Citation
The animal story book

Material Information

Title:
The animal story book
Creator:
Lang, Andrew, 1844-1912 ( Editor )
Ford, H. J ( Henry Justice ), 1860-1941 ( Illustrator )
Longmans, Green, and Co ( Publisher )
Spottiswoode & Co ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
London ;
New York ;
Bombay
Publisher:
Longmans, Green, and Co.
Manufacturer:
Spottiswoode and Co.
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
1895
Language:
English
Physical Description:
xiv, 400 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
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
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Bibliography:
Includes bibliographical references.
General Note:
Publisher's advertisements precede and follow text.
Statement of Responsibility:
edited by Andrew Lang ; with numerous illustrations by H.J. Ford.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026840603 ( ALEPH )
ALH3163 ( NOTIS )
02986904 ( OCLC )

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THE

ANIMAL STORY BOOK







WORKS BY ANDREW LANG.

BAN and ARRIERE BAN. Fep. 8vo. 5s, net.

COCK LANE AND COMMON-SENSE. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
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, Orown 8vo. 3s. 6d.

BALLADS OF BOOKS. Edited by ANDREW Lana.
Fep. 8vo. 6s.
' LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS. Fep. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN. With 2 Coloured Plates
and 17 Illustrations. Fep. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.

OLD FRIENDS. Fep. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
LETTERS ON LITERATURE. Fep. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
GRASS OF PARNASSUS. Fep. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.

ANGLING SKETCHES. With 20 Illustrations by
W.G. Burn-Murdoch. Crown 8vo. 3s, 6d.

THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK. Edited by AnpREw
Lana. With 138 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.

THE RED FAIRY BOOK. Edited by ANDREW Lana,
With 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 63.

THE GREEN FAIRY BOOK. Edited by ANDREW
Lane. With 99 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s,

THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK. Edited by AnpREWw
Lang. With 104 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
THE BLUE POETRY BOOK. Edited by ANDREW
Lane. With 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
ScHOOoL Eprrion, without Illustrations, Fep. 8vo. 25. 6d.
SPECIAL Eprrion, printed on Indian paper. With Notes, but
without Ilustrations. Crown 8vo.7s. 6d.

THE TRUE STORY BOOK. Edited by ANDREW
Lana. With 66 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s,

THE RED TRUE STORY BOOK. Edited by ANDREW
Lane. With 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 65.

A MONK OF FIFE: a Romance of the Days of
Jeanne D'Arc. With Illustrations and Initial Letters by
SELWYN IMAGE, Crown 890, 6s.

RRARAR RIAA

LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
London, New York, and Bombay.





















ANDROCLES IN THE ARENA



THE

ANIMAL STORY BooK

EDITED BY

ANDREW LANG
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY i. J. FORD

=a oe

re wien



LONGMANS, GREEN, AND GO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
1896

All rights reserved



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



To

MASTER FREDERICK LONGMAN

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 aim 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 I!

So, Freddy, take this artless rhyme,
And be a Sportsman in your time !



PREFACH

_ 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 Théophile
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



vill PREFACE

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, a 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
story-book.

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



PREFACE ix

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 ee Evelyn Grieve, who
knew the rats.

‘Mr. Gully’ is by Miss oe Campbell, to
whom Mr. Gully belonged.

‘The Dog of Montargis,’ ‘More Faithful than
Favoured,’ and ‘Androcles’ are by Miss Eleanor
Sellar.

Snakes, Bears, Ants, Wolves, ae and some
Lions are by Miss Lang.

‘Two Highland Dogs’ is by Miss Coie 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.









CONTENTS

‘Tom’ : an Adventure in the
Lnfe of a Bear in Paris .

Sai the Panther

The Buzzard and
Priest .

Cowper and his ines :

A Rat Tale

Snake Stories

What Elephants can Do

The Dog of Montargis

How a Beaver builds his
House

The War Horse se of ‘Ale:

. ander. :

Stories about Dears ‘

Stories about Ants

The Taming of an Otter

The Story of Androcles and
the Lion

Monsieur Dumas and ee
Beasts A

The Adventures of Py “pr amus

Lhe Story of a Weasel

Stories about Wolves

Lwo Highland Dogs .

Monkey Tricks and Sally
at the Zoo .

How the Cayman
Killed

The Story of Fido.

Beasts Besieged .

the

Was

PAGE

1
14

25
30
34
43

50 |

kK

56

64

68
71
82
88

91

99
154
160
168
174

191
194

200
205



Mr. Gully

Stories from Pliny

The Strange History
Cagnotte

Still Waters Run Dears 3
or the Dancing Dog

Theo and his Horses : Jane,
Betsy, and Blanche

Madame Théophile and the
Parrot

The Battle of the Mullets
and the Dolphins

Monkey Stories .

Liccentric Bird Builders

The Ship of the Desert

Hame, hame, hame, where I
fain wad be

Nests for Dinner

Fire-eating Djtjan

The Story of the Dog Oscar

Dolphins at Play . ‘i

The Starling of Segringen.

Grateful Dogs :

Gazelle

Cockatoo Stories

The Otter who was rear ed
by a Cat

Stories about Lions

Builders and Weavers

More Faithful than Fa-
voured . :

of

PAGE
209
218

215

219

225

231

233
237
245
248

253
257
259
264
274
278
280
282
289

292
295
307

310



xil CONTENTS

Dotphins, Turtles, and Cod
More about Elephants .
Bungey

Lions and their ‘Ways :

The History of Jacko I.

Signora and Lort .

Of the Linnet, Popinjay or
Parrot, and other Birds
that can Speak

Patch and the Chickens

The Fierce Falcon

Mr. Bolt, the Scotch Terrier

316
321
329
333
338
348

351

B54 |

356

360 |

PAGE j

|
|

A Raven’s Funeral we

A Strange Tiger 7

Haleyons and their Bio-
graphers

The Story of a Fro Og -

The Woodpecker Tapping
on the Hollow Oak Tree.

Dogs Over the Water .

The Capocier and his Mate

Owls and Marmots

Fiagies’ Nests

PAGE
364
368

373
375

384
387
394
396
399



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Tom is invited te the Ball

‘The Minuet was Tom’s greatest Tr emph?

Tom discovered in the Box

‘ They at last all took hold of his Tail :

Terror of the Orang-outang at Sat

Sat has to take a Pull .

The Cats no match for the Buzzard .

The Buzzard carries off Hat and Wig .

‘ Seeing such a number of Rais, he left his Horses aa ran
for his Life’

The Rats in the Larder

The Baron kills the Snake F

The Baron slays the Horned Snake ,

How the Indians make the Horned Snake accent jis Danger

The Elephant helps the Gardener

De Narsac recognises his Friend’s Doy

The Dog flies at Macuire in the presence - the ang

The Baron kills the Bear . 2 : ,

The Grizaly . ;

Androcles in the Lion’s Case

Androcles in the Arena

‘Monsieur Dumas, may I deegniniodate 4 you wih my " Monkey i
and ny Parrot?’ : :

The Auvergnat and his Monkey .

The Last of the Laidmanoirs and Matemoreite Dex) farce

Dumas arrives at Stora with nis Vulture

‘It’s a regular Kennet’

Jugurtha becomes Diogenes .

Pritchard and the Hens

‘ Pritchard reappeared next moment ities a Hore m he Mouth’ z

Cartouche outwits Pyranvus

Mademoiselle de Laistre and her Weasel

PAGE

12
16
17
21
27
28

37
41
44
46
48
53
57
61
15
79
93
97

107
111
120
127
131
185
142
145
156
161



xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

‘When Day broke’

The Death of the Famous Wolf sf Gaianaan

‘ The Long Vigil’ . : : ,
The Capture of the Cayman.

The Wounding of Fido
The Dream of the Hungry Lion .
Cagqnotte comes out of his Skin

‘And what do you Think she Saw’ : z
Blanche telling Ghost Stories to Jane in the Stable u 4
How the Dolphins helped the Fishermen to catch the Mullets .
Two Oran Otans ‘ :

The Baboons who stole the Paar Man’ 8 Banner

Birds’ Nests for Dinner
‘In the full enjoyment of a lar 70 tighied Log ¢ on the Diana a

room Carpet’ :

‘Oscar would charge and rout pions
‘ Oscar felt rather Frightened’

‘ Oh, Oscar, Oscar lad, what have you Done? Oe
The Boy goes to School on the Dolphin’s back .
Dumas finds Joseph standing on Gazelle’s back .
Dumas brings Gazelle to No. 109 eee St.-Denis
The Lion caught in the Pit . : A
The Ambush
‘All Three stopped e gaze - iit the Man who anon ‘ put
himself in their Path { , : :

‘And pinned Him to the Ground’

‘Long, Long Ago.” The Hlephant dr Cams of jes old
Companions .

_The Elephant falls on his hnaes ehiie the lit tle Sonik epee
Bungey at the Spanish Ambassadors House ‘ F
The Hottentot noticed a huge Lion lying im the Water .
Annoyance of the Captain on finding his Flask of Rum upset.
Lort refuses to Share with the Signora *

A Raven's Funeral :

The Tiger and his Friend : é

Love’s disgraceful Behaviour out Sheoung
The Sole Result of his Day’s Sport
Mademoiselle Camargo becomes a Barometer
The Faithful Spaniel

PAGE
166
171
187
197
201
207
217
221
227
234
238
241
258

261
265
269
271
275
284
288
297
300

303
314

323
327
331
335
339
349
365
369
B77
380
381
389



‘TOM’!

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF
A BHAR IN PARIS

Some sixty years ago and more, a well-known artist named
Décamps 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 ménagerie
in his studio where a bear, a monkey, a tortoise, anda
frog lived (more or less) in peace and harmony together.

The bear’s name was ‘Tom,’ the monkey was called
‘Jacko I.,’? 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

1 From Alexandre Dumas.
2 To distinguish him from Jacko II., a monkey belonging to Tony
Johannot, the painter,
B



2 ADVENTURE IN .THEH LIFE OF A BEAR

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 Décamps 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 !’

‘Tll 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 Décamps.

‘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 Décamps, 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 .
you,



ui

















TOM IS INVITED TO THE BALL













ADVENTURE IN THH LIFE OF A BHAR 5

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
Décamps.

‘Rather!’ 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 ?’

‘Odéon 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.



6 ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR

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
Décamps 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 lengih, 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 ?’

‘Not, in 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 recognise him?’

‘Upon my word I don’t.’

‘Odry!’! whispered Fan mysteriously ; ‘Odry, in his
costume from ‘“ The Bear and the Pacha”! ’

1 A well-known actor of the time.



ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BHAR 7

‘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 recognise 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 : ‘ Iknow
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 finda 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



8 ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR

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 hadrecruited acolumbine 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
‘ Grroonnn.’

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



ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR 9

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

ii filly
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Ae We: sae



‘THE MINUET WAS TOM’S GREATEST TRIUMPH’

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



to ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR

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.

‘J 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!’ And she shook him by the
shoulder.

‘Grrrooonnn!’? |

‘All vight, allright! This isn’ta 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?’

_ §Grrroooonnn.’

“Come, come, the Odéon Theatre isn’t an inn; come,
be off! Oh, that’s what you’re after, is it? Fe, Monsieur
Odry, fie! I shall call the guard; the inspector hasn't
gone to bed yet. Ah, indeed! 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-
opener.

‘All right, my dear, here Iam. 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!’











ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR 11

‘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.’

‘ Grrrooonnn—Grrrooonnn—Grrroconnn—’

‘Go on, give it him well!’

‘I say, sergeant,’ said one of the men, ‘it strikes me
he’s a veal 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.’

‘ Grrrooonnn.’

‘Here’s the lantern,’ said a man; ‘now then, throw
some light on the prisoner.’

The soldier obeyed.

‘Tt 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.’



12 ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BHAR

‘ Grrrooonnn.’

‘There, you see, he agrees.’

‘Hallo!’ exclaimed one of the soldiers.
‘What's the matter ?’



TOM DISCOVERED IN THE BOX

‘He has a little bag hung round his neck,’
‘Open the bag.’

‘A card.’

‘Read the card.’

The soldier took it and read :



ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BHAR 13

‘My name is Tom. I live at No. 109 Rue Faubourg
St.-Denis. I have five francs in my purse. Two fora cab,
and three for whoever takes me home.’

‘True enough ; there are the five franes,’ 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 asa 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.’

‘ Agreed.’

Half an hour later they stood atthe door if 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 recognise him ?’

‘Why, I should rather think so. It’s Monsieur
Décamps’ bear !’

The same day, Odry the actor received a bill for little
cakes, amounting to seven francs and a half.



14

SAf THE PANTHER}

Asout 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
Africa. -

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. Tor 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,

1 From Loudon’s Magazine of Natural History.



SAI THE PANTHER 15 -

and his teeth and claws were filed so that he should not hurt
anyone, even in play. When he gota 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. Sat 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-



16 SAf THE PANTHER

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

Ty a
,





























‘THEY AT LAST ALL TOOK HOLD OF HIS TAIL’

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







TERROR OF THE ORANG-OUTANG AT sai







SAI THE PANTHER 19
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 Sai
behave himself.

At this time it was settled that Sal 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, andif 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

C2



20 SAT THE PANTHER

only been on the sea instead of im 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 Sai 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,
Sai 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!

For some reason or other the. vessel lay at anchor for
nearly two months in the river Gaboon, and Sai 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
at 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. Jf the monkey took some time to

























































































) St Sel ROR

TARA Onn ane
‘die SW 7 =)
SRSA a
















ae ee ib

ree)"
: Pe Uji y
x 5 RS

po

oi cs aditiee gy : tA ZZ 7 a
yy ° 2 gh EE / z y \ ee g
Hie Ve a ae de yea



sal HAS TO TAKE A PILL



















SAI THE PANTHER 23

recover from his fright, it was very long before Sai 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, Sat 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



24 SAT THE PANTHER

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 Sai 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.



25

THE BUZZARD AND. THE PRIEST! .

Asout 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 neighbouring
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.



26 THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST

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 ery 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



THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST 27

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



inn
(es





THE CATS NO MATCH FOR THE BUZZARD

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 sawa red cap on any of the peasants’









28 THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST

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
carry both wigs and













caps to a tall tree in a
park near by, and hang
them all over it, like a
new kind of fruit.

As may be imagined,
a bird so bold made
many enemies, and was
often shot at by the
keepers, but for a long
time it appeared to bear
a charmed life, and no-
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 astrange and
clever bird this buzzard
was, saw him on the back
of a fox which he had at-

THE BUZZARD CARRIES OFF BAT and wie tacked for wantof 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



THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST 29

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.



39

COWPER AND HIS HARES!

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, aud 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

} From Bingley’s British Quadrupeds.



COWPER AND HIS HARES 31

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



32 COWPER AND HIS HARES

hard as he could towards the window. Puss was, perhaps,
the pleasantést 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 taming, 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



COWPER AND HIS HARES 33

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
months.



A RAT TALE

Hueay 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
Hugegy’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
night.

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 nota 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 —



A RAT TALE 35

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
walking 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 w rithout 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 stvoke 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

D%



36 A RAT TALE

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.

Tt 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 bitin
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.

Tt was some weeks before Huggy fully recovered him-
self, and more weeks still before he could screw wp his
courage to appeai 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
Hugey to accompany him on his various exploits, which
was considered a great privilege among the older rats,









‘sPEING SUCH A NUMBER OF RATS, HE LEFT HIS HORSES AND-RAN FOR HIS LIFE?






A RAT TALE 39

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. Asa
matter of course, they went in, and had a good mealoff a
loaf which the.careless table-maid had left standing on the
shelf. 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
time.

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 ereep noiselessly 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 enough noise to waken a town. But the
leader had gelected his party well, and not a sound was
made till the proper time came. Once up the ladder, each
raé took it in turn to slip in behind the hen, and gently
roll one egg ata 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 goto; sothey 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



40 A RAT TALE

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





A RAT

nibbled allround 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, ‘Tl 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
untouched.

The cook was up betimes
that morning, so that she
might bury the corpses before
breakfast. Her dog (the
same who had robbed Hugey
of his tail), according to his
custom, followed her into the
larder. On seeing the plate
just as she had left it the

TALE

{ s

41







42 A RAT TALE

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
again.

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 recognised the
centre one to be Huggy the Tailless.

Next morning my little Irish terrier, Jick, brought him
to me inhis 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.



43

SNAKE STORIES

In 1850 Baron de Wogan, a French gentleman, left his
native land and set sail for North Ameriea, 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 thatit 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



44 SNAKH STORIES

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
which this serpent gets
its name.

As soon as the Baron
had found enough gold,
' he bought a mule whom

% he called Cadi, and
whom he became very
fond of, and set off into
the backwoodsin search
of sport and adventure.

Poor Cadi eventually






















yy pul

THE BARON KILLS THE SNAKE



SNAKE STORIES 48
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



46 SNAKE STORIES

























Tl



tains the same poison. It
crawls like other snakes,
but when it attacks it
forms itself into a circle,
and then suddenly un-
bending itself flings itself
like a lion on its victim,



of this snake was that
it gave out a strong
odour of musk, like
the sea serpent in Mr.
Kipling’s book.

The most horrible
serpent thatthe Baron
encountered and slew
was the horned snake;
he learned afterwards
from the Indians that
it is the most deadly
of all the snakeg of
North America, for
not only is its bite
venomous, but its tail
has a sting which con-




Til
(7


















SNAKE STORIES 47

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 an 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 1b, but in vain, as its ereat head could not get into the
hole.

‘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



48 SNAKE STORIES

and through, though without instantly killing him.
Quick as lightning he wound: himself round a branch,
lashing out with 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,



HOW THE INDIANS MAKE THE HORNED SNAKE DISGORGE HIS DINNER

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



SNAKE STORIES 49

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 eges 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
cured.

Besides these snakes the Baron learned from the
Indians that there igs 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.



WHAT HLEPHANTS CAN DO

Lone, 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



WHAT HLHPHANTS CAN DO 51

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 Hastern warfare,
though it was not till the third century z.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 atthe 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
BEB



. 52 WHAT ELEPHANTS CAN DO

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 wouldrock 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



Sie

te

fees

THE

ELEPHANT IELPS

THE





GARDENER






WHAT ELEPHANTS CAN DO 55

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 laboured 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.



THH DOG OF MONTARGIS

For 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. arly 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 DOG OF MONTARGIS 57

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,







bE NARSAC RECOGNISES HIS FRIEND'S DOG

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



58 THE DOG OF MONTARGIS

ordered food and water to bé 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 unaaccountable 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



THE DOG.OF MONTARGIS 59

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. MHurriedly 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
buried.

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
sidé 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.



60 THE DOG OF MONTARGIS

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 Hotel 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. Ata 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 opponent, 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 FLIES AT MACAIRE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING






THE DOG OF MONTARGIS 63

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. Atthat 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.



64

HOW A BHAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE!

Ir 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.



HOW A BEAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE 6s

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 muchas 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 itis 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

F



66 HOW A BEAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE

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 spread neatly over the inside of their houses.
All that a beaver does is beautifully finished as well ag
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



HOW A BEAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE 6%

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.

F2



68

THE WAR HORSE OF ALEXANDER!

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 batitle-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 neighbouring 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

1 Part ‘of the story of Bucephalus is taken from Plutarch.



THE WAR HORSH OF ALEXANDER — 69

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,
‘T will pay the price of the horse.’ And thus it was
settled. i

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 (x.c. 836), 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



yo THE WAR HORSE OF ALEXANDER

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. Butage 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 (8.0.
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
called

‘ BUCEPHALIA.’



74

STORIES ABOUT BEARS

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,



42 STORIES ABOUT BHARS

and how worse than useless a shot is unless in a fatal
spot.

j Atter 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 il. 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 inmaite
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



STORIES ABOUT BEARS 43

3

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 dugahole 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 go 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 mah, 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-



14 STORIES ABOUT BEARS

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 hiseblood 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, percéiving him, made for the
fir-tree. By its slow and languid movements the Baron
saw thatit 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










STORIES ABOUT BEARS 77

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 outin 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
exhaustion.

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



78 STORIES ABOUT BHAES

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, gunin hand. Ina 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



STORIES ABOUT BEARS 79

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



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



80 STORIES ABOUT BHARS

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. Hxpecting 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 returned 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
finishéd 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-



STORIES ABOUT BEARS 81

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 tb. or 20 |b. 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.!

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



STORIES ABOUT ANTS

Ir 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 atall 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
and 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 recognised from their masters by being of a smaller
make and light yellow colour. As soon as the masters



Full Text
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The Baldwin Library





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ANIMAL STORY BOOK




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ANDROCLES IN THE ARENA
THE

ANIMAL STORY BooK

EDITED BY

ANDREW LANG
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY i. J. FORD

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re wien



LONGMANS, GREEN, AND GO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
1896

All rights reserved
Copyright in United States of America by
Lonemans, GREEN, & Co. 1896
To

MASTER FREDERICK LONGMAN

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 aim 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 I!

So, Freddy, take this artless rhyme,
And be a Sportsman in your time !
PREFACH

_ 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 Théophile
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
vill PREFACE

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, a 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
story-book.

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
PREFACE ix

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 ee Evelyn Grieve, who
knew the rats.

‘Mr. Gully’ is by Miss oe Campbell, to
whom Mr. Gully belonged.

‘The Dog of Montargis,’ ‘More Faithful than
Favoured,’ and ‘Androcles’ are by Miss Eleanor
Sellar.

Snakes, Bears, Ants, Wolves, ae and some
Lions are by Miss Lang.

‘Two Highland Dogs’ is by Miss Coie 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.



CONTENTS

‘Tom’ : an Adventure in the
Lnfe of a Bear in Paris .

Sai the Panther

The Buzzard and
Priest .

Cowper and his ines :

A Rat Tale

Snake Stories

What Elephants can Do

The Dog of Montargis

How a Beaver builds his
House

The War Horse se of ‘Ale:

. ander. :

Stories about Dears ‘

Stories about Ants

The Taming of an Otter

The Story of Androcles and
the Lion

Monsieur Dumas and ee
Beasts A

The Adventures of Py “pr amus

Lhe Story of a Weasel

Stories about Wolves

Lwo Highland Dogs .

Monkey Tricks and Sally
at the Zoo .

How the Cayman
Killed

The Story of Fido.

Beasts Besieged .

the

Was

PAGE

1
14

25
30
34
43

50 |

kK

56

64

68
71
82
88

91

99
154
160
168
174

191
194

200
205



Mr. Gully

Stories from Pliny

The Strange History
Cagnotte

Still Waters Run Dears 3
or the Dancing Dog

Theo and his Horses : Jane,
Betsy, and Blanche

Madame Théophile and the
Parrot

The Battle of the Mullets
and the Dolphins

Monkey Stories .

Liccentric Bird Builders

The Ship of the Desert

Hame, hame, hame, where I
fain wad be

Nests for Dinner

Fire-eating Djtjan

The Story of the Dog Oscar

Dolphins at Play . ‘i

The Starling of Segringen.

Grateful Dogs :

Gazelle

Cockatoo Stories

The Otter who was rear ed
by a Cat

Stories about Lions

Builders and Weavers

More Faithful than Fa-
voured . :

of

PAGE
209
218

215

219

225

231

233
237
245
248

253
257
259
264
274
278
280
282
289

292
295
307

310
xil CONTENTS

Dotphins, Turtles, and Cod
More about Elephants .
Bungey

Lions and their ‘Ways :

The History of Jacko I.

Signora and Lort .

Of the Linnet, Popinjay or
Parrot, and other Birds
that can Speak

Patch and the Chickens

The Fierce Falcon

Mr. Bolt, the Scotch Terrier

316
321
329
333
338
348

351

B54 |

356

360 |

PAGE j

|
|

A Raven’s Funeral we

A Strange Tiger 7

Haleyons and their Bio-
graphers

The Story of a Fro Og -

The Woodpecker Tapping
on the Hollow Oak Tree.

Dogs Over the Water .

The Capocier and his Mate

Owls and Marmots

Fiagies’ Nests

PAGE
364
368

373
375

384
387
394
396
399
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Tom is invited te the Ball

‘The Minuet was Tom’s greatest Tr emph?

Tom discovered in the Box

‘ They at last all took hold of his Tail :

Terror of the Orang-outang at Sat

Sat has to take a Pull .

The Cats no match for the Buzzard .

The Buzzard carries off Hat and Wig .

‘ Seeing such a number of Rais, he left his Horses aa ran
for his Life’

The Rats in the Larder

The Baron kills the Snake F

The Baron slays the Horned Snake ,

How the Indians make the Horned Snake accent jis Danger

The Elephant helps the Gardener

De Narsac recognises his Friend’s Doy

The Dog flies at Macuire in the presence - the ang

The Baron kills the Bear . 2 : ,

The Grizaly . ;

Androcles in the Lion’s Case

Androcles in the Arena

‘Monsieur Dumas, may I deegniniodate 4 you wih my " Monkey i
and ny Parrot?’ : :

The Auvergnat and his Monkey .

The Last of the Laidmanoirs and Matemoreite Dex) farce

Dumas arrives at Stora with nis Vulture

‘It’s a regular Kennet’

Jugurtha becomes Diogenes .

Pritchard and the Hens

‘ Pritchard reappeared next moment ities a Hore m he Mouth’ z

Cartouche outwits Pyranvus

Mademoiselle de Laistre and her Weasel

PAGE

12
16
17
21
27
28

37
41
44
46
48
53
57
61
15
79
93
97

107
111
120
127
131
185
142
145
156
161
xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

‘When Day broke’

The Death of the Famous Wolf sf Gaianaan

‘ The Long Vigil’ . : : ,
The Capture of the Cayman.

The Wounding of Fido
The Dream of the Hungry Lion .
Cagqnotte comes out of his Skin

‘And what do you Think she Saw’ : z
Blanche telling Ghost Stories to Jane in the Stable u 4
How the Dolphins helped the Fishermen to catch the Mullets .
Two Oran Otans ‘ :

The Baboons who stole the Paar Man’ 8 Banner

Birds’ Nests for Dinner
‘In the full enjoyment of a lar 70 tighied Log ¢ on the Diana a

room Carpet’ :

‘Oscar would charge and rout pions
‘ Oscar felt rather Frightened’

‘ Oh, Oscar, Oscar lad, what have you Done? Oe
The Boy goes to School on the Dolphin’s back .
Dumas finds Joseph standing on Gazelle’s back .
Dumas brings Gazelle to No. 109 eee St.-Denis
The Lion caught in the Pit . : A
The Ambush
‘All Three stopped e gaze - iit the Man who anon ‘ put
himself in their Path { , : :

‘And pinned Him to the Ground’

‘Long, Long Ago.” The Hlephant dr Cams of jes old
Companions .

_The Elephant falls on his hnaes ehiie the lit tle Sonik epee
Bungey at the Spanish Ambassadors House ‘ F
The Hottentot noticed a huge Lion lying im the Water .
Annoyance of the Captain on finding his Flask of Rum upset.
Lort refuses to Share with the Signora *

A Raven's Funeral :

The Tiger and his Friend : é

Love’s disgraceful Behaviour out Sheoung
The Sole Result of his Day’s Sport
Mademoiselle Camargo becomes a Barometer
The Faithful Spaniel

PAGE
166
171
187
197
201
207
217
221
227
234
238
241
258

261
265
269
271
275
284
288
297
300

303
314

323
327
331
335
339
349
365
369
B77
380
381
389
‘TOM’!

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF
A BHAR IN PARIS

Some sixty years ago and more, a well-known artist named
Décamps 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 ménagerie
in his studio where a bear, a monkey, a tortoise, anda
frog lived (more or less) in peace and harmony together.

The bear’s name was ‘Tom,’ the monkey was called
‘Jacko I.,’? 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

1 From Alexandre Dumas.
2 To distinguish him from Jacko II., a monkey belonging to Tony
Johannot, the painter,
B
2 ADVENTURE IN .THEH LIFE OF A BEAR

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 Décamps 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 !’

‘Tll 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 Décamps.

‘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 Décamps, 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 .
you,
ui

















TOM IS INVITED TO THE BALL







ADVENTURE IN THH LIFE OF A BHAR 5

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
Décamps.

‘Rather!’ 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 ?’

‘Odéon 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.
6 ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR

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
Décamps 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 lengih, 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 ?’

‘Not, in 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 recognise him?’

‘Upon my word I don’t.’

‘Odry!’! whispered Fan mysteriously ; ‘Odry, in his
costume from ‘“ The Bear and the Pacha”! ’

1 A well-known actor of the time.
ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BHAR 7

‘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 recognise 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 : ‘ Iknow
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 finda 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
8 ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR

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 hadrecruited acolumbine 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
‘ Grroonnn.’

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
ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR 9

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

ii filly
PIN \'p

7
wh
of
ye Nia

t ss
Ae We: sae



‘THE MINUET WAS TOM’S GREATEST TRIUMPH’

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
to ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR

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.

‘J 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!’ And she shook him by the
shoulder.

‘Grrrooonnn!’? |

‘All vight, allright! This isn’ta 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?’

_ §Grrroooonnn.’

“Come, come, the Odéon Theatre isn’t an inn; come,
be off! Oh, that’s what you’re after, is it? Fe, Monsieur
Odry, fie! I shall call the guard; the inspector hasn't
gone to bed yet. Ah, indeed! 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-
opener.

‘All right, my dear, here Iam. 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!’








ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR 11

‘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.’

‘ Grrrooonnn—Grrrooonnn—Grrroconnn—’

‘Go on, give it him well!’

‘I say, sergeant,’ said one of the men, ‘it strikes me
he’s a veal 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.’

‘ Grrrooonnn.’

‘Here’s the lantern,’ said a man; ‘now then, throw
some light on the prisoner.’

The soldier obeyed.

‘Tt 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.’
12 ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BHAR

‘ Grrrooonnn.’

‘There, you see, he agrees.’

‘Hallo!’ exclaimed one of the soldiers.
‘What's the matter ?’



TOM DISCOVERED IN THE BOX

‘He has a little bag hung round his neck,’
‘Open the bag.’

‘A card.’

‘Read the card.’

The soldier took it and read :
ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BHAR 13

‘My name is Tom. I live at No. 109 Rue Faubourg
St.-Denis. I have five francs in my purse. Two fora cab,
and three for whoever takes me home.’

‘True enough ; there are the five franes,’ 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 asa 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.’

‘ Agreed.’

Half an hour later they stood atthe door if 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 recognise him ?’

‘Why, I should rather think so. It’s Monsieur
Décamps’ bear !’

The same day, Odry the actor received a bill for little
cakes, amounting to seven francs and a half.
14

SAf THE PANTHER}

Asout 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
Africa. -

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. Tor 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,

1 From Loudon’s Magazine of Natural History.
SAI THE PANTHER 15 -

and his teeth and claws were filed so that he should not hurt
anyone, even in play. When he gota 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. Sat 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-
16 SAf THE PANTHER

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

Ty a
,





























‘THEY AT LAST ALL TOOK HOLD OF HIS TAIL’

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




TERROR OF THE ORANG-OUTANG AT sai

SAI THE PANTHER 19
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 Sai
behave himself.

At this time it was settled that Sal 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, andif 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

C2
20 SAT THE PANTHER

only been on the sea instead of im 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 Sai 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,
Sai 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!

For some reason or other the. vessel lay at anchor for
nearly two months in the river Gaboon, and Sai 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
at 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. Jf the monkey took some time to






















































































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SAI THE PANTHER 23

recover from his fright, it was very long before Sai 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, Sat 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
24 SAT THE PANTHER

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 Sai 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.
25

THE BUZZARD AND. THE PRIEST! .

Asout 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 neighbouring
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.
26 THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST

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 ery 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
THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST 27

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



inn
(es





THE CATS NO MATCH FOR THE BUZZARD

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 sawa red cap on any of the peasants’






28 THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST

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
carry both wigs and













caps to a tall tree in a
park near by, and hang
them all over it, like a
new kind of fruit.

As may be imagined,
a bird so bold made
many enemies, and was
often shot at by the
keepers, but for a long
time it appeared to bear
a charmed life, and no-
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 astrange and
clever bird this buzzard
was, saw him on the back
of a fox which he had at-

THE BUZZARD CARRIES OFF BAT and wie tacked for wantof 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
THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST 29

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.
39

COWPER AND HIS HARES!

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, aud 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

} From Bingley’s British Quadrupeds.
COWPER AND HIS HARES 31

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
32 COWPER AND HIS HARES

hard as he could towards the window. Puss was, perhaps,
the pleasantést 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 taming, 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
COWPER AND HIS HARES 33

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
months.
A RAT TALE

Hueay 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
Hugegy’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
night.

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 nota 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 —
A RAT TALE 35

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
walking 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 w rithout 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 stvoke 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

D%
36 A RAT TALE

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.

Tt 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 bitin
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.

Tt was some weeks before Huggy fully recovered him-
self, and more weeks still before he could screw wp his
courage to appeai 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
Hugey to accompany him on his various exploits, which
was considered a great privilege among the older rats,






‘sPEING SUCH A NUMBER OF RATS, HE LEFT HIS HORSES AND-RAN FOR HIS LIFE?
A RAT TALE 39

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. Asa
matter of course, they went in, and had a good mealoff a
loaf which the.careless table-maid had left standing on the
shelf. 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
time.

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 ereep noiselessly 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 enough noise to waken a town. But the
leader had gelected his party well, and not a sound was
made till the proper time came. Once up the ladder, each
raé took it in turn to slip in behind the hen, and gently
roll one egg ata 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 goto; sothey 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
40 A RAT TALE

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


A RAT

nibbled allround 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, ‘Tl 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
untouched.

The cook was up betimes
that morning, so that she
might bury the corpses before
breakfast. Her dog (the
same who had robbed Hugey
of his tail), according to his
custom, followed her into the
larder. On seeing the plate
just as she had left it the

TALE

{ s

41




42 A RAT TALE

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
again.

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 recognised the
centre one to be Huggy the Tailless.

Next morning my little Irish terrier, Jick, brought him
to me inhis 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.
43

SNAKE STORIES

In 1850 Baron de Wogan, a French gentleman, left his
native land and set sail for North Ameriea, 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 thatit 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
44 SNAKH STORIES

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
which this serpent gets
its name.

As soon as the Baron
had found enough gold,
' he bought a mule whom

% he called Cadi, and
whom he became very
fond of, and set off into
the backwoodsin search
of sport and adventure.

Poor Cadi eventually






















yy pul

THE BARON KILLS THE SNAKE
SNAKE STORIES 48
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
46 SNAKE STORIES

























Tl



tains the same poison. It
crawls like other snakes,
but when it attacks it
forms itself into a circle,
and then suddenly un-
bending itself flings itself
like a lion on its victim,



of this snake was that
it gave out a strong
odour of musk, like
the sea serpent in Mr.
Kipling’s book.

The most horrible
serpent thatthe Baron
encountered and slew
was the horned snake;
he learned afterwards
from the Indians that
it is the most deadly
of all the snakeg of
North America, for
not only is its bite
venomous, but its tail
has a sting which con-




Til
(7















SNAKE STORIES 47

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 an 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 1b, but in vain, as its ereat head could not get into the
hole.

‘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
48 SNAKE STORIES

and through, though without instantly killing him.
Quick as lightning he wound: himself round a branch,
lashing out with 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,



HOW THE INDIANS MAKE THE HORNED SNAKE DISGORGE HIS DINNER

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
SNAKE STORIES 49

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 eges 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
cured.

Besides these snakes the Baron learned from the
Indians that there igs 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.
WHAT HLEPHANTS CAN DO

Lone, 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
WHAT HLHPHANTS CAN DO 51

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 Hastern warfare,
though it was not till the third century z.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 atthe 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
BEB
. 52 WHAT ELEPHANTS CAN DO

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 wouldrock 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
Sie

te

fees

THE

ELEPHANT IELPS

THE





GARDENER
WHAT ELEPHANTS CAN DO 55

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 laboured 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.
THH DOG OF MONTARGIS

For 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. arly 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 DOG OF MONTARGIS 57

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,







bE NARSAC RECOGNISES HIS FRIEND'S DOG

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
58 THE DOG OF MONTARGIS

ordered food and water to bé 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 unaaccountable 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
THE DOG.OF MONTARGIS 59

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. MHurriedly 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
buried.

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
sidé 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.
60 THE DOG OF MONTARGIS

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 Hotel 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. Ata 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 opponent, 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 FLIES AT MACAIRE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING
THE DOG OF MONTARGIS 63

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. Atthat 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.
64

HOW A BHAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE!

Ir 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.
HOW A BEAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE 6s

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 muchas 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 itis 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

F
66 HOW A BEAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE

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 spread neatly over the inside of their houses.
All that a beaver does is beautifully finished as well ag
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
HOW A BEAVER BUILDS HIS HOUSE 6%

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.

F2
68

THE WAR HORSE OF ALEXANDER!

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 batitle-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 neighbouring 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

1 Part ‘of the story of Bucephalus is taken from Plutarch.
THE WAR HORSH OF ALEXANDER — 69

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,
‘T will pay the price of the horse.’ And thus it was
settled. i

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 (x.c. 836), 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
yo THE WAR HORSE OF ALEXANDER

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. Butage 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 (8.0.
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
called

‘ BUCEPHALIA.’
74

STORIES ABOUT BEARS

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,
42 STORIES ABOUT BHARS

and how worse than useless a shot is unless in a fatal
spot.

j Atter 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 il. 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 inmaite
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
STORIES ABOUT BEARS 43

3

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 dugahole 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 go 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 mah, 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-
14 STORIES ABOUT BEARS

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 hiseblood 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, percéiving him, made for the
fir-tree. By its slow and languid movements the Baron
saw thatit 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

STORIES ABOUT BEARS 77

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 outin 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
exhaustion.

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
78 STORIES ABOUT BHAES

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, gunin hand. Ina 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
STORIES ABOUT BEARS 79

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



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
80 STORIES ABOUT BHARS

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. Hxpecting 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 returned 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
finishéd 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-
STORIES ABOUT BEARS 81

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 tb. or 20 |b. 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.!

1 The young reader must no longer expect such adventures as
the Baron de Wogan achieved.
STORIES ABOUT ANTS

Ir 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 atall 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
and 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 recognised from their masters by being of a smaller
make and light yellow colour. As soon as the masters
STORIES ABOUT ANTS 83

have fixed the day of their ‘ flitting, they begin probably
to ensure the consent of the slaves by violently seizing
them, and rolling them into a ball, and then grasping them
firmly they set off towards the summer quarters at full
gallop, if an ant can be said to gallop. The master ant
is in a great hurry to get rid of his living burden ; he goes
straight ahead in spite of all obstacles, avoiding all in-
terruptions and delays, and as soon as he arrives at
the summer ant-heap, plunges in, deposits the slave all
breathless and terrified from his forced journey, and sets
off back for another.

Darwin, who closely studied the migrations of the
ant, says that they differ in their means of transport:
one sort is carried by the slaves ; the other, our friend the
red ant, scientifically called ‘formica sanguinea,’ carries
his property carefully in his mouth. It seems strange
to us that the master should carry the slave, but no
stranger than it would appear to the ants if they should
begin to study our habits, that some of us should sit in
a carriage and be driven by the coachman. The slave,
once installed in his summer quarters, seldom appears
again before the autumn exodus, unless in the event of
some disturbance in the camp, or its invasion by some ants
of a hostile tribe, when the slaves take part in the defence..
and especially watch over the young ones. The slaves |
seem to be carpenters and miners, and warriors when
necessary. They build the dwelling, repair it, of which
it has constant need, and defend it in case of attack with
dauntless courage. But their principal duties seem to be
to take charge of the development of the young, and to
feed the masters—no small task, as there seem to be ten
masters to one slave, and they seem incapable of eating
unless fed. Experiments have been. tried of removing
the slaves from them, and though sugar and every sort of
tempting food is put down beside them, they will starve
rather than help themselves. In fact, one wonders what
the masters can be left for but to drive the slaves, which

: a2
84 STORIES ABOUT ANTS

they do with great ardour. A French gentleman who
spent years studying the habits of the ants, tried one
day, by way of experiment, to take a slave away from its
master; he had great difficulty in removing it from its
bearer, who struggled furiously and clung to its burden.
When at last the slave was set free, instead of profiting by
its liberty, it turned round and round in a circle as if dazed,
then hid itself under a deadleaf. A master ant presently
came along, an animated conversation took place, and the
slave ant was ‘seized upon and borne offagain to bondage.
The same gentleman another day observed a slave ant ven-
ture out to the entrance to the ant-hillto enjoy the warmth
of the sun. A great master ant spied it and set to with
blows of its horns (antenne they are called) to persuade it
that that was not its place. Finding the slave persisted
in not understanding, the master resorted to force, and
seizing it by its head, without taking the trouble to roll it
up, aS they are generally carried, he hurled it into the
ant-hill, where no doubt it received the punishment it
deserved.

If we came back to the ant-heap a week after our last
visit, we should find the migration finished if the weather
has been fine; but ants, especially after their first awak-
ing, are extremely sensitive to wind and rain, and only
work well in fine weather. They are equally affected by
weather before a storm: even though the sun may be
shining, they will remain in the ant-heap with closed
doors. If it is shut before midday, the storm will burst
before evening; if it is shut before eight or nine in the
morning, the rain will fall before noon.

All this time we have. been speaking only of the red
ant; but there are any number of different kinds in Europe,
not to mention the enormous ants of the tropics, who
march in such armies that the people fly before them,
deserting their villages. Different species differ totally
in their habits and ways of building and living. The
greater number of species live apart, and not in a com-
STORIES ABOUT ANTS 85

munity with an elaborately constructed house like the
red ant. The little black ant is the commonest in this
country, and the busiest and most active. She is the
first to awake, in March, sometimes in February, and the
~ last to sleep, sometimes not till November. Their instincts
and habits of activity, however, are apt to deceive them,
and they get up toosoon. The French gentleman already
mentioned observed an instance of the kind. On Feb-
ruary 24, after an unusually mild winter, the sun shone as
if it were already summer, and it was difficult to persuade
oneself that it was not, except that there were no leaves
on the trees, no birds singing in the branches, and no
insects humming in the air. First our friend went to
examine the red-ant-heap, which was closed as usual, all
the inhabitants being still plunged in their winter sleep.
The black ants, on the contrary, were all awake and
lively, and seemed persuaded that the fine weather had
come to stay. Their instincts deceived them, for that night
it froze ; rain, snow, and fog succeeded each other in turn,
and when next he visited the ant-heap he found them
lying in masses, stiff and dead, before the entrance to
their dwelling.
_ Between the red and black ants there is great enmity,
and terrible combats take place. When they fight they
grasp each other like men wrestling, and each tries to
throw the other down, and break his back. The con-
quered remain on the battlefield, nearly broken in two,
and feebly waving their paws, till they slowly expire in
agonies. The conqueror, on the other hand, carries away
his dead to burial and his wounded to the camp, and then,
entering triumphantly himself, closes the doors after him.
The gentleman already quoted witnessed the funeral of
an ant. He had passed the ant-heap about a quarter
of an hour, and left, as he thought, all the inhabitants
behind him, when he saw what appeared to be an enor-
mous red ant making for home. On stooping to look
more closely, he'saw that it was one ant carrying another.
86 STORIES ABOUT ANTS

He succeeded in separating them from each other, and
then saw that the burden was neither a slave nor a
prisoner, but a dead comrade being carried back to the
ant-heap for a decent burial ; for if ants fall into the hands
of the enemy, they are subjected if alive to the most cruel
tortures and if dead to mutilations. Usually, when an
ant is relieved of anything it is carrying—whether it be a _
slave, a wounded ant, or some eatable—it will set off at
full speed and let the burden be picked up by the next
passing ant; but this one made no attempt to run away,
and only turned round and round in a perplexed and irre-
solute way, till its dead friend was put down beside it,
then it seized its precious burden and set off homewards
with it. Travellers even tell that in Algeria there are ant
cemeteries near the ant-heaps.

No lover of animals doubts that they have a language
of their own, which we are too stupid or deaf to under-
stand. Anyone who studies the ways of the ants sees,
beyond a doubt, that they too have a way of communicat-
ing with each other. For instance, an ant was one day
seen at some distance from the ant-hill, and evidently in
no hurry to go back to it. In the middle of the path she
perceived a large dead snail. She began by going round
and round it, then climbed on its back, and walked all
over it. Having satisfied herself that it was a choice
morsel, but too large for her to carry home alone, she
set off at once to seek help. On the way she met one of
her companions; she ran at once to her; they rubbed
their antenne together, and evidently an animated con-
versation took place, for the second ant set off immediately
in the direction of the snail. The first one continued on
her way home, communicating with every ant she met in
the same way; by the time she disappeared inside the
ant-heap, an endless file of busy little ants were on their
way to take their share of the spoil. In ten minutes the
snail was completely covered by the little throng, and by
the evening every trace of it had vanished.
STORIES ABOUT ANTS 87

Recent observations have proved that the time-hon-
oured idea of the ant stormg up provision for the winter
ig a delusion, a delusion which La Fontaine’s famous
fable, ‘Le Fourmis et la Cigale,’ has done much to
spread and confirm. It is now known, as we have al-
ready seen, that ants sleep all winter, and that the food
-which we constantly see them laden with is for immediate
consumption in the camp. They eat all kinds of insects
—hornets and cockchafers are favourite dishes—but the
choicest morsel is' a fine fat green caterpillar, caught
alive. They seize it, some by its head, some by its tail ;
it struggles, it writhes, and sometimes succeeds in freeing
itself from its enemies; but they do not consider them-
selves beaten, and attack it again. Little by little it
becomes stupefied from the discharges of formic acid
the ants throw out from their bodies, and presently it
succumbs to their renewed forces. Finally, though the
struggle may last an hour or more, it is borne to the
ant-heap and disappears, to be devoured by the inmates.
Perhaps these short ‘ Stories about Ants’ may induce some
of you to follow the advice of the Preacher, and ‘go
to the ant’ yourselves for more.
88

THE TAMING OF AN OTTER}

OrtERS used once to be very common in England in the
neighbourhood of rivers, and even in some instances of
the sea, but in many places where they once lived in great
_ numbers they have now ceased to exist. They destroy
large quantities of fish, though they are so dainty that
they only care for the upper parts of the body. If the
rivers are frozen and no fish are to be had, they will eat
poultry, or even lambs ; ‘and if these are not to be found,
they can get on quite well for a long time on the bark of
trees or on young branches.

Fierce though otters are when brought to bay, they
can easily be tamed if they are caught young enough.
More than a hundred years ago the monks of Autun, in
France, found a baby otter only a few weeks old, and took
it back to the convent, and fed it upon milk for nearly two
months, when it was promoted to soup and fish and
vegetables, the food of the good monks. It was not very
sociable with strange animals, but it made great friends
with a dog and cat who had known it from a baby, and
they would play together half the day. At night it had a
bed in one of the rooms, but in the day it always pre-
ferred a heap of straw when it was tired of running about.
Curious to say, this otter was not at all fond of the water,
and it was very seldom that it would go near a basin of
water that was always carefully left near its bed. When
it did, it was only to wash its face and front paws, after
which it would go for a run in the courtyard, or curl

1 From Bingley’s British Quadrupeds.
THE TAMING OF AN OTTER 89

itself to sleep in the sun. Indeed it seemed to have such
an objection to water of all kinds, that the monks won-
dered whether it knew how to swim. So one day, when
they were not so busy as usual, some of the brothers took
it off toa good-sized pond, and waited to see what it would
do. The otter smelt about cautiously for a little, and then,
recognising that here was something it had seen before,
ducked its head and wetted its feet as it did in the morn-
ings. This did not satisfy the monks, who threw it right
in, upon which it instantly swam to the other shore, and
came round again to its friends.

