour of
this attack reached the ears of the king, and mixed
with the rumour were whisperings of a long-standing
quarrel between Macaire and Aubrey de Montdidier.


Might not the dog's strange and unaccountable hatred for
the young officer be a clue to the mysterious murder of
his late master? Determined to sift the matter to the
bottom, the king summoned De Narsac and the dog to
his presence at the H6tel St.-Pol. Following close on his
master's heels, the greyhound entered the audience-room,
where the king was seated, surrounded by his courtiers.
As De Narsac bowed low before his sovereign, a short,
fierce bark was heard from the dog, and, before he could
be held back, he had darted in among the startled courtiers,
and had sprung at the throat of the Chevalier Macaire,
who, with several other knights, formed a little group
behind the king's chair.
It was impossible longer to doubt that there was some
ground for the surmises that had rapidly grown to sus-
picion, and that had received sudden confirmation from
the fresh evidence of the dog's hatred.
The king decided that there should be a trial by the
judgment of God, and that a combat should take place
between man, the accused, and dog, the accuser. The
place chosen for the combat was a waste, uninhabited
plot of ground, frequently selected as a duelling-ground
by the young gallants of Paris.
In the presence of the king and his courtiers the
strange unnatural combat took place that afternoon. The
knight was armed with a short thick stick; the dog was
provided with an empty barrel, as a retreating ground
from the attacks of his adversary. At a given signal the
combatants entered the lists. The dog seemed quite to
understand the strange duel on which it was engaged.
Barking savagely, and darting round his :......',iit, he
made attempts to leap at his throat; now on this side,
now on that he sprang, jumping into the air, and then
bounding back out of reach of the stick. There was such
swiftness and determination about his movements, and
something so unnatural in the combat, that Macaire's
nerve failed him. His blows beat the air, without hitting



the dog; his breath came in quick short gasps; there
was a look of terror on his face, and for a moment, over-
come by the horror of the situation, his eye quailed and
sought the ground. At that instant the dog sprang at his
throat and pinned him to the earth. In his terror, he
called out and acknowledged his crime, and implored the
king's mercy. But the judgment of God had decided.
The dog was called off before it had strangled its victim,
but the man was hurried away to the place of execution,
and atoned that evening for the murder of the faithful
greyhound's master.
The dog has been known to posterity as the Dog of
Montargis, as in the Castle of Montargis there stood for
many centuries a sculptured stone mantelpiece, on which
the combat was carved.


IF we could look back and see England and Wales as they
were about a thousand years ago, we should most likely
think that the best houses and most prosperous villages
were the work not of the Saxon or British natives, but of
the little beavers, which were then to be found in some of
the rivers, though they have long ceased to exist there.
Those who want to see what beavers can do, must cross
over to America, and there, either in Canada or even as
far south as Louisiana, they will find the little creatures
as busy as ever and as clever at house-building as when
they taught our forefathers a lesson in the time of Athel-
stan or Canute.
A beaver is a small animal measuring about three feet,
and has fine glossy dark brown hair. Its tail, which is
its trowel, and call bell, and many other things besides,
is nearly a foot long, and has no hair at all, and is
divided into little scales, something like a fish. Beavers
cannot bear to live by themselves, and are never happy
unless they have two or three hundred friends close at
hand whom they can visit every day and all day, and
they are the best and most kindly neighbours in the world,
always ready to help each other either in building new
villages or in repairing old ones.
Of course the first thing to be done when you wish to
erect a house or a village is to fix on a suitable site, and
the spot which every beaver of sense thinks most desirable
is either a large pond or, if no pond is to be had, a flat
Bingley's Animal Biography.


low plain with a stream running through, out of which a
pond can be made.
It must be a very very long while since beavers first
found out that the way to make a pond out of a stream
was to build a dam across it so strong that the water
could not break through. To begin with, they have
to know which way the stream runs, and in this they
never make a mistake. Then they gather together stakes
about five feet long, and fix them in rows tight into the
ground on each side of the stream; and while the older and
more experienced beavers are doing this -for the safety of
the village depends on the strength of the foundation-the
younger and more active ones are fetching and heaping
up green branches of trees. These branches are plaited
in and out of the rows of stakes, which by this time stretch
right across the river, and form a dam often as much as a
hundred feet from end to end. When the best workmen
among them declare the foundation solid, the rest form a
large wall over the whole, of stones, clay, and sand, which
gradually tapers up from ten or twelve feet at the bottom,
where it has to resist the pressure of the stream, to two
or three at the top, so that the beavers can, if necessary,
pass each other in comfort. And when the dam is pro-
nounced finished, the overseer or head beaver goes care-
fully over every part, to see that it is the proper shape and
exactly smooth and even, for beavers cannot bear bad
work, and would punish any of their tribe who were lazy
or careless.
The dam being ready and the pond made, they can
now begin to think about their houses, and as all beavers
have a great dislike to damp floors and wet beds, they
have to raise their dwellings quite six or eight feet above
the level of the stream, so that no sudden swelling of the
river during the rainy season shall make them cold and
uncomfortable. Beavers are always quite clear in their
minds as to what they want, and how to get it, and they
like to keep things distinct. When they are in the water