All tame otters are not, however, as forgetful of the
habits and manners of their race as this one was, and in
some parts they have even been taught to fish for their
masters instead of themselves. Careful directions are
given for their proper teaching, and a great deal of patience
is needful, because if an animal is once frightened or
madeangry, there is not much hope of training it afterwards.
To begin with, it must be fed while it is very young on
milk or soup, and when it gets older, on bread and the
heads of fishes, and it must get its food from one person
only, to whom it will soon get accustomed and attached.
The next step is to have a sort of leather bag made, stuffed
with wool and shaped like a fish, large enough for the
animal to take in its mouth. Finally, he must wear a collar
formed on the principle of a slip noose, which can tighten
when a long string that is fastened to it, is pulled. This
is, of course, to teach the otter to drop the fish after he
has caught it.

The master then leads the otter slowly behind him,
till by this means he has learned how to follow, and then
he has to be made to understand the meanings of certain
words and tones. So the man says to him, ‘Come here,’
and pulls the cord; and after this has been repeated
several times, the otter gradually begins to connect the
words with the action. Then the string is dropped, and
the otter trots up obediently without it. After that, the
go THE TAMING OF AN OTTER

sham fish is placed on the ground, and the collar, which
seems rather like a horse’s bit, is pulled so as to force the
mouth open, while the master exclaims ‘Take it!’ and
when the otter is quite perfect in this (which most likely
will not happen for a long time) the collar is loosened,
and he is told to ‘ drop it.’

Last of all, he is led down toa river with clear shallow
water, where a small dead fish is thrown in. This he
catches at once, and then the cord which has been
fastened to his neck is gently pulled, and he gives up his
prize to his master. Then live fish are put in instead of
the dead one, and when they are killed, the otter is given
the heads as a reward.

Of course some masters have a special talent for
teaching these things, and some otters are specially apt
pupils. This must have been the case with the otter
belonging to a Mr. Campbell who lived near Inverness.
It would sometimes catch eight or ten salmon ina day,
and never attempted to eat them ; while aman in Sweden,
called Nilsson, and his family, lived entirely on the fish
that was caught for them by their otter. When he is in
his wild state, the otter lives in holes in the rocks, or among
the roots of trees, though occasionally he has been known
to burrow under ground, having his door in the water, and °
only a very tiny window opening landwards, so that he
may not die of suffocation.
gI

THE STORY OF ANDROCLES AND THE LION

Many hundred years ago, there lived in the north of Africa
a poor Roman slave called Androcles. His master held
great power and authority in the country, but he was a
hard, cruel man, and his slaves led a very unhappy life.
They had little to eat, had to work hard, and were often
punished and tortured if they failed to satisfy their master’s
caprices. For long Androcles had borne with the hard-
ships of his life, but at last he could bear it no longer,
and he made up his mind to run away. He knew that it
was a great risk, for he had no friends in that foreign
country with whom he could seek safety and protection ;
and he was aware that if he was overtaken and caught
he would be put to a cruel death. But even death, he
thought, would not be so hard as the life he now led, and
it was possible that he might escape to the sea-coast, and
somehow some day get back to Rome and find a kinder
master.

So he waited till the old moon had waned to a tiny
gold thread in the skies, and then, one dark night, he
slipped out of his master’s house, and, creeping through
the deserted forum and along the silent town, he passed
out of the city into the vineyards and corn-fields lying
outside the walls. In the cool night air he walked rapidly.
From time to time he was startled by the sudden barking
of a dog, or the sound of voices coming from some late
revellers in the villas which stood beside the road along
which he hurried. But as he got further into the country
these sounds ceased, and there was silence and darkness
92 STORY OF ANDROCLES AND THE LION

all round him. When the sun rose he had already
gone many miles away from the town in which he had
been so miserable. But now a new terror oppressed him
—the terror of great loneliness. He had got into a wild,
barren country, where there was no sign of human habi-
tation. A thick growth of low trees and thorny mimosa
bushes spread out before him, and as he tried to thread
his way through them he was severely scratched, and his
scant garments torn by the long thorns. Besides the
sun was very hot, and the trees were not high enough to
afford him any shade. He was worn out with hunger
and fatigue, and he longed to lie down and rest. But to
lie down in that fierce sun would have meant death, and
he struggled-on, hoping to find some wild berries to eat,
and some. water to quench his thirst. But when he came
out of the scrub-wood, he found he was as badly off as
before. A long, low line of rocky cliffs rose before him,
but there were no houses, and he saw no hope of finding
food. He was so tired that he could not wander further,
and seeing a cave which looked cool and dark in the side
of the cliffs, he crept into it, and, stretching his tired
limbs on the sandy floor, fell fast asleep.

Suddenly he was awakened by a noise that made his
blood run cold. The roar of a wild beast sounded in his
ears, and as he started trembling and in terror to his feet,
he beheld a huge, tawny lion, with great glistening white
teeth, standing in the entrance of the cave. It was im-
possible to fly, for the lion barred the way. Immovable
with fear, Androcles stood rooted to the spot, waiting for
the lion to spring on him and tear him limb from limb.

But the lion did not move. Making a low moan as if
in great pain, it stood licking its huge paw, from which
Androcles now saw that blood was flowing freely. Seeing
the poor animal in such pain, and noticing how gentle
it seemed, Androcles forgot his own terror, and slowly: ~
approached the lion, who held up its paw as if asking
the man to help it. Then Androcles saw that a monster


ANDROCLES IN THE LION’S CAVE

STORY OF ANDROCLES AND THE LION 05

thorn had entered the paw, making a deep cut, and causing
great pain and swelling. Swiftly but firmly he drew the
thorn out, and pressed the swelling to try to stop the
flowing of the blood. Relieved of the pain, the lion
quietly lay down at Androcles’ feet, slowly moving his
great bushy tail from side to side as a dog does when it
feels happy and comfortable.

From that moment Androcles and the lion became
devoted friends. After lying for a little while at his feet,
licking the poor wounded paw, the lion got up and limped
out of the cave. A few minutes later it returned with a
little dead rabbit in its mouth, which it put down on the
floor of the cave beside Androcles. The poor man, who
was starving with hunger, cooked the rabbit somehow,
and ate it. In the evening, led by the lion, he found a
place where there was a spring, at which he quenched his
dreadful thirst.

And go for three years Androcles and the lion lived
together in the cave ; wandering about the woods together

‘by day, sleeping together at night. For in summer the
cave was cooler than the woods, and in winter it was
warmer.

At last the longing in Androcles’ heart to live once
more with his fellow-men became so great that he felt he
could remain in the woods no longer, but that he must
return to a town, and take his chance of being caught and
killed as a runaway slave. And so one morning he left
the cave, and wandered away in the direction where he
thought the sea and the large towns lay. But in a few
days he was captured by a band of soldiers who were

. patrolling the country in search of fugitive slaves, and he
was put in chains and sent as a prisoner to Rome.

Here he was cast into prison and tried for the crime
of having run away from his master. He was condemned
asa punishment to be torn to pieces by wild beasts on
the first public holiday, in the great circus at Rome.

When the day arrived Androcles was brought: out

_of his prison, dressed in a simple, short tunic, and with a
96 STORY OF ANDROCLES AND THE LION

scarf round his right arm. He was given a lance with
which to defend himself—a forlorn hope, as he knew that
he had to fight with a powerful lion which had been kept
without food for some days to make it more savage and
bloodthirsty. As he stepped into the arena of the huge
circus, above the sound of the voices of thousands on
thousands of spectators he could hear the savage roar of
the wild beasts from their cages below the floor on which
he stood.

Of a sudden the silence of expectation fell on the
spectators, for a signal had been given, and the cage con-
taining the lion with which Androcles had to fight had
-been shot up into the arena from the floor below. A
moment later, with a fierce spring and a savage roar, the
creat animal had sprung out of its cage into the arena,
and with a‘bound had rushed at the spot where Androcles
stood trembling. But suddenly, as he saw Androcles, the
lion stood still, wondering. Then quickly but quietly it
approached him, and gently moved its tail and licked
the man’s hands, and fawned upon him like a great dog.
‘And Androcles patted the lion’s head, and gave-a sob of
recognition, for he knew that it was his own lion, with
whom he had lived and lodged all those months and years.

And, seeing this strange and wonderful meeting between
the man and the wild beast, all the people marvelled, and
the emperor, from his high seat above the arena, sent for
Androcles, and bade him tell. his story and explain this
mystery. And the emperor was so delighted with the
story that he said Androcles was to be released and to be
made a free man from that hour. And he rewarded him
with money, and ordered that the lion was to belong to
him, and to accompany him wherever he went.

And when the people in Rome met Androcles walking,
followed by his faithful lion, they used to point at them
and say, ‘ That is the lion, the guest of the man, and that
is the man, the doctor of the lion.’ }

1 Apparently this nice lion did not bite anybody, when he took
his walks abroad.. Or, possibly, he was muzzled.—Ep.














ANDROOLES IN THE ARENA

99

MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS
I

Most people have heard of Alexandre Dumas, the great
French novelist who wrote ‘The Three Musketeers’
and many other delightful historical. romances. Besides
being. a great novelist, M. Dumas was a most kind and
generous man—kind both to human beings and to animals.
He had a great many pets, of which he gives us the his-
tory in one of his books. Here are some of the stories
about them in his own words.

I was living, he says, at Monte Cristo (this was the
name of his villa at St.-Germains); I lived there alone,
except for the visitors I received. I love solitude, for
solitude is necessary to anyone who works much. How-
ever, I do not like complete loneliness; what I love is
that of the Garden of Eden, a solitude peopled with animals.
Therefore, in my wilderness at Monte Cristo, without
being quite like Adam in every way, I had a kind of small
earthly paradise.

This is the list of my animals. I had a number of
dogs, of which the chief was Pritchard. I had a vulture
named Diogenes; three monkeys, one of which bore the
name of a celebrated translator, another that of a famous
novelist, and the third, which was a female, that of a
charming actress. We will call the writer Potich, the
novelist the Last of the Laidmanoirs, and the lady Made-
moiselle Desgarcins. I hada great blue and yellow macaw
called Buvat, a green and yellow parroquet called Papa
Everard, a cat called Mysouff, a golden pheasant called

w 2
too MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

Lucullus, and finally, a cock called Caesar. Let us give
honour where honour is due, and begin with the history
of Pritchard.

Thad an acquaintance named M. Lerat, who having
heard me say I had no dog to take out shooting, said,
‘Ah! how glad I am to be able to give you something
you will really like! A friend of mine who lives in Scot-
land has sent me a pointer of the very best breed. I will
give him to you. Bring Pritchard,’ he added to his two
little girls.

How could I refuse a present offered so cordially ?
Pritchard was brought in.

He was an odd-looking dog to be called a pointer !
He was long-haired, grey and. white, with ears nearly
erect, mustard-coloured eyes, and a beautifully feathered
tail. Except for the tail, he could scarcely be called a
handsome dog.

M. Lerat seemed even more delighted to give the
present than I was to receive it, which showed what a
good heart he had.

‘The children call the dog Pritchard,’ he said; ‘but if
you don’t like the name, call him what you please.’

’ Thad no objection to the name; my opinion was that
if anyone had cause to complain, it was the dog himself.
Pritchard, therefore, continued to be called Pritchard.
He was at this time about nine or ten months old, and
ought to begin his education, so I sent him to a game-
keeper named Vatrin to learn his duties. But, two hours
after I had sent Pritchard to Vatrin, he was back again at
my house. He was not made welcome ; on the contrary,
he received a good beating fromm Michel, who was my
gardener, porter, butler, and confidential servant all in
one, and who took Pritchard back to Vatrin. Vatrin was
astonished; Pritchard had been shut up with the other
dogs in the kennel, and he must have jumped over the
enclosure, which was a high one. THarly the next morn-
ing, when the housemaid had opened my front door, there
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 101

was Pritchard sitting outside. Michel again beat the dog,
and again took him back to Vatrin, who this time put a
collar round his neck and chained him wp. Michel came
back and informed me of this severe but necessary
measure. Vatrin sent a message to say that I should not
see Pritchard again until his education was finished.
The next day, while I was writing in a little summer- .
house in my garden, I heard a furious barking. It was
Pritchard fighting with a great Pyrenean sheepdog which
another of my friends had just given me. This dog was
named Mouton, because of his white woolly hair like a
sheep’s, not on account of his disposition, which was re-
markably savage. Pritchard was rescued by Michel from
Mouton’s enormous jaws, once more beaten, and for the
third time taken back to Vatrin. Pritchard, it appears,
had eaten his collar, though how he managed it Vatrin
never knew. He was now shut up in a shed, and unless
he ate the walls or the door, he could not possibly get
out. He tried both, and finding the door the more
digestible, he ate the door; and the next day at dinner-
time, Pritchard walked ‘into the dining-room wagging his
plumy tail, his yellow eyes shining with satisfaction.
This time Pritchard was neither beaten nor taken back;
we waited till Vatrin should come to hold a council of
war as to what was to be done with him. The next day
Vatrin appeared.

‘Did you ever see such a rascal?’ he began. Varin
was so excited that he had forgotten to say ‘Good morn-
ing’ or ‘ How do you do?’

‘T tell you,’ said he, ‘ that rascal Pritchard puts me in
such a rage that I have crunched the stem of my pipe
three times between my teeth and broken it, and my wife
has had to tie it up with string. He'll ruin me in pipes,
that brute—that vagabond !’

‘Pritchard, do you hear what is said about you?’
’ said I.

Pritchard heard, but perhaps did not think it mattered








102 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS.

much about Vatrin’s pipes, for he only looked at me
affectionately and beat upon the ground with his tail.

‘T don’t know what to do with him,’ said Vatrin. ‘If
I keep him he'll eat holes in the house, I suppose ; yet I
don’t like to give him up—he’s only a dog. It’s humi-
liating for a man, don’t you know ?’

‘T'll tell you what, Vatrin,’ said I. ‘We will take him
down to Vésinet, and go for a walk through your pre- _
serves, and then we shall see whether it is worth while
to take any more trouble with this vagabond, as you call
him.’

‘T call him by his name. It oughtn’t to be Pritchard ;
it should be Bluebeard, it should be Blunderbore, it.
should be Judas Iscariot ! ’

Vatrin enumerated all the greatest villains he could
think of at the moment.

I called Michel.

‘Michel, give me my shooting shoes and gaiters; we
will go to Vésinet to see what Pritchard can do.’

_ ‘You will see, sir,’ said Michel, ‘that you will be better
pleased than you think.’ For Michel always had a liking
for. Pritchard.

We went down a steep hill to Vésinet, Michel following
with Pritchard on a leash. At the steepest place I turned
round. ‘Look there upon the bridge in front of us,
Michel,’ I said, ‘there is a dog very like Pritchard.’
Michel looked behind him. There was nothing but the
leather straps in his hand; Pritchard had cut it through
with his teeth, and was now standing on the bridge,
amusing himself by looking at the water through the
railing.

‘He ts avagabond!’ said Vatrin. ‘Look! where is he
off to now?’

‘He has gone,’ said I, ‘to see what my neighbour
Corrége has got for luncheon.’ Sure enough, the next
moment Pritchard was seen coming out of M. Corrége’s
back door, pursued by a maid servant with a broom. He
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 103

had a veal cutlet in his mouth, which he had just taken
out of the frying-pan.

‘Monsieur Dumas!’ cried the maid, ‘Monsieur
Dumas! stop your dog!’

We tried ; but Pritchard passed between Michel and
me like a flash of lightning,

‘It seems,’ said Michel, ‘that he likes his veal under-
done.’

‘My good woman,’ I said to the cook, who was still
pursuing Pritchard, ‘I fear that you are losing time, and
that you will never see your cutlet again.’

‘Well, then, let me tell you, sir, that you have no right
to keep and feed a thief like that.’

‘It is you, my good woman, who are feeding him to-
day, not I.’

‘Me!’ said the cook, ‘it’s—it’s M. Corrége. And
what will M. Corrége say, I should like to know?’

“He will say, like Michel, that it seems Pritchard likes
his veal underdone.’

‘Well, but he’ll not be pleased—he will think it’s my
fault.’

‘Never mind, I will invite your master to luncheon
with me.’

‘ All the same, if your dog goes on like that, he will
come. toa bad end. That is all I have to say—he will
come to a bad end.’ And she stretched out her broom
in an attitude of malediction towards the spot, where
Pritchard had disappeared.

We three stood looking at one another. ‘ Well,’ said I,
‘we have lost Pritchard.’

‘We'll soon find him,’ said Michel.

We therefore set off to find Pritchard, whistling and
calling to him, as we walked on towards Vatrin’s shooting
ground. This search lasted for a good half-hour, Pritchard
not taking the slightest notice of our appeals. At last
Michel stopped.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘look there! Just come and look.’
104 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘Well, what?’ said I, going to him.

‘Look!’ said Michel, pointing. I followed the direc-
tion of Michel’s finger, and saw Pritchard in a perfectly
immovable attitude, as rigid as if carved in stone.

‘Vatrin,’ said I,‘ come here.’ Vatrincame. I showed
him Pritchard.

‘I think he is making a point,’ said Vatrin. Michel
thought so too.

‘But what is he pointing at?’ I asked. We cau-
tiously came nearer to Pritchard, who never stirred.

‘He certainly is pointing,’ said Vatrin. Then making
a sign to me—‘ Look there!’ he said. ‘Do you see any-
thing?’

‘ Nothing.’

‘What! you don’t see a rabbit sitting? If I only had
my stick, I'd knock it on the head, and it would make a
nice stew for your dinner.’ _

‘Oh!’ said Michel, ‘if that’s all, Tl cut you a
stick,’

‘Well, but Pritchard might leave off pointing.’

‘No fear of him—I'll answer for him—unless, indeed,
the rabbit goes away.’

Vatrin proceeded to cut a stick. Pritchard never
moved, only from time to time he turned his yellow eyes
upon us, which shone like a topaz.

‘Have patience,’ said Michel. ‘Can’t you see that
M. Vaitrin is cutting a stick?’ And Pritchard seemed to
understand as he turned his eye on Vatrin.

‘You have still time to take off the branches,’ said
Michel.

’ When the branches were taken off and the stick was
quite finished, Vatrin approached cautiously, took a good
aim, and struck with all his might into the middle of
the tuft of grass where the rabbit was sitting. He had
killed it!

Pritchard darted in upon the rabbit, but Vatrin took it
from him, and Michel slipped it into the lining of his coat.
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 105

This pocket had already held a good many rabbits in its
time !

Vatrin turned to congratulate Pritchard, but he had
‘disappeared.

‘ He’s off to find another rabbit,’ said Michel.

And accordingly, after ten minutes or so, we came
upon Pritchard making another point. This time Vatrin
had a stick. ready cut; and after a minute, plunging his
hands into a brier bush, he pulled out by the ears a second
rabbit.

‘There, Michel,’ he said, ‘put that into your. other
pocket.’

‘Oh,’ said Michel, ‘there’s room for five more in this

one.’
‘Hallo, Michel! people don’t say those things before
a magistrate.’ And turning to Vatrin I added, ‘ Let us try
once more, Vatrin—-the number three is approved by the
gods.’ ,

‘May be,’ said Vatrin, ‘but perhaps it won't be ap-
proved by M. Guérin.’

M. Guérin was the police inspector.

Next time we came upon Pritchard pointing. Vatrin
said, ‘I wonder how long he would stay like that ;’ and
he pulled out his watch.

‘Well, Vatrin,’ said I, ‘you shall try the experiment,
as it is in your own vocation; but I am afraid I have not
the time to spare.’ .

Michel and I then returned home. Vatrin followed
with Pritchard an hour afterwards.

‘Five-and-twenty minutes!’ he called out as soon as
he was within hearing. ‘And if the rabbit had not gone
away, the dog would have been there now.’ .

‘Well, Vatrin, what do you think of him?’

‘Why, I say he is a good pointer ; he has only to learn
to retrieve, and that you can teach him yourself. I need
not keep him any longer.’

‘Do you hear, Michel?’
106 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘Oh, sir,’ said Michel, ‘he can do that already. He
retrieves like an angel!’

This failed to convey to me an exact idea of the way
in which Pritchard retrieved. But Michel threw a hand-
kerchief, and Pritchard brought it back. He then threw
one of the rabbits that Vatrin carried, and Pritchard
brought back the rabbit. Michel then fetched an egg and
placed it on the ground. Pritchard retrieved the egg as
he had done the rabbit and the handkerchief.

‘Well,’ said Vatrin, ‘the animal knows all that human
skill can teach him. He wants nothing now but practice.
And when one thinks,’ he added, ‘ that if the rascal would
only come in to heel, he would be worth twenty pounds
if he was worth a penny.’ ,

‘True,’ said I with a sigh, ‘but you may give up hope,
Vatrin; that is a thing he will never consent to.’

IT

I think that the time has now come to tell my readers
a little about Mademoiselle Desgarcins, Potich, and the
Last of the Laidmanoirs. Mademoiselle Desgarcins was a
tiny monkey; Ido not know the place of her birth, but
I brought her from Havre, where I had gone—I don’t
know why—perhaps to look at the sea. But I thought
I must bring something home with me from Havre. I
was walking there on the quay, when at the door of a bird-
fancier’s shop I saw a green monkey and a blue and yellow
macaw.- The monkey put its paw through the bars of its
cage and caught hold of my coat, while the blue parrot
turned its head and looked at me in such an affectionate
manner that I stopped, holding the monkey’s paw with
one hand, and scratching the parrot’s head with the other.
The little monkey gently drew my hand within reach of
her mouth, the parrot half shut its eyes and made a little
purring noise to express its pleasure.
MONSIHUR DUMAS AND: HIS BHASTS 107

‘Monsieur Dumas,’ said the shopman, coming out
with the air of a man who was more decided to sell than

: \

AN



h

NN SK

‘MONSIEUR DUMAS, MAY I ACCOMMODATE YOU WITH MY MONKEY AND
MY PARROT ??

Iwas to buy; ‘Monsieur Dumas, may I accommodate
you with my monkey and my parrot?’ It would have
108 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

been more to the purpose if he had said, ‘Monsieur
Dumas, may I incommode you with my monkey and my
parrot?’ However, after a little bargaining, I bought
both animals, as well as a cage for the monkey and a
perch for the parrot; and as soon as I arrived at home,
I introduced them to Michel.

‘This,’ said Michel, ‘is the green monkey of Senegal
— Cercopithecus sabea.’

I looked at Michel in the greatest astonishment. ‘Do
you know Latin, Michel?’

‘I don’t know Latin, but I know my “ Dictionary of
Natural History.” ’

‘Oh, indeed! And do you know what bird this is?’
I asked, showing him the parrot.

‘To be sure I know it,’ said Michel. ‘It is the blue
and yellow macaw—WMacrocercus arararanna. Oh, sir,
why did you not bring a female as well as a male?’

‘What is the use, Michel, since parrots will not breed
in this country?’

‘There you make a mistake, sir; the blue macaw will
breed in France.’

‘In the south, perhaps?’

‘Tt need not be in the south, sir.’

‘Where then ?’

‘ At Caen.’

‘At Caen? I did not know Caen had a climate which
permits parrots to rear their young. Go and fetch my
gazetteer.’

‘You will soon see,’ said Michel as he brought it. I
read: ‘Caen, capital of the department of Calvados, upon
the Orne and the Odon: 223 kilométres west of Paris,
41,806 inhabitants.’

‘You will see,’ said Michel, ‘ the parrots are coming.’

‘Great trade in plaster, salt, wood—taken by English
in 1346—retaken by the French &c., &c.—never mind the
date—That is all, Michel.’

‘What! Your dictionary never says that the arara-
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 10g

ranna, otherwise called the blue macaw, produces young
at Caen ?’

‘No, Michel, it does not say that here.’

‘What a dictionary ! Just wait till I fetch you mine
and you will see.’

Michel returned in a few minutes with his book of
Natural History.

‘You will soon see, sir,’ he said, opening his dictionary
in his turn. ‘Parrot—here it is—parrots are monogamous.’

‘As you know Latin, Michel, of course yen know
what monogamous means.’

‘That means that they can sing Sales soit I
suppose ?’

‘Well, no, Michel, not exactly. It means that they
have only one “ wife.”’’

‘Indeed, sir? That is because they talk like us most
likely. Now, I have found the place: “ It was long
believed that parrots were incapable of breeding in Europe,
but the contrary has been proved on a pair of blue
macaws which lived at Caen. M. Lamouroux furnishes
the details of these results.” ’

‘Let us hear the details which M. Lamouroux
furnishes.’

‘These macaws, from March 1818 until August 1822,
including a period of four years and a half, laid, in all,
sixty-two eggs,””’

‘Michel, I never said they did not lay eggs ; what I said
was—’

‘“ Out of this number,”’ continued Michel in a loud
voice, ‘twenty-five young macaws were hatched, of
which only ten died. The others lived and continued
perfectly healthy.” ’

‘Michel, I confess to having entertained false ideas
on the subject of macaws.’

‘“ They laid at all seasons of the year,” ’ continued
Michel, ‘“ and more eggs were hatched in the latter than in
the former years.” ’
110 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘Michel, I have no more to say.’

‘«The number of eggs in the nest varied. There
have been as many as six at a time.” ’

‘Michel, I yield, rescue or no rescue!’

‘Only,’ said Michel, shutting the book, ‘you must be
careful not to give them bitter almonds or parsley.’

‘Not bitter almonds,’ I answered, ‘ because they con-
tain prussic acid; but why not parsley % 2?

Michel, who had kept his thumb in the page, oes
the book. ‘“ Parsley and bitter almonds,”’’ he read,
‘“are a violent poison to parrots.”

‘All right, Michel, I shall remember.’

I remembered so well, that some time after, hearing
that M. Persil had died suddenly (persil being the French
for parsley), I exclaimed, much shocked : ‘ Ah! poor man,
how unfortunate! He must have been eating parrot!’
However, the news was afterwards contradicted.

The next day I desired Michel to tell the carpenter
to make a new cage for Mademoiselle Desgarcins, who
would certainly die of cramp if left in her small travel-
ling cage. But Michel, with a solemn face, said it was
unnecessary. ‘For,’ said he, ‘I am sorry to tell you, sir,
that a misfortune has happened. A weasel has killed
the golden pheasant. You will, however, have it for your
dinner to-day.’

I did not refuse, though the prospect of this repast
caused me no great pleasure. I am very fond of game,
but somehow prefer pheasants which have been shot to
those killed by weasels.

‘Then,’ said I, ‘if the cage is empty, let us put in the
monkey.’ We brought the little cage close to the big
cage, and opened both doors. The monkey sprang into
her new abode, bounded from perch to perch, and then
came and looked at me through the bars, making grimaces
and uttering plaintive cries.

‘She is unhappy without a companion,’ said Michel.

‘Suppose we give her the parrot?’

~
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS x11

‘You know that little boy, an Auvergnat, who .comes
here with his monkey asking for pennies. If I were you,
sir, I would buy that monkey.’

‘And why that monkey rather than another ?’

‘He has been so well educated and is so gentle. He
has a cap with a feather, and he takes it off when you give
him a nut or a bit of sugar.’



‘Can he do anything else ?’

‘He can fight a duel.’

‘Is that all?’

‘No, he can also catch fleas on his master.’

‘But, Michel, do you think that that youth would part
with so useful an animal ?’
112 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘We can but ask him, and there he is at this moment!’
And he called to the boy to come in. The monkey was
sitting on a box which the little boy carried on his back,
and when his master took off his cap, the monkey did the
same. It had a nice gentle little face, and I remarked to
Michel that it was very like a well-known translator of
my acquaintance.

‘If I have the happiness to become the owner of this
charming animal,’ I continued, ‘we will call it Potich.’
And giving Michel forty francs, I left him to make his
bargain with the little Auvergnat.

*

ITI

Thad not entered my study since my return from Havre,
and there is always a pleasure In coming home again
after an absence. I was glad to come back, and looked
about me with a pleased smile, feeling sure that the fur-
niture and ornaments of the room, if they could speak,
would say they were glad to see me again. As I glanced
from one familiar object to another, I saw, upon a seat
by the fire, a thing like a black and white muff, which I
had never seen before. When I came closer, I saw that
the muff was a little cat, curled up, half asleep, and purring
loudly. I called the cook, whose name was Madame
Lamarque. She came in after a minute or two.

‘So sorry to have kept you waiting, but you see, sir, I
was making a white sauce, and you, who can cook your-
self, know how quickly those sauces curdle if you are not
looking after them.’

‘Yes, I know that, Madame Lamarque; but what I
do not know is, where this new guest of mine comes
from.’ And I pointed to the cat.

‘Ah, sir!’ said Madame Daraardae in a sentimental
tone, ‘ that is an antony.’

‘An antony, Madame Lamarque ! © What is that?’ ”
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 113

‘In other words, an orphan—a foundling, sir.’

‘ Poor little beast!’

‘T felt sure that would interest you, sir.’

‘And where did you find it, Madame Lamarque ?’

‘In the cellar—I heard a little cry—miaow, miaow,
miaow! and I said to myself, “That must be a cat!” ’

‘No! did you actually say that?’

‘Yes, and I went down myself, sir, and found the poor
little thing behind the sticks. Then I recollected how
you had once said, “We ought to have a cat in the
house.”’’

‘Did I say so? I think you are making a mistake,
Madame Lamarque.’

‘Indeed, sir, you did say so. Then TI said to myself,
“ Providence has sent us the cat which my master wishes
for,’ And now there is one question I must ask you, sir.
“What shall we call the cat?’

‘We will call it Mysouff, if you have no objeetion.
And please be careful, Madame Lamarque, that it does not
eat my quails and turtle-doves, or any of my little foreign
birds.’

‘If M. Dumas is afraid of that, said Michel, coming
in, ‘there is a method of preventing cats from eating
birds.’

‘And what is the method, my good friend ?’

‘You have a bird in acage. Very well. You cover
three sides of the cage, you make a gridiron red-hot, you
put it against the uncovered side of the cage, you let out
the cat, and you leave the room. The cat, when it makes
its spring, jumps against the hot gridiron. The hotter
the gridiron is the better the cat is afterwards.’

‘Thank you, Michel. And what of the troubadour
and his monkey ?’

‘To be sure; I was coming to tell you about that.
It is all right, sir; you are to have Potich for forty francs,
only you must give the boy two white mice and a guinea-
pig in return,’

q
114 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘But where am I to find two white mice and a guinea-
pig ?*

‘Tf you will leave the commission to me, I will see that
they are found.’

I left the commission to Michel.

‘If you won’t think me impertinent, sir,’ said Madame
Lamarque, ‘I should so like to know what Mysouff
means.’

‘Mysouff just means Mysouff, Madame Lamarque.’

“Tt is a cat’s name, then ?’

‘ Certainly, since Mysouff the First was so-called. It
is true, Madame Lamarque, you never knew Mysouff.’
And I became so thoughtful that Madame Lamarque was
kind enough to withdraw quietly, without asking any
questions about Mysouff the First.

That name had taken me back to fifteen years ago,
when my mother was still living. I had then the great
happiness of having a mother to scold me sometimes. At
the time I speak of, I had a situation in the service of the
Duce d Orléans, with a salary of 1,500 francs. My work
occupied me from ten in the morning until five in the
afternoon. We had a cat in those days whose name was
Mysouff. This cat had missed his vocation—he ought to
have been a dog. Every morning I started for my office
at half-past nine, and came back every evening at half-
past five. Every morning Mysouff followed me to the
corner of a particular street, and every evening I found
him in the game street, at the same corner, waiting for
me. Now the curious thing was that on the days when
I had found some amusement elsewhere, and was not
coming home to dinner, it was no use to open the door
for Mysouff to go and meet me.! Mysouff, in the attitude
of the serpent with its tail in its mouth, refused to stir
from his cushion. On the other hand, the days I did
come, Mysouff would scratch at the door until someone

' A remarkable instance of telepathy in the Cat.—A. L,
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 118

opened it forhim. My mother was very fond of Mysouff ;
she used to call him her barometer.

‘Mysouff marks my good and my bad weather,’ my
dear mother would say; ‘the days you come in are my
days of sunshine; my rainy days are when you stay
away.’

When I came home, I used to see Mysouff at the street
corner, sitting quite still and gazing into the distance. As
soon as he caught sight of me, he began to move his tail;
then as I drew nearer, he rose and walked backwards and.
forwards across the pavement with his back arched and
his tail in the air. When I reached him, he jumped up
upon me as a dog would have done, and bounded and
played round me as I walked towards the house; but.
when I was close to it he dashed in at full speed. Two
seconds after, I used to see my mother at the door.

Never again in this world, but in the next perhaps, I
shall see her standing waiting for me at the door.

That is what I was thinking of, dear readers, when
the name of Mysouff brought back all these recollections ;
so you understand why I did not answer Madame La-
marque’s questions.

Henceforth Mysouff IT. enjoyed the same privileges
that Mysouff I. had done, although, as will be seen later,
he was not distinguished by similar virtues, but was, in
fact, a very different sort of cat.

IV

The following Sunday, when my son Alexandre and
one or two intimate friends were assembled in my room, a
second Auvergnat boy, with a second monkey, demanded
admittance, and said that a friend. having told him that
M. Dumas had bought his monkey for forty francs, two
white mice, and a guinea-pig, he was prepared to offer
his for the same price. My friends urged me to buy the
second monkey.

12
116 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘Do buy this charming creature,’ said my artist friend
Giraud.

‘Yes, do buy this ridiculous little beast,’ said Alex-
andre.

‘Buy him, indeed,’ said I; ‘have I forty francs to give
away every day, to say nothing of a guinea-pig and two
white mice?’

‘Gentlemen,’ said Alexandre, ‘I am sorry to tell you
that my father is, without exception, the most avaricious
man living.’ .

My guests exclaimed, but Alexandre said that one day
he would prove the truth of his assertion. I was now
called upon to admire the monkey, and to remark how
like he was toa friend of ours. Giraud, who was painting
a portrait of this gentleman, said that if I would let the
monkey sit to him, it would help him very much in his
work, and Maquet, another of my guests, offered, amidst
general applause, to make me a present of it.! This de-
cided me.

‘You gee,’ said Alexandre, ‘ he accepts.’

‘Come, young man,’ said I to the Auvergnat, ‘embrace
your monkey for the last time, and if you have any tears
to shed, shed them without delay.’

‘When the full price was paid, the boy made an attempt
to do as I told him, but the Last of the Laidmanoirs re-
fused to be embraced by his former master, and as soon
as the latter had gone away, he seemed delighted and
began to dance, while Mademoiselle Desgarcins in her
cage danced, too, with all her might.

‘Look!’ said Maquet, ‘they like each other. Let us
complete the happiness of these interesting animals.’

‘We shut them up in the cage together, to the great
delight of Mademoiselle Desgarcins, who did not care for
Potich, and much preferred her new admirer. Potich,
indeed, showed signs of jealousy, but, not being armed

* Maquet. The immortal Augustus MacKeat,
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 117

with the sword which he used to have when he fought
duels, he could not wash out his affronts in the blood
of his rival, but became a prey to silent melancholy and
wounded affection.

While we were still looking at the monkeys, a servant
came in bringing a tray with wine and seltzer water.

‘I say,’ said Alexandre, ‘let us make Mademoiselle
Desgarcins open the seltzer-water bottle!’ and he put the
bottle inside the cage on the floor. No sooner had he
done so, than all three monkeys surrounded it and looked
atit with the greatest curiosity. Mademoiselle Desgarcins
was the first to understand that something would happen
if she undid the four crossed wires which held down the
cork. She accordingly set to work, first with her fingers,
and then with her teeth, and it was not long before she
undid the first three. She next attacked the fourth,
while the whole company, both men and monkeys,
watched her proceedings with breathless attention. Pre-
sently a frightful explosion was heard: Mademoiselle
Desgarcins was knocked over by the cork and drenched
with seltzer water, while Potich and the Last of the
Laidmanoirs fled to the top of their cage, uttering piercing
cries.

‘Oh!’ cried Alexandre, ‘I'll give my share of seltzer
water to see her open another bottle!’ Mademoiselle
Desgarcins had got up, shaken herself, and gone to rejoin
her companions, who were still howling lamentably.

‘ You don’t suppose she'll let herself be caught a second
time,’ said Giraud.

‘Do you know,’ said Maquet, ‘I should not wonder if
she would. I believe her curiosity would still be stronger
than her fear.’

‘ Monkeys,’ said Michel, who had come in on hearing
their cries, ‘are more obstinate than mules. The more
seltzer-water bottles you give them, the more they will
uncork.’

‘Do you think so, Michel?’
118 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘You know, of course, how they catch them in their
own country.’

‘No, Michel.’

‘What! you don’t know that, gentlemen?’ said
Michel, full of compassion for our ignorance. ‘ You know
that monkeys are very fond of Indian corn. Well, you
put some Indian corn into a bottle, the neck of which is
just large enough to admit a monkey’s paw. He sees the
Indian corn through the glass ——’

‘Well, Michel ?’

‘He puts his hand inside, and takes a good handful
of the Indian corn. At that moment the hunter’ shows
himself. They are so obstinate—the monkeys, I mean—
that they won’t let go what they have in their hand, but
as they can’t draw their closed fist through the opening,
there they are, you see, caught.’

‘Well, then, Michel, if ever our monkeys get out, you
will know how to catch them again.’

‘Oh! no fear, sir, that is just what I shall do.’

The seltzer-water experiment was successfully re-
peated, to the triumph of Michel and the delight of Alex-
andre, who wished to go on doing it; but I forbade him,
seeing that poor Mademoiselle Desgarcins’s nose was
bleeding from the blow of the cork.

‘Tt is not that,’ said Alexandre; ‘it is because you
grudge your seltzer water. I have already remarked,
gentlemen, that my father is, I regret to say, an exceed-
‘ingly avaricious man.’

Vy

It is now my painful duty to give my readers some
account of the infamous conduct of Mysouff II. One
morning, on waking rather late, I saw my bedroom door
gently opened, and the head of Michel thrust in, wearing
such a concerned expression that I knew at once that
something was wrong.
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 119

‘What has happened, Michel?’

‘Why, sir, those villains of monkeys have managed to
twist a bar of their cage, I don’t know how, until they
have made a great hole, and now they have escaped.’

*Well—but, Michel, we foresaw that that might occur,
and now you have only to buy your Indian corn, and
procure three bottles the right size.’

‘Ah! you are laughing, sir,’ said Michel, reproach-
fully, ‘but you won't laugh when you know all. They have
opened the door of the aviary }

‘And so my birds have flown away?’

‘Sir, your six pairs of turtle doves, your fourteen
quails, and all your little foreign birds, are eaten up!’?

‘But monkeys won’t eat birds!’

‘No, but Master Mysouff will, and he has done it!’

‘The deuce he has! I must see for myself.’

‘Yes, go yourself, sir; you will see a sight—a, field of
battle—a massacre of St. Bartholomew !’

As I was coming out, Michel stopped me to point to
Potich, who had hung himself by the tail to the branch
of a maple, and was swinging gracefully to and fro.
Mademoiselle Desgarcins was bounding gaily about in
the aviary, while the Last of the Laidmanoirs was practis-
ing gymnastics on the top of the greenhouse. ‘ Well,
Michel, we must catch them. I will manage the Last of
the Laidmanoirs if you will get hold of Mademoiselle
Desgareins. As to poor little Potich, he will come of his
own accord.’

‘T wouldn’t trust him, sir; he is a hypocrite. He has
- made it up with the other one—just think of that!’

‘What! he has made friends with his rival in the
affections of ademoiselle Desgarcins?’

‘ Just so, sir.’

‘That is sad indeed, Michel; I thought only human
beings could be guilty of so mean an action.’



1 Let the reader compare the conduct of Mr. Gully, later !
120 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘You see, sir, these monkeys have frequented the
society of human beings.’

I now advanced upon the Last of the Laidmanoirs
with so much precaution that I
contrived to shut him into the
greenhouse, where he retreated
into a corner and prepared to
defend himself, while Potich, from
the outside, encouraged his friend
by making horrible faces at me
through the glass. At this mo-
ment piercing shrieks were heard
from Mademoiselle Desgarcins ;
Michel had just caught her.
These cries so enraged the Last
of the Laidmanoirs that he dashed
out upon me; but I parried his
attack with the palm of my hand ;
with which he came in contact
so forcibly that he lost breath























ith
Hi

A PAE


MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS tet

for a minute, afd I then picked him up by the seruff
of the neck.

‘Have you caught Mademoiselle Desgarcins?’ I
shouted to Michel.

‘Have you caught the Last of the Laidmanoirs?’
returned he.

‘Yes!’ we both replied in turn. And each bearing
his prisoner, we returned to the cage, which had in the
meantime been mended, and shut them up once more,
whilst Potich, with loud lamentations, fled to the top of
the highest tree in the garden. No sooner, however, did
he find that his two companions were unable to get out
of their cage, than he came down from his tree, approached
Michel in a timid and sidelong manner, and with clasped
hands and little plaintive cries, entreated to be shut up
again with his friends.

‘Just see what a hypocrite he is!’ said Michel.

But I was of opinion that the conduct of Potich was
prompted by devotion rather than hypocrisy; I compared
it to that of Regulus, who returned to Carthage to keep
his promised word, or to King John of France, who
voluntarily gave himself up to the English for the Countess
of Salisbury’s sake.

Michel continued to think Potich a hypocrite, but on
account of his repentance he was forgiven. He was put
back into the cage, where Mademoiselle Desgarcins took
very little notice of him.

All this time Mysouff, having been forgotten, calmly
remained in the aviary, and continued to crunch the
bones of his victims with the most hardened indifference.
It was easy enough to catch him. We shut him into the
aviary, and held a council as to what should be his
punishment. Michel was of opinion that he should be
shot forthwith. I was, however, opposed to his immediate
execution, and resolved to wait until the following Sunday,
and then to cause Mysouff to be formally tried by my
assembled friends. The condemnation was therefore
122 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

postponed. In the meantime Mysouff remained a
prisoner in the very spot where his crimes had been
committed. He continued, however, to refresh himself
with the remains of his victims without apparent remorse,
but Michel removed all the bodies, and confined him to a
diet of bread and waiter.

Next Sunday, having convoked a council of all my
friends, the trial was proceeded with. Michel was
appointed Chief Justice and Nogent Saint-Laurent was
counsel for the prisoner. I may remark that the jury
were inclined to find a verdict of guilty, and after the
first speech of the Judge, the capital sentence seemed
almost certain. But the skilful advocate, in a long and
eloquent speech, brought clearly before us the innocence
of Mysouff, the malice of the monkeys, their quickness
and incessant activity compared with the less inventive
minds of cats. He showed us that Mysouff was incapable
of contemplating such a crime ; he described him wrapped
in peaceful sleep, then, suddenly aroused from this
innocent slumber by the abandoned creatures who, living
as they did opposite the aviary, had doubtless long
harboured their diabolical designs. We saw Mysouff but
half awake, still purring innocently, stretching himself,
opening his pink mouth, from which protruded a tongue
like that of a heraldic lion. He shakes his ears, a proof
that he rejects the infamous proposal that is being made
to him; he listens; at first he refuses—the advocate
insisted that the prisoner had begun by refusing—then,
naturally yielding, hardly more than a kitten, corrupted
as he had been by the cook, who instead of feeding him
on milk or a little weak broth, as she had been told to do,
had recklessly excited his carnivorous appetite by giving
him pieces of liver and parings of raw chops; the
unfortunate young cat yields little by little, prompted
more by good nature and weakness of mind than by
eruelty or greed, and, only half awake, he does the bid-
ding of the villainous monkeys, the real instigators of the
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 123

crime. The counsel here took the prisoner in his arms,
showed us his paws, and defied any anatomist to say that
with paws so made, an animal could possibly open a door
that was bolted. Finally, he borrowed Michel’s Dictionary
of Natural History, opened it at the article ‘Cat,’
‘Domestic Cat,’ ‘ Wild Cat’; he proved that Mysouff was
no wild cat, seeing that nature had robed him in white,
the colour of innocence; then smiting the book with
vehemence, ‘Cat!’ he exclaimed, ‘Cat! You shall now
hear, gentlemen, what the illustrious Buffon, the man
with lace sleeves, has to say about the cat.

‘« The cat,” says M. de Buffon, “is not to be trusted,
but it is kept to rid the house of enemies which cannot
otherwise be destroyed. Although the cat, especially
when young, is pleasing, nature has given it perverse and
untrustworthy qualities which increase with age, and
which education may conceal, but will not eradicate.”
Well, then,’ exclaimed the orator, after having read this
passage, ‘what more remains. to be said? Did poor
Mysouff come here with a false character seeking a
situation ? Was it not the cook herself who found him—
who took him by force from the heap of sticks behind
which he had sought refuge? It was merely to interest
and touch the heart of her master that she described him
mewing in the cellar. We must reflect algo, that those
unhappy birds, his victims—I allude especially to the
quails, which are eaten by man—though their death ig
doubtless much to be deplored, yet they must have felt
themselves liable to death at any moment, and are now
released from the terrors they experienced every time
they saw the cook approaching their retreat. Finally,
gentlemen, I appeal to your justice, and I think you will
now admit that the interesting and unfortunate Mysouff
has but yielded, not only to incontrollable natural instincts,
but also to foreign influence. I claim for my client the
plea of extenuating circumstances.’

The counsel’s pleading was received with cries of
124 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS

applause, and Mysouff, found guilty of complicity in the
murder of the quails, turtle-doves, and other birds of
different species, but with extenuating circumstances, was
sentenced only to five years of monkeys. |

VI

The next winter, certain circumstances, with which I
need not trouble my readers, led to my making a journey
to Algiers. I seldom made any long journey without
bringing home some animal to add to my collection, and
accordingly I returned from Africa. accompanied by a
vulture, which I bought from a little boy who called him-
self a Beni-Mouffetard. I paid ten francs for the vulture,
and made the Beni-Mouffetard a present of two more,
in return for which he warned me that my vulture was
excessively savage, and had already bitten off the thumb
of an Arab and the tail of a dog. I promised to be very
careful, and the next day I became the possessor of a
magnificent vulture, whose only fault consisted in a strong
desire to tear in pieces everybody whocame near him, I
bestowed on him the name of his compatriot, Jugurtha.
He had a chain fastened to his leg, and had for further
security been placed in a large cage made of spars. In this
cage he travelled quite safely as far as Philippeville, with-
out any other accident than that he nearly bit off the finger
of a passenger who had tried to make friends with him.
At Philippeville a difficulty arose. It was three miles
from Stora, the port where we were to embark, and the
diligence did not goon so far. Iand several other gentle-
men thought that we would like to walk to Stora, the
scenery being beautiful and the distance not very great;
but what was I to do about Jugurtha? I could not ask
a porter to carry the cage; Jugurtha would certainly
have eaten him through the spars. I thought of a plan :
it was to lengthen his chain eight or ten feet by means of
a cord; and then to drive him in front of me with a long
















MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 125

pole. But the first difficulty was to induce Jugurtha to
come out of his cage; none of us dared put our hands
within reach of his beak. However, I managed to fasten
the cord to his chain, then I made two men armed with
pickaxes break away the spars. Jugurtha finding himself
free, spread out his wings to fly away, but he could of
course only fly as far as his cord would permit.

Now Jugurtha was avery intelligent creature; he saw
that there was an obstacle in the way of his liberty, and
that I was that obstacle; he therefore turned upon me
with fury, in the hope of putting me to flight, or devour-
ing me in case of resistance. I, however, was no less
sagacious than Jugurtha ; I had foreseen the attack, and
provided myself with a good switch made of dogwood, as
thick as one’s forefinger, and eight feet long. With this
switch I parried Jugurtha’s attack, which astonished but
did not stop him; however, a second blow, given with all
my force, made him stop short, and a third caused him to
fly in the opposite direction, that is, towards Stora. Once
launched upon this road, I had only to use my switeh
adroitly to make Jugurtha proceed at about the same pace
as we did ourselves, to the great admiration of my fellow-
travellers, and of all the people whom we met on the road.
On our arrival at Stora, Jugurtha made no difficulty about
getting on board the steamer, and when tied to the mast,
waited calmly while a new cage was made for him.. He
went into it of his own accord, received with gratitude the
pieces of meat which the ship’s cook gave him, and three
days after his embarkation he became so tame that he
used to present me with his head to scratch, ag a parrot
does. I brought Jugurtha home without further adven-
ture, and committed him to the charge of Michel.

It was not until my return from Algiers on this occa-
sion that I went to live at Monte Cristo, the building of
which had been finished during my absence. Up to this
time I had lived in a smaller house called the Villa
Medicis, and while the other was building, Michel made
126 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

arrangements for the proper lodging of all my animals,
for he was much more occupied about their comfort than
he was about mine or evenhis own. They had all plenty
of room, particularly the dogs, who were not confined by
any sort of enclosure, and Pritchard, who was naturally
generous, kept open house with a truly Scottish hospi-
tality. It was his custom to sit in the middle of the road
and salute every dog that passed with a little not un-
friendly growl; smelling him, and permitting himself to
be smelt in a ceremonious manner. When a mutual
sympathy had been produced by this means, a conversa-
tion something like this would begin :

‘Have you a good master ?’ asked the strange dog.

‘Not bad,’ Pritchard would reply.

‘Does your master feed you well?’

‘Well, one has porridge twice a day, bones at break-
fast and dinner, and anything one can pick up in the
kitchen besides.’

The stranger licked his lips.

‘You are not badly off,’ said he.

‘I do not complain,’ replied Pritchard: « Then, seeing
the strange dog look pensive, he added, ‘ Would you like
to dine with us?’ ,

The invitation was accepted at once, for dogs do not
wait to be pressed, like some foolish human beings.

At dinner-time Pritchard came in, followed by an un-
known dog, who, like Pritchard, placed himself beside
my chair, and scratched my knee with his paw in such
a confiding way that I felt sure that Pritchard must
have been commending my benevolence. The dog, after
spending a pleasant evening, found that it was rather too
late to return home, so slept comfortably on the grass
after his good supper. Next morning he took two or three
steps as if to go away, then changing his mind, he inquired °
of Pritchard, ‘Should I be much in the way if I stayed
on here ?’

Pritchard replied, ‘ You could quite well, with manage-




























DUMAS ARRIVES AT STORA WITH HIS VULTURE
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 129

ment, make them believe you are the neighbour’s dog,
and after two or three days, nobody would know you did
not belong to the house. You might live here just as well
as those idle useless monkeys, who do nothing but amuse
themselves, or that greedy vulture, who eats tripe all day
long, or that idiot of a macaw, who is always screaming
about nothing.’

The dog stayed, keeping in the background at first,
but in a day or two he jumped up upon me and followed
me everywhere, and there was another guest to feed, that
was all. Michel asked me one day if I knew how many
dogs there were about the piace: I answered that I did
not.

‘Sir,’ said Michel, ‘there are thirteen.’

‘That is an unlucky number, Michel; you must see
that they do not all dine together, else one of them is sure
to die first.’

‘Tt is not that, though,’ said Michel, ‘it is the expense
I am thinking of. Why, they would eat an ox a day, all
those dogs; and if you will allow me, sir, I will just take
a whip and put the whole pack to the door, to-morrow
morning.’

. ‘But, Michel, isk: us do it handsomely. These dogs,
after all, do honour to the house by staying here. So give
them a grand dinner to-morrow ; tell them that it is the
farewell banquet, and then, at dessert, put them all to the
door.’

‘But after all, sir, I cannot put them to the door,
because there isn’t a door.’

‘ Michel,’ said I, ‘there are certain things in this world
that one must just put up with, to keep up one’s character
and position. Since all these dogs have come to me, let
them stay with me. I don’t think they will ruin me,
Michel. Only, on their own account, you should be careful
that there are not thirteen.’

‘I will drive away one,’ suggested Michel, ‘and then

-there will only be twelve.’
K
130 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘On the contrary, let another come, and then there
will be fourteen.’ :

Michel sighed.

‘Tt’s a regular kennel,’ he mnrmured.

It was, in fact, a pack of hounds, though rather a
mixed one. There was a Russian wolfhound, there was
a poodle, a water spaniel, a spitz, a dachshund with
crooked legs, a mongrel terrier, a mongrel King Charles,
and a Turkish dog which had no hair on its body, only a
tuft upon its head and a tassel at the end of its tail. Our -
next recruit was a little Maltese terrier, named Lisette,
which raised the number to fourteen. After all, the ex-
pense of these fourteen amounted to rather over two
pounds a month. A single dinner given to five or six of
my own species would have cost me three times as much,
and they would have gone away dissatisfied ; for, even if
they had liked my wine, they would certainly have found
fault with my books. Out of this pack of hounds, one
became Pritchard’s particular friend and Michel’s favour-
ite. This was a dachshund with short crooked legs, a
long body, and, as Michel said, the finest voice in the
department of Seine-et-Oise. Portugo—that was his
name—had in truth a most magnificent bass voice. I used
to hear it sometimes in the night when I was writing, and
think how that deep-toned majestic bark would please
St. Hubert if he heard it in his grave. But what was
Portugo doing at that hour, and why was he awake while
the other dogs slumbered? This mystery. was revealed
one day, when a stewed rabbit was brought me for dinner.
I inquired where the rabbit came from.

‘You thought it good, sir?’ Michel asked me with a
pleased face.

‘Excellent.’

‘Well, then, you can have one just the same every
day, sir, if you like.’

‘Every day, Michel? Surely that is almost too much




%

a Je)



‘1's A REGULAR KENNEL?
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 133

to promise. Besides, I should like, before consuming so
many rabbits, to know where they come from.’

‘You shall know that this very night, if you don’t mind
coming out with me.’

‘Ah! Michel, I have told you before that you are a
poacher !’

‘Oh, sir, as to that, I am as innocent as a baby—and,
as I was saying, if you will only come out with me to-
night—’ ;

‘Must I go far, Michel?’

‘Not a hundred yards, sir.’

‘At what o'clock?’

‘Just at the moment when you hear Portugo’s first
bark.’

‘Very well, Michel, I will be. with you.’

Thad nearly forgotten this promise, and was writing
as usual, when Michel cameinto my study. It was about
eleven o’clock, and a fine moonlight. night.

‘Hallo!’ said I, ‘ Portugo hasn’t barked yet, has he ?’

‘No, but I was just thinking that if you waited for
that, you would miss seeing something curious.’

‘What should I miss, Michel ?’

‘The council of war which is held between Pritchard
and Portugo.’

I followed Michel, and sure enough, among the four-
teen dogs, which were mostly sleeping in different aitti-
tudes, Portugo and Pritchard were sitting up, and seemed
to be gravely debating some important question. When
the debate was ended, they separated; Portugo went out
’ at the gate to the high road, turned the corner, and dis-
appeared, while Pritchard began deliberately, as if he had
plenty of time before him, to follow the little path which
led up toa stone quarry. We followed Pritchard, who
took no notice of us, though he evidently knew we were
there. He went up to the top of the quarry, examined and
smelt about over the ground with great care, and when he
had found ascent and assured himself that it was fresh, he
134 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS: BEASTS

lay down flat and waited. Almost at the same moment,
Portugo’s first bark.was heard some two hundred yards
off. Now the plan the two dogs had laid was clear to us.
The rabbits came out of their holes in the quarry every
evening to go to their feeding ground; Pritchard found
the scent of one; Portugo then made a wide circuit, found
and chased the rabbit, and, as a rabbit or a hare always
comes back upon its former track, Pritchard, lying in
ambush, awaited its return. Accordingly, as the sound
of Portugo’s barking came closer, we saw Pritchard’s
yellow eyes light up and flame like a topaz; then all of
a sudden he made a spring, and we heard a cry of fright
and distress.

‘They’ve done it!’ said Michel, and he went to Prit-
chard, took out of his mouth a nice plump rabbit, gave it
a blow behind the ears to finish it, and, opening it on the
spot, gave the inside to the two dogs, who shared their
portion contentedly, although they probably regretted
Michel’s interference. As Michel told me, I could have
‘eaten a stewed rabbit every day for dinner, if such had
been my desire.

But after this, events of a different kind were taking
place, which obliged me to leave my country pursuits,
and I spent about two months in Paris. The day before I
returned to St.-Germains I wrote and told Michel to
expect me, and found him waiting for me on the road
half way from the station.

‘T must tell you, sir,’ he said, as soon as I was within
hearing, ‘that two important events have happened at
Monte Cristo since you went away.’

‘Well, Michel, let me hear.’

‘In the first place, Pritchard got his hind foot into a
snare and instead of staying where he was as any other
dog would have done, he bit off his foot with his teeth,
and so he came home upon three legs.’

. But,’ said I, much shocked, ‘is the poor beast dead
after such an accident ?’
MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 135

‘Dead, sir? Was not I there to doctor him?’

‘And what did you do to him then?’

‘I cut off the foot properly at the joint with a pruning
knife. I then sewed the skin neatly over it, and now















JUGURTHA BECOMES DIOGENES

you would never know it was off! Look there, the
rascal has smelt you and is coming to meet you.’

And at that moment Pritchard appeared, coming at
full gallop, so that, as Michel had said, one would hardly
have noticed that he had only three feet. My meeting
with Pritchard was, as may be supposed, full of deep
136 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

emotion on both sides. I was sorry for the poor animal.
When I had recovered a little, I asked Michel what his
other piece of news was.

‘The latest news, sir, is that Jugurtha’s name is no
longer Jugurtha.’

‘What is it then ?’

‘It is Diogenes.’

* © And why?’

‘Look, sir!’

We had now reached the little avenue of ash-trees
which formed the entrance to the villa. To the left of
the avenue the vulture was seen walking proudly to and
fro in an immense tub, which Michel had made into a
house for him.

‘Ah! now I understand,’ said I. ‘Of course, directly
he lives in a tub——’

‘That’s it!’ said Michel. ‘ Directly he lives in a tub,
he cannot be Jugurtha any more; he must be Diogenes.’

I admired Michel’s historical learning no less than I
did his surgical skill, just as the year before, I had bowed
before his superior knowledge of natural history.

VII

Tn order to lead to more incidents in the life of Pritchard,
I must now tell my readers that I had a friend called
Charpillon, who had a passion for poultry, and kept the
finest hens in the whole department of Yonne. These
hens were chiefly Cochins and Brahmapootras ; they laid
the most beautiful brown eggs, and Charpillon surrounded
them with every luxury and never would allow them to be
killed. He had the inside of his hen-house painted green,
in order that the hens, even when shut up, might fancy
themselves in a meadow. In fact, the illusion was so
complete, that when the hen-house was first painted, the
hens refused to go in at night, fearing to catch cold; but
after a short time even the least intelligent among them
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 137

understood that she had the good fortune to belong to a
master who knew how to combine the useful with the
beautiful. Whenever these hens ventured out upon the
road, strangers would exclaim with delight, ‘Oh! what
beautiful hens!’ to which some one better acquainted
with the wonders of this fortunate village would reply,
‘T should think so! These are M. Charpillon’s hens.’ Or,
if the speaker were of an envious disposition, he might
add, ‘ Yes indeed! hens that nothing is thought too good
for !’

When my friend Charpillon heard that I had returned
from Paris, he invited me to come and stay with him to
shoot, adding as a further inducement that he would give
me the best and freshest eggs I had ever eaten in my life.
Though I did not share Charpillon’s great love of poultry,
I am very fond of fresh eggs, and the nankeen-coloured
eges laid by his Brahma hens had an especially delicate
flavour. But all earthly pleasures are uncertain. The
next morning Charpillon’s hens were found to have only
laid three eggs instead of eight. Such a thing had never
happened. before, and Charpillon did not know whom to
suspect ; however he suspected every one rather than his
hens, and a sort of cloud began to obscure the confidence
he had hitherto placed in the security of his enclosures.
While these gloomy doubts were occupying us, I observed
Michel hovering about as if he had something on his mind,
and asked him if he wanted to speak to me.

‘I should be glad to have a few words with you, sir.’

‘In private ?’

‘It would be better so, for the honour of Pritchard.’

‘Ah, indeed? What has the rascal been doing
now ?’

‘ You remember, sir, what your solicitor said to you one
day when I was in the room ?’

‘What did he say, Michel? My solicitor is a clever
man, and says many sensible things ; still it is difficult for
me to remember them all.’
138 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS

‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘ find out whom the crime benefits,
and you will find the criminal.’

‘T remember that axiom perfectly, Michel. Well?’

‘Well, sir, whom can this crime of stolen eges benefit
more than Pritchard ?’

‘Pritchard? You think it is he who steals the eggs ?
Pritchard, who brings home eggs without breaking them !’

“You mean who used to bring them. Pritchard is an
animal who has vicious instincts, sir, and if he does not
come to a bad end some day, I shall be surprised, that’s
all.’

‘Does Pritchard eat eggs, then ?’

‘He does; and it is only right to say, sir, that that is
your fault.’

‘What! my fault? My fault that Pritchard eats
eggs?’

Michel shook his head sadly, but nothing could shake
his opinion.

‘ Now really, Michel, this is too much! Is it not enough
that critics tell me that I pervert everybody's mind with
my corrupt literature, but you must join my detractors
and say that my bad example corrupts Pritchard?’

‘I beg pardon, sir, but do you remember how one day,
at the Villa Medicis, while you were eating an egg, M.
Rusconi who was there said something so ridiculous that
you let the egg fall upon the floor ?’

‘I remember that quite well.’

,‘ And do you remember calling in Pritchard, who was
scraping up a bed of fuchsias in the garden, and making
him lick up the egg?’

‘I do not remember him scraping up a bed of fuchsias,
but I do recollect that he licked up my egg.’

‘ Well, sir, it is that and nothing else that has been
his ruin. Oh! he is quick enough to learn what is wrong ;
- there is no need to show it him twice.’

‘Michel, you are really extremely tedious. How have
I shown Pritchard what is wrong?’
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 139°

‘By making him eat anegg. You see, sir, before that
he was as innocent as a new-born babe; he didn’t know
what an egg was—he thought it was a badly made golf
ball. But as soon as you make him eat an egg, he learns
what itis. Three days afterwards, M. Alexandre came
home, and was complaining to me of his dog—that he was
rough and tore things with his teeth in carrying them.
“ Ah! look at Pritchard,” I said to him, “how gentle he
is! you shall see the way he carries an egg.” So I
fetched an egg from the kitchen, placed it en the ground,
and said, “ Fetch, Pritchard!” Pritchard didn’t need
to be told twice, but what do you think the cunning rascal
did? ‘You remember, some days before, Monsieur ——
the gentleman who had such a bad toothache, you know.
You recollect his coming to see you?’

‘Yes, of course I remember.’

‘Well, Pritchard pretended not to notice, but those
yellow eyes of his notice everything. Well, all of a
sudden he pretended to have the same toothache that
that gentleman had, and crack! goes the egg. Then he
pretends to be ashamed of his awkwardness—he swallows
itin a hurry, shell and all! I believed him—I thought
it was an accident and fetched another egg. Scarcely
did he make three steps with the egg in his mouth than
the toothache comes on again, and crack ! goes the second
ege. I began then to suspect something—I went and got
a third, but if I hadn’t stopped then he’d have eaten
the whole basketful. Sothen M. Alexandre, who likes his
joke, said, “Michel, you may possibly make a good
musician of Pritchard, or a good astronomer, but he'll
never be a good incubator !”’’

‘How is it that you never told me this before,
Michel?’

‘Because I was ashamed, sir; for this is not the
worst.’

‘What! not the worst?’

Michel shook his head.
140 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘He has developed an fanagural craving for eggs; he
gotinto M. Acoyer’s poultry yard and stole all his. M.
Acoyer came to complain to me. How do you suppose
he lost his foot?’

‘You told me yourself—in somebody’s grounds where
he had forgotten to read the notice about trespassing.’

‘You are joking, sir—but I really believe he can
read.’

‘Oh! Michel, Pritchard is accused of enough sins
without having that vice laid to his charge! But about
his foot?’

‘I think he Gok if In some wire getting out of a
poultry-yard.’

‘But you know it happened at night, and the hens
are shut up at night. How could he get into the hen-
house ?’

‘He doesn’t need to get into the hen-house after eggs ;
he can charm the hens. Pritchard is what one may call
a charmer.’

- ‘Michel, you astonish me more and more !’

‘Yes, indeed, sir. I knew that he used to charm
the hens at the Villa Medicis; only M. Charpillon has
such wonderful hens, I did not think they would have
allowed it. But I see now all hens are alike.’

‘Then you think it is Pritchard who

‘T think he charms M. Charpillon’s hens, and that is
the reason they don’t lay—at least, that they only lay for
Pritchard.’

‘Indeed, Michel, I should much like to know how he
does it!’

‘If you are awake very early to-morrow, sir, just look
out of your window-~you can see the poultry-yard from
it, and you will see a sight that you have never seen
before !’

‘I have seen many things, Michel, including sixteen
changes of governments, and to see something I have
never seen before I would gladly sit up the whole night!’


MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 141

‘There is no need for that—I can wake you at tbe
right time.’

The next day at early dawn, Michel awoke me.

‘Tam ready, Michel,’ said I, coming to the window.

‘Wait, wait! let me open it very gently. If Pritchard
suspects that he is watched, he won’t stir; you have no
idea how deceitful he is.’

Michel opened the window with every possible pre-
caution. From where I stood, I could distinctly see the
poultry-yard, and Pritchard lying in his couch, his head
innocently resting upon his two fore-paws. At the slight
noise which Michel made in opening the window, Prit-
chard pricked up his ears and half opened his yellow eye,
but as the sound was not repeated he didnotmove. Ten
minutes afterwards we heard the newly wakened hens
begin to cluck. Pritchard immediately opened both eyes,
stretched himself and stood upright upon his three feet.
He then cast a glance all round him, and seeing that all
was quiet, disappeared into a shed, and the next moment
we saw him coming out of a sort of little window on the
other side. From this window Pritchard easily got upon
the sloping roof which overhung one side of the poultry-
yard. He had now only to jump down about six feet,
and. having got into the inclosure he lay down flat in front
of the hen-house, giving a little friendly bark. A hen
looked out at Pritchard’s call, and instead of seeming
frightened she went to him at once and received ‘his com-
pliments with apparent complacency. Nor did she seem
at all. embarrassed, but proceeded to lay her egg, and that
within such easy reach of Pritchard that we had not time
to see the ege—it was swallowed the same instant. She
then retired cackling triumphantly, and her place was
taken by another hen.

‘Well, now, sir,’ said Michel, when Pritchard had
swallowed his fourth egg, ‘you. see it is no wonder that
Pritchard has such a clear voice. You know great singers
always eat raw eggs the first thing in the morning.’
142 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

‘IT know that, Michel, but what I don’t know is how
Pritchard proposes to get out of the poultry-yard.’

‘Just wait and see what‘ the scoundrel will do.’

Pritchard having finished his breakfast, or being a
little alarmed at some noise in the house, stood up on his
hind leg, and slipping one of his fore-paws through the
bars of the gate, he lifted the latch and went out.

‘And when one thinks,’ said Michel, ‘that if anybody
asked him why the yard door was left open, he would say
it was because Pierre had forgotten to shut it last night!’



PRITCHARD AND THE HENS

“You think he would have the wickedness to say that,
Michel ?’

‘Perhaps not to-day, nor yet to-morrow, because he is
not come to his full growth, but some day, mind you, I
should not be surprised to hear him speak.’

VITI

Before going out to shoot that day, I thought it only
right to give M. Charpillon an account of Pritchard’s
proceedings. He regarded him, therefore with mingled
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 143

feelings, in which admiration was more prominent than
sympathy, and it was agreed that on our return the dog
should be shut up in the stable, and that the stable door
should be bolted and padlocked. Pritchard, unsuspicious
of our designs, ran on in front with a proud step and with
his tail in the air.

‘You know,’ said Charpillon, ‘that neither men nor
dogs are allowed to go into the vineyards. I ought as
a magistrate to set an example, and Gaignez still more,
as he is the mayor. So mind you keep in Pritchard.’

‘All right,’ said I, ‘I will keep him in.’

But Michel approaching, suggested that I should send
Pritchard home with him. ‘It would be safer,’ he said.
‘We are quite near the house, and I have a notion that
he might get us into some scrape by hunting in the vine-
yards.’ é ,

‘Don’t be afraid, Michel; I have thought of a plan to

prevent him.’ ; 7
' Michel touched his hat. ‘I know you are clever,
sir—very clever; but I don’t think you are as clever as
that!’ : :
-* Wait till you see.’

‘Indeed, sir, you will have to be quick, for there is
Pritchard hunting already.’

We were just in time to see Pritchard disappear into
a vineyard, and a moment afterwards he raised a covey
of partridges.

‘Call in your dog,’ cried Gaignez.

I called Pritchard, who, however, turned a deaf ear.

‘Catch him,’ said I to Michel.

Michel went, and returned in a few minutes with
Pritchard in a leash. In the meantime I had found a
long stake, which I hung crosswise round his neck, and
let him go loose with this ornament. Pritchard under-
stood that he could no longer go through the vineyards,
but the stake did not prevent his hunting, and he only
went a good deal further off on the open ground,
144 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

From this moment there was only one shout all along
the line. ,

‘Hold in your dog, confound him !’

‘Keep in your Pritchard, can’t you! He’s sending all
the birds out of shot !’

‘Look here! Would you mind my putting a few pellets
into your brute of a dog? How can anybody shoot if he
won't keep in?’

‘Michel,’ said I, ‘catch Pritchard again.’

‘I told you so, sir. Luckily we are not far from the
house; I can still take him back.’

‘Not at all. I have a second idea. Catch Pritchard.’ —

‘ After all,’ said Michel, ‘ this is nearly as good fun asif
we were shooting.’

And by-and-by he came back, dragging Pritchard by
his stake. Pritchard had a partridge in his mouth.

‘Look at him, the thief!’ said Michel. ‘He has
carried off M. Gaignez’s partridge—I see him looking
for it.’

‘Put the partridge in your game-bag, Michel ; we will
give him a surprise.’

Michel hesitated. ‘But,’ said he, ‘think of the opinion
this rascal will have of you !’

‘What, Michel? do you think Pritchard has a bad
opinion of me?’

‘Oh, sir! a shocking opinion.’

‘But what makes you think so ?’

‘Why, sir, do you not think that Pritchard knows in
his soul and conscience that when he brings you a bird
that another gentleman has shot, he is committing a
theft?’

‘T think he has an idea of it, certainly, Michel.’

‘Well, then, sir, if he knows he is a thief, he must take
you for a receiver of stolen goods. Look at the articles
of the Code; it is said there that receivers are equally
guilty with thieves, and should be similarly punished.’

‘Michel, you open my eyes to a whole vista of terrors, _




‘PRITCHARD REAPPEARED NEXT MOMENT WITH A HARE IN HIS MOUTH’



MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 14%

But we are going to try to cure Pritchard of hunting. °
When he is cured of hunting, he will be cured of.
stealing.’

‘Never, sir! You will never cure Pritchard of his vices.’

Still I pursued my plan, which was to put Pritchard’s
fore-leg through his collar. By this means, his right fore-
foot being fastened to his neck, and his left hind-foot
being cut off, he had only two to run with, the left fore-
foot and the right hind-foot.

‘Well, indeed,’ said Michel, ‘if he can hunt now, the
devil is in it.’ ,

He loosed Pritchard, who stood for a moment as if
astonished, but once he had balanced himself he began to
walk, then to trot; then, as he found his balance better,
he succeeded in running quicker on his two legs than
many dogs would have done on four.

‘ Where are we now, sir?’ said Michel. ,

‘It’s that beast of a stake that balances him!’ I
replied, a little disappointed. ‘ We ought to teach him to
dance upon the tight-rope—he would make our fortunes
as an acrobat.’

‘You are joking again, sir. But listen! do you hear
that?’

The most terrible imprecations against Pritchard were
resounding on all sides. The imprecations were followed
by a shot, then by a howl of pain.

‘That is Pritchard’s voice,’ said Michel. ‘ Well, it is
no more than he deserves.’

Pritchard reappeared the next moment with a hare in
his mouth.

‘Michel, you said that was Pritchard that howled.’

‘T would swear to it, sir.’

‘But how could he howl with a hare in his mouth ?’

Michel scratched his head. ‘It was he all the same,’
he said, and he went to look at Pritchard. ¢

‘Oh, sir!’ he said, ‘I was right. The gentleman he
took the hare from has shot him. His hind-leg is all over

L2
148 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

blood. Look! there is M. Charpillon running after his
hare.’ :

‘You know that I have just put some pellets into your
Pritchard ?’ Charpillon called out as soon as he saw me.

‘You did quite right.’

‘He carried off my hare.’ :

‘There! ‘You see,’ said Michel, ‘it is impossible to -
cure him.’

‘But when he carried away your hare, he must have
had it in his mouth?’

‘Of course. Where else would he have it?’

‘But how could he howl with a hare in his mouth?’

‘He put it down to howl, then he took it up again and
made off.’

‘There’s deceit for you, gentlemen!’ exclaimed
Michel.

Pritchard succeeded in bringing the hare to me, but
when he reached me he had to lie down.

‘I say,’ said Charpillon, ‘I hope I haven’t hurt him
more than I intended—it was a long shot.’ And forgetting
his hare, Charpillon knelt down to examine Pritchard’s
wound. It was a serious one; Pritchard had received
five or six pellets about the region of his tail, and was
bleeding profusely.

‘Oh, poor beast!’ cried Charpillon. ‘I wouldn’t
have fired that shot for all the hares in creation if I had
known.’

‘Bah!’ said Michel; ‘he won’t die of it.’ And, in
fact, Pritchard, after spending three weeks with the
vet. at St.-Germains, returned to Monte Cristo perfectly
cured, and with his tail in the air once more.

TX

Soon after the disastrous event which I have just
related the revolution of 1848 occurred in France, in
which King Louis Philippe was dethroned and a republic
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 149

established. ‘You will ask what the change of govern-
ment had to do with my beasts? Well, although, happily,
they do not trouble their heads about politics, the revolu-
tion did affect them a good deal; for the French public,
being excited by these occurrences, would not buy my
books, preferring to read the ‘ Guillotine,’ the ‘ Red
Republic,’ and such like corrupt periodicals; so that I
became for the time a very much poorer man. I was
obliged greatly to reduce my establishment. I sold my
three horses and two carriages for a quarter of their
value, and I presented the Last ofthe Laidmanoirs, Potich,
and Mademoiselle Desgarcins to the Jardin des Plantes
in Paris. I had to move into a smaller house, but my
monkeys were lodged in a palace ; this is a sort of thing
that sometimes happens after a revolution. Mysouff also
profited by it, for he regained his liberty on the departure
of the monkeys.

As to Diogenes, the vulture, I gave him to my worthy
neighbour Collinet, who keeps the restaurant Henri IV.,
and makes such good cutlets 4 la Béarnaise. There was
no fear of Diogenes dying of hunger under his new master’s
care; on the contrary, he improved greatly in health and
beauty, and, doubtless as a token of gratitude to Collinet,
he laid an egg for him every year, a thing he never
dreamt of doing for me. Lastly, we requested Pritchard
to cease to keep open house, and to discontinue his daily
invitations to strange dogs to dine and sleep. I was
obliged to give up all thoughts of shooting that year. It
is true that Pritchard still remained to me, but then
Pritchard, you must recollect, had only three feet ; he had
been badly hurt when he was shot by Charpillon, and the
revolution of February had occasioned the loss of one
eye.
It happened one day during that exciting period, that
Michel was so anxious to see what was going on that he
forgot to give Pritchard his dinner. Pritchard, therefore
invited himself to dine with the vulture, but Diogenes,
1350 MONSIHUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

being of a less sociable turn, and not in a humour to be
trifled with, dealt poor Pritchard such a blow with his
beak as to deprive him of one of his mustard-coloured
eyes. Pritchard’s courage was unabated; he might be
compared to that brave field marshal of whom it was
said that Mars had left nothing of him whole except
his heart. But it was difficult, you see, to make much
use of a dog with so many infirmities. If I had wished
to sell him I could not have found a purchaser, nor
would he have been considered a handsome present had
I desired to give him away. I had no choice, then, but
to make this old servant, badly as he had sometimes
served me, a pensioner, a companion, in fact a friend.
Some people told me that I might have tied a stone
round his neck and flung him into the river ; others, that
it was easy enough to replace him by buying a good
retriever from Vatrin; but although I was not yet poor
enough to drown Pritchard, neither was I rich enough to
buy another dog. However, later in that very year, I
made an unexpected success in literature, and one of
my plays brought me in a sufficient sum to take a shoot-
ing in the department of Yonne. I went to look at this
shooting, taking Pritchard with me. In the meantime
my daughter wrote to tell me that she had bought an
excellent retriever for five pounds, named Catinat, and
that she was keeping him in the stable until my return.
As soon as I arrived, my first care was to make Catinat’s
acquaintance. He was a rough, vigorous dog of three or
four years old, thoughtless, violent, and quarrelsome. He
jumped upon me till he nearly knocked me down, upset
my daughter’s work-table, and dashed about the room to
the great danger of my china vases and ornaments. I
therefore called Michel and informed him that the super-
ficial acquaintance which I had made with Catinat would
suffice for the time, and that I would defer the pleasure
of his further intimacy until the shooting season began
at Auxerre.
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS 150

Poor Michel, as soon as he saw Catinat, had been seized
with a presentiment of evil.

‘Sir, he said, ‘that dog will bring some misfortune
upon us. Ido not know yet what, but something will
happen, I know it will!’

‘In the meantime, Michel,’ I said, ‘you had better
take Catinat back to the stable.’ But Catinat had already
left the room of his own accord and rushed downstairs
to the dining-room, where I had left Pritchard. Now
Pritchard never could endure Catinat from the first mo-
ment he saw him; the two dogs instantly flew at one
another with so much fury that Michel was obliged to
call me to his assistance before we could separate them.
Catinat was once more shut up in the stable, and Pritchard
conducted to his kennel in the stable-yard, which, in the
absence of carriages and horses, was now a poultry-yard,
inhabited by my eleven hens and my cock Casar.
Pritchard’s friendship with the hens continued to be as
strong as ever, and the household suffered from a scarcity
of eggsin consequence. That evening, while my daughter
and I were walking in the garden, Michel came to meet
us, twisting his straw hat between his fingers, a sure sign
that he had something important to say.

‘Well, what is it, Michel?’ I asked.

‘Tt came into my mind, sir,’ he answered, ‘ while I was
taking Pritchard to his kennel, that we never have any
eggs because Pritchard eats them; and he eats them
because he is in direct communication with the hens.’

‘Tt is evident, Michel, that if Pritchard never went into
the poultry-yard, he would not eat the eggs.’

‘Then, do you not think, sir,’ continued Michel, ‘ that if
we shut up Pritchard in the stable and put Catinat into
the poultry-yard, it would be better? Catinat is an ani-
mal without education, so far as I know; but he ig not
such a thief as Pritchard.’

‘Do you know what will happen if you do that,
1s2 MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BEASTS

Michel?’ I-said. ‘Catinat will not eat the eggs, perhaps,
but he will eat the hens.’

‘Tf a misfortune like that were to occur, I know a
method of curing him of eating hens.’

‘Well—but in the mearitime the hens would be eaten.’

Scarcely had I uttered these words, when a frightful
noise was heard in the stable-yard, as loud as that of a
pack of hounds in full cry, but mingled with howls of rage
and pain which indicated a deadly combat.

‘Michel!’ I cried, ‘do you hear that?’

‘Oh yes, I hear it,’ he answered, ‘ but those must be
the neighbours’ dogs fighting.’

‘Michel, those are Catinat and Pritchard killing each
other !’

‘Impossible, sir—I have separated them,’

‘Well, then, they have met again.’ .

‘Tt is true,’ said Michel, ‘that scoundrel Pritchard can
open the stable-door as well as any one.’

‘Then, you see, Pritchard is a dog of courage ; he'll
have opened the stable-door for Catinat on purpose to
fight him. Be quick, Michel, I am really afraid one of
them will be killed.’

Michel darted into the passage which led to the stable,
and no sooner had he disappeared than I knew from the
lamentations which I heard that some misfortune had
happened. In a minute or two Michel reappeared sobbing
bitterly and carrying Pritchard in his arms.

‘Jaook, sir! just look!’ he said; ‘this is the last we
shall see of Pritchard—look what your fine sporting dog
has done to him. Catinat, indeed! it is Catilina he
should be called !’

Tran up to Pritchard, full of concern—I had a great
love for him, though he had often made me angry. He
was a dog of much originality, and the unexpected things
he did were only a proof of genius.

‘What do you think is the matter?’ I asked Michel.

‘The matter ?—the matter is that he is dead!’
MONSIEUR DUMAS AND HIS BHASTS 153

‘Oh no, surely not!’

‘Anyhow, he'll never be good for anything again.’
And he laid him on the ground at my feet.

‘Pritchard, my poor Pritchard!’ I cried.

’ At the sound of my voice, Pritchard opened his yellow
eye and looked sorrowfully at me, then stretched out his
four legs, gave one sigh, and died. Catinat had bitten
his throat quite through, so that his death was almost
immediate.

‘Well, Michel,’ said I, ‘it is not a good servant, it is
a good friend that we have lost. You must wash him
carefully—you shall havea towel to wrap him in—you
shall dig his grave in the garden and we will have a
tombstone made for him on which shall be engraved this
epitaph :

Like conquering Rantzau, of courage undaunted,

Pritchard, to thee Mars honour has granted,

On each field of fight of a limb he bereft thee,

Till nought but thy gallant heart scatheless was left thee.

As my habit was, I sought consolation for my grief in
literary labours. Michel endeavoured to assuage his with
the help of two bottles of red wine, with which, mingled
with his tears, he watered the grave of the departed. I
know this because when I came out early next morning
to see if my wishes with regard to Pritchard’s burial had
been carried out, I found Michel stretched upon the
ground, still in tears, and the two bottles empty by his
‘side.
154

THE ADVENTURES OF PYRAMUS

Pyramus was a large brown dog, born of a good family,
who had been given, when a mere pup, to Alexandre
Dumas, the great French novelist, then quite a young
man. Now the keeper to whom Pyramus first belonged
had also a tiny little fox cub without any relations about
the place, so both fox-cub and dog-pup were handed over
to the same mother, who brought them up side by side,
until they were able to do for themselves. So when the
keeper made young Dumas a present of Pyramus, he
thought he had better bestow Cartouche on him as well.

Of course it is hardly necessary to say that these fine
names were not invented by the keeper, who had never
heard of either Pyramus or Cartouche, but were given to
his pets by Dumas, after he had spent a little time in
observing their characters.

Certainly it was a very curious study. Here were two
animals, who had never been apart since they were born,
and were now living together in two kennels side by
side in the courtyard of the house, and yet after the first
three or four months, when they were mere babies, every
day showed some difference, and soon they ceased to be
friends at all and became open enemies.

The earliest fight known to have taken place between
them happened in this way. One day some bones were
thrown by accident within the bounds of Cartouche’s
territory, and though if they belonged to anybody, it was
clearly Cartouche, Pyramus resolved most unfairly to get
hold of them. The first time Pyramus tried secretly to
THE ADVENTURES OF PYRAMUS 155

commit this act of piracy, Cartouche growled ; the second
time he showed his teeth ; the third time he bit.

‘It must be owned that Cartouche had shown some
excuse for his violent behaviour, because he always re-
mained chained up, whereas Pyramus was allowed
certain hours of liberty; and it was during one of these
that he made up his mind to steal the bones from Car-
touche, whose chain (he thought) would prevent any
attempt at reprisals. Indeed, he even tried to make out
to his conscience that probably the bones were not dainty
enough for Cartouche, who loved delicate food, whereas
anything was good enough for him, Pyramus. However,
whether he wanted to eat the bones or not, Cartouche had
no intention of letting them be stolen from him, and
- having managed to drive off Pyramus on the first occa,
sion, he determined to get safely hold of the bones before
. his enemy was unchained again.

Now the chains of each were the same length, four
feet, and in addition to that, Pyramus had a bigger head
and longer nose than Cartouche, who was much smaller
altogether. So it follows that when they were both
chained up, Pyramus could stretch farther towards any '
object that lay at an equal distance between their kennels.
Pyramus knew this, and so he counted on always getting
the better of Cartouche.

But Cartouche had not been born a fox for nothing, .
and he watched with a scornful expression the great
Pyramus straining at his chain with his eyes nearly jump-
ing out of his head with greed and rage. ‘ Really,’ said
Cartouche to himself, ‘if he goes on like that much
longer, I shall have a mad dog for a neighbour before the
day is out. Letme see if J can’t manage better.’ Butas
we know, being a much smaller animal than Pyramus, his
nose did not come nearly so close to the bones; and after
one or two efforts to reach the tempting morsel which
was lying about six feet from each kennel, he gave it up,
and retired to his warm bed, hoping that he might some-
156 THH ADVENTURES OF PYRAMUS

how hit upon some idea which would enable him to reach
the ‘ bones of contention.’

All at once he jumped up, for after hard thought he
had got what he wanted. He trotted merrily to the
length of his chain, and now it was Pyramus’ turn to look
on and to think with satisfaction: ‘Well, if I can’t get
them, you can’t either, which is a comfort.’

But gradually his grin of delight changed into a
savage snarl, as Cartouche turned himself round when he









CARTOUCHE OUTWITS PYRAMUS

‘had got to the end of his chain, and stretching out his
paw, hooked the bone which he gradually drew within
reach, and before Pyramus had recovered from his
astonishment, Cartouche had got possession of all the
bones and was cracking them with great enjoyment inside
his kennel.

It may seem very unjust that Cartouche was always
kept chained up, while Pyramus was allowed to roam
about freely, but the fact was that Pyramus only ate or
stole when he was really hungry, while Cartouche was by


THE ADVENTURES OF PYRAMUS 157

nature the murderer of everything he came across. One
day he broke his chain and ran off to the fowl-yard of
Monsieur Mauprivez, who lived next door. In less than
ten minutes he had strangled seventeen hens and two
cocks : nineteen corpsesin all! It was impossible to find
any ‘extenuating circumstances’ in his favour. He was
condemned to death and promptly executed.

Henceforth Pyramus reigned alone, and it is sad to
think that he seemed to enjoy it, and even that his appe-
tite grew bigger.

It is bad enough for any dog to have an appetite like
Pyramus when he was at home, but when he was out
shooting, and should have been doing his duty as a
retriever, this fault became a positive vice. Whatever
might be the first bird shot by his master, whether it
happened to be partridge or pheasant, quail or snipe,
down it would go into Pyramus’s wide throat. It was
seldom, indeed, that his master arrived in time to see
even the last feathers.

A smart blow from a whip kept him in order all the
rest of the day, and it: was very rarely that he sinned
twice in this way while on the same expedition, but un-
luckily before the next day’s shooting came round, he
had entirely forgotten all about his previous caning, and
justice had to be done again.

On two separate occasions, however, Pyramus’s greedi-
ness brought its own punishment. One day his master
was shooting with a friend in a place where a small
wood had been cut down early in the year, and after the
low shrubs had been sawn in pieces and bound in
bundles, the grass was left to grow into hay, and this hay
was now in processs of cutting. The shooting party
reached the spot just at the time that the reapers were
having their dinner and taking their midday rest, and
one of the reapers had laid his scythe against a little
stack of wood about three feet high. At this moment
a snipe got up, and M. Dumas fired and killed it. It
1538 THE ADVENTURES OF PYRAMUS

fell on the other side of the stack of wood against which
the scythe was leaning.

As it was the first bird he had killed that day, he knew
of course that it would become the prey of Pyramus, so
he did not hurry himself to go after it, but watched with
amusement, Pyramus tearing along, even jumping over
the stack in his haste.

But when after giving the dog the usual time to
swallow his fat morsel, Monsieur did not see Pyramus
coming back to him as usual in leaps and bounds, he
began to wonder what could have happened, and made
hastily for the stack of wood behind which he had dis-
appeared. There he found the unlucky Pyramus lying on
the ground, with the point of the scythe right through his
neck. The blood was pouring from the wound, and he
lay motionless, with the snipe dead on the ground about
six inches from his nose.

The two men raised him as gently as possible, and
carried him to the river, and here they bathed the wound
with water. They then folded a pocket-handkerchief into
a band, and tied it tightly round his neck to staunch the
blood, and when this was done, and they were wondering
how to get him home, a peasant fortunately passed
driving a donkey with two panniers, and he was laid
in one of the panniers and taken to the nearest village,
where he was put safely into a carriage.

For eight days Pyramus lay between life and death.
For a whole month his head hung on one side, andit was
only after six weeks (which seems like six years to a dog)
that he was able to run about as usual, and appeared to
have forgotten his accident.

Only, whenever he saw a scythe he made a long round
to avoid coming in contact with it.

Some time afterwards he returned to the house with
his body as full of holes as a sieve. On this occasion
he was taking a walk through the forest, and, seeing a
goat feeding, jumped at its throat. The goat screamed
THE ADVENTURES OF PYRAMUS 159

loudly, and the keeper, who was smoking at a little dis-
tance off, ran to his help; but before he could come up
the goat was half dead. On hearing the steps of the -
keeper, and on listening to his strong language, Pyramus
understood very well that this stout man dressed in blue
would have something very serious to say to him, so he
stretched his legs to their fullest extent, and started off
like an arrow froma bow. But, as Man Friday long ago
remarked, ‘ My little ball of lead can run faster than thou,’
the keeper’s little ball of lead ran faster than Pyramus,
and that is how he came home with all the holes in
his body.

There is no denying that Pyramus was a very bad
dog, and as his master was fond of him, it is impossible
to believe that he can always have been hungry, as, for
instance, when he jumped up in a butcher’s shop to steal
a piece of meat and got the hook on which it was hung
through his own jaws, so that someone had to come and
unhook him. But hungry or not, Monsieur Dumas had
no time to be perpetually getting him out of scrapes, and
when a few months later an Englishman who wanted a
sporting dog took a fancy to Pyramus, his master was not
altogether sorry to say good-bye.
160

THE STORY OF A WEASEL.

WEASELS are go sharp and clever and untiring, that their
activity has been made into a proverb; and, like many
other sharp and clever creatures, they are very mis-
chievous, and fond of killing rabbits and chickens, and
even of sucking their eggs, which they do so carefully that
they hardly ever break one.

A French lady, called Mademoiselle de Laistre, a friend
of the great naturalist, Monsieur de Buffon, once found a
weasel when he was very young indeed, and, as she was
fond of pets, she thought she would bring him up. Now
a weasel is a little creature, and very pretty. It has short
legs and a long tail, and its skin is reddish brown above
and white below. Its eyes are black and its ears are
small, and its body is about seven inches in length. But
this weasel was much smaller than that when it went to
live with Mademoiselle de Laistre.

Of course it had to be taught: all young things have,
and this weasel knew nothing. The good lady first began
with pouring some milk into the hollow of her hand and
letting it drink from it. Very soon, being a weasel of
polite instincts, it would not take milk in any other way.
After its dinner, when a little fresh meat was added to the
milk, it would run to a soft quilt that was spread in its
mistress’s bedroom, and, having soon discovered that it
could get inside the quilt ata place where the stitches
had given way, it proceeded to tuck itself up comfortably
for an hour or two. This was all very well in the day,

1 Bingley’s Animal Biography.
THH STORY OF A WHASEL 16

but Mademoiselle de Laistre did not feel at all safe in
leaving such a mischievous creature loose during the night,



















































MADEMOISELLE DE LAISTRE AND HER WEASEL Mw
162 THH STORY OF A WHASEL

so whenever she went to bed, she shut the weasel up in
a little cage that stood close by. If she happened to wake
up early, she would unfasten the cage, and then the weasel
would come into her bed, and, nestling up to her, go to
sleep again. If she was already dressed when he was let
out, he would jump all about her, and would never once
miss alighting on her hands, even when they were held
out three feet from him.

All his ways were pretty and gentle. He would sit
on his mistress’s shoulder and give little soft pats to her
chin, or would run over a whole room full of people at the
mere sound of her voice. He was very fond of the sun,
too, and would tumble about and murmur with delight
whenever it shone on him. The little weasel was rather
a thirsty animal, but he would not drink much at a time,
and, when he had once tasted milk, could not be persuaded
to touch rain-water. Baths were quite new to him, too,
and he could not make up his mind to them, even in the
heat, from which he suffered a good deal. His nearest
approach to bathing was a wet cloth wrapped round him,
and this evidently gave him great pleasure.

Cats and dogs about the place condescended to make
friends with him, and they never quarrelled nor hurt each
other. Indeed, in many of their instincts and ways,
weasels are not very unlike cats, and one quality they
have in commion is their curiosity. Nothing was dull or
uninteresting to this little weasel. It was impossible to
open a drawer or take out a paper without his little sharp
nose being thrust round the corner, and he would even
jump on his mistress’s hands, the better to read her letters.
He was also very fond of attracting attention, and in the
midst of his play would always stop to see if anyone was
watching. If he found that no one was troubling about
him, he would at once leave off, and, curling himself up,
go off into a sleep so sound that he might be taken up by
the head and swung backwards and forwards quite a long
time before he would wake up and be himself again,
STORIES ABOUT WOLVES

Wotves are found in the colder and more northern parts
of Asia and North America, and over the whole of Hurope,
except the British Isles, where they were exterminated
long.ago. Some say Lochiel killed the last wolf in Scot-
land, some say a gamekeeper was the hero. The wolf
very much resembles the dog in appearance, except
that his eyes are set in obliquely, and nearer his nose.
His coat is commonly of a tawny grey colour, but some-
times black or white, and he varies in size according
to the climate. Some wolves only measure two and a
half feet in length, not counting the tail, others are much
larger. They have remarkably keen sight, hearing, and
sense of smell, and such a stealthy gait, that thelr way
of slinking along has passed into a proverb in coun-
tries where wolves are common. They live in rocky
caverns in the forest, sleep by day like other beasts: of
prey, and go out at night to forage for food. They eat
small birds, reptiles, the smaller animals, such as rats and
mice, some fruits, grapes among others, and rotten apples ;
they do not disdain even dead bodies, nor garbage of any
sort. But in times of famine or prolonged snow, when
all these provisions fail them, and they feel the pinch of
hunger, then woe betide the flocks of sheep or the human
beings they may encounter. In 1450 wolves actually
came into Paris and attacked the citizens. Hiven so lately
as the long and severe winter of 1894-5, the wolves came
down into the plains of Piedmont and the lower Alpes
Maritimes in such numbers that the soldiery had to be
: m2
164 STORIES ABOUT WOLVES

called out to destroy them. In such times a wolf in
broad daylight will steal up to a flock of sheep peacefully
feeding, seize on a fine fat one, and make away with it,
unseen and unsuspected even by the watchful sheep dog.
Should a first attempt prove successful, he will return
again and again, till, finding he can no longer rob that
flock unmolested, he will look out for another one still un-
suspicious. If he once gets inside a sheep-fold at night,
he massacres and mangles right and left. When he has
slain to his heart’s content, he goes off with a victim
and devours it, then comes back for a second, a third, and
a fourth carcase, which he carries away to hide under a
heap of branches or dead leaves. When dawn breaks,
he returns gorged with food to his lair, leaving the
ground strewn with the bodies of the slain. The wolf
even contrives to get the better of his natural enemy,
the dog, using stratagem and cleverness in the place of
strength. If he spies a gawky, long-legged puppy swag-
gering about his own farmyard, he will come closer and
entice him out to play by means of every sort of caper and
gambol. When the young simpleton has been induced
to come out beyond the farmyard, the wolf, throwing off
his disguise of amiable playfulness, falls wpon the dog and
carries him away to make a meal of. In the case of a
dog stronger and more capable of making resistance the
stratagem requires two wolves; one appears to the dog in
its true character of wolf, and then disappears into an
ambush, where the other lies hidden. The dog, follow-
ing its natural instinct, pursues the wolf into the ambush,
where the two conspirators soon make an end of it.