they are perfectly happy, but when they are out of it they
like to be dry, and in order to keep their houses warm
and snug they wait till the water is low during the
summer, and then they can drive piles into the bed of the
stream with more safety and less trouble than if the
river is running hard. It generally takes two or three
months before the village is finished, and the bark and
shoots of young trees, which is their favourite food,
collected and stored up. But the little round huts, not
unlike beehives, are only intended for winter homes, as
no beaver would think of sleeping indoors during the
summer, or, indeed, of staying two days in the same place.
So every three or four years they spend the long days in
making their village of earth, stones, and sticks, plastered
together with some kind of mortar which they carry about
on their tails, to spreadneatly over the inside of their houses.
All that a beaver does is beautifully finished as well as
substantial. The walls of his house are usually about two
feet thick, and sometimes he has as many as three stories
to his house, when he has a large family or a number of
friends to live with him. One thing is quite certain: no
beaver will ever set up housekeeping alone; but some-
times he will be content with one companion, and some-
times he will have as many as thirty. But however full
the hut may be, there is never any confusion; each
beaver has his fixed place on the -floor, which is covered
with dried leaves and moss, and as they manage to keep
open a door right below the surface of the stream, where
their food is carefully stored up, there is no fear that they
will ever be starved out. And there they lie all through
the winter, and get very fat.
Once a French gentleman who was travelling through
Louisiana, was very anxious to see the little beaver
colony at work, so he hid himself with some other men
close to a dam, and in the night they cut a channel about a
foot wide right through, and very hard labour they found it.
The men had made no noise in breaking the dam, but
the rush of the water aroused one beaver who slept more


lightly than the rest, and he instantly left his hut and
swam to the dam to examine what was wrong. He then
struck four loud blows with his tail, and at the sound of
his call every beaver left his bed and came rushing to see
what was the matter. No sooner did they reach the dam
and see the large hole made in it, than they took counsel,
and then the one in whom they put the most trust gave
orders to the rest, and they all went to the bank to make
mortar. When they had collected as much as they could
carry, they formed a procession, two and two, each pair
loading each others' tails, and so travelling they arrived
at the dam, where a relay of fresh labourers were ready to
load. The mortar was then placed in the hole and bound
tight by repeated blows from the beavers' tails. So hard
did they work and so much sense did they show, that in
a short time all was as firm as ever. Then one of the
leading spirits clapped his tail twice, and in a moment
all were in bed and asleep again.
Beavers are very hard-working, but they know how to
make themselves comfortable too, and if they are content
with bark and twigs at home, they appreciate nicer food if
they can get it. A gentleman once took a beaver with
him to New York, and it used to wander about the house
like a dog, feeding chiefly upon bread, with fish now and
then for a treat. Not being able to find any moss or
leaves for a bed, it used to seize upon all the soft bits of
stuff that came in its way, and carry them off to its
sleeping corner. One day a cat discovered its hiding
place, and thought it would be a nice comfortable place
for her kittens to sleep, and when the beaver came back
from his walk he found; like the three bears, that some-
one was sleeping in his bed. He had never seen things
of that kind before, but they were small and he was big,
so he said nothing and lay down somewhere else. Only,
if ever their mother was away, he would go and hold one
of them to his breast to warm it, and keep it there till its
mother came back.


THERE are not so many stories about horses as there are
about dogs and cats, yet almost every great general has
had his favourite horse, who has gone with him through
many campaigns and borne him safe in many battle-fields.
At a town in Sicily called Agrigentum, they set such
store by their horses, that pyramids were raised over
their burial-place, and the Emperor Augustus built a
splendid monument over the grave of an old favourite.
The most famous horse, perhaps, who ever lived, was
one belonging to Alexander* the Great, and was called
Bucephalus. When the king was a boy, Bucephalus was
brought 'before Philip, King of Macedon, Alexander's
father, by Philonicus the Thessalian, and offered for sale
for the large sum of thirteen talents. Beautiful though he
was, Philip wisely declined to buy him before knowing
what manner of horse he was, and ordered him to be led
into a neighboring field, and a groom to mount him.
But it was in vain that the best and most experienced
riders approached the horse; he reared up on his hind
legs, and would suffer none to come near him. So Philo-
nicus the Thessalian was told to take his horse back
whence he came, for the king would have none of him.
Now the boy Alexander stood by, and his heart went
out to the beautiful creature. And he cried out, 'What a
good horse do we lose for lack of skill to mount him!'
Philip the king heard these words, and his soul was vexed
to see the horse depart, but yet he knew not what else to
SPart'of the story of Bucephalus is taken from Plutarch.


do. Then he turned to Alexander and said: 'Do you
think that you, young and untried, can ride this horse
better than those who have grown old in the stables?'
To which Alexander made answer, 'This horse I know I
could ride better than they.' 'And if you fail,' asked
Philip, what price will you pay for your good conceit of
yourself?' And Alexander laughed out and said gaily,
'I will pay the price of the horse.' And thus it was
So Alexander drew near to the horse, and took him by
the bridle, turning his face to the sun so that he might
not be frightened at the movements of his own shadow,
for the prince had noticed that it scared him greatly.
Then Alexander stroked his head and led him forwards,
feeling his temper all the while, and when the horse began
to get uneasy, the prince suddenly leapt on his back, and
gradually curbed him with the bridle. Suddenly, as
Bucephalus gave up trying to throw his rider, and only
pawed the ground impatient to be off, Alexander shook
the reins, and bidding him go, they flew like lightning
round the course. This was Alexander's first conquest,
and as he jumped down from the horse, his father ex-
claimed, 'Go, my son, and seek for a kingdom that is
worthy, for Macedon is too small for such as thee.'
Henceforth Bucephalus made it clear that he served
Alexander and no one else. He would submit quietly to
having the gay trappings of a king's steed fastened on his
head, and the royal saddle put on, but if any groom tried
to mount him, back would go his ears and up would go
his heels, and none dared come near him. For ten years
after Alexander succeeded his father on the throne of
Macedon (B.C. 336), Bucephalus bore him through all his
battles, and was, says Pliny, 'of a passing good and
memorable service in the wars,' and even when wounded,
as he once was at the taking of Thebes, would not suffer
his master to mount another horse. Together these two
swam rivers, crossed mountains, penetrated into the


dominions of the Great King, and farther still into the
heart of Asia, beyond the Caspian and the river Oxus,
where never European army had gone before. Then
turning sharp south, he crossed the range of the Hindoo
Koosh, and entering the country of the Five Rivers, he
prepared to attack Porus, king of India. But age and the
wanderings of ten years had worn Bucephalus out. One
last victory near the Hydaspes or Jelum, and the old
horse sank down and died, full of years and honours (B.c.
326). Bitter were the lamentations of the king for the
friend of his childhood, but his grief did not show itself
only in weeping. The most splendid funeral Alexander
could devise was given to Bucephalus, and a gorgeous
tomb erected over his body. And more than that, Alex-
ander resolved that the memory of his old horse should
be kept green in these burning Indian deserts, thousands
of miles from the Thessalian plains where he was born,
so round his tomb the king built a city, and it was


BARON de Wogan, a French gentleman, whose adventures
with snakes are also curious, was the hero of some en-
counters with the grizzly bear of North America. First,
I would have you' understand what sort of a creature
he had for an opponent. Imagine a monster measuring
when standing upright eight or nine feet, weighing 900
lbs., of a most terrifying appearance, in agility and
strength surpassing all other animals, and cruel in pro-
portion. Like his cousin the brown bear, whom he
resembles in shape, he is a hermit and lives alone in the
immense trackless forests which covered the Rocky Moun-
tains, and indeed (at least in olden times) the greater part
of North America. During the day he sleeps in the
depths of some mountain cavern, and wakes up at dusk to
go out in search of prey. All the beasts of the forest live
in terror of him-even the white bear flies before him.
He would go down to the valleys and attack the immense
herds of buffaloes which grazed there, and which were
powerless against him, in spite of their numbers and
their great horns. They join themselves closely together
and form one compact rank, but the grizzly bear hurls
himself at them, breaks their ranks, scatters them, and
then pursuing them till he catches them up, flings him-
self on the back of one, hugs it in his iron embrace, breaks
its skull with his teeth, and so goes slaying right and left
before he eats one. Before the Baron's first, so to say,
hand-to-hand encounter with a grizzly, he had been long
enough in the country to know something of their ways,