So numerous have wolves always been in the rural
districts of France, that from the earliest times there has
been an institution called the Lowveterie, for their exter-
mination. Since the French Revolution this has been
very much modified, but there is still a reward of somuch
per head for every wolf killed. Under ordinary circum-
stances the wolf will not only not attack man, but will
STORIES ABOUT WOLVES 165

flee from him, for heis as cowardly as he is crafty. But if
driven by hunger he will pursue, or rather he will follow
a solitary traveller for miles, dogging his footsteps, and
always keeping near, sometimes on one side, sometimes
on the other, till the man, harassed and worn out by
fatigue and fright, is compelled to halt; then the wolf,
who has been waiting for this opportunity, springs on him
and devours him.

Audubon, in his ‘ Quadrupeds of America,’ tells a story
of two young negroes who lived on a plantation on the
banks of the Ohio in the State of Kentucky, about the year
1820. They each had a sweetheart, whom they used to go
to visit every evening after their work was done. These
negresses lived on another plantation about four miles
away, but a short cut led across a large cane brake.
When winter set in with its long dark nights no ray of
light illuminated this dismal swamp. But the negroes
continued their nightly expeditions notwithstanding, arm-
ing themselves by way of precaution with their axes.
One dark night they set off over a thin crust of snow, the
reflection from which afforded all the light they had to
guide them on their way. Hardly a star appeared through
the dense masses of cloud that nearly covered the sky,
and menaced more snow. About half way to their desti-
nation the negroes’ blood froze at the sound of a long and
fearful howl that rent the air; they knew it could only
come from a pack of hungry and perhaps desperate
wolves. They paused to listen, and only a dismal silence
succeeded. In the impenetrable darkness nothing was
visible a few feet beyond them; grasping their axes they
went on their way though with quaking hearts. Suddenly,
in single file, out of the darkness sprang several wolves,
who seized on the first man, inflicting terrible wounds
with their fangs on his legs and arms ; others as ravenous
leapt on his companion, and dragged him to the ground.
Both negroes fought manfully, but soon one had ceased to
move, and the other, despairing of aiding his companion,
166 STORIES ABOUT WOLVES

threw down his axe and sprang on to the branch of a tree,
where he found safety and shelter for the rest of that



iN
ei NG
_ Ss







‘WHEN DAY BROKE’

miserable night. When day broke, only the bones of his
friend lay scattered on the blood-stained, trampled snow ;
three dead wolves lay near, but the rest of the pack had
STORIES ABOUT WOLVES 167

betaken themselves to their lair, to sleep away the effects
of their night’s gorge.

A sledge journey through the plains of Siberia in
winter is a perilous undertaking. If a pack of hungry
wolves get on the track of a sledge, the travellers know,
as soon as they hear the horrid howls and see the grey
forms stealing swiftly across the snow, that their chances
of escape are small. If the sledge stops one instant men
and horses are lost; the only safety is in flight at utmost
speed. It is indeed arace for life! The horses, mad with
terror, seem to have wings; the wolves, no less swift,
pursue them, their cruel eyes gleaming with the lust for
blood. From time to time a shot is fired, and a wolf falls
dead in the snow; bolder than the others, he has tried to
climb into the sledge and has met hisreward. This inci-
dent gives a momentary respite to the pursued, for. the
murderous pack will pause to tear in pieces and devour
their dead comrade; then, further inflamed with the taste
of blood, they will continue the headlong pursuit with
redoubled vigour.

Should the travellers be able to reach a village or
friendly farmhouse before the horses are completely ex-
hausted, the wolves, frightened by the lights, will slink
away into the forest, balked this time of their prey.. On
the other hand, should no refuge be near, the wolves will
keep up with the horses till the poor beasts stumble and
fall from fatigue, when the whole pack will instantly
spring upon men and horses, and in a few moments the
bloodstained snow alone tells the tale.

There have been instances, but fortunately few, of
wolves with a perfect craving for human flesh. Such
was the notorious Béte (or beast) du Gévaudan, that from
the year 1764 and onwards ravaged the district of that
name, in Auvergne, to the south of the centre of France.
This wolf was of enormous size, measuring six feet from
the point of its nose to the tip of its. tale. It devoured
eighty-three persons, principally women and children, and
168 STORIES ABOUT WOLVES

seriously wounded twenty-five or thirty others. It was
attacked from first to last by between two and three
Iamdred thousand hunters, probably not all at once. With
half a dozen wolves, each equal to 200,000 men, a country
could afford to do without an army. But the wolf of
Gévaudan was no common wolf. He never married,
having no leisure, fortunately for the human race. The
whole of France was in a state of alarm on its account ;
the peasants dared no longer go to their work in the fields
alone and unarmed. LHvery day brought tidings of some
fresh trouble; in the morning he would spread terror and
confusion in some village in the plains, in the evening
he would carry off some hapless victim from some moun-
tain hamlet fifteen or twenty leagues away. Five little
shepherd boys, feeding their flocks on the mountain-side,
were attacked suddenly by the ferocious beast, who made
off with the youngest of them; the others, armed only with
sticks, pursued the wolf, and attacked it so valiantly that
they compelled it to drop its prey and slink off into the
wood. A peor woman was sitting at her cottage door
with her three children, when the wolf came down on
them and attempted to carry off each of the children in
turn. The mother fought so courageously in defence of
her little ones that she succeeded in putting the wolf to
flight, but in so doing was terribly bitten herself, and the
youngest child died of his wounds.

Sometimes twenty or thirty parishes joined forces to
attack the beast, led by the most experienced huntsmen
and the chief lowvetier of the kingdom. On one occasion
twenty thousand hunters surrounded the forest of Prei-
niéres, where it lay concealed ; but on this, as well as every
other occasion, the wolf escaped in the most surprising—
one might almost say miraculous—manner, disappearing
as if he had been turned into smoke. Some hunters de-
clared that their bullets had rebounded off him, flattened
and harmless. Others alleged that when he had been
shot, like the great Dundee, with a silver bullet (a well-
STORIES ABOUT WOLVES 169

known charm against sorcery) at such close quarters that
it appeared impossible he should not be mortally wounded,
in a day or two some fresh horror would announce that
_ the creature was still uninjured. The very dogs refused
at length to go after him, and fled howling in the opposite
direction. The belief became general that it was no
ordinary wolf of flesh and blood, but the Fiend himself
in beast shape. Prayers were put up in the churches, .
processions took place, and the Host remained exhibited
as in the times of plague and public calamity.

The State offered a reward of 2,000 franes to whoso-
ever should slay the monster ; the syndics of two neigh-
bouring towns added 500 francs, making a total of 1001.
English money, a large sum in those days. The
young Countess de Mercoire, an orphan, and chatelaine
of one of the finest estates of the district, offered her
hand and fortune in marriage to whoever should rid the
country of the scourge. This inspired the young Count
Léonce de Varinas, who, though no sportsman by nature,
was so deeply in love with the Countess that he
determined to gain the reward or perish in the attempt.
Assisted by a small band of well-trained hunters, and
by two formidable dogs, a bloodhound and a mastiff, -
he began a systematic attack on the wolf. After many
fruitless attempts they succeeded one day in driving the
creature into an abandoned quarry of vast size, the sides
of which were twenty or thirty feet high and quite pre-
cipitous, and the only entrance a narrow cart track blasted
out of the rock. The young Count, determined to do or
die alone, sternly refused to allow his men to accompany
him into the quarry, and left them posted at the entrance
with orders only to fire on the beast should it attempt to
force its way out. Taking only the dogs with him, and
having carefully seen to the state of his weapons, he went
bravely to the encounter. The narrow defile was so com-
pletely hemmed in on every side that, to the vanquished,
there was no escape nor alternative but death. Here and
170 STORIES ABOUT WOLVES

there,.on patches of half-melted snow, were footprints,
evidently recent, of the huge beast; but the creature re-
mained invisible, and for nearly ten minutes the Count
had wandered among the rocks and bushes before the
dogs began to give sign of the enemy’s presence.

About a hundred yards from where he stood was a
frozen pool, on the edge of which grew a clump of bul-
rushes. Among their dry and yellow stalks Léonee sud-
denly caught a glimpse of a pair of fiery eyes—nothing
more; but it was enough to let him know that the longed-
for moment had at length arrived. Léonce advanced
cautiously, his gun cocked and ready to fire, and the dogs
close at his heels, growling with rage and fear. Still the
wolf did not stir, and Léonce, determining to try other
tactics, stopped, raised his gun to his shoulder, and aimed
between the gleaming eyes, nothing more being yet visi-
ble. Before he could fire the beast dashed from among
the crackling reeds and sprang straight at him. Léonce,
nothing daunted, waited till it was within ten paces and
then fired. ‘With a howl of anguish the wolf fell as if
dead. Before Léonce had time to utter a shout of joy, it
was on its feet again. Streaming with blood and terrible
in its rage it fell on the young man. He attempted to
defend himself with his bayonet, which, though of tem-
pered steel, was broken as if it had been glass ; his gun, too,
was bent, and he himself was hurled to the ground. But
for his faithful dogs it would soon have been all over with
him. They flew at the wolf’s throat, who quickly made
an end of the bloodhound; one crunch broke his back,
while one stroke of the ruthless paw disembowelled him.
Castor, the mastiff, had, however, the wolf by the throat,
and a fearful struggle ensued over the prostrate body of
Léonce. They bit, they tore, they worried, they rolled
over and over each other, the wolf, in spite of its wounds,
having always the advantage. Half stunned by the fall,
suffocated by the weight of the combatants, and blinded
by the dust and snow they scattered in the fray, Léonce
















THE DEATH OF THE FAMOUS WOLF OF GEVAUDAN


























































































STORIES ABOUT WOLVES “173

had just sufficient strength to make one last effort in self-
defence. Drawing his hunting-knife, he plunged it to the
hilt in the shaggy mass above him. From a distance he
seemed to hear shouts-of ‘ Courage, Monsieur! Courage,
Castor! We are coming!’ then conscious only of an
overwhelming weight above him, and of iron claws tear-
ing at his chest, he fainted away. When he came to
himself he was lying on the ground, surrounded by his
men. Starting up, he exclaimed, ‘The beast! where is
the beast?’

“Dead, Monsieur! stone dead!’ answered the head
keeper, showing him the horrid creature, all torn and
bloody, stretched out on the snow beside the dead blood-
hound. Castor, a little way off, lay panting and bruised,
licking his wound. The Count’s knife was firmly em-
bedded in the beast’s ribs; it had gone straight to the
heart and death had been instantaneous. A procession
was formed to carry the carcage of the wolf in triumph to
the castle of the Countess. The news had flown in advance,
and she was waiting on the steps to welcome the con-
quering hero. It was not long before the Countess and
the gallant champion were married; and, as the wolf left
no family, the country was at peace. Are you not rather
sorry for the poor wolf?
174

TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

I

Ricu and Speireag were two Highland dogs who lived in
a beautiful valley not far from the west coast of Scotland, ’
where high hills slope down to the shores of a blue loch,
and the people talk a strange language quite different
from English, or even from French, or German, or Latin,
which is called Gaelic.

The name ‘Righ’ means a king, and ‘Speireag’
means a sparrow-hawk, but they are words no one, except
a Highlander, can pronounce properly. However, the
dogs had a great many friends who could not talk Gaelic,
and when English-speaking people called them ‘ Ree’ and
‘Spearah,’ they would always answer.

Righ was a great tawny deerhound, tall and slender,
very stately, as a king should be, and as gentle as he was
strong. He had a rough coat. and soft brown eyes, set
rather near together, and very bright and watchful. His
chief business in life was to watch the faces of his friends,
vand to obey their wishes quickly, to take his long limbs
away from the drawing-room hearth-rug when the butler
came in to put on the coals, not to get in the way more
than so big a dog could help, and not to get too much
excited when anything in the conversation suggested the
likelihood of a walk. But his father and all his ancestors
had led very different lives ; they had been trained to go
out on the mountains with men who hunted the wild
deer, and to help them in the chase, for the deerhounds
run with long bounds and are as fleet as the stag himself.
TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 175

Then, when the beautiful creature had been killed, it was
their duty to guard the body, and to see that carrion
crows, and eagles, and other wild birds should not molest
it. But Righ’s master was a Bishop, who, though he lived
quite near to a great deer forest, and often took his dogs
over the hills to where the deer lived, never killed any-
thing, but loved to see all his fellow-creatures happy
among the things they liked best.

Speireag was a very little dog, of the kind that is called
a Skye terrier, though the island of Skye is one of the
few places in which a long-haired terrier is very rare..
He was quite small, what his Highland friends called ‘a
wee bit doggie;’ he was very full of life and courage,
wonderfully plucky for his size, like the fierce little bird
whose name he bore. Like a good many little people he
lacked the dignity and repose of his big companion, and,
' though very good-tempered among his friends, was quite
ready to bite if beaten, and did not take a scolding with
half the gentleness and humility with which Righ would
submit to punishment, perhaps because he needed. it
oftener, for he was so busy and active that he sometimes
got into scrapes. He was only three years old at the
time of this story and Righ was seven, so it was perhaps
natural that Righ should be the wiser of the two.

They lived in a beautiful house quite near the loch,
and they had a large garden to play in, and they could
go in and out of the house and do just as they liked so
long as they came when they were called and did as they
were bid, and did not climb on the sofa cushions when
their feet were muddy. There were very few houses on
their side the water, and as their friends went about in
boats as often as other people go out in carriages, the dogs
were used to the water, and could swim as easily as
walk, and what is more, knew how to sit still in a boat, so
that they were allowed to go everywhere with their
friends because they gave no trouble.

They had a very happy life, for there was always
176 TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

something going on, which is what dogs like, and plenty
of people to go walks with. Their young masters some-
times went out with guns, and a dog, a country dog, loves
a gun better than anything in the world, because he
knows it means business in which he can help. Some-
times their mistress took them for a walk, and then they
knew that they must be on their best behaviour, and not
wander too far away from the road and have to be
whistled back, and not fight with the collies at the cottage
doors, nor chase cats, nor be tiresome in any way; they
generally kept close beside her, Righ walking very slowly
so as to accommodate his big strides to the progress of a
poor human thing with only two legs, and Speireag trot-
ting along with tiny little footsteps that seemed to make
a ereatiuss and to beina great hurry about nothing at all.
There was nothing, however, so delightful as going for
walks with their own master, the Bishop. For one thing,
they generally knew he really meant to do something
worth while. Pottering about with a gun or escorting a
lady is pleasant enough, but it generally means coming
home to lunch or tea, and the real joy of a dog’s walk is
to feel that you are getting further and further away from
home, and that there are miles of heather and pine-wood
behind you, and yet you are still going on and on, with
chances of more hares and more squirrels to run after.
Sometimes the Bishop would stop at a shepherd’s hut or
a lonely cottage under the lee of a hill, and sometimes he
would sit down to examine a flower he had gathered in
the wood, but they forgave him very good-temperedly, and
could always find something to interest them while they
waited.
Righ generally sat down beside his master and
stretched out his great limbs on the heather, for he liked
to think he was taking care of somebody or something.
Speireag would lie down for a minute, panting, with his
little red tongue hanging out and his hairy little paws all
wet and muddy; but he never rested for long, but would -
TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 177

dart off, pretending to have found a rat or a squirrel, even
if none really existed.

It was in December 1887, the weather was raw and
cold, there was ice floating about on the loch, and the sea
gulls used to come up to the garden terrace to be fed.
The young masters were away, and mistress could only
take walks along the road, there was nothing to tempt her
to a mountain scramble or a saunter in the woods. The
Bishop was very busy, and day after day the dogs would
start up from the rug at the sound of the opening of his
study door upstairs, and after a minute’s anxious listen-
ing, with ears cocked and heads erect, they would lie
down again with a sigh of disappointment, for there was
no sound of approach to the hat-stand nor of whistled
invitation for a walk.

Finally came a sad day when the Bishop went away,
and dog-life threatened to become monotonous. Then,
one Saturday, hope revived, for a visitor came to the house,
an old friend whom they loved and trusted as a good dog
always loves what is trustworthy. He was a frequent
visitor, and had, in fact, left the house but three weeks
before. He was there for a holiday rest, and had leisure
to bestow on dogs and on long walks, which they always
shared.

He was very thoughtful for them, not the sort of man
who would set off on a whole afternoon’s ramble and say,
when half a mile on his way, ‘I wish I’d remembered
Righ and Speireag!’ He always remembered them, and
thought for them; and when he fed them after dinner,
would always give big bits of biscuit to the big dog, and
little bits to the little dog, and it is not every one who has
the sense for that!

Every day, and often twice a day, he took them out,
down to the church or the pier, or across the lake and up
to the Pass of Glencoe, where stern grey hills and hover-
ing eagles and a deep silent valley still seem to whisper

N
178 TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

together of a sad true story that happened there in just
such weather as this two hundred years ago.

These were very happy days for dogs, for they did not
mind the cold, it was only an excuse for wild scampering
and racing, and they were very grateful for their friend’s
return. He had been ill, but was able to enjoy his walks,
and though about sixty years of age he had all those
qualities of youth which endear a man to a dog or a child.
He was brave and unselfish, and strong to love and to
endure, and they loved him without knowing why ; with-
out knowing that he had lost his health from overwork in
the service of the poor and suffering, and among outcasts
so low as to be beyond the sympathy of any heart less
loving than that of a dog or of avery goodman. ‘Father’
Mackonochie he was always called, and though he had
never had wife or children of his own, many a fatherless
child, and many a lonely grown-up man or woman, felt
that it was quite easy and natural to call him by a name
so sacred.

On the Wednesday after he came, he took Righ and

' Speireag for a glorious walk through the shrubberies and
out through a gate on to the road at the foot of the hills
behind, a road that winds on and on for many miles, the
mountains rising steeply above, the lake being cold and
grey below; the bank, that slopes away from the road to
the water, in places covered with gorse and low bushes
and heather, where an enterprising dog may hunt for rats
and rabbits, or rush headlong after a pee-wit or moor-fowl
as it rises with a scream at his approach and flutters off
high into the air, and then descending to within a few
feet of him, skims low before him, hopelessly far, yet
tantalisingly near.

The way was familiar to them by land or by water.
Often had they sailed up the loch in the same direction,
further and further into the heart of the mountains, the
valley becoming more and more narrow, the shores of
the lake nearer and nearer to each other, till, had they
TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 179

gone far enough, they would have reached the Dog’s Ferry,
a spot where the water is so narrow that adog may easily
swim across. Righ, strong swimmer that he was, had
often crossed the loch near his master’s house, where the
ferry boats ply, and needed no Dog’s Ferry, but few dogs
made such powerful strokes in the water as he.

This day, however, they did not reach the Dog’s
Ferry. The afternoon was closing in, there were streaks
of gold in the dull grey sky, and it was, the good Father
thought, time to return. ‘Never mind, little man,’ he
said as Speireag looked reproachfully at him with wistful
brown eyes gleaming through overhanging silvery locks,
‘we'll do it to-morrow, only we must set off earlier.’

This was good news, and the little. dog started home
gaily, running, as little dogs will, ten miles, at least, to
every one of the road, and tired enough when home was
reached at last. Dinner was a welcome feast, and Righ
and Speireag slept sound till it was time for evening
service. They always attended chapel night and morn-
ing, and took their places at the foot of the steps, half-
way, when both were present, between mistress in her
seat and master at the place of his sacred office. To-
night, as usual, they remained perfectly quiet and appa-
rently indifferent to what was going on till, at the words
‘Lighten our darkness,’ bed-time came into immediate
prospect, and they started into expectant attitudes, await-
ing the final ‘ Amen.’

IT

Tur next morning, though cold, was fine and fairly bright,
and the dogs watched eagerly for signs of the promised
walk. The service in chapel was rather long this morn-
ing, for, asi was Advent, the ‘ Benedicite’ was read, and
though Righ and Speireag noticed only, that they had
time for a longer nap than usual, there were some present
who will never forget, as the season comes round again
nQ
180 TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

each year, the special significance of part of that song of
praise—
O ye frost and cold—O ye ice and snow—O ye nights and days,
O ye light and darkness, O ye mountains and hills,

O ye beasts and cattle, O ye holy and humble men of heart,
Bless ye the Lord, praise Him and magnify Him for ever !

But at last the service was over and the dogs trotted out
into the hall, and followed mistress and their friend to the
front door to see ‘what the weather was like.’ It was not
a specially pleasant morning, but it would do for a walk,
and after waiting a few minutes to have some sand-
wiches cut, the only detention that could be endured with
patience, the three set out. After about six miles they
were on new ground, but on they went, the lake to the
right of the road getting narrower—on past the Dog’s
Ferry and still on, till the loch had become a river, and
could be crossed by a bridge.

Righ and Speireag knew, by a more certain method
than looking at clocks, that it was lunch time, half past
one at least, and they never thought of doubting that they
would cross the bridge and turn homewards along the
other side the loch, and so get in about tea-time; or,
for their friend was enterprising, by a longer way also on the
further side, either of which would involve a delightful
long walk, but with just that hint of a homeward turn
which, even to dogs, is acceptable when breakfast has
become a mere memory.

They accordingly followed the road,on to the paies:
but as Father Mackonochie did not overtake them, Righ,
ever watchful of his friends, turned to look back and saw -
him speaking to a girl, after which, to their surprise, he
whistled them back, and instead of continuing along the
road as it turned off to the right, kept straight on, though
there was now only a rough track leading through a gate
into the wood beyond.

‘When they had advanced a few paces into the wood, he
TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 181
¢

sat down under a tree and took out his packet of sand-
wiches. Righ and Speireag, sitting close beside him, had
their share, or perhaps more, for their wistful brown eyes
hungrily reminded him that they had multiplied the
distance many times over, and that an unexpected
luncheon out of doors is a joy in a dog’s day, of a kind
for which a man may well sacrifice a part of his minor
pleasure.

Starting off again was afresh delight. On they went,
further and further, always climbing higher and getting
deeper into the wood. To the left, the steep mountain-
side rose abruptly above them; to the right, below the
path, the river tore its way between steep banks down,
down to its home in the lake. Now and then the trees
parted and made way for a wild mountain torrent leaping
from rock to rock down the hill side, and rushing across
their path to join the river below. As they climbed
further these became more frequent. Their friend could
stride across, setting an occasional foot upon a stepping-
stone, and Righ, too, could cross safely enough, long
limbed as he was, though now and then he had to swim,
and the streams were so rapid that it needed all his
strength to cross the current. Sometimes he helped
Speireag, for the brave little dog would always try to
follow his big companion, and sometimes, with an anxious
bark, would give warning that help was needed, and then
the kind Father would turn back to pick up the little dog
and carry him till they were in safety.

It was very hard work, they were always climbing,
and in many places the road was polished with a thin
coating of ice, but the dogs feared nothing and kept on
bravely.

The path dwindled to a mere track, and the climbing
became steeper still. The streams crossed their road still
oftener, and the stones were slippery with ice. The wood
became thinner, and as they had less shelter from the
trees, great flakes of half-frozen snow were driven against
182 TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

their faces. There was no thought now of hares or stags,
Righ and Speireag had no energies left for anything but
patient following. Poor little Speireag’s long coat was
very wet, and as it dried a little, it became hard and crisp
with frost. The long hair falling over his eyes was
matted together and tangled with briers, and his little feet
were sore and heavy with the mud that had caked in the
long tassels of silky hair. Hven Righ was very weary,
and he followed soberly now instead of bounding along in
front, his ears and tail drooped, and each time he crossed
the ice-cold water he seemed more and more dejected.

As they left the wood behind them, the snow fell
thick and blinding, but just at first, as they came out into
the open, it seemed not quite so dark as under the trees.
There was nothing to be seen but grey sky and grey moor,
even the river had been left behind, and only blackened
patches remained to show where, in summer, the ground
was spread with a gay carpet of purple heather and sweet
bog-myrtle. They got deeper at each step into half-
frozen marsh; there was no sound or sign of life. The
dogs felt hungry and weary, and they ached with the cold
and wet. But they were following a friend, and they
trusted him wholly. Well they knew that each step was
taking them farther from home, and farther into the cold
and darkness. But dog-wisdom never asserts itself, and
in trustful humility they followed still, and the snow
came down closer and closer around them, and even the
grey sky and the grey moor were blotted out—and the
darkness fell.

III

Ir was a disappointing home-coming for the Bishop that
Thursday evening! There was no hearty handshake from
waiting friend, no rejoicing bay of big dog or extravagant
excitement of little dog to weleome him. The three had
been out the whole day, he was told, and had not yet
TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 183

reappeared. A long walk had been projected, but they
had been expected home long before this. When dinner-
time came, and they did not appear, two servants had
been sent out with lanterns to meet them, as the road,
though not one to be missed, was dark, and some small
accident might have happened. The men were not back
yet, but doubtless the missing party would soon return.

The night was dark and stormy, and Father Mac-
konochie had been for some time somewhat invalided, and
as time passed the Bishop became increasingly anxious.
At length he ordered a carriage, and with the gardener
set off towards Kinloch, the head of the loch, thinking
that accident or weariness might have detained his friend,
and the carriage might be useful. On the way they met
the first messengers returning with the news that nothing
could be heard at Kinloch of the missing three, except
that they had passed there between one and two o’clock
in the afternoon. The Bishop and his men sought along
the road, and inquired for tidings at the very few houses
within reach, but in vain. The night was dark and little
could be done, and there was always the hope that on
their return they might find that some tidings had been
heard, that the lost friends might have come back by the
other side of the lake.

So at last they turned back, reaching home about four
o’clock in the morning. No news had been heard, and
all felt anxious and perplexed, but most believed that
some place of shelter had been reached, as the dogs had
not come home. They could find their way home from
anywhere, and there seemed little doubt that, overtaken
by darkness, all three had found shelter in a shepherd’s
or gamekeeper’s hut, perhaps on the other side of the lake,
as they had almost certainly crossed the bridge, no one
having met them on the road by which they had started.

Nevertheless all that was possible must be done in
case of the worst, and as soon as daylight returned four
parties of men were despatched in different directions,
184 TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

the Bishop himself choosing that which his friend and
his dogs were known to have taken the day before.

A whole. day of search over miles and miles of the
desolate wintry mountains revealed but one fact, that the
party had eaten their luncheon under a tree in the wood,
beyond the bridge. The squirrels had left the sandwich
paper there to tell the tale, and for the first time it seemed
likely that they had not turned homewards on reaching
the head of the lake, either by the same road they had
come, or by that on the other side of the water and through
Glencoe.

One by one, the search parties came home with no
tidings. No trace of the wanderers had been seen, no
bark of dogs had been heard, no help had been found
towards the discovery of the sad secret. Weary and
heartsick as all felt, no time was to be lost, every hour
made the anxiety greater, and all were ready in a very
short time to start afresh.

Again, for the second time, all through the long night
they wandered over the mountains, through the wood,
and across. the deer-forest beyond. It was an awful
night. Again and again were their lights blown out; the
snow lay deep in all the hollows ; where the streams had
overflowed their banks, the path was a sheet of solid ice;
the rocks, polished and slippery, were climbed with
utmost difficulty. At every opening in the hills an ice-
cold wind whirled down glen and corrie, sleet and hail-
stones beat against their faces, the frozen pools in the
marshes gave way beneath their feet. The night was
absolutely dark, not a star shone out to give them
courage. The silence and the sounds were alike awful.
Sometimes they could hear each other’s laboured breath-
ing as they tottered on the ice or waded through the
snow, sometimes all other sounds were lost in the shriek-
ing of the whirlwinds, the crackling of the ice, and the
roaring of the swollen, angry streams.
TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 185

What could have happened? Even if accident had
occurred, either or both of the dogs would surely have
returned, and how could even a Highland dog, hungry
and shelterless, live through such a night as this ?

Morning came again, and returning to the point, near
the bridge at which the carriage had been left, two of the
parties met, and drove home for food and dry clothing,
and to learn what others might have to tell.

There was no news, and again the same earnest
friends, with many more kind. helpers, set out on their
almost hopeless journey. The trackless wilds of the
deer-forest seemed the most likely field for search, and
all now, in various groups, set off in this direction.

Hour after hour passed without any gleam of hope,
and even the Bishop began to feel that everything pos-
sible had been done, and was turning sadly home-
wards. A second party, a few hundred yards behind,
had almost come to the same resolve, many of the men
had been without rest since Thursday, and even the dog,
who with one of the keepers of the deer-forest had
joined the party, was limping wearily and was exhausted
by the cold and the rough walking.

Suddenly he stopped, and, with ears pricked and head
erect, listened. No one knows better than a Highlander
the worth of a collie’s opinion, and more than one stopped
to listen too. Not far away, and yet faint, came the bark
of a dog! Among the men was Sandy, one of the
Bishop’s stablemen, who knew and loved Righ and
Speireag, and his heart leapt up as he recognised the
deerhound’s bay !

Away, to their left, the mountains were cleft by a
narrow glen, the sound came from the bank on the hither
side. The Bishop and his party had climbed to the
further side, but a shout reached them, alert and watchful
as they were.

They turned back wondering, scarcely daring to hope.
186 TWO HIGHIAND DOGS

The men who had called to them were hastening to a
given point, the dog, nose to ground, preceding them.
There is no mistaking the air of a dog on business. The
collie’s intentness was as different from his late dejection
as was the present haste of the men from the anxious
watchful plodding of their long search.

In another moment they came in sight of something
which made them hold back the dog, and which arrested
their own footsteps. The Bishop himself must be the
first to tread on what all felt was holy ground.

There, on the desolate hillside, lay the body of Father
Mackonochie, wreathed about with the spotless snow, a
peaceful expression on his face. One on either side sat
the dogs, watching still, as they had watched through
the two long nights of storm and darkness. Even the
approach of friends did not tempt them to forsake their
duty. With hungry, weary faces they looked towards the
group which first came near them, but not till their own
master knelt down beside all that remained of his old
friend, did they yield up their trust, and rise, numbed
and stiff, from the posts they had taken up; who knows
how long before ?

To say a few words of prayer and thanksgiving was
the Bishop’s first thought, his second to take from his
pocket the sandwiches he carried, and to give all to Righ
and Speireag. ;

A bier was contrived of sticks from a rough fence
that marked the boundary of the deer-forest, and the
body was lifted from the frozen ground on which it lay.
The return to Kinloch, where the carriage waited, was
very difficult, and the bearers had to change places very
often.

Slow as was their progress, it was as rapid as Righ
could manage, numbed with cold, and exhausted with
hunger. The little dog was easily carried, and for once
little Speireag was content to rest.

No one will ever know what those faithful dogs felt


‘THE LONG VIGIL’





TWO HIGHLAND DOGS 189

and endured during those two days and nights of storm
and loneliness. Those who sought them in the darkness
of that second awful night must have passed very near
the spot where they lay, sleeping perhaps, or deafened
by the storm, or even, possibly, listening anxiously with
beating hearts to the footsteps which came so near, and
yet turned away, leaving them, faithful to their post, in
the night.

They in their degree, like the man whose last sleep
they guarded, were ‘ true and faithful- servants.’

Tt is pleasant to know that Righ and Speireag did not
suffer permanently for all they had undergone! They
lived for five years and a half after, and had many and
many a happy ramble when the sun was bright and the
woods were green, and squirrels and hares were merry.
They could not be better cared for than they had always
been, but, if possible, they were more indulged. If they
contrived to get a dinner in the kitchen as well as in the
dining-room, their friends remembered the days when
they had none, and nobody told tales. If they lay in the
gun quite across the front door, or took up the whole of:
the rug before the winter fire, everyone felt that there
were arrears of warmth to be made up to them. Their
portraits were painted, and in the sculpture which in his
own church commemorates Father Mackonochie’s death,
the dogs have not been forgotten.

Righ was the elder of the two, and towards the end
of his thirteen years showed signs of old age and became
rheumatic and feeble, but Speireag, though three years
younger, did not long survive him.

They rest now under a cairn in the beautiful garden
they loved so well; dark green fir trees shelter their grave,
a gentle stream goes merrily by on its way to the lake
below, and in the crannies of the stones of which the
190 TWO HIGHLAND DOGS

cairn is built, fox-gloves and primroses and little ferns
grow fresh and green.
On the cairn is this inscription :

In Memory OF
15th December, 1887.

Riau died 19th January, 1893.
SPEIREAG died 28th August, 1893.
IQ

MONKEY TRICKS AND SALLY AT THE ZOO!

Some monkeys are cleverer and more civilised than
others, and the chiefs have their followers well in hand;
every monkey having his own especial duties, which
he is very careful to fulfil. When the stores of food
which have been collected are getting low, the elders of
the tribe—grey beards with long manes—meet together
and decide where they shall go to lay in fresh supplies.
This important point being settled, the whole body of
monkeys, even down to the very little ones, leave the
woods or mountain ravine where they live, and form into
regular order. First scouts are posted ;: some being sent
on to places in advance, others being left to guard the
rear, while the main body, made up of the young and
helpless monkeys, follow the chiefs, who march solemnly
in front and carefully survey every precipice or doubtful
place before they suffer anyone to pass over it.

Tt is notat all easy, even for an elderly and experienced
monkey, to keep order among the host of lively chattering
creatures for whose safety he is responsible, and indeed it
would often be an impossible task if it were not for the
help of the rear-guard. These much-tried animals have
to make wp quarrels which often break out by the way ;
to prevent the greedy ones from stopping to eat every
scrap of fruit or berry that hangs from the trees as they
pass, and to scold the mothers who try to linger behind
in order to dress their children’s hair and to make them
smart for the day.

1 Naturalist’s Note-book.
192 MONKEY TRICKS

Under these conditions, it takes a long time even for
monkeys to reach their destination, which is generally a
corn-field, but, once there, scouts are sent out to every
rock or rising ground, so as to guard against any surprise.
Then the whole tribe fall to, and after filling their cheek
pouches with ears of corn, they make up bundles to tuck
under their arms. After the long march and the hasty
picking, they begin to get thirsty as well as hungry, and
the next thing is to find some water. This is very soon
done, as they seem able to detect it under the sand, how-
ever deep down it may be, and by dint of taking regular
turns at digging, it does not take long before they have
laid bare a well that is large enough for everybody.

Monkeys love by nature to imitate what they see, and
have been known to smoke a pipe, and to pretend to read
a book that they have seen other people reading. But
sometimes they can do a great deal more than this, and
show that they can calculate and reason better than many
men. A large Abyssinian monkey was one day being
taken round Khartoum by its master, and made to perform
all sorts of tricks for the amusement of the bystanders.
Among these was a date-seller, who was squatting on the
ground beside his fruit. Now the monkey was passionately
fond of dates, but being very cunning was careful not to
let this appear, and went on performing his tricks as usual,
drawing little by little nearer to the date basket as he did
so. When he thought he was near enough for his purpose,
he first pretended to die, slowly and naturally, and then,
after lying for a moment on the sand as stiff as a corpse,
suddenly bounded up with a scream straight in front of
the date-seller’s face, and stared at him with his wild eyes.
The man looked back at him spell-bound, quite unaware
that one of the monkey’s hind feet was in the date basket,
clawing up as much fruit as its long toes could hold.
By some such trick as this the monkey managed to steal
enough food daily to keep him fat and comfortable.

No cleverer monkey ever lived than the ugly old Sally,
MONKEY TRICKS 193

who died at the Zoological Gardens of London only a few
years ago. Her keeper had spent an immense deal of
time and patience in training her up, and it was astonish-
ing what she was able to do. ‘Sally,’ he would say,
putting a tin cup full of milk into her hands, with a spoon
hanging from it, ‘show us how you used to drink when
you were in the woods,’ upon which Sally stuck all her
fingers into the milk and sucked them greedily. ‘Now,’
he continued, ‘ show us how you drink since you became
a lady,’ and then Sally took the spoon and drank her milk
in dainty little sips. Next he picked up a handful of
straw from. the bottom of the cage, and remarked care-
lessly, ‘Here, just tear those into six, will you, all the
same length.’ Sally took the straws, and in half a minute
the thing was done. But she had not come to the end of
-her surprises yet. ‘You’re very fond of pear, I know,’
said the keeper, producing one out of his pocket and
cutting it with his knife ; ‘ well, I’m going to put some on
my hand, but you’re not to touch it until I’ve cut two
short pieces and three long ones, and then you may take
the second long one, but you aren’t to touch any of the
rest.’ The man went on cutting his slices without stop-
ping, and was quite ready to begin upon a sixth, when
Sally stretched out her hand, and took the fourth lying
along the row, which she had been told she might have.
Very likely she might have accomplished even more
wonderful things than this, but one cold day she caught a
chill, and died in a few hours of bronchitis.
194.

HOW THE CAYMAN WAS KILLED!

In the year 1782 there was born in the old house of
Walton, near Pontefract, in Yorkshire, a boy named
Charles Waterton, who afterwards became very famous
as.a traveller and a naturalist. As soonas he could walk,
he was always to be found poking about among trees, or
playing with animals, and both at home andatschool he got
into many a scrape through his love of adventure. He

» ~a3vas only about ten when some other boys dared him to

ride on a cow, and of course he was not going to be
beaten. So up he got while the cow was only thinking
how good the grass tasted, but the moment she felt a
strange weight on her back, she. flung her heels straight
into the air, and off flew Master Waterton over her head.

Many years after this, Waterton was travelling in
South America, seeing and doing many curious things.
For a long time he had set his heart on catching a cay-
man, a kind of alligator that is found in the rivers
of Guiana. For this purpose he took some Indians with
him to the Essequibo, which falls into the sea not far
from Demerara, and was known to be a famous place for
caymans. It was no good attempting to go after them
during the long, bright day. They were safely in hiding,
and never thought of coming out till the sun was below
the horizon.

So Waterton and his Indians waited in patience till
the moon rose, and everything was still, except that
now and then a huge fish.would leap into the air and

1 Waterton’s Wanderings in 8S. America.
HOW THE CAYMAN WAS KILLED tos

plunge again under water. Suddenly there broke forth
a fearful noise, unlike the cry of any other creature. As
one cayman called another answered ; and although
caymans are not very common anywhere, that night you
would have thought that the world was full of them.

The three men stopped eating their supper of -turtle
and turned and looked over the river. Waterton could
see nothing, but the Indian silently pointed to a black log
that lay in the stream, just over the place where they
had baited a hook with a large fish, and bound it on a
board. At the end of the board a rope was fastened, and
this was also made fast to a tree on the bank. By-and-
bye the black log began to move, and in the bright
moonlight he was clearly seen to open his long jaws and
to take the bait inside them. But the watchers on shore
pulled the rope too soon, and the cayman dropped the
bait at once. Then for an hour he lay quite still, thinking “
what he should do next, but feeling cross at having lost
his supper, he made up his mind to try once more, and
cautiously took the bait in his mouth. Again the rope
was pulled, and again the bait was dropped into the river;
but in the end the cayman proved more cunning than the
Indians, for after he had played this trick for three or
four times he managed to get the fish without the hook,
and when the sun rose again, Waterton knew that cay-
man hunting was over for that day.

For two or three nights they watched and waited, but
did not ever get so near success as before. Let them
conceal a hook in the bait ever so cleverly, the cayman
was sure to be cleverer than they, and when morning
came, the bait was always gone and the hook always left.
The Indians, however; had no intention of allowing the
cayman to beat them in the long run, and one of them
invented a new hook, which this time was destined to
better luck. He took four or five pieces of wood about a
foot long, barbed them at each end, and tied them firmly
to the end of a rope, thirty yards long. Above the barb

02
196 HOW THE CAYMAN WAS KILLED ©

was baited the flesh of an acouri, a creature the size of
avabbit. The whole was then fastened to a post driven
into the sand, and the attention of the cayman aroused
to what was going on by some sharp blows on an empty
tortoiseshell, which served as a drum.

About half-past five the Indian got up and stole out
to look, and then he called triumphantly to the rest to
come up at once, for on the hook was a cayman, ten feet
and a half long.

But hard as it had been to secure him, it was nothing
to the difficulty of getting him out alive, and with his scales
uninjured, especially as the four Indians absolutely refused
to help, and that left only two white men and a negro, to
grapple with the huge monster. Of these, too, the negro
showed himself very timid, and it was not easy to persuade
him to be of any use.

The position was certainly puzzling. If the Indians

' refused their help, the cayman could not be taken alive
, at all, and if they gave it, it was only at the price of

injuring the animal and spoiling its skin. At length a
compromise occurred to Waterton. He would take the
mast of the canoe, which was about eight feet long, and
would thrust it down the cayman’s throat, if it showed
any ‘signs of attacking him. On this condition, the
Indians agreed to give their aid.

Matters being thus arranged, Waterton then placed
his men—about seven in all—at the end of the rope, and
told them to pull till the cayman rose to the surface,
while he himself knelt down with the pole about four
yards from the bank, ready for the cayman, should he
appear, roaring. Then he gave the signal, and slowly.
the men began to pull. But the cayman was not to be
caught without a struggle. He snorted and plunged
violently, till the rope was slackened, when he. instantly
dived below. Then the men braced all their strength for
another effort, and: this time out he came and made
straight for Waterton.


















N

E OF THE CAYMA

E CAPTUR

TE.











































































HOW THE CAYMAN WAS KILLED 199

The naturalist was so excited by his capture, that he
lost all sense of the danger of. his position. He waited
till the cayman was within a few feet of him, when he
flung away his pole, and with a flying leap, landed on the
cayman’s back, twisting up the creature’s feet and holding
tightly on to them. The cayman, very naturally, could
not in the least understand what had happened, but he
began to plunge and struggle, and to lash out behind
with his thick scaly tail, while the Indians looked on from
afar, and shouted in triumph.

To Waterton the only fear was, lest the rope should
prove too weak for the strain, in which case he and the
cayman would promptly disappear into the depths of the
Essequibo. But happily the rope was strong, and after
being dragged by the Indians for forty yards along the
sand, the cayman gave in, and Waterton contrived to tie
his jaws together, and to lash his feet on to his back.
Then he was put to death, and so ended the chase of the
cayman.
200

‘THE STORY OF FIDO

Fivo’s master had to go a long jotrney across the country
to a certain town, and he was carrying with him a large
bag of gold to deposit at the bank there. This bag he
carried on his saddle, for he was riding, as in those days
there were no trains, and he had to travel as quickly as he
could.

Fido scampered cheerfully along at the horse’s heels,
and every now and then the man would call out to him,
and Fido would wag her tail and bark back an answer.

The sun was hot and the road dusty, and poor Fido’s
little legs grew more and more tired. At last they came
to a cool, shady wood, and the master stopped, dis-
mounted, and tied his horse to a tree, and took his heavy
saddle-bags from the saddle.

He laid them down very carefully, and pointing to
them, said to Fido, ‘ Watch them.’

Then he drew his cloak about him, lay down with his
head on the bags, and soon was fast asleep.

Little Fido curled herself up close to her master’s
head, with her nose over one end of the bags, and
went.to sleep too. But she did not sleep very soundly,
for her master had told her to watch, and every few
moments she would open her eyes and prick up her ears,
in case anyone were coming.

Her master was tired and slept soundly and long—
much longer than he had intended. At last he was
awakened by Fido’s licking his face. The dog saw that
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THE WOUNDING OF FIDO

THE STORY OF FIDO 203

the sun was nearly setting, and knew that it was time for
her master to go on his journey.

The man patted Fido and then jumped up, much
troubled to find he had slept so long. He snatched up
his cloak, threw it over his horse, untied the bridle, sprang
into the saddle, and calling Fido, started off in great
haste. But Fido did not seem ready to follow him. She
ran after the horse and bit at his heels, and then ran back
again to the woods, all the time barking furiously. This
she did several times, but her master had no time to heed
her.and galloped away, thinking she would follow him.

At last the little dog sat down by the roadside, and

looked sorrowfully after her master, until he had turned
a bend in the road. When he was no longer in sight she
sprang up with a wild bark, and ran after him again.
She overtook him just as he had stopped to water his
horse at a brook that flowed across the road. She stood
beside the brook and barked so savagely that her master
rode back and called her to him; but instead of coming
she darted off down the road still barking.

Her master did not know what to think, and began to
fear that his dog was going mad. Mad dogs are afraid of
water, and act in a strange way when they see it. While
the man was thinking of this, Fido came running. back
again, and dashed at him furiously. She leapt at the legs
of his horse, and even jumped up and bit the toe of her
master’s boot. Then she ran down the road again, bark-
ing with all her might.

Her master was now sure that she was mad, and,
taking out his pistol he shot her. He rode away quickly,
for he loved her dearly and could not bear to see her
die.

He had not ridden very far when he stopped suddenly.
He felt under his cloak for his saddle-bags. They were
not there !

Could he have dropped them, or had he left them
‘behind in the wood where he had rested? He felt sure
204 THE STORY OF FIDO

they must be in the wood, for he could not remember
having picked them up or fastening them to his saddle.

He turned his horse and rode back again as hard as
he could.

When he came to the brook he sighed and said, ‘ Poor
Fido!’ but though he looked about he could see nothing
of her. When he crossed the brook he saw some drops
of blood on the ground, and all along the road he still saw
drops of blood. Tears came into his eyes, and he felt
very sad and guilty, for now he understood why little
Fido had acted so strangely. She knew that her master
had left behind his precious. bags of gold, and so she
had tried to tell him in the only way she could.

All the way to the wood lay the drops of blood. At
last he reached the wood, and there, all safe, lay the bags
of gold, and beside them, with her little nose lying over
one end of them, lay faithful Fido, who, you will be pleased
to hear, recovered from her wound, and lived to a great age.
205

BEASTS BESIEGED!

TWENTY-FIVE years ago (in the winter of 1870-1871)
Paris was closely besieged by the Germans, who had
beaten one French army after another on the frontier,
and had now advanced into the very heart of the country.
The cold was frightful, and no wood could be got, and as
if this was not enough, food began to give out, and the
people inside the city soon learned to know the tortures
of hunger. There was no hay or corn for the horses ;
after sheep and oxen they were the first animals to be
eaten, and then whispers were heard about elephants and
camels and other beasts in the Jardin des Plantes, which
is the French name for their Zoological Gardens.

Now it is quite bad enough to be taken from the
forests and deserts where you never did anything but just
what you chose, and to be shut up in a small cage behind
bars; but it is still worse not to have enough food to eat,
and worst of all to be made into food for other people.
Luckily the animals did not know what was being talked
about in the world outside, or they would have been more
uncomfortable than they were already.

Any visitor to the Jardin des Plantes about Christmas
time in 1870, and for many weeks later, would have seen
a strange sight. Some parts of the Gardens were set
aside for hospitals, and rows of beds occupied every
sheltered building. Passing through these, the visitor
found himself in the kingdom of the beasts, who were
often much more gentle than their gaolers

1 Adapted from Théophile Gautier.
206 BEASTS BESTEGHD

After coming from the streets where nothing was the
same as it had been six months before, and everything
was topsy-turvy, it was almost soothing to watch the
animals going on in their usual way, quite regardless of
what men might be doing outside. There was the white
bear swinging himself from side to side and rubbing his
nose against the bars, just as he had done on the day
that he had first taken up his abode there. There was
a camel still asking for cakes, and an elephant trumpeting ©
with fury because he didn’t get any. Nobody had cakes
for themselves, and it would have been far easier to place
a gold piece in the twirling proboscis. An elephant who
is badly fed is not a pretty spectacle. Its skin is so large
that it seems as if it would take in at least three or four
extra bodies, and having only one shrunken skeleton to
cover, it shrivels up into huge wrinkles and looks like
the earth after a dry summer. On the whole, certain
kinds of bears come off best, for they can sleep all the
winter through, and when they wake up, the world will
seem the same as when they last shut their eyes, and
unless their friend the white bear tells them in bear
language all that has happened they will never be any
the wiser.

Still it is not all the bears who are lucky enough to
have the gift of sleep. Some remained broad awake, and
stood idly about in the corners of their dens, not knowing
how to get rid of the time that hung so heavily on their
paws. What was the use for the big brown marten to go
up to the top of his tree, when there was no one to tickle
his nose with a piece of bread at the end of a string?
Why should his brother take the trouble to stand up on
his hind legs when there was nobody to laugh and clap
him? Only one very young bear indeed, with bright
eyes and a yellow skin, went on his own way, regardless
of spectators, and he was busily engaged in looking at him-
self in a pail of water and putting on all sorts of little airs
and graces, from sheer admiration of his own beauty.
BHASTS BHSTEHGEHD 207

Perhaps the most to be pitied of all were the lions,
for they do not know how to play, and could only lie about
and remember the days when towards sunset they crept
towards the cool hill, and waited till the antelopes came
down for their evening drink. And then, ah then! but
that is only a memory, while stretched out close by is



THE DREAM OF THE HUNGRY LION

the poor lioness in the last stage of consumption, and
looking more like those half-starved fighting lions you
see on royal coats of arms than a real beast. At such.
times most children would give anything to catch up the
Zoological Gardens and carry them right away into the
centre of Africa, and let out the beasts and make them
208 BEASTS BESIEGED

happy and comfortable once more. But that was not
the feeling of the little boy who had been taken by his
mother to see the beasts as a treat for his birthday. At
each cage they passed he came to a standstill, and
gazing at the animal with greedy eyes, he said, ‘ Mother,
wouldn’t you like to eat that?’ Every time his mother
answered him, ‘No one eats these beasts, my boy; they
are brought from countries a long way off, and cost a
great dealof money.’ The child was silent fora moment,
but at the sight of the zebra, the elk, or the little hyena,
his face brightened again, and his voice might be heard
piping forth its old question, ‘Mother, wouldn’t you like
to eat that?’ :

It is a comfort to think that the horrid greedy boy
was disappointed in his hopes. Whatever else he may
have eaten, the taste of lions and of bears is still strange
to’ him, for the siege of Paris came to an end at last, and
the animals were made happy as of old with their daily
portions.
209.

Mh. GULLY

He was a herring gull, and one of the largest I have ever
seen. He was beautiful to look at with his soft grey
plumage, never a feather of which was out of place.. Of
his character I will say nothing; that can be best judged
by reading the following truthful biography of my ‘dove
of the waters.’

I cannot begin at-the beginning. Of his youth, which
doubtless, in every sense of the word, was a stormy
one, I know nothing. He’ had already . acquired the
wisdom, or perhaps in his case slyness is a better word, of
years by the time that he came to us.

Gully was found one day in a field near our house
in a very much exhausted condition. He had-probably
come a long distance, which he must have accomplished
on foot, as he was unable to fly owing to his wing having
been pinioned.

He was very hungry and greedily bolted a small fish
that we offered him, and screamed for more. We then
turned him into the garden, where he soon found a
sheltered corner by our dining-room window and went to
sleep standing on one leg. The other one he always kept
tucked away so that it was quite invisible.

Next morning I came out to look for Gully and feed
him. He had vanished! I thought of the pond where I
kept my goldfish, forty beautiful goldfish. There sure
enough was Mr. Gully swimming about contentedly, but
where were the goldfish? Instead of the crystal clear

P
210 MR. GULLY

pond, was a pool of muddy water; instead of forty gold-
fish, all that I could make out, when Mr. Gully had been
chased away and the water given time to settle, was one
miserable little half-dead fish, the only survivor of the
forty.

This was the first of Gully’s misdeeds. To look at
Gully, no one could believe him to be capable of hurting
a fly. He had the most lovely gentle brown eyes you
ever saw, and seemed more like a benevolent old professor
than anything else. He generally appeared to be half
asleep or else sunning himself with a contented smile on
his thoughtful countenance. :

. Gully next took to killing the sparrows ; he was very
clever at this. "When he had finished eating, the sparrows
were in the habit of appropriating the remnants of the
feast. This Gully strongly disapproved of, so when he
had eaten as much as he wanted, he retired behind a
chair and waited till the sparrows were busy feasting,
then he would make a rush and seize the nearest offender.
He sometimes used to kill as many as from two to four
sparrows a day in this manner. The pigeons then took
to coming too near his reach. At first he was afraid of
“them and left them alone; but the day came when-a
young fan-tail was foolish enough to take his airing on
the terrace, close to Mr. Gully’s nose. This was too
much for Mr. Gully, who pounced upon the unfortunate
‘squeaker’ and slew him. L’appétit vient en mangeant,
and after this Mr. Gully took the greatest delight in
hunting these unfortunate birds and murdering them.
No pigeon was too large for him to attack. I only just
succeeded in saving the cock-pouter, a giant among
pigeons, from an untimely death, by coming up in time to
drive Mr. Gully away from his victim.

After this we decided to shut Mr. Gully up. We
thought he would make a charming companion for the
guinea-pigs. At that time I used to keep about fifty
of various species in a hen-run. So to the guinea-pigs:
MR. GULLY att

Gully was banished. At first the arrangement answered

admirably, Gully behaved as nicely as possible for about

a month, and we were all congratulating ourselves on

having found such a good way out of our difficulty, when
all at once his thirst for blood was roused afresh. One
day he murdered four guinea-pigs and the next day three
more of these unfortunate little beasts.

We then let him join the hens and ducks. He at
once constituted himself the leader of the latter; every

-morning he would lead them down to a pond at the
bottom of the fields, a distance of about a quarter of a
mile ; and every evening he would summon them round
him and lead them home. At his ery the ducks and
drakes would come waddling up to him with loud quacks ;
he used always to march in the most stately manner
about two yards ahead of them. Of the cocks and hens
Gully deigned to take no notice. On two occasions he
made an exception to this rule of conduct. On the first,
he anda hen had a dispute over the possession of a worm.
This dispute led to a fight of which Gully was getting
the best when the combatants were separated. On the
second occasion Gully was accused of decapitating a hen.
No one saw him do it, but it looked only too like his
work. He had a neat clean style.

One day he led his ducks to the pond as usual, but in
the evening they returned by themselves. We came to
the conclusion that the poor old bird must be dead. We
quite gave him up for lost, and had mourned him for two
or three weeks, when what should we see one day but
Mr. Gully leading his ducks as usual to his favourite
pond, as if he had never been away.

Where he had spent all the time he was absent remains
a mystery to this day. After this he remained with us
some time, during which he performed no new feat of
valour with the exception of one fight which he had with
acat. In this fight he had some feathers pulled out, but

P2
212 MR. GULLY

ultimately succeeded in driving her off after giving her
leg such a bite that she was lame for many a long
day.

. Since then he has again disappeared. Will he ever
return? Mysterious was his coming and mysterious his

going.
213

STORIES FROM PLINY

HOW DOGS LOVE

Now there was living at Rome, under the Emperors Vespa-
sian and Titus (a.p. 69-81) a man called Pliny, who gave
up his life to the study of animals and plants. He not only
watched their habits for himself, but he listened eagerly
to all that travellers would tell him, and sometimes
happened to believe too much, and wrote in his book
things that were not true. Still there were a great many
facts which he had found out for himself, and the stories
he tells about animals are of interest to every one, partly
because it seems strange to think that dogs and horses
and other creatures were just the same then as they are
now.

The dogs that Pliny writes about lived in all parts of
the Roman Empire, and were as faithful and devoted to
their masters as our dogs are to us. One dog called
Hyreanus, belonging to King Lysimachus, one of the
successors of Alexander the Great, jumped on to the
funeral pyre on which lay burning the dead body of his
master. And so did another dog at the burial of Hiero of
Syracuse. But during the lifetime of Pliny himself, a
dog’s devotion in the heart of Rome had touched even the
Roman citizens, ashamed though they generally were
of showing their feelings. It had happened that a plot
against the life of Nero had been discovered, and the chief
conspirator, Titus Sabinus by name, was put to death,
together with some of his servants. One of these men
had a dog of which he was very fond, and from the
214 STORIES FROM PLINY

moment the man was thrown into prison, the dog could
not be persuaded to move away from the door. At last
there came a day when the man suffered the cruel death
common in Rome for such offences, and was thrown down
a steep flight of stairs, where he broke his neck. A crowd
of Romans had gathered round the place of execution, in
order to see the sight, and in the midst of them all the dog
managed to reach his master’s side, and lay there, howl-
ing piteously. Then one of the crowd, moved with pity,
threw the dog a piece of meat, but he only took it, and
laid it across his master’s mouth. By-and-bye, the men
came for the body in order to throw it into the river
Tiber, and even then the dog followed and swam after it,
and held it up and tried to bring it to land, till the people
came out in multitudes from the houses round about, to
see what it was to be faithful unto death—and beyond it.
218

THE STRANGE HISTORY OF CAGNOTTE!

In the early part of this century, a little boy of three years
old, named Théophile Gautier, travelled with his parents
from Tarbes, in the south of France, to Paris. He was so
small that he could not speak any proper French, but
talked like the country people; and he divided the world
into those who spoke like him and were his friends, and
those who did not, and were strangers.

' But though he was only three, and a‘ great baby in
many ways, he loved his home dearly, and everything
about it, and it nearly broke his heart to come away. His
parents tried to comfort him by giving him the most
beautiful chocolates and little cakes, and when that failed
they tried what drums and trumpets would do. But
drums and trumpets succeeded no better than cakes and
chocolates, for the greater part of poor Théophile’s tears
were shed for the ‘dog he had left behind him,’ called
Cagnotte, which his father had given away to a friend, as
he did not think that any dog who had been accustomed
to run along the hills and valleys above Tarbes, could
ever make himself happy in Paris.

Théophile, however, did not understand this, but cried
for Cagnotte all day long; and one morning he could
bear it no longer. His nurse had put out all his tin
soldiers neatly on the table, with a little German village
surrounded by stiff green trees just in front of them,
hoping Théophile might play at a battle or a siege, and
she had also placed his fiddle (which was painted bright

1 Ménagerie Intime.
216 THH STRANGH HISTORY OF CAGNOTTE
scarlet) quite handy, so that he might play the triumphal
march of the victor. Nothing was of any use. As soon
as Josephine’s back was turned Théophile threw soldiers
and village and fiddle out of the window, and then pre-
pared to jump after them, so that he might take the
shortest way back to Tarbes and Cagnotte. . Luckily, just
as his foot was on the sill, Josephine-came back from
the next room, and saw what he was about. She rushed
after him and caught him by the jacket, and then took
him on her knee, and asked him why. he was going to do
anything so naughty and dangerous. . When Théophile
explained that it was Cagnotte whom he wanted and must
have, and that nobody else mattered at all, Josephine was
so afraid he would try to run away again, that she told
him that if he would only have patience and wait a little
Cagnotte would come to him.

All day long Théophile gave Josephine no peace.
Every few minutes he came running to his nurse to know
if Cagnotte had arrived, and he was only quieted when
Josephine went out and returned carrying a little dog,
which in some ways was very like his beloved Cagnotte.
Théophile was not quite satisfied at first, till he remembered
that Cagnotte had travelled a long long way, and it was
not to be expected that he should look the same dog as
when he started; so he put aside his doubts, and knelt
down to give Cagnotte a great hug of welcome. . The new
Cagnotte, like the old, was a lovely black poodle, and had
excellent manners, besides being full of fun. He licked
Théophile on both cheeks, and was altogether so friendly
that he was ready to eat bread and butter off the same
plate as his little master.

The two got on beautifully, and were perfectly happy
for some time, and then gradually Cagnotte began to lose
his spirits, and instead of jumping and running about the
world, he moved slowly, as if he was in pain. He breathed
shortly and heavily, and refused to eat anything, and even
Théophile could see he was feeling ill. One day Cagnotte
THH STRANGE HISTORY OF CAGNOTTE 217

was lying stretched out on his master’s lap, and Théophile
was softly stroking his skin, when suddenly his hand
caught in what seemed to be string, or strong thread.
In great surprise, Josephine was at once called, to explain
the strange matter. She stooped down, and peered closely
at the dog’s skin, then took her scissors and out the thread.
Cagnotte stretched himself, gave a shake, and jumped
down from Théophile’s lap, leaving a sort of black sheep-
skin behind him.



















CAGNOTTE COMES OUT OF IIS SKIN

Some wicked men had sewn him up in this coat, so
that they might get more money for him; and without it
he was not a poodle at all, but just an ugly little street
dog, without beauty of any kind.

After helping to eat Théophile’s bread and butter and
soup for some weeks, Cagnotte began to grow fatter, and
his outside skin became too tight for him, and he was
218 THE STRANGE HISTORY OF CAGNOTTE

nearly suffocated. Once delivered from it, he shook his
ears for joy, and danced a waltz of his own round the
room, not caring a straw how ugly he might be as long as
he was comfortable. A very few weeks spent in the
society of Cagnotte made the memory of Tarbes and its
mountains grow dim in the mind of Théophile. He learnt
French, and forgot the way the country people talked, and
soon he had become, thanks to Cagnotte, such a thorough
little Parisian, that he would not have understood what
his old friends said, if one of them had spoken to him.
_ 219

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP; OR THE
DANCING DOG!

WuHeEn Little Théophile became Big Théophile, he was as
fond as ever of dogs and cats, and he knew more about
them than anybody else. After the death of a large white
spaniel called Luther, he filled the vacant place on his
rug by another of the same breed, to whom he gave the
name of Zamore. Zamore was a little dog, as black as
ink, except for two yellow patches over his eyes, and a
stray patch on his chest. He was not in the least hand-
some, and no stranger would ever have given him a second
thought. But when you came to know him, you found
Zamore was not a common dog at all. He despised all
women, and absolutely refused to obey them or to follow
them, and neither Théophile’s mother nor his sisters could
get the smallest sign of friendship from him. If they
offered him cakes or sugar, he would accept them in a
dignified manner, but never dreamed of saying ‘ thank you,’
still less of wagging his tail on the floor, or giving little
yaps of delight and gratitude, as well-brought-up dogs
should do. Even to Théophile’s father, whom he liked
better than anyone else, he was cold and respectful, though
he followed him everywhere, and never left his master’s
heels when they took a walk. And when they were fishing
together, Zamore would sit silent on the bank for hours
together, and only allowed himself one bark when the fish
was safely hooked.

Now no one could possibly have guessed that a dog of

} Meénagerie Intime.
220 STILL WATERS. RUN DEEP

such very quiet and reserved manners was at heart as
gay and cheerful as the silliest kitten that ever was born,
but so he was, and this was how his family found it out.

One day he was walking as seriously as usual through
a broad square in the outskirts of Paris, when he was
surprised at meeting a large grey donkey, with two pan-
niers on its back, and in the panniers a troop of dogs,
some dressed as Swiss shepherdesses, some as Turks,
some in full court costume. The owner of the animals
stopped the donkey close to where Zamore was standing,
and bade the dogs jump down. Then he cracked his
whip; the fife and drum struck up a merry tune, the
dogs steadied themselves on shor hind legs, and the dance
began.

Zamore looked on as ifhe had been turned into sticiie-
The sight of these dogs, dressed in bright colours, this one
with his head covered bya feathered hat, and that one by
a turban, but all moving about in time to the music, and
making pirouettes and little bows ; were they really dogs
he was watching or some new kind of men? -Anyway he
had never seen. anything so enchanting or so. beautiful,
and if it was true that they were only dogs—well, he was
a dog too!

With that thought, all that had lain hidden in Zamore’s
soul burst forth, and when the dancers filed gracefully:
before him, he raised himself on his hind legs, and in spite
of staggering a little, prepared to join the ring, to the
great amusement of the spectators.

The dog-owner, however, whose name was: Monsieur
Corri, did not see matters in the same light. He raised
his whip a second time, and brought it-down with a crack
on the sides of Zamore, who ran out of the ring, and with
his tail between his legs and an air of deep thought, he
returned home.

All that day Zamore was more serious and more gloomy
than ever. Nothing would tempt him out, hardly: even
his favourite dinner, and it was quite plain that he was


‘AND WHAT DO YOU THINK SHE sAw??








LE







































®








STILL WATERS RUN DEEP 223

turning over something in his mind. But during the
night his two young mistresses were awakened by a
strange noise that seemed to come from an empty room
next theirs, where Zamore usually slept. They both lay
awake and listened, and thought it was like a measured
stamping, and that the mice might be giving a ball. But
could little mice feet tread so heavily as that? Supposing
a thief had got in? So the bravest of the two girls got
up, and stealing-to the door softly opened it and looked
into the room. And what do you think she saw? Why,
Zamore, on his hind legs, his paws in the air, practising
carefully the steps that he had been watching that
morning !

This was not, as one might have expected, a mere fancy
of the moment, which would be quite forgotten the next
day. Zamore was too serious a dog for that, and by dint
of hard study he became in time a beautiful dancer. As
often as the fife and drum were heard in the streets,
Zamore rushed out of the house, glided softly between the
spectators, and watched with absorbed attention the
dancing dogs who were doing their steps: but remember-
ing the blow he had had from the whip, he took care not
to join them. He noted their positions, the figures, and
the way they held their bodies, and in the night he copied
them, though by day he was justas solemnasever. Soon
he was not contented with merely copying what he saw,
he invented for himself, and it is only just to say that, in
stateliness of step, few dogs couldcome uptohim. Often
his dances were witnessed (unknown to himself) by
Théophile and his sisters, who watched him through the
crack of the door; and so earnest was he, that at length,
worn out by dancing, he would drink up the whole of a
large basin of water, which stood in the corner of the
room.

When Zamore felt himself the equal of the best of
the dancing dogs, he began to wish that like them he
might have an audience.
224 STILL WATHRS RUN DEEP

Now in France the houses are not always built in a
row as they are in England, but sometimes have a square
court-yard in front, and in the house where Zamore lived,
this court was shut in on one side by an iron railing, which
was wide enough to let dogs of a slim figure squeeze
through.

One fine morning there met in this courtyard fifteen
or twenty dogs, friends of Zamore, to whom the night
before he had sent letters of invitation. The object of the
party was to see Zamore make his début in dancing, and
the ball-room was to be the court-yard, which Zamore had
carefully swept with his tail. The dance began, and the
spectators were so delighted, that they could not wait for
the end to applaud, as people ought always to do, but
uttered loud. cries of ‘Ouah, ouah,’ that reminded you of
the noises you hear at a theatre. Except one old water
spaniel who was filled with envy at Zamore’s talents, and
declared that no decent dog would ever make an exhibition
of himself like that, they all vowed that Zamore was the
king of dancers, and that nothing had ever been seen to
equal his minuet, jig, and waltz for grace and beauty.

It was only during his dancing moments that Zamore
unbent. At all other times he was as gloomy as ever, and
never cared to stir from the rug unless he saw his old
master take up his hat and stick for a walk. Of course,
if he had chosen, he might have joined Monsieur Corri’s
troupe, of which he would have made the brightest orna-
ment; but the love of his master proved greater than his
love of his art, and he remained unknown, except of his
family. In the end he fell a victim to his passion for
dancing, and he died of brain fever, which is supposed to
have been caused by the fatigue of learning the schottische,
the fashionable dance of the day.
225

THEO AND HIS HORSES; JANE, BETSY,
AND BLANCHE!

Arrmr Théophile grew to be a man, he wrote a great
many books, which are all delightful to read, and every-
body bought them, and Théophile got rich and thought
he might give himself a little carriage with two horses to
draw it.

And first he fell in love with two dear little Shetland
ponies who were so shaggy and hairy that they seemed
all mane and tail, and whose eyes looked so affectionately
at him, that he felt as if he should like to bring them into
the drawing-room instead of sending them to the stable.
They were charming little creatures, not a bit shy, and
they would come and poke their noses into Théophile’s
pockets in search for sugar, which was always there.
Indeed their only fault was, that they were so very, very
small, and that, after all, was not their fault. Still, they
looked more suited to an English child of eight years old,
or to Tom Thumb, than to a French gentleman of forty,
not so thin as he once was, and as they all passed
through the streets, everybody laughed, and drew pic-
tures of them, and declared that Théophile could easily
have carried a pony on each arm, and the carriage on his
back. -

Now Théophile did not mind ‘being laughed at, but
still he did not always want to be stared at all through
the streets, whenever he went out. So he sold his ponies
and began to look out for something nearer his own

'From Ménagerie Intime.

Q
246 THEO AND HIS HORSES

size. After a short search he found two of a dapple grey
colour, stout and strong, and as like each other as two
peas, and he called them Jane and Betsy. But although,
to look at, no one could ever tell one from the other,
their characters were totally different, as Jane was very
bold and spirited, and Betsy was terribly lazy. While
Jane did all the pulling, Betsy was quite contented just
to run by her side, without troubling herself in the least,
and, as was only natural, Jane did not think this at all
fair, and took a great dislike to Betsy, which Betsy
heartily returned. At last matters became so bad that,
in their efforts to get at each other, they half kicked the
stable to pieces, and would even rear themselves upon
their hind legs in order to bite each other's faces.
Théophile did all he could to make them friends, but
nothing was of any use, and at last he was forced to sell
Betsy. The horse he found to replace her was a shade
lighter in colour, and therefore not quite so good a match,
but luckily Jane took to her at once, and lost no time in
doing the honours of the stable... Every day the affection
between. the two became greater. : -Jane would lay: her
head. on Blanche’s shoulder—she Had-been called Blanche
because of her fair skin—and when they were-turned out
into the stable yard, after being rubbed down, they played
together like two kittens.’ If one was. taken out alone,
the other became sad and gloomy, till the -well-known
tread of its friend’s hoofs was heard from afar, when it
would give a joyful neigh, which was instantly answered.
_ . Never once was it necessary for the coachman to
complain of any difficulty in harnessing them. They
walked themselves into their proper places, and behaved
in all ways as if they were well brought up, and ready to
be friendly with everybody. They had all kinds of pretty
little ways, and if they thought there was a chance of
getting bread or sugar or melon rind, which they both
loved, they would. make themselves “as caressing. aS a
dog. Geaee 1
SAO
1, Ny AYN

\
li

2
i
4











BLANCHE TELLING GHOST STORIES TO JANE IN THE STABLE



THHO AND HIS HORSES 229

Nobody who has lived much with animals can doubt
that they talk together in a language that man is too
stupid to understand ; or, if anyone had doubted it, they
would soon have been convinced of the fact by the
conduct of Jane and Blanche when in harness. When
Jane first made Blanche’s acquaintance, she was afraid
of nothing, but after they had been together a few.months,
her character gradually changed, and she had sudden
panics and nervous fits, which puzzled her master greatly.
The reason of this was that Blanche, who was very timid
and easily frightened, passed most of the night in telling
Jane ghost stories, till poor Jane learnt to tremble at
every sound. Often, when they were driving in theâ„¢
lonely alleys of the Bois de Boulogne after dark,
Blanche would come to a dead stop or shy to one side as
if a ghost, which no one else could see, stood before her.
She breathed loudly, trembled all over with fear, and
broke out into a cold perspiration. No efforts of Jane,
strong though she was, could drag her along. The only
way to move her was for the coachman to dismount, and
to lead her, with his hand over her eyes for a few steps,
till the vision seemed to have melted into air. In the
end, these terrors affected Jane just as if Blanche, on
reaching the stable, had told her some terrible story of
what she had seen, and even her master had been known
to confess that when, driving by moonlight down some
dark road, where the trees cast strange shadows, Blanche
would suddenly come to a dead halt and begin to tremble,
he did not half like it himself.

With this one drawback, never were animals so charm-
ing to drive. IfThéophile held the reins, it was really
only for the look of the thing, and not in the least
because it was necessary. The smallest click of the
tongue was enough to direct them, to quicken them, to
make them go to the right or to the left, or even to stop
them. They were so clever that in a very short time
they had learned all their master’s habits, and knew his
230 THEO AND HIS HORSES

daily haunts as well as he did himself. .They would
go of their own accord to the newspaper office, to: the
printing office, to the publisher’s, to the Bois de Boulogne;
to certain houses where he dined on certain. days -in
the week, so very punctually that it was quite provoking;
and if it ever happened that Théophile spent longer than
usual at any particular place, they never failed to call ,
his attention by loud neighs, or by pawing the ground,
sounds of which he quite well knew the meaning. |
But alas, the time came when a Revolution broke ‘out
in Paris. People had no time to buy books or to read
them; they were far too busy in building barricades
across the streets, or in tearing up the paving stones to
throw at each other. The newspaper in which Théophile
wrote, and which paid him enough money to keep his
horses, did not appear any more, and sad though he was
at parting, the poor man thought he was lucky to find
some one to buy horses, carriage, and harness, for a fourth
part of their worth. Tears stood in his eyes as they
were led away to their new stable; but he never forgot
them, and they never forgot him. Sometimes, as he sat
writing at his table, he would hear from afar: a light
quick step, and then a sudden stop under the windows.
And their old master would look up and sigh and say
to himself, ‘Poor Jane, poor Blanche, I hope they are
happy.’
MADAME THEOPHILE AND THE PARROT}

Arvrr the death of Cagnotte, whose story you may have
read, Théophile was so unhappy that he would not have
another dog, but instead, determined to fill the empty place
in his heart with cats. One of those that he loved the best
was a big yellowy-red puss, with a white chest, a pink
nose, and blue eyes, that went by the name of Madame
Théophile, because, when he was in the house, it never left
his. side for a single instant. It slept on his bed, dreamed
while sitting on the arm of Théophile’s chair while he was
writing (for Théophile was by this time almost a grown- °
up man), walked after him when he went into the garden,
sat by his side while he had his dinner, and sometimes
took, gently and politely, the food he was conveying to his
own mouth.

One day, a friend of Théophile’s, who was leaving
Paris for a few days, brought a parrot, which he begged
Théophile to take care of while he was away. The bird
not feeling at home in this strange place, climbed up to
the top of his cage and looked round him with his funny
eyes, that reminded you of the nails in a sofa. Now
Madame Théophile had never seen a parrot, and it was
plain that this curious creature gave her a shock. She
sat quite still, staring quietly at the parrot, and trying to
think if she had ever seen anything like it among the
gardens and roofs of the houses, where she got’ all her
ideas of the world. At last she seemed to make up her
mind : :

1 Menagerie Intime.
232 MADAME THHOPHILH AND THE PARROT

‘Of course, it must be a kind of green chicken.’

Having set the question at rest, Madame Théophile
jumped down from the table where she had been seated
‘while she made her observations, and walked quickly to
the corner of the room, where she laid herself flat down,
with her head bent and her paws stretched out, like a
panther watching his prey.

The parrot followed all her movements with his round
eyes, and felt that they meant no good to him. He ruffled
his feathers, pulled at his chain, lifted one of his paws in
a nervous way, and rubbed his beak up and down his
food tin. All the while the cat’s blue eyes were talking
in a language the parrot clearly understood, and they
said: ‘ Although it is green, that fowl would make a nice
dinner.’

But Madame Théophile had not lain still all this
while. Slowly, without even appearing to move, she had
drawn closer and closer. Her pink nostrils trembled, her
' eyes were half shut, her claws were pushed out and pulled
into their sheaths, and little shivers ran down her back.

Suddenly her back rounded itself like a bent bow, and
with one bound she leapt on the cage. The parrot knew
his danger, and was too frightened to move ; then, calling
up all his courage, he looked his enemy full in the face,
and, in a low and deep voice he put the question : ‘Jacky,
did you have a good breakfast ?’

This simple phrase struck terror into the heart of the
cat, who madea spring backwards. If acannon had been
fired close to her ear, or a shopful of glass had been broken,
she could not have been more alarmed. Never had she
dreamed of anything like this.

‘And what did you have—some of the king’s roast
beef ?’ continued the parrot.

‘It isnota chicken, itis aman that is speaking,’ thought
the cat with amazement, and looking at her master,
who was standing by, she retired under the bed. Madame
Théophile knew when she was beaten,
233

THE BATTLE OF THE MULLETS AND
THH DOLPHINS

Many singular stories may be found in Pliny, but
the most interesting is how men and dolphins combine
together on the coast of France, near Narbonne, to catch
the swarms of mullet that come into those waters at
certain seasons of the year.

‘In Languedoc, within the province of Narbonne, there
ig a standing pool or dead water called Laterra, wherein.
men and dolphins together used to fish ; for at one certain.
time of the year an infinite number of fishes called mullets,
taking the vantage of the tide when the water doth ebb,
at certain narrow weirs and passages with great force
break forth of the said pool into the sea; and by reason
of that violence no nets can be set and pitched against
them strong enough to abide and bear their huge weight
and the stream of the water together, if so be men were
not cunning and crafty to wait and espie their time and
lay for them and to entrap them. In like manner the
mullets for their part immediately make speed to recover
the deep, which they do very soon by reason that the
Channel is near at hand; and their only haste is for this,
to escape and pass that narrow place which affordeth
opportunities to the fishers to stretch out and spread their
nets. The fishermen being ware thereof and all the people
besides (for the multitude knowing when fishing time is
come, run thither, and the rather for to see the pleasant
sport), cry as loud as ever they can to the dolphins for
aid, and call “ Simo, Simo,” to help to make an end of this
234 BATTLE OF MULLETS AND DOLPHINS

their game and pastime of fishing. The dolphins soon
get the ear of their cry and know what they would have,





HOW THE DOLPHINS HELPED THE FISHERMEN TO CATCH THM MULLETS

and the better if the north winds blow and carry the
sound unto them; for if it be a southern wind it is later
BATTLE OF MULLETS AND DOLPHINS 23%

‘ere the voice be heard, because it is against them. . How-
eit, be the wind in what quarter soever; the dolphins
resort thither flock-meal, sooner than a man would think,
for to assist them in their fishing. And a wondrous
pleasant’ sight it is to. behold the squadrons: as it were of
those dolphins, how quickly they take their places and be
arranged in battle array, even against the very mouth of
the said pool, where the mullets are to shoot into the sea,
to see (I say) how from the sea they oppose themselves
and fight against them and drive the mullets (once
affrighted and scared) from the deep on the shelves.
Then come the fishers and beset them with net and toile,
which they bear up and fortify with strong forks ; how-
beit, for all that, the mullets are so quick and nimble that
a number of them whip over, get away, and escape the
nets. But the dolphins are ready to receive them ; who,
contenting themselves for the present to kill only, make
foul work and havoc among them, and put off the time of
preying and feeding upon, until they have ended the battle
and achieved the victory. And now the skirmish is hot,
for the dolphins, perceiving also the men at work, are the
more eager and courageous in fight, taking pleasure to
be enclosed within the nets, and so most valiantly charging
upon the mullets ; but for fear lest the same should give
an occasion unto the enemies and provoke them to retire
and fly back between the boats, the nets, and the men
there swimming, they glide by so gently and easily that
it cannot be seen where they get out. And albeit they
take great delight in leaping, and have the cast of it, yet
none essayeth to get forth but where the nets lie under
them, but no sooner are they out, but presently a man
shall see brave pastime between them as they scuffle and
skirmish as it were under the ramparts. And so the
conflict being ended and all the fishing sport done, the
dolphins fall to spoil and eat those which they killed in
the first shock and encounter. But. after this service
performed, the dolphins retire not presently into the deep
236 BATTLE OF MULLETS AND DOLPHINS

again, from whence they were called, but stay until -
to-morrow, as if they knew very well they had so carried
themselves as that they deserved a better reward than
one day’s refection and victuals; and therefore contented
they are not and satisfied unless io their fish they have
some sops and erumbs of bread given them soaked in
wine, and had their bellies full.’
237

MONKEY STORIES

Berore telling you more stories about monkeys, we must
tell you some dry facts about them, in order that you may
understand the stories. There are three different kinds
of monkeys—apes, baboons, and monkeys proper. The
difference is principally in their tails, so that when you
see them at the Zoo (for there are none wild in Europe,
except at Gibraltar), you will know them by the apes
having no tails and walking upright; baboons have short
tails and go on all fours; and monkeys have tails some-
times longer than their whole bodies, by which they can
swing themselves from tree to tree. Apes and monkeys
are so ready to imitate everything which men do, that the
negroes believe that they are a lazy race of men, who will
not be at the trouble to work. Baboons, on the contrary,
can be taught almost nothing.

There are two kinds of apes, called oran otans and
chimpanzees. They are both very wild and fierce, and
difficult to catch, but, when caught, become not only tame,
but very affectionate, and can be taught anything. Nearly
two hundred years ago, in 1698, one was brought to
London that had been caught in Angola. On board ship
he became very fond of the people who took care of him,
and was very gentle and affectionate, but would have no-
thing to do with some monkeys who were on the same
ship. He had had a suit of clothes made for him, pro-
bably to keep him warm. As the ship got into colder
regions he took great pleasure in dressing himself in them,
and anything he could not put on for himself he used to
238 MONKEY .STORIES

bring in his paw to one of the sailors, and seem to ask him
to dress him. He had a bed to sleep in, and at night used
to put his head on the pillow and tuck himself in like a
human being. His story is unfortunately a short one, for
he died soon after coming to London. He could not long

survive the change from his native forests to the cage of
a@ menagerie. -



TWO ORAN OTANS

Another, a female, was brought to Holland nearly a
hundred years later, in 1776, but she, too, pined and died
after seven months’ captivity. She was very gentle and
affectionate, and became so fond of her keeper that when
they left her alone, she used to throw herself on the ground. .
screaming, and tearing in pieces anything in her reach,
just like a naughty child. She could behave as well as
MONKEY STORIES 239

any lady in the land when she liked. When asked out to
tea, she used to bring a cup and saucer, put sugar in the
cup, pour out the tea, and leave it to cool; and at dinner
her manners were just as good. She used her knife and
fork, table napkin, and even toothpick,.as if she had been
accustomed to them all her life, which, of course, in* her
native forest was far from being the case. - She learnt all
her nice habits either from watching people at table, or
from her keeper’s-orders. She was fond of strawberries,
which she ate very daintily, on a fork, holding the plate in
the other hand. She was particularly fond of wine, and
drank it like a human being, holding the glass in her hand.
She was better behaved than two other oran otans, who,
though they could behave as well at table as any lady, and
could use their knives and forks and glasses, and could
make the cabin boy (for it was on board ship) understand
what they wanted, yet, if he did not attend to them at
once, they used to throw him down, seize him by the arm,
and bite:him.

-A French priest had an oran otan that he had brought
up from:a-baby, and who was so fond of his master that
he used to follow him about like a dog. When the priest
went to church he used to lock the oran otan up in a room ;
but one day he got out, and, as sometimes happens with
dogs, who cannot get reconciled to Sunday, he followed
his master to church. He managed, without the priest’s
seeing him, to climb on the sounding board above the
pulpit, where he lay quite still till the sermon began.
He then crept forward till he could see his master in the
pulpit below, and imitated every one of his movements,
till the congregation could not keep from laughing. ‘The
priest thought they were making fun of him, and was
naturally very angry. The more angry he became the
more gestures he used, every one of which the ape over-
head repeated. At last a friend of the priest stood up in -
the congregation, and’ pointed out the real culprit. When
the priest looked up and saw the imitation of himself, he
240 MONKEY STORIES

could not keep from laughing either, and the service could
not go on till the disturber had been taken down and
locked up again at home. :

Another kind is called the Barbary ape, because they
are found in such numbers in Barbary that the trees in
places seem nearly covered with them, though there are
quantities as well in India and Arabia. They are very
mischievous and great fighters. In India the natives some-
times amuse themselves by getting up a fight among them.
They put down at a little distance from each other baskets
of rice, with stout sticks by each basket, and then they go
off and hide themselves among the trees to watch the fun.
The apes come down from the trees in great numbers,
and make as though they were going to attack the baskets,
but lose courage and draw back grinning at each other.
The females are generally the boldest, and the first to
seize on the food; but as soon as they put their heads
down to eat, some of the males set-to to drive them off.
Others attack them in their turn. They all seize on the
sticks, and soon a free fight begins, which ends in the
weakest being driven off into the woods, and the con-
querors enjoying the spoil. They are not only fierce but
revengeful, and will punish severely any person who kills
one of them. Some English people who were driving
through country full of these apes in the East Indies,
wished, out of sheer wantonness, to have one shot. The
native servants, knowing what the consequences would.
be, were afraid; but, as their masters insisted, they had
to obey, and shot a female whose little ones were clinging
to her neck. She fell dead from the branehes, and the
little ones, falling with her, were killed too. Immediately
all the other apes, to the number of about sixty, came
down and attacked the carriage. They would certainly
have killed the travellers if the servants, of whom there
was fortunately a number, had not driven the apes off;
and though the carriage set off as fast as the horses could
lay legs to the ground, the apes followed for three miles.
MONKEY STORIES 241

Baboons are as ugly, revolting creatures as you could
wish to see, and very fierce, so they can seldom be tamed
nor even caught. There are, of course, few stories about



THE BABOONS WHO STOLE THE POOR MAN’S DINNER,
242 MONKEY STORIES

them. When people try to catch them, they let their
pursuers come:so near that they think they have them,
and then they bound away ten paces at once, and look
down defiantly from the tree-top as much as to say, ‘Don’t
you wish you may getme?’ One baboon had so wearied
his pursuers by his anti¢s that they pointed a gun at him,
though witk no intention of firing. He had evidently
seen a gun before, and knew its consequences, and was
so frightened at the bare idea, that he fell down senseless
and was easily captured. When he came to himself again
he struggled so fiercely that they had to tie his paws
together, and then he bit so that they had to tie his
jaws up.

Baboons are great thieves, and come down from the
mountains in-great bodies to plunder gardens. They cram
as much fruit as they possibly can into their cheek pouches ©
to take away and eat afterwards at their leisure. They
always set a sentinel to give the alarm. When he sees
anyone coming, he gives a yell that lasts a minute, and
then the whole troop sets off helter-skelter.

They will rob anyone they come upon alone in the
most impudent way. They come softly up behind, snatch
away anything they can lay their hands on, and then run
off a little way and sit down. Very often it is the poor
man’s dinner that they devour before his eyes. Some-
times they will hold it out in their hands and pretend
they are going to give it back, in such a comic way that I
would defy you not to laugh, though it were your own
dinner that had been snatched away and then offered to
you.

Monkeys live in the tree-tops of the forests of India
and South Africa, where they keep up a constant chattering
and gambolling, all night as well as all day, playing games
and swinging by their tails from tree to tree. One kind,
the four-fingered monkey, can pass from one high tree-top
to another, too far even for a monkey to jump, by making
themselves into a chain, joined to each other by their tails,
MONKEY STORIES 243

They can even cross rivers in this way. There are any
number of different kinds of monkeys, as you can see any
day in the monkey house at the Zoo. One kind is well
named the howling monkey, because they howl in chorus
every morning two hours before daylight, and again at
nightfall. The noise they make is so fearful that, if you
did not know, you would think it was a forest full of fero-
cious beasts quite near, thirsting for their prey, instead of
harmless monkeys a mile or two away. There is always
a leader of the chorus, who sits on a high branch above
the others. He first howls a solo, and then gives a signal
for the others to join in; then they all howl together, till
he gives another signal to stop.

The egret monkeys are great thieves. When they set
to work to rob a field of millet, they put as many stalks
as they can carry in their mouths, in each paw, and under
each arm, and then go off home on their hind legs. If
pursued, and obliged for greater speed to go on all their
four legs, they drop what they carry in their paws, but
never let go what they have in their mouths. The Chinese
monkey is also a great thief, and even cleverer about
carrying away his booty. They always set a sentinel on
a high tree; when he sees anyone coming, he screams
‘Houp, houp, houp!’ The others then seize as much ag
they can carry in their right arm, and set off on three legs.
They are called Chinese, not because they come from
China, but because the way the hair grows on their heads
is like a Chinese cap. It is long and parts in the middle,
spreading out all round.

In many parts of India monkeys are worshipped by
the natives, and temples are erected for them. But mon-
keys of one tribe are never allowed to come into any of
these sanctuaries when another tribe is already in posses-
sion. A large strong monkey was once seen by some
travellers to steal into one of these temples; as soon as
the inhabitants saw that he did not belong to their tribe,
they set on him to drive him out. As he was only one

, R2
244 MONKEY STORIES

against many, though bigger and stronger than the others,
he saw that he had no chance, and bounded up to the top,
eleven stories high. As the temple ended in alittle round
dome just big enough for himself, he was master of the
situation, and every monkey that ventured to climb up he
flung down to the bottom. When this had happened three
or four times, his enemies thought it best to let him alone,
and he stayed there in peace till it was dark and he could
slip away unseen.
245

HCCENTRIC BIRD BUILDERS!

EverysBopy knows how fond birds are of building their
nests in church, and if we come to think of it, it is a very
reasonable and sensible proceeding. Churches are so
quiet, and have so many dark out-of-the-way corners,
where no one would dream of poking, certainly not the
woman whose business it is to keep the church clean.
So the birds have the satisfaction of feeling that their
young are kept safe and warm while they are collecting
food for them, and there is always some open door or
window to enable the parents to fly in or out.

But all birds have not the wisdom of the robins, and
swallows, and sparrows that have selected the church for
a home, and some of them have chosen very odd places
indeed wherein to build their nests and lay their eggs.
Hinges of doors, turning lathes, even the body of a dead
owl hung to a ring, have all been used as nurseries ; but
perhaps the oddest spot of all to fix upon fora nest is the
outside of a railway carriage, especially when we remem-
ber how often railway stations are the abode of cats, who
move safely about the big wheels, and even travel by
train when they think it necessary.

Yet, in spite of all the drawbacks, railway carriages
remain a favourite place for nesting birds, and there is a
curious story of a pair of water-wagtails which built a
snug home underneath a third-class carriage attached to
a train which ran four times daily between Cosham and
Havant. The father does not seem to have cared about

' From Jones’ Glimpses of Animal Life.
246 ECCENTRIC. BIRD BUILDERS

railway travelling, which, to be sure, must appear a
wretched way of getting about to anything that has wings ;
for he never went with the family himself, but spent the
time of their absence fluttering restlessly about the plat-
form to which the train wouldreturn. He was so plainly
anxious and unhappy about them, that one would have
expected that he would have insisted on some quieter
and safer place the following year when nesting time
came round again; but the mother apparently felt that
the situation had some very distinct advantages, for she
deliberately passed over every other spot that her mate
pointed out, and went back to her third-class carriage.

Yet a railway carriage seems safety itself in compa-
rison with a London street lamp, where a fly-catcher’s
nest was found a few years ago. Composed as it was of
moss, hair, and dried grass, it is astonishing that it never
caught fire, but no doubt the great heat of the gas was
an immense help in hatching the five eggs which the
birds had laid.

Those fly-catchers had built in a hollow iron ornament
on the top of the lamp, but some tomtits are actually
known to have chosen such a dangerous place as the spot
close to the burner of a paraffin street lamp. And even
when the paraffin was exchanged for gas, the birds did
not seem to mind, and would sit quite calmly on the nest,
while the lamplighter thrust his long stick past them to
put out the light.

Birds reason in a different way from human beings,
for a letter-box would not commend itself to us as being
a very good place to bring up a family, with letters and
packages tumbling on to their heads every instant. A
pair of Scotch tomtits, however, thought otherwise, and
they made a comfortable little nest at the back of a
private letter-box, nailed on to the trunk of a tree in
Dumfriesshire. The postman soon found out what was
going on, but he took great pains not to disturb them, for
he was fond of birds, and was very curious to see what
ECCHNTRIC BIRD BUILDERS 244

the tomtits would do. What the tomtits did was to go
peacefully on with their nest, minding their own business,
and by-and-bye eight little eggs lay in the nest. By this
time the mother had got so used to the postman, that she
never even moved when he unlocked the door, only
giving his hand a friendly peck when he put it in to take
out the letters, and occasionally accepting some crumbs
which he held out to it. But no sooner did the little
birds break through their shells than the parents became
more difficult to deal with. They. did not mind knocks
from letters for themselves, but they grew furiously angry
if the young ones ever were touched by so much as a
corner, and one day, when a letter happened to fall plump
on top of the nest, they tore it right to pieces. In fact, it
was in such a condition, that when the postman came as
usual to make his collection, he was obliged to take the
letter back to the people who had written it, for no Post
Office would have sent it off in such a state.
248

THE SHIP OF THE DESERT

OF all animals under the sun, perhaps the very ugliest is
the camel; but life in the deserts of Africa and Arabia
could not go on atall without the constant presence of this
clumsy-looking creature. Some African tribes keep camels
entirely for the use of their milk and flesh; and it is
noticeable that these animals are much shyer and more
timid than their brothers in Syria and Arabia, who will
instantly come trotting up to any fresh camel that appears
on the scene, or obey the call of any Bedouin, even if he
is a stranger.

In general, the camel is merely employed as a beast
of burden, and from this he gets his name of the ‘ ship of
the desert.’ Like other ships, he sways from side to side,
and his awkward motion is apt to make his rider feel very
sick, till he gets accustomed to this way of travelling.
Camels are wonderfully strong and enduring animals,
and can stow up water within them for several days,
besides having an extraordinary power of smelling any
water or spring that is far beyond the reach of man’s eyes.
These qualities are naturally very valuable in the burning
deserts which stretch unbroken for hundreds of miles,
where everything looks alike, and the sun as he passes
across the heavens is the traveller’s only guide.

Partly from fear of warlike tribes, which wander
through the deserts of Arabia and Nubia, and partly from
the help and protection which a large body can give, the
one to the other, it is the custom for merchants and

1 From Burckhardt’s Travels in Nubia.
THE SHIP OF THE DESERT 249

travellers to band together and travel in great caravans
of men and camels. They try, if possible, to find some
well by which they can encamp, and every man fills his
own skins with water before starting afresh on his journey.
More quarrels arise about water than people who live in
countries with plenty of streams and rivers can have any
idea of. One man will sell his skinful to another at a
very high price, while if a traveller thinks he will be very
prudent and lay in a large store, the rest are certain to
take it from him directly their own supply runs short.
Food they can do without on those burning plains, but
not water.

Some of these misfortunes befel a traveller of the name
of Burckhardt, who left Switzerland in the opening years
of this century, to pass several years in Africa and the
East. After going through Syria, he began to make his
way up the Nile, and even penetrated as far as Nubia,
joining for that purpose a caravan of traders under the
leadership of an Ababde—an Arab race who from the
earliest days have been acknowledged to be the best
guides across the desert.

Owing to the intense heat which prevails in those
countries, the marches always take place in the small
hours of the morning, and midnight seems to have been
the usual hour for the start. Very commonly the march
would continue for eleven hours, during which time the
men were only allowed to drink twice, while the asses,
who with the camels formed part of the caravan, were
put on half their allowance. Sometimes a detachment
was sent on to wells that were known to lie along the
route, to get everything ready for the rest when they
came up; but it often happened that the springs were so
choked up by drifting sand that no amount of digging
would free them. Then there was nothing for it but to
go on again.