and how worse than useless a shot is unless in a fatal
After the return to her tribe of Calooa, a young Indian
girl, who had been his one human companion in many
days of wandering, the Baron was left with only his mule
Cadi for friend and companion, and naturally felt very
lonely. He set his heart on getting to the top of the
Rocky Mountains, at the foot of which he then happened
to be. Their glittering summits had so irresistible an
attraction for him, that he did not stay to consider the
difficulties which soon beset him at every step. No
sooner did he conquer one than another arose, added to
which the cold of these high regions was intense, and it
constantly snowed. After three days he had to declare
himself not only beaten, but so worn out that he must
take a week's rest if he did not want to fall ill. First it
was necessary to have some sort of a shelter, and by
great good luck he found just at hand a cavern in the
rock, which, without being exactly a palace, seemed as if
it would answer his purpose.
Upon closer examination he found that it had more
drawbacks than he cared about. All round were scat-
tered gnawed bones of animals, and the prints of bear's
claws on the ground left no doubt as to who the last inmate
had been. The Baron, however, preferred to risk an
invasion rather than seek another abode, and prepared
for probable inroads by making across the entrance to
the cave a barricade of branches of oak tied together
with flax, a quantity of which grew near. He then lit
a good fire inside the cave, but as the last tenant had
not considered a chimney necessary, the dense smoke soon
obliged him to beat a hasty retreat. Besides he had to
go out to get supplies for his larder, at present as bare as
Mother Hubbard's. With his usual good luck the Baron
found, first, a large salmon flapping wildly in its effort to
get out of a pool, where the fallen river had left it. This
he killed, and next he shot a young deer about a mile


away and carried it to camp on his back. In order to
preserve these eatables he salted some of them with salt
that he had previously found in a lake near, and had
carefully preserved for future use. He then dug a hole in
a corner of the cave, putting a thick layer of dry hay at
the bottom, and buried his provisions Indian fashion, in
order to preserve them.
As it was still only twelve o'clock, the Baron thought
he would spend the rest of the day in exploring the
neighbourhood; first he examined the cave, which he
found to be formed of big blocks of rock firmly joined
together; above the cave rose the cliff, and in front
of it grew a fir-tree, which served at the same time to
defend the entrance and as a ladder to enable him to
mount the cliff. As he could not take Cadi with him, he
fastened him to the fir-tree by his halter and girth joined
together, so as to leave him plenty of room to graze.
Then he put some eatables in his game bag, and set off
on a tour of discovery. When he had walked about three
hours, and had reached a rocky point from which he
had a fine view of the surrounding country, he sat
down to rest under an oak-tree. He knew nothing more
till the. cold awoke him--it was now six o'clock, and
he had slept three hours. He started with all the haste
he could to get back to his cave and Cadi before dark,
but so tired and footsore was he that he was obliged to
give in and camp where he was, for night was coming on
fast. It was bitterly cold and snow fell constantly, so he
lit a large fire, which at the same time warmed him,
and kept away the bears whom he heard wandering round
the camp most of the night. As soon as the sun was up
in the morning, he set off with all his speed to see what had
become of Cadi; but though fifteen miles is not much to
bears balked of their prey, it is much to a weary and foot-
sore man, and when he had hobbled to within half a mile
of the camp, he saw that it was too late: the bears, whom
he had driven away from his camp in the night with fire-