It was in the month of March that Burckhardt aaa
his companions had their hardest experience of the dread-
250 THE SHIP. OF THE DESERT

ful desert thirst. The year had been drier than was
common even in’ Nubia, and even in the little oases or
fertile spots, most of the trees and acacias were withered
and dead. Hour after hour the travellers toiled on, and
soon the asses gave out, and their riders were forced to
walk over the scorching sand. Burckhardt had. been a
little more careful of his stock of water than the other
members of the caravan, and for some days had cooked
no food or eaten anything but biscuits, so that he had been
able to spare a draught every now and then for his own
ass, and still had enough to last both of them for another
day. However, it was quite clear that unless water was
quickly found they must all die together, and a council
was held as to what was best to be done. The Ababde
chief’s advice was—and always had been—to send out a
company of ten or twelve of the strongest camels, to try
to make their way secretly to. the Nile, through the
ranks of unfriendly Arab tribes encamped all along its
eastern shore.

This was agreed upon ; and about*four in the afternoon
the little band set out, loaded with all the skins in the
caravan. The river was a ride of five or six hours distant ;
so that many hours of dreadful suspense must pass before
the watchers left behind could know what was to be their
fate. Soon after sunset a few stragglers came in, who had
strayed from the principal band ; but they had not reached
the river, and could give no news of therest. As the night
wore on, several of the traders came to Burckhardt to beg
for a taste of the water he was believed to have stored up ;
but he had carefully. hidden what remained, and only
showed them his skins which were empty. Then the
camp gradually grew silent, and all sat and waited under
the stars for the verdict of life or death. It was three in
the morning when shouts were heard, and the camels,
refreshed by deep draughts of the Nile water, came along
at their utmost speed, bearing skins full enough for
many days’ journey. Only one man was missing; but
THE SHIP OF THE DESERT — 251

traders are a cruel race, and these cared nothing about his
fate, giving themselves up to feasting and song, and joy at
their deliverance.

Yet only a year later, the fate that had almost over-
taken them befel a small body: of merchants who set out
with their camels from Berber to Daraou. The direct
road, which led past the wells of Nedjeym, was known to
be haunted at that date by the celebrated robber Naym,
who waylaid every caravan from Berber ; so the merchants
hired an Ababde guide to take them by a longer and more
easterly road, where there was another well at which they
could water. Unluckily the guide knew nothing of the
country that lay beyond, and the whole party soon lost
themselves in the mountains. For five days they wandered
about, not seeing a creature who could give them help, or
even direct them to the right path. Then, their water
being quite exhausted, they turned steadily westwards,
hoping by this means soon to reach the Nile. But the
river at this point takes a wide bend, and was, if they had
known it, further from them than before; and after two
days of dreadful agony, fifteen slaves and one merchant
died. In desperation, another merchant, who was an
Ababde, and owner of ten camels, had himself lashed firmly
on to the back of the strongest beast, lest in his weakness
he should fall off, and then ordered the whole herd to be
turned loose, thinking that perhaps the instinct of the
animals would succeed where the knowledge of man had
failed. But neither the Ababde nor his camels were ever
seen again.

The merchants struggled forwards, and eight days after
leaving the well of Owareyk they arrived in sight of some
mountains which they knew; but it was too late, and
camels and merchants sank down helpless where they lay.
They had just strength to gasp out orders for two of their
servants to make their way on camels to the mountains
where water would be found, but long before the mountains
were reached, one of the men dropped off his camel and,
252 THH SHIP OF THE DESERT

unable to speak, waved his hands in farewell to his com-
rade. The.other mechanically rode on, but his eyes grew
dim and his head dizzy, and well though he knew the
road, he suffered his camel to wander from it. After
straying aimlessly about for some time, he dismounted
and lay down in.the shade of a tree to rest, first tying
his camel to one of the branches. But a sudden puff
of wind brought the smell of the water to the camel’s
nostrils, and with a furious bound, he broke the noose
and galloped violently forward, and in half an hour was
sucking in deep draughts from a clear spring. The man,
understanding the meaning of the camel’s rush, rose up
and staggered a few steps after him, but fell to the ground
from. sheer weakness. Just at that moment a wandering
Bedouin from a neighbouring camp happened to pass
that way, and seeing that the man still breathed, dashed
water in his face, and soon revived him. Then, laden
with skins of water, the two men set out for those left
behind, and hopeless though their search seemed to be,
they found they had arrived in time, and were able to.
save them from a frightful death.
253

‘HAME, HAME, HAME, WHERE I FAIN
WAD BE’

NotHiInG in nature is more curious or more difficult of
explanation than the stories recorded of animals conveyed.
to one place, finding their way back to their old home,
often many hundreds of miles away. Not very long ago,
a lady at St. Andrews promised to make a present to a
friend who lived somewhere north of Perth, of a fine cat
which she wished to part with. When the day arrived,
the cat was tied safely up in a hamper, put in charge of
‘the guard, and sent on its way. It was met at the station
by its new mistress, who drove it home, and gave it an
excellent supper and a comfortable bed. This was on
Friday. All Saturday it poked about, examining every-
thing as cats will, but apparently quite happy and content
with its quarters. About seven on Sunday morning, as
the lady drew up her blind to let in the sunshine, she saw
the new puss trotting down the avenue. She did not pay
much attention to the fact till the day went on, and the
cat, who generally had a good appetite, did not come in
to its meals. When Monday came, but the puss did not,
the lady wrote to her friend at St. Andrews saying she
feared that the cat had wandered away, but she would
make inquiries at all the houses round, and still hoped to .
find it. On Tuesday evening loud mews were heard out-
side the kitchen door of the St. Andrews house, and when
it was opened, in walked the cat, rather dirty and very
hungry, but otherwise not at all the worse for wear. Now
as anybody can see if he looks at the map, it is a long way
254 ‘HAME, WHERE I FAIN WAD BE’

from St. Andrews to Perth, even as the crow flies. There
are also two big rivers which must be crossed, the Tay
and the Eden, or if the cat preferred coming by train, at
least two changes have to be made. So you have to
consider whether, granting it an instinct of direction,
which is remarkable enough in itself, the animal was
sufficiently strong to swim such large streams; or whether
it was so clever that it managed to find out the proper
trains for it to take, and the places where it must get out.
Any way, home it came, and was only two days on the
journey, and there it is still in St. Andrews, for its mistress
had not the heart to give it away a second time.

Trains seem to have a special fascination for cats,
and they are often to be seen about stations. For a long
while one was regularly to be seen travelling on the
Metropolitan line, between St. James’s Park and Charing
Cross, and a whole family of half-wild kittens are at this
moment making a play-ground of the lines and platforms
at Paddington. One will curl up quite comfortably on the
line right under the wheel of a carriage that is just going
to start, and on being disturbed bolts away and hides
itself in some recess underneath the platform. Occasion-
ally you see one with part of its tail cut off, but as a rule
they take wonderfully good care of themselves. The
porters are very kind to them, and they somehow con-
trive to get along, for they all look fat and well-looking, and
quite happy in their strange quarters.

Of course cats are not the only animals who have what
is called the ‘homing instinct.’ Sheep have been known
to find their way back from Yorkshire to the moors north
of the Cheviots where they were born and bred, although
sheep are not clever beasts and they had come a round-
about journey by train. But there are many such stories
of dogs, and one of the most curious is told by an English
officer who was in Paris in the year 1815. One day, as
the officer was walking hastily over the bridge, he was
annoyed by a muddy poodle dog rubbing up against him,
‘HAME, WHERE I PAIN WAD BE’ 255

and dirtying his beautifully polished boots. Now dirty
boots were his abhorrence, so he hastily looked round
for a shoe-black, and seeing one at a little distance off, at
once went up to him to have his boots re-blacked. A few
days later the officer was again crossing the bridge, when
a second time the poodle brushed against him and spoilt
his boots. Without thinking he made for the nearest
shoe-black, just as he had done before, and went on his
way ; but when the same thing happened a third time, his
suspicions were aroused, and he resolved to watch. Ina
few minutes he saw the dog run down to the riverside
and roll himself in the mud, and then come back to the
bridge and keep a sharp look-out for the first well-dressed
man who would be likely to repay his trouble. The officer
was so delighted with the poodle’s cleverness, that he
went at once to the shoe-black, who confessed that the
dog was his and that he had taught him this trick for the
good of trade. The officer then proposed to buy the dog,
and offered the shoe-black such a large sum that he agreed
to part with his ‘ bread-winner.’

So the officer, who was returning at once to England,
carried the dog, by coach and steamer to London, where
he tied him up for some time, in order that he should
forget all about his old life, and be ready to make himself
happy in the new one. When he was set free, however,
the poodle seemed restless and ill at ease, and after two
or three days he disappeared entirely. What he did then,
nobody knows, but a fortnight after he had left the
London house, he was found, steadily plying his old trade,
on the Pont Henri Quatre.

A Northumbrian pointer showed a still more wonderful
instance of the same sagacity. He was the property of
one Mr. Edward Cook, who after paying a visit to his
brother, the owner of a large property in Northumberland,
set sail for America, taking the dog with him. They
travelled south together as far as Baltimore, where excel-
lent shooting was to be got; but after one or two days’
256 ‘HAME, WHERE I FAIN WAD BE’

sport the dog disappeared, and was supposed to have
lost itself in thé woods. Months went by without
anything being known of the dog, when one night a dog
was heard howling violently outside the quiet Northum-
berland house. It was admitted by the owner, Mr.
Cook, who to his astonishment recognised it as the pointer
which his brother had taken to America. They took care
of him till his master came back, and then they tried
to. trace out his journey. Butit wasofno use. How the
pointer made its way through the forest, from what port
it started, and where it landed, remain a mystery to
this day.
257

NESTS FOR. DINNER

However wonderful and beautiful nests may be, very
few English people would like to eat them; yet in China
the nest of a particular variety of swallow is prized as a
great delicacy.

These nests are chiefly gathered from Java, Sumatra,
and other islands of the Malay Archipelago, and are
carried thence to China, where they fetch a large price.
Although, within certain limits, they are very plentiful,
they are very difficuli and dangerous to get, for the
swallows build in the depths of large and deep caverns,
mostly on the seashore, and the men have to be let
down from above by ropes, or descend on ladders of
bamboo. In Java, so many men have lost their lives in
nest gathering, that in some parts a regular religious
ceremony is held, twice or three times a year, before the
expedition is undertaken; prayers are said, and a bull
is sacrificed.

It is not easy to know what the nests are really made
of, because from the time that Europeans first noticed the
trade—about two hundred years ago—they have differed
among themselves in their accounts of the jelly-like
substance used by the swallows. Some naturalists have
thought it is the spawn of the fish, which floats thickly.
on the surface of these seas; others, that it is a kind of -
deposit of dried sea foam gathered by the birds from the
beach, while others again think that the substance is

8
258 NESTS FOR DINNER

formed of sea plants chewed by the birds into a jelly;
but, whatever it may be, the Chinese infinitely prefer nests
to oysters
or anything
else, and are
willing to

, pay highly
‘i. for them.

i The nests,
iwi, which take
i” about two
months to
build, are al-
ways found
to be of two
sorts : an oblong one just
fitted to the body of the
male bird, and a rounder
one for the mother and
her eggs. The most
valuable nests are those
which are whitest, and
these generally belong to
the male; they are very
thin, and finely worked.
The birds are small and
feed chiefly on insects, which are
abundant on these islands; their
colour is grey, and they are wonder-
fully quick in their movements, like
the humming birds, which are about
their own size. They are sociable,
and build in swarms, but they seldom
lay more than two eggs, which take
about a fortnight to hatch.










q !
BU settle
PD heve ‘es
A Rv littl

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259

FIRE-EATING DJIJAM

Some curious notes about walking unharmed through
fire, in the November (1894) number of ‘Longman’s
Magazine,’ under the heading ‘ At the Sign of the Ship,’
suggested that a record might be kept of Djijam’s
eccentricities, especially as they differed somewhat from
those of most other dogs. Anyone accustomed to animals
knows, and anyone who is not can imagine, that dogs differ
as much in their behaviour and ways as human beings.
Djijam was as unlike any dog I have ever had, seen, or
heard of, as could be. My wife, who is a patient and suc-
cessful instructor of animals, never managed to teach him
anything, any attempt to impart usual or unusual accom-
plishments being met with the most absolute, impenetrable
idiocy, which no perseverance could conquer or. diminish
in the least degree. That this extreme stupidity was
really assumed is now pretty clear, though at the time it
was attributed to natural density.

It was at Christmas-tide, about two years ago, that
my wife and I drove over to a village some few miles
away, to choose one of a litter of four fox-terrier pups,
which we heard were on sale ata livery stable. We found
the mother of the lively litter almost overpowered by her
boisterous progeny, who though nearly three months old
had not yet found other homes. Without any particular
objection on the part of the parent we examined the pups,
and selected and brought away one which seemed to have
better points than the rest, whom we left to continue their
gambols in the straw, unconscious probably that any other

82
seca FIRE-EATING DJIJAM

means of warming themselves were possible. The journey
home was accomplished with the customary puppish en-
deavours to escape restraint. The same evening, after the
servants had retired to bed, Master Djijam was placed in
the kitchen, out of harm’s way as it was thought. The
last thing at night we went to inspect the little animal,
and.could not at-first discover his whereabouts. When a
thing is lost it is customary to hunt about in unlikely
places, so we looked into the high cinder-box under the
kitchener, and found the object of our search comfortably
curled up directly under the red-hot fire. It was fairly
warm work fishing him out.

For another reason, not connected with heat, he was
subsequently christened Djijam, a truly oriental name,
which some of our friends think may have helped to de-
velop his original taste for fire.

When Djijam was about six months old we observed
that he frequently jumped up to people who were seated
smoking. This induced a humorous friend one day to
offer him the lighted end of a cigarette, which Djijam
promptly seized in his mouth and extinguished. After
‘that triumph Djijam usually watched for, and plainly
demanded the lighted fag ends of cigarettes and cigars, so
that his might be the satisfaction of finishing them off.
This led to lighted matches being offered to him, which
he eagerly took in his mouth, and if wax vestas, swallowed
as a welcome addition to his ordinary diet. From matches
to lighted candles was an easy step, and these he rapidly
extinguished with great gusto as often as they were pre-
sented to him. He would also attack lighted oil lamps if
placed on the floor, but they puzzled him, and defied his
efforts to bite or breathe them out. A garden bonfire
used to drive him wild with delight, and snatching brands
from the fire, indoors or out, was a delirious joy. My wife
discovered him once in the full enjoyment of a large
lighted log on the dining-room carpet. Red-hot cinders
he highly relished, though in obtaining them he frequently


‘IN THE FULL ENJOYMENT OF A LARGE LIGHTED LOG ON THE DINING-ROOM CARPET’







FIRE-HATING DJIJAM 263

singed off his moustaches. Perhaps the oddest of his
_fiery tricks was performed one day when he wished the
cook to hand him some dainty morsel on which she
chanced to be operating. This was against the rules, as
he well knew, so she declined to accept the hint. Djijam
was at once provoked to anger and cast round for some
way of obtaining compensation, at the same time hoping,
perhaps, to retaliate. He naturally went for the kitchen
fire, out of which he drew a red-hot cinder and carried it
in hig mouth across the kitchen, through a small lobby
into the scullery, to his box-bed, into the straw of which
he must have speedily dropped the live coal, and jumped
in after it. Soon after, the cook smelt wood burning and
searched the lower part of the house lest anything were
afire. Finding nothing wrong, she last of all visited the
seullery, and found Djijam enjoying the warmth of his
smouldering straw bed and wooden box.

Alas, Djijam grew snappish even to his best friends,
and although it was suggested that he might be found
an engagement on the Variety stage of the Westminster
Aquarium, as a fire-eating hound, it was reluctantly de-

. cided that he should go the way of all flesh. J am sure
if he had been asked, he would in some way have indicated
that he preferred cremation to any other mode of disposal.
But it was not to be, yet it was a melancholy satisfaction
to learn that his end was peaceful though common-
place.
264

THE STORY OF THE DOG OSCAR

In the north-west of Scotland there is a very pretty loch
which runs far up into theland. On one side great hills—
almost mountains—slope down into the water, while on the
opposite side there is a little village, with the road along
which the houses straggle, almost part of the loch shore.
At low tide, banks of beautiful golden seaweed are left at
the edges of the water, and on this seaweed huge flocks
of sea-gulls come and feed.

A few years ago there lived in this village a minister
who had a collie-dog named Oscar. He lived all alone in
his little cottage, and as Jean, the woman who looked
after him, was a very talkative person, by no means con-
genial to him, Oscar was his constant companion and
friend.

He seemed to understand all that was said to him, and
in his long, lonely walks across the hills, it cheered him
to have Oscar trotting quietly and contentedly beside him.
And when he came home from visiting sick people, and
going to places where he could not take Oscar, he would
look forward to seeing the soft brown head thrust out of
the door, peering into the darkness, ready to welcome him
as soon as he should come in sight,

One of Oscar’s favourite games was to go down to the
shore when the tide was low, and with his head thrown up
and his tail straight out, he would run at the flocks of
gulls feeding on the seaweed, and scatter them in the air,
making them look like a cloud of large white snow-flakes.










‘OSCAR WOULD CHARGE AND ROUT THEM’








ce


















































THE STORY OF OSCAR . 267

In a minute or two the. gulls would settle down again to
their meal, and again Oscar would charge and rout them.

This little manceuvre of his would be repeated many
times, till a long clear whistle was heard from the road by
the loch. Then the gulls might finish their supper in
peace, for Oscar’s master had called him, and now he was
walking quietly along by his side, looking as if there were
no such things in the world as gulls.

‘No, Oscar, lad! Not to-day! not to-day!’ said the
minister one afternoon, as he put on his hat and coat and
took his stick from the dog who always fetched it when
he saw preparations being made for a walk.

‘I can’t take you with me; you must stay in the
paddock. No run by the loch this afternoon, lad. "Tis
too long, and you are not so strong as you were. We
are growing old together, Oscav.’

The dog watched his master till he disappeared over
the little bridge and up the glen, and then he went and
lay down by the paling which surrounded the bit of field.
Jean soon went out to a friend’s house to have a little
gossip, and Oscar was left alone.

He felt rather forlorn. Across the road he heard the
distant splashing of the waves as they ran angrily up the
beach of the loch, and the whistling of the wind down the
glen.

He watched the grey clouds scudding away overhead,
and he envied the children he heard playing in the street,
or racing after the tourist coach on its way up the Pass.

He began to feel drowsy.

‘The gulls will be feeding on the banks now! Howl

“wish ...’ and his eyes closed, and he dreamt a ‘nice
dream, that he was dashing along through shallow pools
of water towards the white chattering flock, when—what
was this in front of him? White feathers! Two gulls!
Was he dreaming still? No, the gulls were real! What
luck! He could not go to the gulls, so the gulls had come
to him.
268 THE STORY OF OSCAR

In a moment he was wide awake, and made a rush at
the two birds who ‘were gazing at him inquiringly with
their heads on one side But after two or three rushes,
‘What stupid gulls these are!’ thought Oscar. ‘They can
scarcely fly.’

And, indeed, the birds seemed to have great difficulty
in lifting themselves off the ground, and appeared to grow
more and more feeble after each of Oscar’s onslaughts.
At last one of them fell.

“Lazy creature! you have had too much dinner! Up
you get !’

But the gull lay down gasping.

Oscar made for the other. Why, that was lying down
too! He went to the first one. It was quite still and
motionless, and after one or two more gasps its companion
was the same.

Oscar felt rather frightened. Was it possible that he
had killed them? What would his master say? How
was he to tell him it was quite a mistake? That he had
only been in fun? He must put the gulls out of sight.

He dragged them to one side of the cottage where the
minister used to try every year to grow a few cherished
plants, and there in the loose earth he dug a grave for the
birds.

Then he went back to his old place, and waited for
his master’s return.

When the minister came back, for the first time in his
life, Oscar longed to be able to speak and tell him all
that had happened. How could he without speech ex-
plain that the death of the birds was an accident—an
unfortunate accident ?

He felt that without an explanation it was no use
unearthing the white forms in the border.

‘Sir, sir!’ cried Jean, putting her head in at the door.
‘Here’s Widow McInnes come to see you. She’s in sore
trouble.’

Tne minister rose and went to the door.
THE STORY OF OSCAR 269

‘Stay here, Oscar,’ he said, for Widow McInnes was
not fond-of Oscar.

In a few minutes the minister came back.

He patted Oscar’s soft head.







AN:

ee
Att Odes 1



‘OSCAR FELT RATHER FRIGHTENED’

‘She wanted to accuse thee, Oscar lad, of killing the
two white pigeons which her son sent her yesterday from
the south, and which escaped this afternoon from their
cage. As if you would touch the bairnies, as the poor
woman calls them! Eh, lad?’
270 THE STORY OF OSCAR

Oscar wagged his tail gratefully. Then in a sudden
flash it came upon him that he had killed the pigeons.
Now he saw the birds were pigeons, not gulls, and, worse
than killing them, he had, all unknowingly, told his master
a lie; and he could not undo it. He whined a little as if
in pain, and moved slowly out of the room. The minister
sat on, deep in thought, and then went outside the house
to see the sunset. Great bands of thick grey cloud
wrapped the hill-tops in their folds, and lay in long bands
across the slopes, while here and there in the rifts were
patches of pale lemon-coloured sky. The loch waiters
heaved sullenly against the shore. The minister looked
away from the sunset, and his eye fell on a little mound
in the bed by the cottage.

‘What did I plant there?’ he thought, and began
poking it with his stick.

‘Oscar, Oscar !’

Oscar was bounding down the path. He had just
determined to unbury the pigeons and bring them to his
master, and, even if he received a beating, his master
would know he had not meant to deceive.

But now, hearing the call, and the tone of the minister’s
voice, he knew it was too late. He stopped, and then
crept slowly towards that tall black figure standing in the
twilight, with the two white. pigeons lying at his feet.

‘Oh, Oscar, Oscar lad, what have you done ?’

At that moment a boy came running to the gate.

‘Ye’ll be the minister that Sandy Johnston is speiring
after. He says, “ Fetch the minister, and bid him come
quick.” ’

The minister gave a few directions to Jean, and in a
moment or two was ready to go with the boy. It was
a long row to the head of the loch, and a long walk to
reach the cottage where Sandy Johnston lay dying. The
minister stayed with him for two nights, till he seemed
to need his help no more, and then started off to come
home. But while he was being rowed along the loch, a


‘OH, OSCAR, OSCAR LAD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?’ |


























THH: STORY OF OSCAR 273

fierce snowstorm came on. The boat made but little way,
and they were delayed two or three hours. Cold and
tired, the minister thought with satisfaction of his warm
fireside, with Oscar lying down beside his cosy chair.
Then, for the first time since it had happened, he thought
of the pigeons, and he half smiled as he recalled Oscar’s
downcast face as he came up the path.

With quick steps he hurried along the street from the
landing-place. The snow was being blown about round
him, and the night was fast closing in. He was quite
near his own gate now, and he looked up, expecting to
see the familiar brown head peering out of the door. for
‘him ; but there was no sign of it.

He opened the gate and strode in. Still no Oscar to
welcome him.

‘Jean, Jean!’ he called. Jean appeared from the
kitchen, and even in the firelight he could see traces of
tears on her rough face.

‘Where is Oscar ?’

‘Ah, sir, after ye were gone wi’ the lad, he’ wouldna’
come into the house, and wouldna’ touch a morsel o’ food.
He lay quite still in the garden, and last night he died.
An’ it’s my belief, sir, he died of a broken heart, because
ye did na’ beat him after killing the pigeons, and he
couldna’ make it up wi’ ye.’

And the minister thought so, too; and when Jean was
gone, he sat down by his lonely fireside and buried his
face in his hands.
274

‘DOLPHINS AT PLAY

For some reason or other, dolphins, those queer great
fish that always seem to be at play, have been subjects for
many stories. Pliny himself has told several, and his old
translator's words are so strange, that, as far as possible,
we will tell the tale as he tells it.

‘In the days of Augustus Cesar, the Emperor,’ says
Pliny, ‘there was a dolphin entered the gulf or pool
Lucrinus, which loved wondrous well a certain boy, a
poor man’s son; who using to go every day to school
from Baianum to Puteoli, was wont also about noon-tide
to stay at the water side and call unto the dolphin,
“Simo, Simo,” and many times would give him fragments
of bread, which of purpose he ever brought with him, and
by this means allured the dolphin to come ordinarily unto
him at his call. Well, in process of time, at what hour
soever of the day this boy lured for him and called
“Simo,” were the dolphin never so close hidden in any
secret and blind corner, out he would and come abroad,
yea, and scud amain to this lad, and taking bread and
other victuals at his hand, would gently offer him his
- back to mount upon, and then down went the sharp-
pointed prickles of his fins, which he would put up as it
were within a sheath for fear of hurting the boy. Thus,
when he once had him on his back, he would carry him
over the broad arm of the sea as far as Puteoli to school,
and in like manner convey him back again home; and
thus he continued for many years together, so long as the










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THE BOY GOES TO SCHOOL ON THE DOLPHIN’S BACK

DOLPHINS AT PLAY 277 -

child lived. But when the boy was fallen sick and dead
yet the dolphin gave not over his haunt, but usually came
to the wonted place, and missing the lad seemed to be
heavy and mourn again, until for very grief and SOLTOW
he also was found dead upon the shore.’
278

THE STARLING OF SHGRINGEN’

In alittle German village in Suabia, there lived a barber,
who combined the business of hair-cgutting and shaving
with that of an apothecary; he also sold good brandy, so
that he had no lack of customers, not to speak of those
who merely wished to pass an hour in gossiping.

Not the least of the attractions, however, was a tame
starling, named Hansel, who had been taught to speak,
and had learnt many sayings which he overheard, either
from his master, the barber, or from the idlers who
gathered about the shop. His master especially had some
favourite sayings, or catchwords, such as, ‘Truly, I am
the barber of Segringen’—for this is the name of the
village—‘ As heaven will,’ ‘By keeping bad company,’
and the like; and these were most familiar to the
starling. -

Everybody for miles round had at least heard of
Hansel, and many came on purpose to see him and hear
him talk, for Hansel would often interpose a word into
the conversation, which came in very aptly.

But it happened one day, Hansel’s wings—which had
been cut—having grown again, that he thought to himself:
‘IT have now learnt so much, I may go out and see the
world.’ And when nobody was looking, whirr !—away he
went out of the window.

Seeing a flock of birds, he joined them, thinking:
‘They know the country better than I.’

But alas! this knowledge availed them little, for all

t Translated from the German of Johann Peter Hebel.
THE STARLING OF SHGRINGEN 279

of them, with Hansel, fell into a snare which had been
laid by a fowler, who soon came to see what was in his
net. Putting in his hand, he drew out one prisoner after
another, callously wringing their necks one by one.

But suddenly, when he was stretching out his mur-
derous fingers to seize another victim, this one cried out :
. ‘Tam the barber of Segringen !’

The man almost fell backwards with astonishment
and fright, believing he had to do with a sorcerer at least ;

but presently recovering himself a little, he remembered
the starling, and said: ‘Eh, Hansel, is it you! How did
you come into the net?’

‘By keeping bad company,’ replied Hansel.

‘And shall I carry you home again?’

‘As heaven will,’ replied the starling.

Then the fowler took him back to the barber, and
. yelated the manner of his capture, receiving a good reward.

The barber also reaped a fine harvest, for more people
came to his shop on purpose to see the clever bird, who
had saved his life by his ready tongue.
280

GRATEFUL DOGS.

A rarmer in Nebraska—one of the Western States of
North America—possessed two dogs, a big one called
Fanny, and a small one who was named Jolly. One
winter day the farmer went for a walk and took with him
his two pets; they came to a brook that ran through the
farm, and was now frozen up.

Fanny crossed it without much ado, but Jolly, who
was always afraid of water, distrusted the ice, and refused
to follow. Fanny paused at the other side, and barked
loudly to induce her companion to come, but Jolly pre-
tended not to understand. -

Then Fanny ran back to him, and tried to explain that
it was quite safe, but in vain, Jolly only looked after his
master, and whimpered; upon which, Fanny, losing
patience, seized him by the collar, and dragged him over.

For this kindness Jolly showed himself grateful some
time afterwards.

Fanny, greedy creature, was fond of fresh eggs. Whin

she heard a hen cackle she always ran to look for thd
ness, and one day she discovered one under the fruit- “

shed. But, alas! she could not get the beloved dainty
because she was too large to go under the shed. Looking
very pensive and thoughtful, she went away, and soon
returned with Jolly, bringing him just before the hole.

1 From ‘Das Echo,’ June 8, 1895. Letter to the editor, signed
G. M., Mexico, purporting to be an extract from a letter of his brother
in Nebraska. I have translated and recast it,
GRATEFUL DOGS 281

Jolly, however, was stupid and did not understand ;
Fanny put her head in, and then her paws, without being
able, with all her efforts, to reach the egg; the smaller
dog, seeing that there was something in the hole, went
in to look, but not caring for eggs, came out empty-
handed.

Thereupon Fanny looked at him in such a sad and
imploring way, that her master, who was watching them,
could scarcely suppress his laughter.

At last Jolly seemed to understand what was wanted ;
he went under the shed again, brought out the egg, and
put it before Fanny, who ate it with great satisfaction, and
then both dogs trotted off together.
GAZELLE

PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A TORTOISE

ALEXANDRE Dumas, in whose book, as I told you, I read
the story of Tom the Bear, as well. as those of ‘other
animals, was one day walking past the shop of a large
fishmonger in Paris. As he glanced through the window
he saw an Englishman in the shop holding a tortoise,
which he was turning about in his hands. Dumas felt an
instant conviction that the Englishman proposed to make
the tortoise into turtle soup, and he was so touched by
the air of patient resignation of the supposed victim that
he entered the shop, and with a sign to the shopwoman
asked whether she had kept the tortoise for him which he
had bespoken.

The shopwoman (who had known Dumas for many
years) understood with half a word, and gently slipping
the tortoise out of the Englishman’s grasp, she handed it
to Dumas, saying, ‘Pardon, milord, the tortoise was sold
to this gentleman this morning.’

The Englishman seemed surprised, but left the shop
without remonstrating, and Dumas had nothing left for it
but to pay for his tortoise and take it home.

As he carried his purchase up to his rooms on the
third floor he wondered what could have possessed him,
to buy it, and what on earth he was to do with it now he
had got it. It was certainly a remarkable tortoise, for .
the moment he put it down on the floor of his bedroom it
started off for the. fireplace at such a pace as to earn for
itself the name of ‘ Gazelle.’
GAZELLE “283

Once near the fire, Gazelle settled herself in the
warmest corner she could find, and went to sleep.

Dumas, who wished to go out again and was afraid of
his new possession coming to any harm, called his servant
and said: ‘Joseph, whilst I am out you must look after
this creature.’ — :

Joseph approached with some curiosity.. ‘Ah!’ he
remarked, ‘ why, it’s a tortoise ; that creature could bear
a carriage on its back.’

§ Yaa, yes, no doubt it might, but I beg you won’t ny
any experiments with it.’

‘Oh, it wouldn’t hurt it,’ assured Joseph, who enjoyed
showing off his information. ‘The Lyons diligence might
drive over it without hurting it.’

‘Well,’ replied his master, ‘I believe the great sea
turtle might bear such a weight, but I doubt whether this
small variety

‘Oh, that’s of no consequence,’ interrupted Joseph ;
‘it’s as strong as a horse, and small though itis, a cartload
of stones might pass

‘Very good, very good; never mind that now. Just
buy the creature a lettuce and some snails.’

‘Snails ! why, is its chest delicate ?’

‘No, why on earth do you ask such a thing?’

‘Well, my last master used to take an infusicn of
snails for his chest—not that it prevented

Dumas left the room without waiting for the end.
Before he was halfway downstairs he found that he had
forgotten his handkerchief, and on returning surprised
Joseph standing on Gazelle’s back, gracefully poised on
one leg, with the other out-stretched behind him in such
a way that not an ounce of his eleven-stone weight was
lost on the poor creature.

‘Idiot ! what are you about?’

‘There, sir, didn’t I say so?’ rejoined Joseph, proudly.

‘There, there, give me a handkerchief and mind you
don’t touch that creature again.’






284 GAZELLE

‘There, sir,’ said-the irrepressible Joseph, bringing the
handkerchief. ‘But indeed you need not be at all afraid ;
a waggon could drive over

























DUMAS FINDS JOSEPH STANDING ON GAZELLE’S BACK
GAZELLE "28g

Dumas fled.

He returned rather late at night, and no sooner took
a step into his room than he felt something crack under
his boot. He hastily raised his foot and took a further
step with the same result: he thought he must be tread-
ing on eggs. He lowered his candlestick—the carpet was
covered with snails.

Joseph had obeyed orders literally. He had bought:
the lettuces and the snails, had placed them all in a basket
and Gazelle on the top, and then put the basket in the
middle of his master’s bedroom. Ten minutes later the
warmth of the fire thawed the snails into’ animation, ‘and
the entire caravan set forth on a-voyage of discovery round
the room, leaving silvery tracks behind them on carpet and
furniture.

As for Gazelle, she was quietly reposing at the bottom
of the basket, where a few empty shells proved that all
the fugitives had not been brisk enough to make their
escape.

Dumas, feeling no fancy for a possible procession of
snails over his bed, carefully picked up the stragglers one
by one, popped them back into the basket, and shut down
the lid. But in five minutes’ time he realised that sleep
would be out of the question with the noise going on,
which sounded like a dozen mice in a bag of nuts. - He
decided to move the basket to the kitchen.

On the way there it occurred to him that if Gazelle

went on‘at this rate she would certainly die of indigestion
before morning. He remembered that the owner of the
restaurant on the ground floor had a tank in the back
yard where he often put fish to keep till wanted, and it
struck him that the tank would be the very place for his
tortoise. He at once put his idea into.execution, got back
to his room and to bed, and slept soundly till morning.

Joseph woke him early.

‘Oh, sir, such a joke!’ he exclaimed, standing at the
foot of the bed. ;
286 GAZELLE

‘What joke?’

‘Why, what your tortoise has been up to!’

‘What on earth do you mean ?’

‘Well, sir, could you believe that it got out of your
room—goodness knows how—and walked downstairs and
right into the tank ?’

‘You owl! you might have eed I put it there
myself.’

‘Did you indeed, sir? Well, you certainly have made
a mess of it then.’

‘How so?’

‘Why, the tortoise has eaten up a tench—a superb
tench weighing three pounds—which the master of the
restaurant put into the tank only last night. The waiter
has just been telling me about it.’

‘Go at once and fetch me Gazelle and the scales.’

During Joseph’s absence his master took down a volume
of Buffon, and consulted that eminent authority on the
subject of tortoises and turtles. There seemed to be no
doubt, according to the celebrated naturalist, that these
creatures did eat fish voraciously when they got the
chance.

‘Dear, dear,’ thought Dumas, ‘I fear the owner of
the tank has Buffon on his side.’

Just then Joseph returned with the accused in one
hand and the kitchen scales in the other.

‘You see,’ began the irrepressible valet, ‘ these sort of
creatures eat a lot. They need it to keep up their strength,
and fish is particularly nourishing. Only see how strong
sailors are, and they live so much on fish———’

His master cut him short.

‘How much did you say that tench weighed?’

‘Three pounds. ‘The waiter asks nine frances for it.’

‘And Gazelle ate it all?’

‘Every bit except the head, the back-bone, and the
inside.’

‘Quite correct, Monsieur Buffon had said as much.
GAZELLE 287

Very well—but still—three pounds seems a good
deal.’ ;

He put Gazelle in the scale. She weighed exactly
two pounds and a half! The deduction was simple.
Hither Gazelle had been falsely accused or the theft had
been much smaller than was represented. Indeed the
waiter readily took this view of the matter, and was quite
satisfied with five francs as an indemnity.

_ The varied adventures of Gazelle had become rather
a bore, and her owner felt that he must try to find some
other home for her. She spent the following night in his
room, but thanks to the absence of snails all went well.
When Joseph came in next morning, his first act as usual
was to roll up the hearthrug, and, opening the window,
to shake it well out in the air. Suddenly he uttered an
exclamation and flung himself half out of the window.

‘What's the matter, Joseph?’ asked his master, only
half awake. ;

‘Oh, sir—it’s your tortoise. It was on the rug, and I
never saw it—and—’

‘Well! and 2°

“And I declare, before I knew what I was about, I
shook it out of the window.’

‘ Imbecile !’ shouted Dumas, springing out of bed.

‘Ah!’ cried Joseph with a sigh of relief. ‘See, she’s
eating a cabbage!’

And so she was. Her fall had been broken by a
rubbish heap, and after a few seconds in which to recover
her equanimity, she had ventured to thrust her head out,
when finding a piece of cabbage near, she ab once began
her breakfast.

‘Didn’t I say so, sir?’ cried Joseph, delighted.
‘Nothing hurts those creatures. There now, whilst she’s
eating that cabbage a coach-and-four might drive over
her :

‘ Never mind, never mind;.just run down and fetch
her up quick.’




288 GAZELLE

Joseph obeyed, and as soon as his master was dressed
he called a cab, and taking Gazelle with him, drove off to
No. 109 in the Faubourg St.-Denis. Here he climbed to
the fifth floor and walked straight into the studio of
his friend, who was busy painting a delightful little
picture of performing dogs. He was surrounded by a
bear, who was playing with a log as he lay on his back,







DUMAS BRINGS GAZELLE TO NO. 109 FAUBOURG ST.-DENIS

a monkey, busy pulling a paint brush to pieces, and a frog,
who was half-way up a little ladder ina glass jar. You
will, I dare say, have guessed already that the painter’s
name was Décamps, the bear’s Tom, the monkey’s
Jacko I., and the frog’s Mademoiselle Camargo, and you
will not wonder that Dumas felt that he could not better
-provide for Gazelle than by leaving her.as an addition to
the menagerie in his friend’s studio.!

1 See pp. 875.
289

COCKATOO STORIES}

Axsovut thirty years ago-a gentleman, who was fond of
birds and beasts, took into his head to try if parrots could
not be persuaded to make themselves at home among the
trees in his garden. For a, little while everything séemed
going beautifully, and the experimenter was full of hope.
The parrots built their nests in the woods, and in course
of time some young ones appeared, and gradually grew
up to their full size. Then, unluckily, they became tired
of the grounds which they knew by heart, and set off to
see the world. The young parrots were strong upon the
wing, and their beautiful bright bodies would be seen
flashing in the sun, as much as fifteen miles away, and,
then, of course, some boy or gamekeeper with a gun in
his hand was certain to see them, and covet them for the
kitchen mantel-shelf or a private collection.

The cockatoos however did not always care to Bhigass
trees for their building places. One little pair, whose
grandparents had whisked about in the heat of a mid-
summer day in Australia, found the climate of England
cold and foggy, and looked about for a warm cover for their
new nest. They had many conversations on the subject,
and perhaps one of these may have been overheard by a
jackdaw, who put into their minds a brilliant idea, for the
very next morning the cockatoos.were seen carrying their
materials to one of the chimneys, and trying to fasten
them together half-way up. But cockatoos are not as
clever as jackdaws about this kind of thing, and before

1 Naturalist’s Note-Book. Reeves & Turner: 1868.
U
290. COCKATOO STORIES

the nest had grown to be more than a shapeless mass,
down it came, and such a quantity of soot with it, that the
poor cockatoos were quite buried, and lay for a day and
night nearly smothered in soot, till they happened to be
found by a housemaid who had entered the room. But
in spite of this mishap they were not disheartened, and
ag goon as their eyes and noses had recovered from their
soot bath, they began again to search for a more suitable
spot. To the great delight of their master, they fixed
upon a box which he had nailed for this very purpose
under one of the gables, and this time they managed to
build a nest that was as good as any nest in the garden.
Still, they had no luck, for though the female laid two
eggs, and sat upon them perseveringly, never allowing
them to get cold for a single instant, it was all of no use,
for the eggs turned out to be both bad!

Some cousins of theirs, a beautiful white cockatoo and
his lovely rose-coloured wife, were more prosperous in
their arrangements. They scooped out a most comfortable
nest with their claws and bills in the rotten branch of an
acacia tree, and there they brought up two young families,
all of them white as snow, with flame-coloured crests.
The eldest son, unhappily for himself, got weary of his
brothers and sisters, and the little wood on the outskirts
of the garden, where he was born, and one winter day
took a flight towards the town. Hig parents never
quite knew what occurred, but the poor young cockatoo
came back severely wounded, to. the great fury of all
his family, who behaved yery unkindly to him. It is
a curious fact that no animals and very few birds can
bear the sight of illness, and these cockatoos were no
better than the rest. They did not absolutely ill-treat
him, but they refused to let him enter their nest, and in+
sisted that he should live by himself in a distant bush.
At last his master took pity on him, and brought him into
the garden, but this so enraged the cockatoos who were
already in possession, that they secretly murdered him
COCKATOO STORIES 291

However it is only just to the race of cockatoos to observe
that they are not always so bad as this, for during the
very same season an unlucky young bird, whose wing
and leg were broken by an accident, was adopted by an
elderly cockatoo who did not care for what her neighbours
said, and treated him as her own son. The following year,
when nesting time came round, the white cockatoos went
back to their acacia branch, but were very much disgusted
to find a pair of grey parrots there before them, and a
little pair of bald round heads peeping over the edge.
These little parrots grew up with such very bad tempers
that no one would have anything to do with them, andas
for their own relations, they looked upon them with the
contempt that a cat often shows toa man. To be sure
these relations were considered to be rather odd them-
selves, for they did not care to be troubled with a family
of their own, so had taken under their protection two little
kittens, who had been born in one of the boxes originally
set apart for the parrots. The two birds could not endure
to see the old cat looking after her little ones, and when-
ever she went out for a walk or to get her food, one of the
parrots always took her place in the box. It would have
been nice to know how long this went on, and if the
kittens adopted any parrot-like ways. Luckily, there was
one peculiarity of the parrots which it was beyond their
power to imitate, and that was the horrible voice which
renders the society of a parrot, and still more of a cock-
atoo, unendurable to most people.

U2
292

THE OTTHR WHO WAS REARED BY A CAT!

Tere is still living’in the. kingdom of Galloway a won-
derful cat who is so completely above all the instincts
and prejudices of her race, that she can remain on friendly
terms with young rabbits, and wile away a spare hour
by having a game with a mouse. A real game, where .
the fun is not all on one side, but which is sujoyed by
the mouse as much as by the cat.

Hardly less strange, from the opposite point of view,
is the friendship that existed between two cats and an
otter, which had been taken from its mother when only a
few hours old, to be brought up by hand by a gentleman.
This was not a very easy thing to manage. It was too
young to suck milk out of a spoon, which was the first
thing thought of, but a quill passed through a cork and
stuck into a baby’s bottle proved a success, and through
this the little otter had its milk five times every day, until
he was more than five weeks old. Then he was intro-
duced to a cat who had lately lost a kitten, and though
not naturally very good-tempered, the puss took to him
directly, evidently thinking it was her own kitten grown
a little bigger. In general this cat, which was partly
Persian and, as I have said, very cross, did not trouble
herself much about her young ones, which had to take
care of themselves as well as they could ; but she could
not make enough of the little otter, and when he was as
big as herself she would walk with him every day to the
pond in the yard, where he had his bath, watching his

1 Naturalist’s Note-Book,
THE OTTER WHO WAS RHARED BY A CAT 293

splashings and divings with great anxiety, and never
happy till he got out safe.

But, like human children, the baby otter would have
been very dull without someone to play with, and as
there were no little otters handy, he made friends with a
young cat called Tom.

All through the long winter, when the pond was
frozen, and diving and swimming were no longer possible,
he and Tom used to spend happy mornings playing hide
and seek among the furniture in the dining-room, till
Tom began to feel that the otter was getting rather rough,
and that his teeth were very sharp, and that it would be
a good thing to get out of his reach, on the top of a high
cupboard or chimney piece.

_ But at last the snow melted, and the ice became water
again, and the first day the sun shone, the otter and the
old cat went out for a walk in the yard. After the little
fellow had had his dive, which felt delicious after all the
weeks that he had done without it, he wandered care-
lessly into a shed where he had never been before, and to
his astonishment he suddenly heard a flutter of wings,
and became conscious of a sharp pain in his neck. This
was produced by the beak of a falcon, who always lived
in the shed, and seeing the strange creature enter his
door, at once made up his mind that it was its duty to
kill it. The cat and the gentleman who happened to
come in at the same moment rushed forward ‘and beat
off the bird, and then, blinded by excitement, like a great
many other people, and not knowing friends from foes,
the cat rushed at her master. In one moment she had
severely bitten the calf of his leg, given his thigh a fearful
scratch, and picked up the otter and carried him outside.
Then, not daring to trust him out of her sight, she
marched him sternly up the hill, keeping him all the
while between her legs, so that no danger should come
near him.

As the otter grew bigger the cats became rather afraid
294 THE OTTER WHO WAS REARED BY A CAT

of his claws and teeth, which grew bigger too, and inflicted
bites and scratches without his knowing it. But if the
cats tired of him, he never tired of the cats, and was
always dull and unhappy when they were out of his way.
Sometimes, when his spirits were unusually good (and
his teeth unusually sharp), the poor playfellows were
obliged to seek refuge in the bedrooms of the house, or
even upon the roof, but the little otter had not lived so
long with cats for nothing, and could climb nearly as well
as they. When he had had enough of teasing, he told
them so (for, of course, he knew the cat: language), and
they would come down, and he would stretch himself
out lazily in front of the fire, with his arms round Tom’s
neck.

It would be nice to know what happened to him
when he really grew up, whether the joys of living in
a stream made him forget his old friends at the farm, or
whether he would leave the chase of the finest trout at
the sound of a mew or a whistle. But we are not told
anything about it, so everybody can settle it as they like. °
295

STORIES ABOUT LIONS

Tue lion in its wild state is a very different animal from
the lion of menageries and wild-beast shows. The latter
has probably been born in captivity, reared by hand, and
kept a prisoner in a narrow cage all its life, deprived not
only of liberty and exercise, but of its proper food. The
result is a weak, thin, miserable creature, with an unhappy
furtive expression, and a meagre mane, more like a poodle
than the king of beasts in a savage state.

The lion of South Africa differs in many points from
that of Algeria, of whom we are going to speak. In
Algeria there are three kinds of lions—the black, the
tawny, and the grey. The black lion, more rarely met
with than the two others, is rather smaller, but stronger
in build. He isso called from the colour of his mane,
which falls to his shoulder in a heavy black mass. The
rest of his coat is the colour of a bay horse. Instead of
wandering like the other two kinds, he makes himself a
comfortable dwelling, and remains there probably all his
life, which may last thirty or forty years, unless he falls a
victim to the hunter. He rarely goes down to the plains
in search of prey, but lies in ambush in the evening and
attacks the cattle on their way down from the mountain,
killing four or five to drink their blood. In the long
summer twilights he waits on the edge of a forest-path for
some belated traveller, who seldom escapes to tell the tale.

The tawny and grey lion differ from each other only
in the colour of their mane; all three have the same habits
and characteristics, except those peculiar to the black lion
296 STORIES ABOUT LIONS

just described. They adl turn night into day, and go out
at dusk to forage for prey, returning to their lair at dawn
to sleep and digest in peace and quiet. Should a lion, for
any reason, shift his camp during the day, it is most
unlikely that he will attack, unprovoked, any creature,
whether human or otherwise, whom he may chance to
meet; for during the day he is ‘full inside,’ and the lion
kills not for the sake of killing, but to satisfy his hunger.
The lion is a devoted husband; when a couple go out on
their nightly prowl, it is always the lioness who leads the
way ; when she stops he stops too, and when they arrive at
the fold where they hope to procure their supper, she lies
down, while he leaps into the midst of the enclosure, and
brings back to her the pick of the flock. He watches her
eat with great anxiety lest anything should disturb her,
and never begins his own meal till she has finished hers.
As a father he is less devoted; the old lion being of a
serious disposition, the cubs weary him with their games,
and while the family is young the father lives by himself,
but at a short distance, so as to be at hand in case of
danger. When the cubs are about three months old, and
have finished teething (a process which often proves fatal
to little lionesses), their mother begins to accustom them
to eat meat by bringing them mutton to eat, which she
carefully skins, and chews up small before giving to them.
Between three and four months old they begin to follow.
their mother at night to the edge of the forest, where their
father brings them their supper. At six months the whole
family change their abode, choosing for the purpose a very
dark night. Between eight months and a year old they
begin to. attack the flocks of sheep and goats that feed by
day in the neignbourhood of their lair, and sometimes
venture to attack oxen, but being still young and awkward,
they often wound ten for one killed, and the father lion is
obliged to interfere. At the age of two years they can slay
with one blow an ox, horse, or camel, and can leap the
hedges two yards high that surround the folds for protec-
STORIES ABOUT LIONS 207

tion. This period in the history of the lion is the most
disastrous to the shepherds and their flocks, for then the



lion goes about killing for the sake of learning to kill. At
three years they leave their parents and set up families of



THE LION CAUGHT IN THE PIT

their own, but it is only at the age of eight that they attain
their full size and strength, and, in the case of the male,
his full mane.
298 STORIES ABOUT LIONS

The question is sometimes asked, why does’ the lion
roar? The answer is, for the same reason that the bird’
sings. When a lion and lioness go out together at night,
the lioness begins the duet by roaring when she leaves her
den, then the lion roars in answer, and they roar in turn
every quarter of an hour, till they have found their supper ;
while they are eating they are silent, and begin roaring
as soon as satisfied, and roar till morning. In summer
they roar less and sometimes not at all. The Arabs, who
have good reason to know and dread this fearsome sound,
have the same word for it as for the thunder. The herds
being constantly exposed to the ravages of the lion, the
natives are obliged to take measures to protect them, but,
the gun in their unskilled hands proving often as fatal to
themselves as to their enemy, they are forced to resort to
other means. Some tribes dig a pit, about ten yards deep,
four or five wide, and narrower at the mouth than the
base. The tents of the little camp surround it, and round
them again is a hedge two or three yards high, made of
branches of trees interlaced; a second smaller hedge
divides the tents from the pit in order to prevent the flocks
from falling into it. The lion prowling in search of food
‘scents his prey, leaps both hedges at one bound, and falls
roaring with anger into the pit digged for him. The whole
camp is aroused, and so great is the rejoicing that no one
sleeps all night. Guns are let off and fires lit to inform
the whole district, and in the morning all the neighbours
arrive, not only men, but women, children, and even dogs.
When it is light enough to see, the hedge surrounding
the pit is removed in order to look at the lion, and to
judge by its age and sex what treatment it is to receive,
according to what harm it may have done. If it is a
young lion or a lioness the first spectators retire from the
sight disgusted, to make room for others whose raptures
are equally soon calmed. But if it is a full-grown lion -
with abundant mane, then it is a very different scene; —
frenzied gestures and appropriate cries spread the joyful
STORIES ABOUT LIONS 299

news from one to another, and the spectators crowd in
such numbers that they nearly edge each other into the
pit. When everyone has thrown his stone and hurled his
imprecation, men armed with guns come to put an end
to the noble animal’s torture; but often ten shots have
been fired before, raising his majestic head to look con-
temptuously on his tormentors, he falls dead. Not till long
after this last sign of life do the bravest venture to let them-
selves down into the pit, by means of ropes, to pass a net
under the body of the lion, and to hoist it up to the surface
by means of a stake planted there for the purpose. When
the lion is cut up, the mothers of the tribe receive each a
small piece of his heart, which they give to their sons to
eat to make them strong and courageous ; with the same
object they make themselves amulets of hairs dragged out
from his mane.

Other tribes make use of the ambush, which may be
either constructed underground or on a tree. If under-
ground a hole is dug, about one yard deep, and three or
four wide, near a path frequented by the lion; it is
covered with branches weighted down by heavy stones,
and loose earth is thrown over all. Four or five little
openings are left to shoot through, and a larger one to
serve as a doorway, which may be closed from within by
a block of stone. In order to ensure a good aim the Arabs
kill a boar and lay it on the path opposite the ambush ;
the lion inevitably stops to sniff this bait, and then they
all fire at once. Nevertheless he is rarely killed on the
spot, but frantically seeking his unseen enemies, who are
beneath his feet, he makes with frenzied bounds for the
nearest forest, there sometimes to recover from his
wounds, sometimes to die in solitude. The ambush ina
tree is conducted on the same lines as the other, except
_ that the hunters are above instead of below their quarry,
from whom they are screened by the branches.

There are, however, in the province of Constantine
some tribes of Arabs who hunt the lion in a more sports-
300 STORIES ABOUT LIONS

manlike manner. When a lion has made his presence
known, either by frequent depredations or by roarings,
a hunting party is formed. Some men are sent in advance
to reconnoitre the woods, and when they return with
such information as they have been able to gather as to
the age, sex, and whereabouts of the animal, a council
of war is held, and a plan of campaign formed. Each



THE AMBUSH

hunter is armed with a gun, a pistol, and a yataghan, and
then five or six of the younger men are chosen to ascend
the mountain, there to take their stand on different com-
manding points, in order to watch every movement of
the lion, and to communicate them to their companions
below by a pre-arranged code of signals. When they are
posted the general advance begins ; the lion, whose hear-
STORIES ABOUT LIONS 301

ing is extremely acute, is soon aware of the approach of
enemies, who in their turn are warned by the young men
on the look-out. Finally, when the lion turns to meet the
hunters the watchers shout with all their might ‘Aou
likoum!’ ‘Gook out!’ At this signal the Arabs draw
themselves up in battle array, if possible with their backs
to a rock, and remain motionless till the lion has
approached to within twenty or thirty paces; then the
word of command is given, and each man taking the best
aim he can, fires, and then throws down his rifle to ‘seize
his pistol or yataghan. The lion is generally brought to
the ground by this hail of bullets, but unless the heart
or the brain have been pierced he will not be mortally
wounded ; the hunters therefore throw themselves upon
him before he can rise, firing, stabbing right and left,
blindly, madly, without aim, in the rage to kill. Some-
times in his mortal agony the lion will seize one of the
hunters, and, drawing him under his own body, will
torture him, almost as a cat does a mouse before killing
it. Should this happen, the nearest relation present
of the unhappy man will risk his own life in the
attempt to rescue him, and at the same time to put an
end to the lion. This is a perilous moment; when the
lion sees the muzzle of the avenger’s rifle pointed at his
ear he will certainly crush in the head of his victim,
even if he has not the strength left to spring on his assail-
ant before the latter gives him the cowp de grdce.

The Arabs in the neighbourhood of Constantine used,
about fifty years ago, to send there for a famous French
lion-hunter, Jules Gérard by name, to rid them of some
unusually formidable foe. They never could understand
his way of going to work—alone and by night—which
certainly presented a great contrast to their methods.
‘On one occasion a family of five—father, mother, and three
young lions—were the aggressors. The Arab sheik, lead-.
ing Monsieur Gérard to the river, showed him by their
footprints. on the banks where this fearful family were in
302 STORIES ABOUT LIONS

the habit of coming to drink at night, but begged him not
to sacrifice himself to such fearful odds, and either to
return to the camp, or to take some of the tribe with him.
Gérard declining both suggestions, the sheik was obliged
to leave, as night was at hand, and the lions might appear
at any. moment. First he came near the hunter, and
spoke these words low: ‘Listen, I have a counsel to give
thee. Be on thy guard against the Lord of the Mighty
Head ; he will lead the way. If thy hour has come, he
will kill thee, and the others will eat thee.’ Coming still
nearer the sheik whispered : ‘ He has stolen my best mare
and: ten oxen.’ ‘Who? who has stolen them?’ asked
Monsieur Gérard. ‘He,’ and the sheik pointed for
further answer to the mountain. ‘But name him, name
the thief.’ The answer was so low as to be barely audible :
‘The Lord of the Mighty Head,’ and with this ominous
counsel the sheik departed, leaving Gérard to his vigil.
As the night advanced the moon appeared, and lit up
the narrow ravine. Judging by its position in the
heavens it might be eleven o’clock, when the tramp of
many feet was heard approaching, and several luminous
points of reddish light were seen glittering through the
thicket. The lions were advancing in single file, and the
lights were their gleaming eyes. Instead of five there
were only three, and the leader, though of formidable
dimensions, did not come up to the description of the
Lord of the Mighty Head. All three stopped to gaze in
wonder at the man who dared to put himself in their path.
Gérard took aim at the shoulder of the leader and fired.
A fearful roar announced that the shot had told, and the
wounded lion began painfully dragging himself towards
his assailant, while the other two slunk away into the
wood. He had got to within three paces when a second
shot sent him rolling down into the bed of the stream.
Again he returned to the charge, but a third ball right in
the eye laid him dead. It was a fine, large, young lion of
three years, with formidable teeth and claws. As agreed


‘ALL THREE STOPPED TO GAZE AT THE MAN WHO DARED TO PUT HIMSELY IN THEIR PATH’


































































aa


























































STORIES ABOUT LIONS 308

upon with the sheik, Monsieur Gérard immediately lit a
bonfire in token of his victory, in answer to which shots were
fired to communicate the good news to all the surround-
ing district. At break of day two hundred Arabs arrived
to insult their fallen enemy, the sheik being the first to
appear, with his congratulations, but also with the informa-
tion that at the same hour that the young lion had been’
shot, the Lord of the Mighty Head had come down and
taken away anox. These devastations went on unchecked
for more than a year, one man alone, Lakdar by name,
being robbed of forty-five sheep, a mare, and twenty-nine
oxen. ‘Finally he lost heart, and sent to beg Monsieur
Gérard to come back and deliver him if possible of his
tormentor. For some nights the lion made no sign, but
on the thirteenth evening Lakdar arrived at the lion-
hunter’s camp, saying: ‘The black bull is missing from
the herd ; to-morrow morning I shall find his remains and
thou wilt slay the lion for me.’

Accordingly next morning at dawn Lakdar returned
to announce that he had found the dead bull. Gérard
rose and, taking his gun, followed the Arab. Through
the densest of the forest they went, till at the foot of a
narrow rocky ravine, close to some large olive trees, they
found the partially devoured carcase. Monsieur Gérard
cut some branches the better to conceal himself, and took
up his position under one of the olive trees, there to await
the approach of night, and with it the return of the lion
to the spoil. Towards eight o’clock, when.the feeble light
of the new moon barely penetrated into the little glade, a
branch was heard to crack at some distance. The lion-
hunter rose and, shouldering his weapon, prepared to do
battle. From about thirty paces distant came a low growl,
and then a guttural. sound, a sign of hunger with the lion,
then silence, and presently an enormous lion stalked from
the thicket straight towards the bull, and began licking”
it. At this moment Monsieur Gérard fired, and struck
the lion within about an inch of his left eye. Roaring

x
306 STORIES ABOUT LIONS

with pain, he reared himself wp on end, when a second
bullet right in the chest laid him on his. back, frantically
waving his huge paws in the air. Quickly reloading,
Monsieur Gérard came close to the helpless monster, and
while he was raising his great head from the ground fired
two more shots, which Iaid the lion stone dead, and thus
‘brought to an end the career of the ‘Lord of the Mighty
Head.’
BUILDERS AND WHAVERS

No one can examine birds and their ways for long together
without being struck by the wonderful neatness and
cleverness of their proceedings. They make use of a
great many different kinds of materials for their nests,
and manage somehow to turn out a nest which not only
will hold eggs, but is strong and of a pretty shape. Rotten
twigs are, curiously enough, what they love best for the
outside, and upon the twigs various substances are laid,
according to the species and taste of the builder. The
jay, for instance, collects roots and twists them into a firm
mass, which he lays upon the twigs; the American star-
ling uses tough wet rushes and coarse grass, and after
they are matted together, somehow ties the nest on to
reeds or a bush ; while the missel thrush lines the casing
of twigs with tree moss, or even hay. To these they often
add tufts of wool, and lichen, and the whole is fastened
together by a kind of clay. The favourite spot chosen by
the missel thrush is the fork of a tree inan orchard, where
lichens are large and plentiful enough to serve as a cover-
ing for the nests.

Still, if the account given by Vaillant and Paterson is
true, the sociable grosbeaks surpass all the other birds in
skill and invention. They have been known to cover the
trunks of trees with a huge kind of fluted umbrella, made
of dry, fine grass, with the boughs of the trees poking
through in various places. No doubt in the beginning
the nest was not so large, but it is the custom cf these

x2
308 BUILDERS AND WHAVERS

birds to live together in clans, and each year fresh ‘rooms’
have to be added. When examined, the bird city was
found to have many gates and regular streets of nests,
each about two inches distant from the, other. The
structure was made of ‘ Boshman’s’ grass alone, but so
tightly woven together that no rain could get through.
The nests were all tucked in under the roof, which, by
projecting, formed eaves, thus keeping the birds warm and
dry. Sometimes the umbrella has been known to contain
- as many as three hundred separate nests, so it is no
wonder that the tree at last breaks down with the weight,
and the city has to be founded again elsewhere.

Now in the nests of all these birds there has been a
good deal of what we called ‘ building’ and ‘ carpentry’
when we are talking of our own houses and our own
trades. But there are a whole quantity of birds spread
over the world, who are almost exclusively weavers, and
can form nests which hang down from the branch of a
tree without any support. To this class belongs the
Indian sparrow, which prefers to build in the tops of the
very highest trees (especially on the Indian fig) and par-
ticularly on those growing by the river-side. He weaves
together tough grass in the form of a bottle, and hangs it
from a branch, so that it rocks to and fro, like a hammock.
The Indian sparrow, which is easily tamed, does not
like always to live with his family, so he divides his nest
into two or three parts, and is careful to place its entrance
underneath, so that it may not attract the notice of the
birds of prey. In these nests glow-worms have frequently
been found, carefully fastened into a piece of fresh clay,
but whether the bird deliberately tries in this way to light
up his dark nest, or whether he has some other use for
the glow-worm, has never been found out. But it seems
quite certain that he does not eat it, as Sir William Jones
once supposed. -

The Indian sparrow is a very clever little bird, and
can be taught to do all sorts of tricks. He will catch a
BUILDERS AND WEAVERS 309

ving that is dropped into one of the deep Indian wells.
before itreaches the water. He can pick the gold ornament
neatly off the forehead of a young Hindu woman, or carry
a note to a given place like a carrier pigeon. At least so
itis said; but then very few people have even a bowing
acquaintance with the Indian sparrow.
310

‘MORE FAITHFUL THAN FAVOURED’

THERE never was a more faithful watch-dog than the
great big-limbed, heavy-headed mastiff that guarded Sir
Harry Lee’s Manor-house, Ditchley, in Oxfordshire! The
sound of his deep growl was the terror of all the gipsies
and vagrants in the county, and there was a superstition
among the country people, that he was never known to
sleep. Even if he was seen stretched out on the stone
steps leading up to the front entrance of the house, with
his massive head resting on his great fore-paws, at the
sound of a footfall, however distant, his head would be
raised, his ears fiercely cocked, and an ominous stiffening
of the tail would warn a stranger that his movements
were being closely watched, and that on the least suspicion
of anything strange or abnormal in his behaviour, he
would be called to account by Leo. Strangely enough,
the mastiff had never been a favourite of his master’s.
The fact that dogs of his breed are useless for purposes of
sport, owing to their unwieldy size and defective sense
of smell, had prevénted Sir Harry from taking much no-
tice of him. He looked upon the mastiff merely as a
watch-dog. The dog would look after him, longing to be
allowed to join him in his walk, or to follow him when
he rode out, through the lanes and fields round his house,
but poor Leo’s affection received little encouragement.
So long as he guarded the house faithfully by day and

? More about this gentleman and his dog may be read in Wood-
stock, by Sir Walter Scott. ;
‘MORE FAITHFUL THAN FAVOURED’ 31

night, that was all that was expected of him: and as in
doing this he was only doing his duty, and fulfilling the
purpose for which he was there, little notice was taken
of him by any of the inmates of the house. His meals
were supplied to him with unfailing regularity, for his
services as insuring the safety of the house were fully
recognised ; but as Sir Harry had not shown him any
signs of favour, the servants did not think fit to bestow
unnecessary attention on him. So he lived his solitary
neglected life, in summer and winter, by night and day,
zealous in his master’s interests, but earning little
reward in the way of notice or affection.

One night, however, something occurred that suddenly
altered the mastiff’s position in the household, and from
being a faithful slave, he all at once became the beloved
friend and constant companion of Sir Harry Lee. It was
in winter, and Sir Harry was going up to his bedroom as
usual, about eleven o’clock. Great was his astonishment
on opening the library door, to find the mastiff stretched
in front of it. At sight of his master Leo rose, and, wag-
ging his tail and rubbing his great head against Sir Harry’s
hand, he looked up at him as if anxious to attract his
attention. With an impatient word Sir Harry turned
away, and went up the oak-panelled staircase, Leo
following closely behind him. When he reached his bed-
room door, the dog tried to follow him into the room, and
if Sir Harry had been a more observant man, he must
have noticed a curious look of appeal in the dog’s eyes,
as he slammed the door in his face, ordering him in com-
manding tones to ‘Go away!’ an order which Leo did
not obey. Curling himself up on the mat outside the
door, he lay with his small deep-sunk eyes in eager watch-
fulness, fixed on the door, while his heavy tail from time
to time beat an impatient tattoo upon the stone floor of
the passage.

Antonio, the Italian valet, whom Sir Harry had brought
home with him from his travels, and whom he trusted
gi2 ‘MORH FAITHFUL THAN FAVOURED’

absolutely, was waiting for his master, and was engaged
in spreading out his things on the toilet table.

‘That dog is getting troublesome, Antonio,’ said Sir
Harry. ‘I must speak to the keeper to-morrow, and tell
him to chain him up at night outside the hall. I cannot
have him disturbing me, prowling about the corridors and
passages all night. See that you drive him away, when
you go downstairs.’

‘Yes, signor,’ replied Antonio, and began to help
his master to undress. Then, having put fresh logs of
wood on the fire, he wished Sir-Harry good-night, and
left the room. Finding Leo outside the door, the valet
whistled and called gently to him to follow him; and, as
the dog. took no notice, he put out his hand to take hold
of him by the collar. Buta low growl and a sudden flash
of the mastiff’s teeth, warned the Italian of the danger of
resorting to force. With a muttered curse he turned away,
determined to try bribery where threats had failed. He
thought that if he could secure a piece of raw meat from
the kitchen, he would have no difficulty in inducing the
dog to follow him to the lower regions of the house, where
he could shut him up, and prevent him from further im-
portuning his master.

Scarcely had Antonio’s figure disappeared down the
passage, when the mastiff began to whine in an uneasy
manner, and to scratch against his master’s door. Dis-
turbed by the noise, and astonished that his faithful valet
had disregarded his injunctions, Sir Harry got up and
opened the door, on which the mastiff pushed past him
into the room, with so resolute a movement that his master
could not prevent his entrance. The instant he got into
the room, the dog’s uneasiness seemed to disappear.
Ceasing to whine, he made for the corner of the room
where the bed stood in a deep alcove, and, crouching
down, he slunk beneath it, with an evident determination
to pass the night there. Much astonished, Sir Harry was
too sleepy to contest the point with the dog, and allowed
‘MORH FAITHFUL THAN FAVOURED’ 313

him to remain under the bed, without making any further
attempt to dislodge him from the strange and unfamiliar
resting-place he had chosen.

When the valet returned shortly after with the piece
of meat with which he hoped to tempt the mastiff down-
stairs, he found the mat deserted. He assumed that the
dog had abandoned his caprice of being outside his master’s
door, and had betaken himself to his usual haunts in the
basement rooms and passages of the house.

Whether from the unaccustomed presence of the dog
in his room, or from some other cause, Sir Harry Lee was
a long time in going to sleep that night. He heard the
different clocks in the house strike midnight, and then
one o’clock ; and as he lay awake watching the flickering
light of the fire playing on the old furniture and on the
dark panels of the wainscot, he felt an increasing sense of
irritation against the dog, whose low, regular breathing
showed that he, at any rate, was sleeping soundly. To-
wards two in the morning Sir Harry must have fallen
into a deep sleep, for he was quite unconscious of the
sound of stealthy steps creeping along the stone corridor
and pausing a moment on the mat outside his room.
Then the handle of the door was softly turned, and the
door itself, moving on its well-oiled hinges, was gently
pushed inward. In another moment there was a tremen-
dous scuffle beneath the bed, and with a great bound the
mastiff flung himself on the intruder, and pinned him
to the floor. Startled by the unexpected sounds, and
thoroughly aroused, Sir Harry jumped up, and hastily lit
a candle. Before him on the floor lay Antonio, with the
mastiff standing over him, uttering his fierce growls, and
showing his teeth in a dangerous manner. Stealthily the
Ttalian stole out his hand along the floor, to conceal some-
thing sharp and gleaming that had fallen from him, on
the dog’s unexpected onslaught, but a savage snarl from
Leo warned him to keep perfectly still. Calling off the
mastiff, who instantly obeyed the sound of his master’s
314 ‘MORH FAITHFUL THAN FAVOURED’

voice, though with bristling hair and stiffened tail he still
kept his eyes fixed on the Italian, Sir Harry demanded
from the valet the cause of his unexpected intrusion into
his bedroom at that hour, and in that way. There was so
much embarrassment and hesitation in Antonio’s reply,











































Horie



‘AND PINNED HIM TO THE GROUND’

that Sir Harry’s suspicions were aroused. In the mean-
time the unusual sounds at that hour of the night had
awakened the household. Servants came hurrying along
the passage to their master’s room. Confronted by so
many witnesses, the Italian became terrified and abject,
and stammered out such contradictory statements, that it
‘MORH FAITHFUL THAN FAVOURED’ 315

was impossible to get at the truth of his story, and Sir
Harry saw that the only course open to him was to have
the man examined and tried by the magistrate.

At the examination the wretched valet confessed that
he had entered his master’s room with the intention of
murdering and robbing him, and had only been prevented
by the unexpected attack of the mastiff.

Among the family pictures in the possession of the
family of the Harls of Lichfield, the descendants of Sir
Harry Lee, there is a full-length portrait of the knight
with his hand on the head of the mastiff, and beneath this
legend, ‘ More faithful than favoured.’
316

DOLPHINS, TURTLES, AND COD

Srorizs From AUDUBON !

In the excellent life of Mr. Audubon, the American natu-
ralist (published in 1868 by Sampson Low, Marston &
Co.), some curious stories are to be found respecting the
kinds of fish that he met with in his voyages both through
the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. Audubon’s remarks
about the habits of dolphins are specially interesting, and
will be read with pleasure by everybody who cares for
‘the sea and all that in them is.’

Dolphins abound in the Gulf of Mexico and the neigh-
bouring seas, and are constantly to be seen chasing flying
fish, which are their food. Flying fish can swim more
rapidly than the dolphins, which of course are far larger
creatures ; but if they find themselves much outnumbered,
and in danger of being surrounded, they spread the fins
that serve them for wings, and fly through the air for a
short distance. At first this movement throws out the
dolphins, who are unable to follow the example of their
prey, but they soon contrive to keep up with the flying
fish by giving great bounds into the air ; and as the flying
fish’s powers are soon exhausted, it is not long before the
hunt comes to an end and the dolphins seize the fish as
they tumble into the sea.

Sailors are fond of catching dolphins, and generally
bait their hooks with a piece of shark’s flesh. When the
fish is taken, its friends stay round it till the last moment,

1 From Audubon’s Life, by Robert Buchanan. Sampson Low & Co.
DOLPHINS, TURTLES, AND COD 317

only swimming away as the dolphin is hauled on board.
For its size, which is generally about three feet long and
has rarely been known to exceed four feet, the dolphin
has a remarkably good appetite, and sometimes he eats so
much that he is unable to escape from his enemy, the
bottle-nosed porpoise. A dolphin that was caught in the
Gulf of Mexico was opened by the sailors, and inside him
were counted twenty-two flying fish, each one six or seven
inches long, and all arranged quite neatly with their tails
foremost. Before they have their dinner they are full of
fun, and their beautiful blue and gold bodies may often be
seen leaping and bounding and diving about the ship—a
sight which the sailors always declare portends a gale.
Indeed, the stories to which dolphins give rise are many
and strange. The negroes believe that a silver coin fried
or boiled in the same water as the fish, will turn into
copper if the dolphin is in a state unfit for food; but as
no one can swear that he has ever seen the transmutation
of the metal, it may be suspected that the tale was
invented by the cook for the sake of getting an extra
dollar.

About eighty miles from the Peninsula of Florida are
a set of low, sandy banks known as the Tortuga or Turtle
Islands, from the swarms of turtles which lay their
eggs in the sand, and are eagerly sought for by traders.

Turtles are of many sorts, but the green turtle is
considered the best, and is boiled down into soup, which
is both rich and strengthening. They are cautious
creatures, and never approach the shore in the daylight,
or without watching carefully for some time to see if
the coast is indeed clear. They may be seen on
quiet moonlight nights in the months of May and June,
lying thirty or forty yards from the beach, listening
intently, and every now and then making a loud hissing
noise intended to frighten any enemies that may be
lurking near. If their quick ears detect any sound,
318 DOLPHINS, TURTLES, AND COD

however faint, they instantly dive and. swim to some
other place; but if nothing is ‘stirring, they land on the
shore, and crawl slowly about with the aid of their flappers,
until they find a spot that seems suitable for the hatching
of their eggs, which often number two hundred, laid at
one time. The operations are begun by the turtle scoop-
ing out a hole in the burning sand by means of her hind
flappers, using them each by turns, and throwing up the
sand into a kind of rampart behind her. This is done so
quickly that in less than ten minutes she will often have
dug a hole varying from eighteen inches to two feet.
When the eggs are carefully placed in separate layers,
the loose sand is laid over them, and the hole not only
completely hidden but made to look exactly like the rest
of the beach, so that no one could ever tell that the surface
had been disturbed at all. Then the turtle goes away and
leaves the hot sand to do the rest.

In course of time the young turtles, hardly bigger
than a five-shilling piece, leave their shells, and make
their way to the water, unless, before they are hatched,
their nest has been discovered by men, or by the
cougars and other wild animals, who feed greedily on
them. If they belong to the tribe of the green turtles,
they will at once begin to seek for sea plants, and
especially a kind of grass, which they bite off near the
roots, so as to get the tenderest parts. If they are young
hawk-bills, they will nibble the seaweed, and soon go on to
crabs and shell-fish, and even little fishes. The logger-
heads grow a sharp beak, which enables them to crack the
great; conch shells, and dig out the fish that lives inside,
while the trunk turtle, which is often of an immense size
but with a very soft body, loves sea-urchins and shell-fish.
All of them can swim so fast that they often seem to be
flying, and it needs much quickness of eye and hand to
spear them in the water.’ Even to catch them on shore
isa matter of great difficulty, and in general more than
one man is required for the service. The turtle is raised
DOLPHINS, TURTLES, AND COD 319

up from behind by a man on his knee, pushing with all
his might against her shoulder; but this has. to be done
with great caution, or else the hunter may get badly bitten.
When the turtle is fully raised up, she is thrown over on
her back, and, like a sheep in a similar position, can seldom
recover herself without help. The turtles, when caught,
are put into an enclosure of logs with a sandy or muddy
’ bottom through which the tide flows, and here they are
kept and fed by their captors till they are ready for the
- market. Unlike most creatures, their price is out of all
proportion to their weight, and a loggerhead turtle weigh-
ing seven hundred pounds has been known to cost no
more than a green turtle of thirty.

Early in May, and well into June, the seas extending
northwards from Maine to Labrador are alive with ships
just starting for the cod fishing. Their vessels are mostly
small but well stocked, and a large part of the space below
is filled with casks, some full of salt and others empty.
These empty ones are reserved for the oil that is procured
from the cod.

Every morning, as soon as it is light, some of the crew
of each ship enters a small boat, which can be sailed or
rowed as is found necessary. When they reach the cod
banks every man boards up part of his boat for the fish
when caught, and then takes his stand at the end with
two lines, baited at the opening of the season with salted
mussels, and later with gannets or capelings. These lines
are dropped into the seaon either side of the boat, and when
the gunwale is almost touching the water and it is danger-
ous to put in any more fish, they give up work for the
morning and return to the harbour. In general, fishing is
a silent occupation, but cod fishers are rather a talkative
race, and have bets with each other as to the amount of .
the ‘ takes ’ of the respective crews.’ When they get back
to their vessels, often anchored eight or ten miles away,
they find that the men who have been left behind have set
320 DOLPHINS, TURTLES, AND COD

up long tables on.deck, carried the salt barrels on shore,
placed all ready the casks for the livers, and cleared the
hold of everything but a huge wedge of salt for the salting.
Then, after dinner, some of the men row back to the cod
banks, while the others set about cleaning, salting, and
packing the fish, so as to be quite finished when the men
return from their second journey. It is almost always
midnight before the work is done, and the men can turn in’
for their three hours’ sleep.

Té, as often happens, the hauls have been very large, the
supply soon threatens to become exhausted, so on. Sunday
the captain sails off for afresh bank. Then, the men who
are the laziest or most unskilful in the matter of fishing
take out the cargo that has been already salted, and lay it
out on scaffolds which have. been set up on the rocks.
When the sun has dried the fish for some time, they are
turned over ; and this process is repeated several times in
the day. In the evening they are piled up into large stacks,
and protected from the rain and wind. In July the men’s
work is in one way less hard than before, for this is the
season when the capelings arrive to spawn upon the shores,
and where capelings are, cod are sure to follow. Now
creat nets are used, with one end fastened to the land,
and these nets will sometimes produce twenty or thirty
thousand fish at a haul.

With so many men engaged in the cod fishing, and
considering the number of diseases to which cod are sub-
ject, it is perhaps quite as well that each fish should
lay such a vast supply of eggs, though out of the eight
million laid by one fish which have been counted, it is
calculated that, from various causes, only about a hundred
thousand come to maturity.








321

MORE ABOUT ELEPHANTS!

Lone, long ago, when the moon was still young, and
some of the stars that we know best were only gradually
coming into sight, the earth was covered all over with a
tangle of huge trees and gigantic ferns, which formed the
homes of all sorts of enormous beasts. There were no
men, only great animals and immense lizards, whose
skeletons may still be found embedded in rocks or frozen
deep down among the Siberian marshes; for, after the
period of fearful heat, when everything grew rampant,
even in the very north, there came a time of equally in-
tense cold, when every living creature perished in many
parts of the world.

When the ice which crushed down life on the earth
began to melt, and the sun once more had power to pierce
the thick cold mists that had shrouded the world, animals
might have been seen slowly creeping about the young
trees and fresh green pastures, but their forms were
no longer the same as they once were. The enormous
frames of all sorts of -huge monsters, and the great
lizard-called the ichthyosaurus, had been replaced by
smaller and more graceful creatures, who could move
lightly and easily through this new world. But changed
though it seemed. to be, one beast still remained to tell the
story of those strange old times, and that was the elephant.

Now anybody who has ever stood behind a big, clumsy
cart-horse going up a hill cannot fail to have been struck
with its likeness to an elephant; and it is quite true that

1 From The Wild Elephant, Sir J, Emerson Tennent.
x
322 MORH ABOUT HLHEPHANTS

elephants and horses are nearly related. Of course in the
East, where countries are so big and marches are so long,
it is necessary to have an animal to ride of more strength
and endurance than a horse, and so elephants, who are,
when well treated, as gentle as they are strong, were very
early trained as beasts of burden, or even as ‘ men-of-wat.’

In their wild condition they have a great many curi-
ous habits. They roam about the forests of India or
Africa in herds, and each herd is a real family, who have
had a-common grandfather. The elephants are: very
particular as to the number of their herd; it is never less
than ten, or more than twenty-one, but being very sociable
they easily get on terms of civility with other herds, and
several of these groups may be seen moving together to-
wards some special pond or feeding ground. But friendly
as they often are, each clan keeps itself as proudly dis-
tinct from the rest as if they were all Highlanders. Any
_ -unlucky elephant who has lost his own herd, and: tries to
attach himself to a new one, is scouted and beaten away
by every member of the tribe, till, like a man who is
punished and scorned for misfortunes he cannot help, the
poor animal grows desperate, and takes to evil courses,
and is hunted:down under the name of ‘a rogue.’ '

Elephants havea great idea of law and order, and
carefully choose a leader who is either strong enough or
clever enough to protect the herd against its enemies.
Even a female has sometimes been chosen, if her wisdom
has been superior to that of the.rest; but male or female,
the leader once fixed upon, the herd never fails to give
him -absolute obedience, and will suffer themselves to be
killed in their efforts to.save his life.

As everyone knows, during the dry season in India
water becomes very scarce, and even the artificial tanks
that have been built for reservoirs are very soon empty.
About the, middle of this century, an English officer,
Major Skinner by name, had drawn up to rest on the em-
bankment of a small Indian tank, which, low though it


‘LONG, LONG AGO,’ THE ELEPHANT DREAMS OF HIS OLD COMPANIONS
x2
MORE ABOUT ELEPHANTS — 328

was, contained the only water to be found for a great dis-
tance. On three sides of the tank there was a clearing,
but on the fourth lay a very thick wood, where the herd
lay encamped all day, waiting for darkness to fall, so that
they might all go to drink. Major Skinner knew the
habits of elephants well, and what to expect of them, so he
sent all his natives to sleep, and climbed himself into a
large tree that sheltered the tank at one corner. However,
it appeared that the elephants were unusually cautious
that night, for he satin his tree for two hours before a
sound was heard, though they had been lively enough as
long as the sun was shining.

Suddenly a huge elephant forced his way through the
thickest part of the forest, and advanced slowly to the
tank, his ears at full cock, and his eyes glancing stealthily
round. He gazed longingly at the water for some minutes,
but did not attempt to drink—perhaps he felt it would be
a mean advantage to take of his comrades—and then he
quietly retraced his steps backwards till he had put about
a hundred yards between himself and the water, when
five elephants came out of the jungle and joined him.
These he led forward, listening carefully as before, and
placed them at certain spots where they could command
a view both of the open country and the forest. This
done, and the safety of the others provided for, he went to
fetch the main body of the herd, which happened to be four
or five times as large as usual. Silently, as if preparing
for an assault, the whole of this immense body marched
up to where the scouts were standing, when a halt was
signalled, so that the leader might for the last time make
sure that no hidden danger, in the shape of man, lion, or
tiger, awaited them. Then permission was given, and
with a joyful toss of their trunks in the air, in they dashed,
drinking, wallowing, and rolling over with delight, till
one would have thought it had been years since they had
tasted a drop of water, or known the pleasures of a bath.

From his perch in the tree Major Skinner had been
326 MORE ABOUT ELEPHANTS

watching with interest the movements of the herd, and
when he saw that they had really had their fill, he gently
broke a little twig and threwitonthe ground. It seemed
hardly possible that such a tiny sound could reach the
ears of those great tumbling, sucking bodies, but in one
instant they were all out of the tank, and tearing towards
the forest, almost carrying the little ones between them.

Of course it is not always that elephants can find tanks
without travelling many hundreds of miles after them,
and on these occasions their wonderful sagacity comes to
their aid. They will pause on the banks of some dried-up
river, now nothing but a sandy tract, and feel instinctively
that underneath that sand is the water for which they
thirst. But then, how to get at it? The elephants know
as well as any engineer that if they tried to dig a hole
straight down, the weight of their bodies would pull down
the whole side of the pit with them, so that is of no use.
In order to get round this difficulty, long experience has
taught them that they must make one side to their well a
gentle slope, and when this is done they can wait with
perfect comfort for the water, whose appearance on the
surface is only a question of time.

Much might be written about the likes and dislikes of
elephants, which seem as a rule to be as motiveless as
the likes and. dislikes of human beings. Till they are
tamed and treated kindly by some particular person,
elephants show a decided objection to human beings, and
in Ceylon have a greater repugnance to a white skin than
to a brown one. In fact, they are shy of anything new
or strange, but will put up with any animal to which they
are accustomed. Elks, pigs, deer, and buffaloes are their
feeding companions, and the elephants take no more notice
of their presence than if they were so many canaries.
Indeed, as far as can be gathered, the elephant is much
more afraid of the little domestic animals with which it
is quite unacquainted than of the huge vegetable-eating
beasts with which both it and its forefathers were on
MORE ABOUT ELEPHANTS 327

intimate terms. Goats and sheep it eyes with annoyance ;
they are new creatures, and were never seen in jungles or
forests; but, bad as they might be, dogs, the shadows of



THE ELEPHANT FALLS ON HIS KNEES BEFORE THE LITTLE SCOTCH TERRIER


328 MORE ABOUT HLEPHANTS

men, were worse still. They were so quick, so lively, and
had such hideous high voices, which they were always
using, not keeping them for special occasions like any
self-respecting quadruped. Really they might almost as
well be parrots with their incessant chatter. But of all
kinds of dogs, surely the one ealled a Scotch terrier was
the most alarming and detestable. One day'an animal
of this species actually seized the trunk of an elephant in
its teeth, and the elephant was so surprised and frightened
that it fell on its knees at once. At this the dog was a
little frightened too, and let go, but recovered itself again
as the elephant rose slowly to its feet, and prepared to
charge afresh. The elephant, not knowing what to make
of it, backed in alarm, hitting out at the dog with its front
paws, but taking care to keep his wounded trunk well
beyond its reach. At last, between fright and annoyance
he lost his head completely, and would have fairly run
away if the keeper had not come in and put a stop to the
dog’s fun.

If Aisop had known elephants—or Scotch terriers—he
might have made a fable out of this; but they had not
visited Greece in his day.
329

BUNGEY!

Durine the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and James, there
lived a brave and accomplished knight called Sir John
Harington, who had been knighted on the field of battle by
the famous Earl of Essex, and had translated into English
a long poem, by an Italian called Ariosto. But busy
though he was in so many ways, Sir John still had time
to spare for his ‘raw dogge’ Bungey, and in the year 1608
he writes a long letter to Prince Henry, elder brother of
Charles .I., full of the strange doings of his favourite.
Bungey seems to have been used by Sir John as a sort of
carrier pigeon, and he tells how he would go from Bath
to Greenwich Palace, to ‘deliver up to the cowrte there
such matters as were entrusted to his care.’ The nobles
of the court made much of him, and sometimes gave him
errands of their own, and it was never told to their ‘ Ladie
Queen, that this messenger did ever blab ought concerning
his highe truste, as others have donein more special matters.’
More wonderful even than this was his behaviour con-
cerning two sacks of wheat which Bungey had been com-
missioned by Sir John’s servant Combe, to carry from Bath
to his own house at Kelston, a few miles distant. The
sacks were tied round the dog’s body by cords, but on the
way the cords got loose, and Bungey, clever though he was,
could not tie them up again.. However he was not to be
beaten, and hiding one ‘ flasket’ in some bushes that grew
near by, he bore the other in his teeth to Kelston, and then
returning, fetched the hidden one out of the rushes and

' From Jesse’s Lritish Dogs.
330 BUNGEHY

arrived with it in good time for dinner. Sir John is plainly
rather afraid that Prince Henry may not quite believe this
instance of sagacity, for he adds, ‘ Hereat your Highnesse
may perchance marvell and doubte; but we have living
testimonie of those who wroughte in the fields, and espied
his work, and now live to tell they did muche long to
plaie the dogge, and give stowage to the wine themselves,
but they did refraine, and watchede the passinge of this
whole business.’

As may well be guessed, the fame of Bungey’s talents
soon spread, and then, as now, there were many. dog
stealersin the country. On one occasion, as Sir John was
riding from Bath to London, Bungey was tempted to leave
his side by the sight of a pond swarming with wild duck
or mallard. Unluckily other people besides Bungey thought
it good sport to hunt wild fowl, and did not mind seizing
valuable dogs, so poor Bungey was caught and bound, till
it could be settled who would give the highest price for
him.

At last his captors decided that they would take him to
London, which was not very far off, and trust to chance
for finding a buyer. .As it happened, the Spanish Ambas-
sador was on the look out fora dog of that very kind,
and he was so pleased with Bungey, that he readily agreed
to give the large sum asked by the men who brought him.
Now Bungey was a dog who always made the best of
things, and as Sir John tells the Prince, ‘ suche was the
courte he did pay to the Don, that he was no lesse in good
likinge there than at home.’ In fact, everybody grew so
fond of him, that when after six weeks Sir John discovered
where he was and laid claim to him, no one in the house
could be prevailed on to givehim up. Poor Sir John, who,
as we know, was very much attached to Bungey, was at his
wit’s end what to do, when it suddenly occurred to him to
let the dog himself prove who was his real master. So,
having the Ambassador’s leave to what he wished in the
matter, he called all the company together at dinner-time,
BUNGHY 331

and bade Bungey go into the hall where dinner was already.
served, and bring a pheasant from the dish. This, as Sir
John says, ‘created much mirthe ; but much more, when
he returned at my commandment to the table, and put it
again in the same cover.’ After such a proof there was
no more to be said, and Sir John was allowed to be the
dog’s master. But Bungey’s life was not destined to be
a very long one, and his death was strange and sudden.
As he and his master were once more on the road from





BUNGEY AT THE SPANISH AMBASSADOR’S HOUSE

London to Bath on their return journey, he began jumping
up on the horse’s neck, and ‘was more earneste in fawn-
inge and courtinge my notice, than what I had observed
for time backe ; and after my chidinge his disturbing my
passinge forwardes, he gave me some glances of such
affection as moved me to cajole him; but alas! he crept
suddenly into a thorny brake, and died in a short time.’
It is impossible to guess what kind of illness caused
the death of poor Bungey, but it is pleasant to think that
332 BUNGEHY

Sir John never forgot him, and also loved to talk of him
to his friends. ‘Nowlet Ulysses praise his dogge Argus,’
he writes to Prince Henry, ‘or Tobit be led by that dogge
whose name doth not appear; yet could I say such things
of my Bungey as might shame them both, either for good
faith, clear wit, or wonderful deedes ; to say no more than
I have said of his bearing letters to London and Green-
wich, more than a hundred miles. As I doubt not but
your Highness would love my dogge, if not myselfe, I
have been thus tedious in his storie; and again saie, that
of all the dogges near your father’s courte, not one hathe
more love, more diligence to please, or less paye for
pleasinge, than him I write of”
333

LIONS AND THEIR WAYS

ALTHOUGH it would not be safe to put one’s self into the
power of a lion, trusting to its generosity to make friends,
there are a great many stories of the kindness of lions to
other creatures which are perfectly true. One day, more
than a hundred years ago, a lion cub only three months
old was caught in one of the great forests near the river
Senegal, and brought to a Frenchman as a gift. The
Frenchman, who was fond of animals, undertook to train
it, and as the cub was very gentle and quiet this was easily
done. He goon grew very fond of his master, and enjoyed
being petted both by him and his friends, and what was
more strange in a beast whose forefathers had passed all
their lives in solitude, the lion hated being by himself. The
more the merrier was clearly his motto, and whether the
company consisted of dogs, cats, ducks, sheep, geese, or
monkeys (which were his bedfellows), or men and women,
did not matter to him; and you may imagine his joy,
when one night as he went to bed he found two little new-
born pups in his straw. He was quite as pleased as if he
had been their mother ; indeed he would hardly let the
mother go near them, and when one of them died, he
showed his grief in every possible way, and became still
more attached to its brother.

After six months the lion, now more than a year old,
was sent off to France, still with the little pup for com-
pany. At first his keepers thought that the strangeness
of everything would make’ him frightened and savage,

Bingley’s Animal Biogruphy.
334 LIONS AND THEIR WAYS

but he took it all quite calmly and was. soon allowed to
roam about the ship as he pleased. Even when he
landed at Havre, he only had a rope attached to his
collar, and so he was brought to Versailles, the pup trot-
ting happily by his side. Unfortunately, however, the
climate of Europe did not agree with the dog as with the
lion, for he gradually wasted away and died, to the terrible
grief of his friend. Indeed he was so unhappy that
another dog was put into the cage to make up for the
lost one, but this dog was not used to lions, and only knew
that they were said to be savage beasts, so he tried to hide
himself. The lion, whose sorrow, as often happens, only
made him irritable and cross, was provoked by the dog’s
want of confidence in his kindness, and just gave him one
pat with his paw which killed him on the spot. But he
still continued so sad, that the keepers made another
effort, and this time the dog behaved with more sense,
and. coaxed the lion into making friends. The two lived
happily together for many years, and the lion recovered
some of his spirits, but he never forgot his first companion,
or was quite the same lion again.

Many hundreds of miles south of Senegal a Hottentot
who lived in Namaqualand was one evening driving down
a herd of his master’s cattle, to drink in a pool of water,
which was fenced in by two steep walls of rock. It had
been a particularly hot summer, and water was scarce,
so the pool was lower than usual, and it was not until the
whole herd got close to the brink, that the Hottentot-
noticed a huge lion, lying right in the water, preparing to
spring. The Hottentot, thinking as well as his fright
would let him think at all, that anything would serve as
supper for the lion, dashed straight through the herd, and
made as fast as he could for some trees at alittle distance.
But a low roar behind him told him that he had been wrong
in his calculations, and that the lion was of opinion that
man was nicer than bull. So he fled along as quickly as
his trembling legs would let him, and just reached one of


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LIONS AND THEIR WAYS 337

the tree aloes in which some steps had been cut by the
natives, as the lion bounded into the air. However the
man swung himself out of his enemy's range, and the lion
fell flat upon the ground. Now the branches of the tree
were covered with hundreds of nests of a kind of bird
called the Sociable Grosbeak, and it was to get these nests
that the natives had cut in the smooth trunk the steps
which had proved the salvation of the Hottentot. Behind
the shelter of the nests the Hottentot cowered, hoping
that when he was no longer seen, the lion would forget
him and go in search of other prey. But the lion seemed
inclined to do nothing of the sort. For a long while he
walked round and round the tree, and when he got tired
-of that he lay down, resolved to tire the man out. The
Hottentot hearing no sound, peeped cautiously out, to see
if his foe was still there, and almost tumbled down in
terror to meet the eyes of the lion glaring into his. So
the two remained all through the night and through the
next day, but when sunset came again the lion could bear
his dreadful thirst no longer, and trotted off to the nearest
spring to drink. Then the Hottentot saw his chance,
and leaving his hiding place he ran like lightning to his
home, which was only a mile distant. But the lion did
not yield without a struggle ; and traces were afterwards
found of his having returned to the tree, and then scented
the man to within three hundred yards of his hut.
338

THE HISTORY OF JACKO I.

Tue ship ‘Roxalana’ of Marseilles lay anchored in the
Bay of Loando, which as we all know is situated in South
Guinea. The ‘ Roxalana’ was a merchant vessel, and a
brisk traffic had been going on for some time with the
exchange of the European goods with which the ship had
been laden, for ivory and other native produce. All hands
were very busy getting on. board the various provisions
and other stores needed for a long voyage, for it was in
the days of sailing vessels only, and it would be some
time before they could hope to return to Marseilles.

Now the captain of the ‘Roxalana’ was a mighty
hunter, and seeing that all was going on well under the
first officer’s direction, he took his gun and a holiday and
went up country for one more day’s sport.

He was as successful as he was brave, and he had the
great good luck to meet a tiger, a young hippopotamus,
and a boa constrictor. All these terrible creatures fell
before the unerring aim of the Provencal Nimrod, and
after so adventurous a morning’s work the captain
naturally began to feel tired and hungry, so he sat down
under the shade of some trees to rest and have some
lunch.