brands, had scented poor Cadi, and four of them were now
devouring him-father, mother, and two cubs. Imagine
his rage and grief at seeing his only friend and companion
devoured piecemeal before his very eyes !
His first impulse was to fire, but he reflected in time
that they were four to one, and that, instead of avenging
Cadi, he would only share his fate. He decided to wait on
a high rock till the meal was ended. It lasted an hour,
and then he saw the whole family set off to climb the moun-
tain, from the top of which he had been watching them.
They seemed to be making straight for him, and as it would
be certain death to sit and wait for them, he slipped into a
cranny in the rock, hoping that he might not be perceived;
even if he was, he could only be attacked by one at a time.
He had not long to wait: soon all four bears passed in
single file, without smelling him or being aware of him;
for this he had to thank poor Cadi: their horrid snouts
and jaws being smeared with his blood prevented their
scenting fresh prey.
When he had seen them at a safe distance, he ventured
to go down to the cave he could no longer call his own.
Of Cadi, nothing remained but his head, still fastened to
the tree by his halter. The barricade was gone, too, and
from the cave came low but unmistakable growls. With
one bound the Baron was up the tree, and from the tree
on to the cliff. From there he threw stones down before
the entrance to the cave, to induce the present inmate to
come out, in order that he might take possession again.
The bear soon came out, and, perceiving him, made for the
fir-tree. By its slow and languid movements the Baron
saw that it was curiosity more than anger that prompted it,
and, moreover, it was evidently a very old bear, probably
a grandfather, whose children and grandchildren had been
to pay it a visit. Curiosity or not, the Baron had no wish
to make a closer acquaintance, and fired a shot at the brute
by way of a hint to that effect. This immediately turned
his curiosity into wrath. Seizing the fir-tree, which he was


going to use as a ladder, he began to climb up. A second
shothit him in the shoulder. He fell mortally wounded, but
even after a third shot, which took him in the flank, his
dying struggles lasted twenty minutes, during which he tore
at the roots of the fir-trees with his terrific claws. The
Baron did not care to waste any of his bullets, now getting
scarce, in putting out of his pain one of Cadi's murderers.
When finally the bear was dead, the Baron came down to
take possession of his cave, and at the same time of the
bear's skin. On penetrating into the cave, he found that
the rascal had paid him out in his own coin, and, in revenge
for the Baron taking his cave, had eaten his provisions.
The Baron was quits in the end, however, as the bear's
carcase furnished him meat enough for several days. The
Baron cut off pounds of steak, which he salted and dried
over the fire. The useless remains he threw over the
nearest precipice, so that they should not attract wild
beasts, to keep him awake all night with their cries.
Then, having made a huge fire in front of the entrance,
which, moreover, he barricaded with branches, he threw
himself on his bed of dry leaves to sleep the sleep of
Some time passed before the Baron's next encounter
with a bear. He was camping one night in a dense forest,
sleeping, as usual, with one eye and one ear open, and
his weapon at hand, all ready loaded. His rest was broken
by the usual nightly sounds of the forest, of leaves
crunched and branches broken, showing that many of the
inmates of the woods were astir; but he did not let these
usual sounds disturb him, till he heard in the distance
the hoarse and unmistakable cry of the bear; then he
thought it time to change the shot in his gun for something
more worthy of such a foe. This preparation made, he
set off at dawn on his day's march, which up to midday
led him along the bank of a large river. He thought no
more of the blood-curdling howls of the night, till suddenly
he heard from a distance terror-stricken cries. He put


his ear to the ground, Indian fashion, to listen better, and
as the danger, whatever it was, seemed to be coming
nearer, he jumped into a thicket of wild cherry and willow
trees, and waited there in ambush, gun in hand. In a few
minutes, a band of Indians with their squaws appeared
on the opposite bank of the river, and straightway leaped
into the water, like so many frogs jumping into an undis-
turbed swamp. At first he thought he was being attacked,
but soon saw it was the Indians who were being pursued,
and that they all, men and women, were swimming for
dear life; moreover, the women were laden with their
children, one, and,sometimes two, being strapped to their
backs in a sort of cradle of birch bark. This additional
weight made them swim slower than the men, who soon
reached the opposite shore, and then took to their heels
helter-skelter, except three, who remained behind to en-
courage the women.
The Baron at first thought it was an attack of
other Indians, and that it would be prudent to beat a
retreat, when suddenly the same terrible cry that had
kept him awake in the latter part of the night resounded
through the forest, and at the same time there appeared
on a high bank on the other shore a huge mass of a
dirty grey colour, which hurled itself downhill, plunged
into the river, and began to swim across at a terrific speed.
It was a grizzly bear of tremendous size. So fast did it
swim, that in no time it had nearly caught up with the
last of the squaws, a young woman with twin babies at
her back, whose cries, often interrupted by the water
getting into their mouths, would have melted the heart of
a stone. The three Indians who had remained on the
bank did their utmost to stop the bear by shooting their
poisoned arrows at it; but the distance was too great, and
the huge animal came on so fast that in another minute
mother and children would be lost. The Baron could not
remain a spectator of so terrible a scene. He came out
of the. thicket where he was hidden, and frightened the