He drew a flask of rum out of one pocket, and having
uncorked it placed it on his right side; from his other
pocket he produced a huge guava, which he laid on his
left side, and finally he drew a great wedge of ship biscuit
_ trom his game bag and put it between his knees. Then
he took out his tobacco pouch and began to fill his pipe
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ANNOYANCE OF THE CAPTAIN ON FINDING HIS FLASK OF RUM UPSET

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THH HISTORY OF JACKO I. 341

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so as to have it ready at hand when he had finished his
meal.

Imagine his surprise when, having filled his pipe, he
found the flask had been upset and the guava had dis-
appeared !

Tam afraid the captain made use of some very strong
language, but there was nothing for it but to make the
best of the biscuit, the sole relic of his feast. As he
munched it he warily turned his head from side to side,
watching for the thief, when all of a sudden something
fell upon his head. The captain put up his hand and
found—the skin of his guava. Then he raised. his eyes
and saw a monkey dancing for joy at his own pranks in
the tree just above him.

As I have already shown the captain was an excellent
shot. Without stirring from his seat, he took up his gun
and with a shot snapped the end of the branch on which
his persecutor was sitting.

Down came branch and monkey, and the cain at
once captured the latter before it had time to recover from
the surprise of its rapid fall.

He was small and quite young, only half grown, but
of a rather rare kind, as the captain, who had an ever-ready
eye to the main chance, at once perceived.

‘Ab ha!’ said he, ‘this little fellow will be worth fifty
franes if he’s worth a farthing by the time we get back to
Marseilles.’

So saying he popped the monkey into his game-bag
and buttoned it carefully up. Then, feeling that a piece of
biscuit was not quite a sufficient lunch after the fatigues of
his morning’s sports, he retraced his steps and returned to
his ship in company with his monkey, whom he named
‘ Jacko.’

Before leaving Loando the captain, who was fond of
pets, bought a beautiful white cockatoo with a saffron
crest and jet black beak. ‘Cataqua’ (that was his har-
monious name) was indeed a lovely creature and extremely
342 THE HISTORY OF JACKO T.

accomplished into the bargain. He spoke French,
English, and Spanish equally well, and sang ‘God save
the King,’ the ‘ Marseillaise,’ and the Spanish National
Anthem with great perfection.

The aptitude for languages made him a ready pupil,
and his vocabulary was largely increased by daily agsocia-
tion with the crew of the ‘ Roxalana,’ so that before they
had been very long at sea Cataqua swore freely in the
purest Provengal, to the delight and admiration of his
captain.

The captain was very fond of his two pets, and every
morning, after inspecting the crew and giving each man
his orders for the day, he would go up to Cataqua’s cage,
followed by Jacko, and give the cockatoo a lesson. When
this was well said hé would reward his pupil by sticking
a lump of sugar between the wires of the cage, a reward
which delighted Cataqua whilst it filled Jacko with
jealousy.

He too loved sugar, and the moment the captain’s
back was turned he would draw near the cage and pull
and pinch till the lump of sugar generally changed its
destination, to the despair of Cataqua, who, crest erect
and with brandished claw, rent the air with shrieks of rage
mingled with angry oaths.

Jacko meanwhile stood by affecting an innocent air
and gently sucking the sugar which he had stowed away
in one of his pouches. Unluckily none of Cataqua’s
owners had taught him to ery ‘stop thief’ and he soon
realised that if Jacko were to be punished he must see to
it himself.

So one day, when the monkey after safely abstracting
the sugar pushed a paw between the bars of the cage
to gather up some remaining crumbs, Cataqua, who was
gently swinging, head down, and apparently unconscious
of what was going on, suddenly caught Jacko’s thumb in
his beak and bit it to the bone.

Jacko uttered a piercing shriek, rushed to the rigging
THE HISTORY OF JACKO I. 343

and climbed as far as he could, when he paused, clinging
on by three paws and piteously brandishing the fourth in
the air.

Dinner-time came, and the captain whistled for Jacko,
but contrary to all customs no Jacko came. The captain
whistled again, and this time he thought he heard an
answering sound which seemed to come from the sky.
He raised his eyes and beheld Jacko still waving his
injured paw. Then began an exchange of signals, with
the result that Jacko firmly refused to come down. ‘Now
the captain had trained his crew to habits of implicit
obedience and had no notion of having his orders resisted
by a monkey, so he took his speaking trumpet and called
for Double Mouth.

Double Mouth was the cook’s boy, and he had well
earned his nickname by the manner in which he took
advantage of his culinary position to make one meal
before the usual dinner hour without its interfering in
the least with his enjoyment of a second at the proper
time. At the captain’s call Double Mouth climbed on
deck from the cook’s galley and timidly approached his
chief.

_The captain, who never ‘wasted words on his sub-
ordinates, pointed to Jacko, and Double Mouth at once
began to give chase with an activity which proved that
the captain had chosen well. As a matter of fact Jacko
and Double Mouth were dear friends, the bond of sym-
pathy which united them being one of greediness, for
many a nice morsel Jacko had to thank the cook’s boy
for. So when the monkey saw who was coming, instead
of trying to escape him he ran to meet him, and in a few
minutes the two friends, one in the other’s arms, returned
to the deck where the captain awaited them.

The captain’s one treatment for wounds of all kinds
consisted of a compress steeped in some spirit, so he at
once dipped a piece of rag in rum and bandaged the
patient’s thumb with it. The sting of the alcohol on the
344 THE HISTORY OF JACKO I.

wound made Jacko dance with pain, but noticing that the
moment the captain’s back was turned Double Mouth
rapidly swallowed the remains of the liquid in which the
rag had been dipped, he realised that however painful as
a dressing it might possibly be agreeable to the palate.
He stretched out his tongue and very delicately touched
the bandage with its tip. It was certainly rather nice,
and he licked more boldly. By degrees the taste grew on
him, and he ended by putting his thumb, bandage and all,
into his mouth and sucking it bodily.

The result was that (the captain having ordered the
bandage to be wetted every ten minutes) by the end of a
couple of hours Jacko began to blink and to roll his head,
and as the treatment continued he had at length to be
carried off by Double Mouth, who laid him on his own
bed.

Jacko slept without stirring for some hours. When he
woke the first thing which met his eyes was Double Mouth
busy plucking a fowl. This wag a new sight, but Jacko
seemed to be particularly struck by it on this occasion.
He got up from the bed and came near, his eyes steadily
fixed on the fowl, and carefully watched how the whole
operation proceeded. When it was ended, feeling his head
a little heavy still, he went on deck to take the air.

The weather was so settled and the wind so favourable
that the captain thought it only a waste to keep the
poultry on board alive too long, so he gave orders that a
bird should be served daily for his dinner in addition to
his usual rations. Soon after a great cackling was heard
amongst the hencoops and Jacko climbed down from the
yard where he was perched at such a rate that one might
have thought he was hastening to the rescue. He tore into
the kitchen, where he found Double Mouth already pluck-
ing a newly killed fowl, till not an atom of down was left
on it.

Jacko showed the deepest interest in the process,
and on returning to deck he, for the first time since his
THH HISTORY OF JACKO T. 345

accident, approached Cataqua’s cage, carefully keeping
beyond range of his beak however. After strolling
several times round, he at last seized a favourable moment
and clutching hold of one of Cataqua’s tail feathers,
pulled hard till it came out regardless of the cockatoo’s
screams and flappings. This trifling experiment caused
Jacko the greatest delight, and he fell to dancing on all
fours, jumping up and falling back on the same spot
which all his life was the way in which he showed his
supreme content about anything.

Meantime the ship had long lost sight of land and
was in full sail in mid ocean. It appeared unnecessary
to the captain, therefore, to keep his cockatoo shut up in
@ cage, so he opened the door and released the prisoner,
there being no means of escaping beyond the ship.
Cataqua instantly took advantage of his freedom to climb
to the top of one of the masts, where, with every appear-
ance of rapture, he proceeded to regale the ship’s company
with his entire large and varied vocabulary, making quite
as much noise by himself as all the five-and:twenty
sailors: who formed his audience.

_ Whilst this exhibition was taking place on deck a
different scene was being enacted below. Jacko had as
usual approached Double Mouth at plucking time, but
this time the lad, who had noticed the extreme attention
with which the monkey watched him, thought that
possibly there might be some latent talent in him which
it was a pity not to develop.

Double Mouth was one of those prompt and energetic
persons who waste no time between an idea and its
execution.. Accordingly he quietly closed the door, put
a whip into his pocket in case of need, and handed Jacko
the duck he was about to pluck, adding a significant
touch to the handle of the whip as a hint.

But Jacko needed neither hint nor urging. Without
more ado he took the duck, placed it between hig kneés
as he had seen his tutor do, and fell to with a will. Ags
346 THH HISTORY OF JACKO TI.

he found the feathers giving place to down and the down
to skin, he became quite enthusiastic, so much so that
when his task was done he fell to dancing for joy exactly
as he had done the day before by Cataqua’s cage.

Double Mouth was overjoyed for his part. He only
regretted not having utilised Jacko’s talents sooner, but
he determined to do so regularly in the future. Next day
the same operation took place, and on the third day,
Double Mouth, recognising Jacko’s genius, took off his
own apron and tied it round his pupil, to whom from that
moment he resigned the charge of preparing the poultry
for the spit. Jacko showed himself worthy of the confi-
dence placed in him, and by the end of a week he had
quite distanced his teacher in skill and quickness.

Meantime the ship was nearing the Equator. It was
a peculiarly sultry day, when the very sky seemed to sink
beneath its own weight; not a creature was on deck but
' the man at the helm and Cataqua in the shrouds. The
captain had flung himself into his hammock and was
smoking his pipe whilst Double Mouth fanned him with
a peacock’s tail. Even Jacko seemed overcome by the
heat, and instead of plucking his fowl as usual, he had
placed it on a chair, taken off his apron, and appeared lost
in slumber or meditation.

His reverie, however, did not last long. He opened
his eyes, glanced round him, picked up a feather which
he first stuck ‘carelessly in his mouth and then dropped,
and at length began to slowly climb the ladder leading on
deck, pausing and loitering at each step. He found the
deck deserted, which apparently pleased him, as he gave
two or three little jumps whilst he glanced about to look
for Cataqua, who with much gesticulation was singing
‘God save the King’ at the top of his voice.

Then Jacko seemed to forget his rival’s existence
altogether, and began lazily to climb the rigging on the
opposite ‘side, where he indulged in various exercises,
swinging by his tail head down, and generally appearing
THE HISTORY OF JACKO I. 347

to have only come with a view to gymnastics. At
length, seeing that Cataqua took no notice of him, he
quietly sidled that way, and at the very moment that the
performance of the English National Anthem was at its
height, he seized the singer firmly with his left hand just
where the wings join the body.

Cataqua uttered a wild note of terror, but no one was
sufficiently awake to hear it.

‘ By all the winds of heaven!’ exclaimed the captain
suddenly. ‘Here's a phenomenon—snow under the
Equator !’

‘No,’ said Double Mouth, ‘that’s not snow, that’s—
ah, you rascal!’ and he rushed towards the companion.

‘Well, what is it then?’ asked the captain, rising ‘in
his hammock.

‘What is it?’ cried Double Mouth from the top of the
ladder. ‘It’s Jacko plucking Cataqua !’

The captain was on deck in two bounds, and with a
shout of rage roused the whole crew from their slumbers.

‘Well!’ he roared to Double Mouth, ‘ what are you
about, standing there? Come, be quick !’ ‘

Double Mouth did not wait to be told twice, but was
up the rigging like a squirrel, only the faster he climbed
the faster Jacko plucked, until when the rescuer reached
the spot it was a ‘sadly bare bird which he tore from
Jacko’s vindictive hands and carried back to his master.

Needless to say that Jacko was in dire disgrace after
this exploit. However, in time he was forgiven and often
amused the-captain and crew with his pranks.

When the ‘ Roxalana’ reached Marseilles after a quick
and prosperous voyage, he was sold for seventy-five francs
to Hugéne Isabey the painter, who gave him to Flero for
a Turkish hookah, who in his turn exchanged him for a
Greek gun with Décamps, ,
348

SIGNORA AND LORI}

A GENTLEMAN living at Giistrow, in Mecklenburg, who
was very fond of animals, possessed a fine parrot, which
had beautiful plumage, and could talk better than most
of his kind. Besides the parrot, he had a poodle, called
Signora Patti, after the great singer, whom the gentleman
had once heard when he was upon a visit to Rostock;

after his return home he bestowed the name upon his
dear poodle.

Under the tuition of her master, the poodle began to
be an artist in her way. There was no trick performed
by dogs too difficult for her to learn. The parrot, whose
name was Lori, paid the greatest attention whilst the
Signora’s lessons were going on, and he soon had all the
vocabulary, which the Signora carried in her head, not
only in his memory, but on his tongue.

When the dog was told by her master to ‘go to the
baker,’ then Lori could croak out the words also. Signora
Patti would hasten to fetch the little basket, seat herself
before her master, and, looking up at him with her wise
eyes, scrape gently upon the floor with her paw, which
signified: ‘Please put in the money.’ Her master
dropped in a few coins, the Signora ran quickly to the
baker with the basket, and brought it back filled with
little cakes ; placing it before her master, she awaited her
reward, a good share of the dainties.

Often, for a variety in the lessons, she had to go to
the baker without money; then her master simply gave

1 Translated from Deutsche Bldtter, 1867. No. 10.
SIGNORA AND LORI 349

the order, ‘on tick!’ and the Signora, who knew that the
cakes would be sent, obeyed the command at once.

The parrot made a droll use of these practisings,
turning to account his knowledge of speech in the slyest
way. If he found himself alone with the poodle, who
was perhaps comfortably stretched on her cushion, Lori
would cry—imitating his master’s voice—as if he quite
understood the joke: ‘Go out!’ Poor Patti would get

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LORI REFUSES TO SHARE WITH THE SIGNORA

up in obedience to the order and slink out of the door
with her ears drooping. And immediately Lori would
whistle, just in the tone used by his master, and the
Signora then returned joyfully into the room.

But it was not only for pastime that Lori exercised
his gift; the cunning bird used it for the benefit of his
greedy beak. It began to happen often to the master to
find that his private account-book, carefully kept in the
smallest details, did not agree well with that of hig
350 SIGNOBA AND LORI

neighbour the baker. The Signora, declared the: baker,
had become most. accomplished in the art of running up
a long bill, and always, of course, at her master’s. orders.
Only he, the master, when he looked over the reckoning,
growled to himself: ‘My neighbour is a rogue ; he chalks
up the amount double.’

How very much was he astonished, then, and how
quickly were his suspicions turned into laughter, when
he beheld, through a half-open door, the following absurd
scene.

It was one fine morning, and Lori sat upon the top
of his cage, calling out in his shrillest tones: ‘ Signora,
Signora!’ The poodle hastened to present herself before
him, wagging her tail, and Lori continued, ‘Go to the
baker.’ The Signora fetched’ the little basket from its
place, and put it before her tyrant, scratching her paw on
the floor to ask for money.

‘On tick!’ was Lori’s prompt and brief remark ; the
Signora seized the basket, and rushed out of the door.
Before long she returned, laid the basket, full of the little
cakes, before the parrot, and looked with a beseeching

_ air for the reward of her toil.

But the wicked Lori received her with a sharp ‘ get
out,’ putting her to flight, poe proceeded to enjoy his ill-
gotten gains in solitude.
35t

OF THE LINNET, POPINJAY OR PARROT,
AND OTHER BIRDS THAT CAN SPHAK

Tur linnets be in manner the best birds of all others,
howbeit, they be very docible. Do they will whatsoever
they are taught and bidden, not only with their voice, but
also with their feet and bills, as if they were hands. In
the territory about Arelate (Arles) there is a bird called
Taurus (because it loweth like a bull or cow, for otherwise
a small bird it is). There is another also named Anthus,
which likewise resembleth the neighing of horses ; and if
haply by the approach of horses they be driven from their
grass whereof they feed, they will seem to neigh, and fly-
‘ing unto them, chase them away, and to be revenged of
them again. But above all other birds of the air, the -
parrots pass for counterfeiting a man’s voice, insomuch as
they will seem to parle and prate our very speech. This
fowl cometh out of the Indies; it is all the body over
green, only.it hath a collar about the neck of vermilion
red, different from the rest of her feathers. The parrot
can skill to salute emperors, and bid good-morrow: yea,
and to pronounce what words she heareth. She loveth
wine well, and when she hath drunk freely, is very pleasant
and playful. She hath an head as hard as is her beak.
When she learns to speak, she must be beaten about the
head with a rod of iron; for otherwise she careth for no
blows. When she taketh her flight down from any place,
she lighteth upon her bill, and resteth thereupon, and
by that means saveth her feet, which by nature are but
352 OF THE LINNET, POPINJAY, OR PARROT

weak and feeble, and so carrieth her own weight more
lightly. *

There is a certain pie, of nothing so great reckoning
and account as the parrot, because she is not far set, but
here by near at hand: howbeit, she pronounces that which
is taught her more plainly and distinctly than the other.
These take a love to the words that they speak; for they
not only learn them as a lesson, but they learn them with
a delight and pleasure, insomuch that a man shall find
them studying thereupon, and conning the said lesson ;
and by their careful thinking upon that which they learn
they show plainly how mindful and intentive they be
thereto. It is for certain known that they have died for
very anger and grief that they could not learn to pronounce
some hard words; as also unless they hear the same
words repeated often unto them, their memory is so shititle,
they will soon forget the same again. If they miss a word
and have lost it, they will seek to call it again to remem-
brance ; and if they fortune to hear the same word in the
meantime, they will wonderfully joy thereat. As for their
beauty, it is not ordinary, although it be not very lovely.
But surely amiable enough are they in this, that they can
so well resemble man’s speech. Itis said that none of
their kind are good to be made scholars, but such only as
feed upon mast; and among them, those that have five
toes to their feet. But even these also are not fit for that
purpose, after the first two years of their age. And their
tongue is broader than ordinary ; like as they be all that
counterfeit man’s voice, each one in their kind, although
it be in manner general to birds whatsoever to be broad-
tongued.

Agrippina the Empress, wife to Claudius Caesar, had
a black-bird or a throstle at what time I compiled this
book, which could counterfeit man’s speech ; a thing never
seen or known before. The two Cesars also, the young
princes (to wit, Germanicus and Drusus,) had one stare,
and sundry nightingales, taught to parle Greek and Latin.
OF THE LINNET, POPINJAY, OR PARROT 353

Moreover, they would study upon their lessons, and medi-
tate all day long; and from day to day come out with new
words still, yea, and are now able to continue a long speech
and discourse. Now for to teach them the better, these
birds must be in a secret place apart by themselves, when
they can hear no other voice ; and one is to sit over them,
who must repeat often that which he would have them to
learn ; yea, and please them also with giving them such
meat as they best love.

AA
PATCH AND THE CHICKENS

On a farm up in Durham, there were six little chickens
who were deserted by the mother hen as soon as they
were hatched. So the farmer's wife put them in a basket
and carried them into the cottage to keep them warm by
the fire.

There they were discovered by a smooth-coated terrier,
named Patch, who was at that time very sad because her
little puppy had just died, and she began to look after
the chickens as if they were her own children. The little
chicks also turned to her quite naturally for care and
protection.

She used to treat them very gently, and would sit and
watch them feed with the greatest interest. She would
curl herself up, and then let them climb about her, and
go to sleep between her paws. Sometimes she did not
seem to consider the floor comfortable enough for her
adopted family, and would jump on to a wooden settle
which stood in the kitchen, and then with her feet she
would pat the cushions into a cosy bed, and very carefully
would take one chicken after another in her mouth, and
place them on the softest part.

Soon the time came for the chickens to be gent out into
the world.

One day when Patch was out for a walk they were
taken to the farmyard.

When the poor little dog returned she was quite broken-
hearted, and ran whining about the cottage. Then, as if
seized with a sudden thought, she walked out of the door,
PATCH AND THE CHICKENS 355

and in a very short time she reappeared, followed by her
feathered family, and again they took up their abode in
the cottage. Hvery morning Patch used to take them
out for a walk, and it was a most amusing sight to see
the little terrier followed by a procession of six stately
hens.

At last their living in the house became such an in-
convenience to the farmer’s wife that poor Patch’s children.
had to be killed.

For some time Patch was very unhappy, and would
still go into the farmyard to look for her six chickens.

AAG
356

THH FIERCE FALCON?

THPRE are not nearly so many stories about birds as
about dogs and cats, because birds can fly away, and it is
more difficult to know what becomes of them. Perhaps,
properly speaking, stories about birds have no business in
a ‘Beast Book,’ but as long as the story is interesting, it
does not do to be too particular.

A good many years ago, a gentleman named St. John
was exploring the high hills near the source of the Find-
horn, in Invernessshire, when he found a young falcon
which was being reared as a pet by a shepherd boy, who
gave her trout to eat. There was not much beauty about
the falcon when Mr. St. John first saw her, for her
plumage was dark-brown, with long-shaped spots on the
breast, but in spite of that he took a fancy to her, and
persuaded her master to sell her to him. When, however,
she had passed her second birthday, and might be consi-
dered grown up, she put on all her finest feathers, and
was very much admired by everyone. Her throat became
a lovely soft cream colour, and the brown on her back
changed into a lovely dark grey, while on her bosom, each
little feather was crossed by a bar. But lovely though
she was, Mr. St. John felt her to be a great care, for she
was very strong as well as very brave, and would never
think twice about attacking dogs or even people, if they-
offended her. As for the fowls, she soon made such short
work of them, that her master was obliged to chain her
up in the kitchen garden, which had hitherto formed the

' From Wild Sports of the Highlands. By C. St. John.
THE FIHERCH FALCON 357

property of a tame owl. Luckily for the owl, the falcon
at once made friends with him, and he was even allowed
to finish up any of the falcon’s dinner which she did not
want herself.

Matters went quite smoothly for some weeks, and Mr.
St. John was beginning to flatter himself that his pet was
quieting down, and becoming quite a home bird, when one
day a duck, tempted by the sight of the garden, whose
gate had been carelessly left open, advanced a few steps
along the path. Seeing nothing and nobody (for being
daylight, the owl was asleep and the falcon too cunning
to move) the duck became bolder, and walked merrily on,
pecking at anything that took her fancy, and making funny
little noises of satisfaction, unconscious of a pair of bright
eyes that were watching her from behinda bush. Indeed,
so absorbed was the duck in her afternoon tea, that she
never even saw the falcon steal softly out and soar a little
way up into the air, and suddenly swoop down with great
force, and before the victim had time to be frightened she
was dead, and her body was carried away in the falcon’s
claws, to serve for her supper.

Now the duck was the mother of a large family, all
newly hatched, and it would have fared very badly with
them in their babyhood, had it not been for the kindness
of a guinea-fowl, who adopted them as her own, directly
she heard that they were left orphans and helpless. The
guinea-fowl, indeed, was quite glad of the chance, because
she had a warm heart, and had mourned sadly for her hus-
band, who had been lately condemned to death on account
of a series of horrible murders he had committed among the
young chickens. So the good creature thought the duck’s
sad accident quite providential, and at once set about filling
her place. Like many other mothers, instead of making
the little ducklings fall into her ways, she fell into theirs,
and never left their sides, except on urgent business. And
they had, even then, only to call to her if they saw great
clumsy animals such as dogs or children coming their way,
358 THE FIERCE FALCON

and down she would rush in a frightful hurry, half scram-
bling, half flying’ over bushes and palings, and making
furious pecks at the children’s legs, if they ventured too
close to her little ones.

Still, not all her love nor all her courage would have
prevented the guinea-fowl falling a victim to the falcon, if
once the bird had got loose, and as it was, the falcon con-
tinued to do a good deal of damage to the creatures about
the farmyard. A cock, who had hitherto crowed very
loudly and declared himself king of the birds, was foolish
enough to give battle to our falcon. An hour after, a few
feathers were all that remained of him, and as to the
pigeons, if they ever happened to get within the length of
her chain, their doom was certain. At last the gaps in the
poultry yard became so serious that Mr. St. John made up
his mind that the falcon must be fastened up in a still more
out-of-the-way place, and while he was altering her chain ~
away she flew. Of course he thought she was gone for
ever, and he watched her circling about the house with a
very sad heart, for he still was fond of her, though she was
such a very bad bird, and gave him so much trouble ; but
as it was getting dark, he had to go in, and stealing a
last look at her as he entered the house, he saw her
settling down for the night, in the top of a tall tree.

For five days no more was seen or heard of the wan-
derer, and it was not until the fifth morning that Mr. St.
John observed her, high in the air, fighting fiercely with
some hooded crows. He stood out on the grass, where
there was nothing to hide him, and whistled loudly. In
an instant the falcon heard him, busily engaged though
she was, and wheeled down to her old master, perching on
his arm, and rubbing her beak against him. She did not
seem to have been softened or improved by her taste of
liberty, for she showed herself quite as ready as of old to
attack everything within reach of her chain, first killing
them, and then pulling off their hair or plucking out their
feathers, before she began her meal. The only animal
THH FIERCH FALCON 359

which she could not swallow was a mole, and one day
she swooped down on a Skye terrier, and it would certainly
not have escaped alive, had not its master come to the
rescue. But it is time we thought of something nicer
than this dreadful bird.
360

MR. BOLT, THE SCOTCH TERRIER}

Aut children who know anything of dogs or cats will have
found out very soon that the ugly ones are generally far
cleverer and more sensible than the pretty ones, who are
very apt to think too much of themselves, and will spend
a long time admiring themselves in the glass, just as if
they were vain men and women. Perhaps it is not al-
together their fault if they are stupid, for when they are
shaped well, and have fine glossy coats, their masters and
mistresses spoil them, and give them too much to eat, so
they grow lazy and greedy and disobedient, and like
better to lie on the hearth-rug than to do tricks or jump
over fences.

Now, luckily for himself, Mr. Bolt, the hero of this
story, was quite a plain dog. There could be no doubt
about it; and those who loved him did so because he
was useful and good company, and not because he wag
elegant or graceful. Bolt was a large Scotch terrier,
rough and hairy, with a thick sort of grey fringe, and
great dark eyes looking out from underneath the fringe.
His tail and his legs were very short, and his back was
very long, so long that he reminded one of a furniture
van more than anything else.

But, clever though he was, Bolt had hig faults, and
the worst of them was that he was very apt to take offence
when none was intended, and was far too ready to pick a
quarrel, and to hit out with all hig might. He probably
owed some of this love of fighting to the country in which

1 Jesse’s British Dogs.
MR. BOLT, THH SCOTCH TERRIER 36r

he was born; for, although a Scotch dog by descent, he
was Irish by birth, and his earliest home was near Dublin.
As everybody knows, the happiest moment of an Irish-
man’s life is when he is fighting something or somebody,
and Bolt in his youth was as reckless as any Irishman of
them all. He was hardly a year old when he turned upon
his own mother, who had done something to displease
him when they were chained together in a stable, and
never let her throat go until she was stone dead. Cats,
too, were his natural enemies, whom he fought and
conquered when no dogs were at hand, and sometimes he
would steal out at night from his master’s bed, where he
always slept, and go for a chase by the light of the moon.
Early one morning a fearful noise was heard in the house,
and when his master, unable to bear it any longer, got
out of bed to see what had happened, he found a strange
cat lying on the stairs quite dead, and the house-cat, with
which Bolt was barely on speaking terms, sitting in a
friendly manner by the side of the conqueror. It is
supposed that the strange cat had been led either by
motives of curiosity or robbery to enter by some open
window, and that the house-cat, unable to drive him out,
had welcomed Bolt’s ready help for the purpose. Fighter
though he was by nature, Bolt had inherited enough
Scotch caution not to begin a quarrel unless he had a
fair chance of victory ; but he was generous, and seldom
attacked dogs smaller than himself, unless he was forced
into it, or really had nothing better to do. He always
began by seizing his enemy’s hind leg, which no other
dog had been known to do before, and he had such a
dislike to dogs whose skins were yellow, that not even
the company of ladies, and the responsibility weighing
upon him as their escort, would stop Bolt’s wild rush at
his yellow foe. He hated being shut up too, and showed
amazing cleverness in escaping from prison. If that was
quite impossible, he did the next best thing, which was to
gnaw and destroy every article he could in any way reach.
362 MR. BOLT, THE SCOTCH TERRIER

One day when he had behaved so oddly that his family
feared he must be going mad (children have been known
to frighten their parents in a similar way), he was chained
up in a little room, and, feeling too angry to sleep, he
amused himself all night with tearing a Bible, several
shoes, and a rug, while he gnawed a hole through the
door, and bit through the leg of a table. In the morning,
when his master came to look at him, he seemed quite
recovered, and very well pleased with himself.

As you will see, Bolt had plenty of faults; but he also
had some very good qualities, and when he did not think
himself insulted by somebody’s behaviour, he could show
a great deal of sense. One night the cook had been
sitting up very late, baking bread for the next day, and
being very tired, she fell asleep by the kitchen fire, and a
spark fell out on her woollen dress. Ag there was no
blaze, and the girl was a heavy sleeper, she would most
likely never have waked at all till it was too late, only
luckily for her, the smell reached Bolt’s nose as he was
lying curled up on his master’s bed, near the door which
always stood open. Before rousing the house, and giving
them all a great fright, he thought he had better make
sure exactly what was wrong, so he ran first down to the
kitchen from which the smell seemed to come, and finding
the cook half stupefied by the smoke, he rushed back to
call his master. This he managed to do by tearing up
and down the room, leaping on the bed, and pulling off
all the clothes, so that the poor man was quitecold. His
master was much astonished at the state of excitement
Bolt was in, and feared at first that he had gone mad, but
after a few minutes he decided that he would get up and
see what was the matter. Bolt went carefully before him
into the kitchen and sat down by the side of the sleeping
girl, turning his face anxiously to the door, to make sure
that his master should make no mistake. So in a few
seconds the fire was put out, and the girl escaped with
nothing worse than a slight scorching.
ME. BOLT, THE SCOTCH TERRIER — 363

I might tell you many stories of Bolt and his funny
ways, but I have only room for one now. After some
time his mistress and her daughter left the house in which
Bolt had spent so many years, and took lodgings in
Dublin. Bolt went with them, but when they all arrived,
the landlady declared she did not like dogs, and Bolt
must be placed elsewhere. Now this was very awkward ;
of course it was out of the question that Bolt could be
left behind, yet it was too late to make other arrange-
ments, so after some consideration he was sent back to
some lodgings near by, where his master had formerly
lived, and where they promised to take great care of him.
His young mistress called every day to carry him off for
a walk, and she often tried to get him to enter the house
she herself was living in, but nothing would persuade the
offended Bolt to go inside the door. He would sit on the
‘step for some time, hoping she would be persuaded to
return with hum, but when he found that was hopeless, he
walked proudly back to his own rooms. His mistresses
stayed in that house for nearly a year, and in all that
time Bolt never forgot or forgave the slight put. upon
him, or could be induced to enter the house. Indeed, his
feelings were so bitterly hurt, that even when they all set
up house again, it was months before Bolt could be got to
do anything more than pay his family a call now and
- then, and sometimes dine with them. So you see it is a
serious thing to offend a dog, and he needs to be as
delicately handled as a human being.
364

A RAVENS FUNERAL

In the days of Tiberius the Emperor, there was a young
raven hatched in a nest upon the church of Castor and
Pollux ; which to make a trial how he could fly, took his
first flight into a shoemaker’s shop just over against the
said church. The master of the shop was well enough
content to receive this bird, as commended to him from so
sacred a place, and in that regard set great store by it.
This raven in short time being acquainted to man’s speech,
began to speak, and every morning would fly up to the
top of the Rostra, or public pulpit for orations, when,
turning to the open Forum or market place, he would
salute and bid good-morrow to Tiberius Cesar, and after
him to Germanicus and Drusus, the young princes, every
one by their names: and anon the people of Rome also
that passed by. And when he had so done, afterwards
would fly again to the shoemaker’s shop aforesaid. This
duty practised, yea and continued for many years together,
to the great wonder and admiration of all men.

Now it fell out so, that another shoemaker who had
taken the next shop unto him, either upon a malicious
envy or some sudden spleen and passion of anger, killed
the raven. Whereat the people took such indignation,
that they, rising in an uproar, first drove him out of that
street, and made that quarter of the city too hot for him ;
and not long after murdered him forit. But contrariwise,
the carcase of this raven was solemnly interred, and the
funeral performed with all the ceremonial obsequies that
could be devised. For the corpse of this bird was bestowed








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A RAVEN’S FUNERAL

A RBAVEN’S FUNERAL | 367

in a coffin, couch, or bed, and’ the same bedecked with
chaplets of fresh flowers of all sorts, carried upon the
shoulders of two blackamoors, with minstrels before,
sounding the haut-boys, and. playing on the fife, as far as
the funeral fire, which was piled and made in the right
hand of the causey Appia, in a certain plain or open
field.

So highly reputed the people of Rome that ready wit
and apt disposition in a bird, as they thought it a sufficient
cause to ordain a sumptuous burial therefore.
A STRANGE TIGER!

In the year 1790, a baby tiger only six weeks old,
whose skin was most beautifully marked in black and
yellow, and whose figure was as perfectly modelled as the
figure of any tiger could be, was put on board a large
Kast India Company’s ship called the ‘ Pitt,’ to be brought
to London as a present to George III. Of course, in
those days, no one ever thought of coming through the
Red Sea, but all vessels sailed all the way round by the
Atlantic, so the voyage naturally took many months,
especially if the winds were unfavourable. Under these
circumstances it was as well to choose your fellow-passen-
gers carefully, as you had to live such a long time with
them.

Unlike most of its tribe, the little tiger soon made
itself at home on board ship, and as it was too small to
do much harm, it was allowed to run about loose and
played with anybody who had time for-a game. It gene-
rally liked to sleep with the sailors in their hammocks,
and they would often pretend to use it for a pillow, as
it lay at full length on the deck. Partly out of fun,
and partly because it was its nature so to do, the tiger
would every now and then steal a piece of meat, if it found
one handy. One day it was caught red-handed by the
carpenter, who took the beef right out of its mouth, and
gave it a good beating, but instead of the man getting
bitten for his pains, as he might have expected, the tiger

' Bingley’s Animal Biography.
bey

aa













THE TIGER AND HIS FRIEND
A STRANGE TIGER 371

took his punishment quite meekly, and bore the carpenter
no grudge after. One of its favourite tricks was to run
out to the very end of the bowsprit, and stand there look-
ing over the sea, and there was no place in the whole
ship to which it would not climb when the fancy took it.
But on the whole, the little tiger preferred to have com-
pany in its gambols, and was especially fond of dogs, of
which there were several on board. They would chase each
other and roll over together just like two puppies, and
during the ten months or so that the voyage from China
lasted, they had time enough to become fast friends,
When the vessel reached London, the tiger was at once
taken to the Tower, which was the Zoological Gardens of
those days. The little fellow did not mind, for he was
‘always ready to take what came and make the best of it,
and all the keepers grew as fond of him as. the sailors had
been.

No more is known about him for eleven years, when
he was quite grown up, and then one day, just after he
had had his dinner, a black rough-haired terrier pup was
put into his cage. Most tigers would have eaten it at
once, but not this one, who still remembered his early
friends on board ship. He used to watch for the pup
every day, and lick it all over, taking care never to hurt it
with his rough tongue. In general, the terrier had its
food outside the cage, but sometimes it was forgotten, and
then it would try to snatch a bit of the tiger’s meat; but
this the tiger thought impertinent, and made the dog
understand that it was the one thing he would not stand.

After several months of close companionship, the
terrier was for some reason taken away, and one day,
when the tiger awakened from his after-dinner nap, he
found the terrier gone, and a tiny Dutch mastiff in its
place. He was surprised, but as usual made no fuss,
and proceeded to give it a good lick, much to the alarm of
the little mastiff. However, its fright soon wore off, and
in a day or two it might be seen barking round him and

BBQ
372 A STRANGE TIGER

even biting his feet, which the tiger never objected to,
perhaps because he could hardly have felt it.

Two years after the tiger had been settled in the Tower,
the very same carpenter who had beaten him for stealing
.the beef came back to England and at once paid a visit
to his old friend. The tiger was enchanted to see him,
and rushing to the grating, began rubbing himself against
it with delight. The carpenter begged to be let into the
cage, and though the keepers did not like it, he declared
. there was no danger, and at last they opened the door.
In a moment the tiger was by his side, nearly knocking
him down with joy and affection, licking his hands and
rubbing his head on his shoulders, and when, after ‘two
or three hours, the carpenter got up to go, the tiger would
hardly let him leave the den, for he wanted to keep him
there for ever.

Bui all tigers cannot be judged by this tiger.
373

HALCYONS AND THEIR BIOGRAPHERS

Some of the old writers, such as Pliny, Plutarch, Ovid,
and Aristotle, tell a pretty story about a bird called the
halcyon, which flew sporting over the seas, and in mid-
winter, ‘when the days were shortest, sat on its nest and
brooded over its eggs. And Neptune, who loved these
small, gay-plumaged creatures, took pity on them, and
kept the waves still during the time of their sitting, so
that by-and-bye the days in a man’s life that were free
from storm and tempest became known as his ‘halcyon
days,’ by which name you will still hear them called.
Now after a careful comparison of the descriptions of
the ancient writers, modern naturalists have come to the
conclusion that the ‘haleyon’ of Pliny and the rest was
no other than our beautiful kingfisher, which flashes its
lovely green and blue along the rivers and cascades both
of the Old World and the New. It is now known that the
kingfisher is one of the burrowing birds, and that it scoops
out in the sand or soft earth of the river banks a passage
which is often as much as four feet long and grows
wider as it recedes from the water. It feeds upon fish, and
fish bones may be found inlarge numbers on the floor of the
kingfisher’s house, which, either from laziness or a dislike
to change, he inhabits for years together. His eyes are
wonderfully quick, and he can detect a fish even in tur-
bulent waters from the bough of a tree. Then he makes a
rapid dart, and rarely misses his prey. No bird has been
the subject of so many superstitions and false stories as
the kingfisher, which attracted much attention from its
374 HALCYONS AND THEIR BIOGRAPHERS

great beauty. Ovid changes the king of Magnesia and his
wife Alcyone into. kingfishers, Pliny talks of the bird’s —
sweet voice (whereas its note is particularly harsh and
ugly), and Plutarch mistakes the sea-urchin’s shell for
that of the halcyon. Even the Tartars have a story to tell
of this bird, and assure us that a feather plucked from a
kingfisher and then cast into the water will gain the love
of every woman it afterwards touches, while the Ostiacs
held that the possession of the skin, bill, and claws of
the kingfisher will ensure the owner a life made up of
‘haleyon days.’
375

THE STORY OF A FROG

PART I

Everyone knows what excitement the approach of the
shooting season causes to a certain class of people in
Paris. One is perpetually meeting some of them on their
way back from the canal where they have been ‘getting
their hands in’ by popping at larks and sparrows, drag-
ging a dog after them, and stopping each acquaintance to
ask: ‘Do you like quails and partridges?’ ‘ Certainly.’
‘ Ah, well, I’ll send you some about the second or third of
next month.’ ‘Many thanks.’ ‘By the way I hit five
sparrows out of eight shots just now. Not bad, was it?’
‘First rate indeed !’

Well, towards the end of August 1830, one of these
sportsmen called at No. 109 in the Faubourg St.-Denis,
and on being told that Décamps was at home, climbed to
the fifth floor, dragging his dog up step by step, and
knocking his gun against every corner till he reached
the studio of that eminent painter. However, he only
found his brother Alexandre, one of those brilliant
and original persons whose inherent laziness alone
prevented his bringing his great natural gifts to
perfection.

He was universally voted a very good fellow, for his
easy good nature made him ready to do or give whatever
anyone asked. It was not surprising, therefore, that the
new comer soon managed to persuade Alexandre that
nothing could be more delightful than to attend the
376 THE STORY OF A FROG

opening of the shooting season on the plains of St.-Denis,
where, according to general report, there were swarms of
quails, clouds of partridges, and troops of hares.

As a result of this visit, Alexandre Décamps ordered a
shooting coat from his tailor, a gun from the first gun-
maker’s.in Paris, and a pair of gaiters from an equally
celebrated firm ; all of which cost him 660 franes, not to
mention the price of his licence.

On August 31 Alexandre discovered that one important
item was still wanting to his outfit—a dog. He went at
once to a man who had supplied various models to his
brother Hugéne’s well-known picture of ‘performing
dogs,’ and asked if he happened to have any sporting
dogs.

The man declared he had the very thing, and going to
the kennel promptly whipped off the three-cornered hat
and little coat worn by a black and white mongrel whom
he hastened to present to his customer as a dog of the
purest breed. Alexandre hinted that it was not usual for
a pointer to have such sharp-pointed ears, but the dealer
replied that ‘Love’ was an Hinglish dog, and that it was
considered the very best form for English dogs to have
pointed ears. As this statement might be true, Alexandre
made no further objections, but paid for the dog and took
Love home with him. ;

- At five o’clock next morning Alexandre was roused up
by his sporting friend, who, scolding him well for not
being ready earlier, hurried him off as fast as possible,
declaring the whole plain would be shot before they could
get there.

It was certainly a curious sight; not a swallow, not
even the meanest little sparrow, could rise without a
volley of shots after it, and everyone was anxiously on the
look-out for any and every sort of bird that could possibly
be called game.

Alexandre’s friend was soon bitten by the general
fever and threw himself energetically amidst the excited








THH STORY OF A FROG 377

crowd, whilst Alexandre strolled along more calmly,
dutifully followed by Love. Now everyone knows that
the first duty of any sporting dog is to scour the field and

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CORAL

LOVE’S DISGRACEYUL BEHAVIOUR OUT SHOOTING

not to count the nails in his master’s boots. This thought
naturally occurred to Alexandre, and he accordingly made
a sign to Love and said: ‘Seek!’
378 THE STORY OF A FROG

Love promptly stood up on his hind legs and began
to dance.

‘Dear me,’ said Alexandre, as he lowered his gun and
contemplated his dog: ‘It appears that Love unites the
lighter accomplishments to his more serious education.
T seem to have made rather a good bargain.’ However, .
having bought Love to point and not to dance, he waited
till the dance was over and repeated in firm tones:
‘Seek!’

Love stretched himself out at full length and appeared
to be dead.

Alexandre put his glass into his eye and inspected
Love. The intelligent creature was perfectly immovable;
not a hair on his body stirred, he might have been dead
for twenty-four hours.

‘This is all very pretty,’ said Alexandre, ‘but, my
friend, this is not the time for these jokes. We are here
to shoot—let us shoot. Come! get up.’

Love did not stir an inch.

‘Wait a bit,’ remarked Alexandre, as he picked up a
stick from the ground and took a step towards Love,
intending to stir him up with it: “Wait a bit.’ But no
sooner did Love see the stick in his master’s hand than .
he sprang to his feet and eagerly watched his movements.
Alexandre thinking the dog was at last going to obey, held
the stick towards him, and for the third time ordered him
to ‘ seek.’

Love took a run and sprang gracefully over the stick.

Love could do three things to perfection—dance on
his hind legs, sham dead, and jump for the king!

Alexandre, however, who did not appreciate the third
accomplishment any more than he had done the two
others, broke the stick over Love’s back, which sent him
off howling to his master’s friend.

As fate would have it the friend fired at that very
moment, and an unfortunate lark fell right into Love's
jaws. Love thankfully accepted this windfall, and made








THH STORY OF A FROG 379

but one mouthful of the lark. The. infuriated sportsman
threw himself on the dog; and seizing him by the throat
to force open his jaws, thrust in his hand and drew out—
three tail feathers: the bird itself was not to be thought
of, ‘
Bestowing a vicious kick on the unhappy Love, he
turned on Alexandre, exclaiming : ‘Never again do you
catch me shooting with you. Your brute of a dog has
just devoured a superb quail. Ah! come here if you
dare, you rascal !’

Poor Love had not the least wish to go near him. He
ran as fast as he could to his master, a sure proof that he
preferred blows to kicks.

However, the lark seemed to have whetted Love's
appetite : and perceiving creatures of apparently the same
kind rise now and then from the ground, he took to
scampering about in hopes of some second piece of good
luck.

Alexandre had some difficulty in keeping up with him,
for Love hunted his game after a fashion of his own, that
is to say with his head up and his tail down. This would
seem to prove that his sight was better than his scent,
but it was particularly objectionable to his master, for he
put up the birds before they were within reach, and then
ran barking after them. This went on nearly all day.

Towards five o’clock Alexandre had walked about
fifteen miles and Love at least fifty; the former was
exhausted with calling and the latter with barking, when,
all of a sudden Love began to point, so firmly and steadily
that he seemed changed to stone.

At this surprising sight Alexandre, forgetful of all his
fatigues and disappointments, hurried up, trembling lest
Love should break off before he could get within reach.
No fear ; Love might have been glued to the spot. Alex-
andre came up to him, noted the direction of his eyes
and saw that they were fixed on a tuft of grass, and that
under this grass there appeared to be same greyish object.
380 THE STORY OF A FROG

Thinking it must be a young bird which had strayed from
its covey, he laid down his gun, took his cap in his hand,
and cautiously creeping near, like a child about to catch
a butterfly, he flung the cap over the unknown object, put
in his hand and drew out—a frog!

Anyone else would have flung the frog away, but
Alexandre philosophically reflected that there must cer-
tainly be some great future in store for this, the sole result
of his day’s sport; so he accordingly put the frog care-
fully into his game bag and brought it home, where he



THE SOLE RESULT OF HIS DAY’S SPORT

transferred it to an empty glass jam jar and poured the
contents of his water-bottle on its head.

So much care and trouble for a frog may appear
excessive ; but Alexandre knew what this particular frog
had cost him, and he treated it accordingly.

It had cost him 660 frances, without counting his
licence.

PART II

‘Ah, ah!’ cried Dr. Thierry as he entered the studio
next day, ‘so you’ve got a new inmate.’ And without
paying any attention to Tom’s friendly growls or to
Jacko’s engaging grimaces, he walked straight up to the
THE STORY OF A FROG 381

jar which contained Mademoiselle Camargo—as she had
already been named.! ,

Mademoiselle Camargo, unaware that Thierry was not
only a learned doctor, but also a most intellectual and
delightful person, fell to swimming round and round her
jar as fast as she could go, which however did not prevent
her being seized by one of her hind legs.





MADEMOISELLE CAMARGO BECOMES A BAROMETER

‘Dear me,’ said Thierry, as he turned the little crea-
ture about, ‘a specimen of the Rana temporaria. See,
there are the two black spots near the eyes which give it
the name. Nowif you only had a few dozens of this
species, I should advise you to have a fricassée made of .
their hind legs, to send for a couple of bottles of good

1 A fashionable dancer in Paris.
382 THE STORY OF A FROG

claret, and to ask me to dinner. But as you only happen
to have one, we will, with your leave, content ourselves
with making a barometer.’

‘Now,’ said Thierry, opening a drawer, ‘let us attend
to the prisoner’s furniture.’ Saying which he took out
two cartridges, a gimlet, a penknife, two paint-brushes,
and four matches. Décamps watched him without in the:
least understanding the object of all these preparations,
which the doctor was making with as much care as though
for some surgical operation.

First he emptied the powder out of the cartridges into
a tray and kept the bullets. Then he threw the brushes
and ties to Jacko and kept the handles.

‘What the deuce are you about?’ cried Décamps,
snatching his two best paint-brushes from Jacko. ‘ Why
you're ruining my establishment!’

‘I’m making a ladder,’ gravely replied Thierry.

And true enough, having bored holes in the bullets,
he fixed the brush handles into them so as to form the
sides of the ladder, using the matches to make the rungs.
Five minutes later the ladder was completed and placed
in the jar, where the weight of the bullets kept it firmly
down. ,

No sooner did Mademoiselle Camargo find herself the
owner of this article of furniture than she prepared to test
it by climbing up to the top rung.

‘We shall have rain,’ said Thierry.