Indians almost as much as if he had been another bear.
Resting his gun on the trunk of a tree, he fired at the
distance of 125 yards, and hit the animal right on the
head. It dived several times, and the water all round
was dyed red with blood; but the wound was not mortal,
and it continued on its way, only more slowly. After

./''*!.^^ ^ -

%.%;^- lU^i.

urging the Indian, who seemed to be the unhappy woman's
husband, to go into the water to help her-for, through
terror and fatigue, she could no longer swim-the Baron
took deliberate aim again and fired. The second shot,
like the first, hit the bear on the head, but again without
killing it. It stopped the brute, however, long enough to


let the poor woman get to shore, where she fainted, and
was carried away by the men to the forest, leaving the
Baron and the bear to fight out their duel alone. The
Baron had barely time to reload and climb to the top of
one of the trees, when the bear was already at the foot
of it. So near was he when he stood upright, that the
Baron could feel his horrid breath. Up to then the
Baron thought that all bears could climb like squirrels;
fortunately for him he was mistaken. Expecting to be
taken by storm, he fired straight in the creature's face.
The two balls took a different course: one went through
the jaw and came out by the neck, the other went into
the chest. The bear uttered a terrific roar, stiffened
itself in a last effort to reach him, and fell heavily on its
back at the foot of the tree. The Baron might have thought
him dead had he not already seen such wonderful resur-
rections on the part of bears ; but the four shots, though at
first they dazed and troubled the beast, seemed afterwards
to act as spurs, and he rose furious and 1eti.iii-., to the
charge. The Baron tried to use his revolver, but, finding
it impossible, he drew out his axe from his belt, and dealt
a violent blow at the bear's head, which nearly split it in
two, and sent the blood splashing in all directions. The
bear again fell to the ground, this time to rise no more.
The Baron being now convinced that the grizzly bear is
no tree-climber, took his time to draw out his revolver, to
take aim and fire. The shot put out one of the bear's
eyes, the axe had already taken out the other. This
finished him, but his death struggles lasted twenty minutes,
during which the tree was nearly uprooted. When
all was at an end the Baron came down; he cut off the
formidable claws, and broke off the teeth with an axe to
make a trophy in imitation of the Indians, and then pro-
ceeded to skin him and cut him up. The Indians, who
had been watching the combat at a safe distance, now
came back, enthusiastic. They surrounded them, the
victor and the vanquished, and danced a war-dance, sing-


ing impromptu words. The Baron, seated on the bear's
carcase, joined in the chorus ; but the Indians, not content
with that, insisted on his joining in the dance as well.
The rejoicing over, the Baron divided among the twenty
Indians the flesh of the bear-about 15 lb. or 20 lb. fell
to each. The skin he kept to himself, and the claws, of
which the Indians made him a warrior's necklace, hanging
it round his neck like an order of knighthood.'

SThe young reader must no longer expect such adventures as
the Baron de Wogan achieved.


IF any one will watch an ant-hill on a fine day in April,
he will see the little inhabitants begin to rouse them-
selves from their winter's sleep, which lasts from the
month of October, with the red ant at all events. Groups
of them come out to the top of the ant-hill to warm and
thaw themselves in the rays of the sun. Some, more
active and robust, run in and out, waking up the lazy,
hurrying the laggards, and rousing all the little commu-
nity to begin their summer habits. But this activity does
not last long; they are as yet only half awake, and still
numb and torpid from the winter's cold, and the little
throng increases or diminishes as the sun shines or dis-
appears behind a cloud. As two, half-past two, and three
o'clock arrive, they have nearly all disappeared inside the
ant-heap, leaving only a few warriors, of a larger make
Sand tried courage, to watch over the well-being of the little
republic and to close up all openings with tiny chips of
wood, dry leaves, and shreds of moss, so as to hide the en-
trances from human eye. Two or three sentinels wander
round to see that all is secure. And then they enter, and
all is still.
If we come back again in about a week, we shall
find the ants in the middle of their regular migration
to their summer quarters, not far from their winter
ones. This takes place, with the red ant, at all events,
with great regularity every April and October. The red
ant is beyond doubt a slave-owner; the slaves may be
easily recognized from their masters by being of a smaller
make and light yellow colour. As soon as the masters

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs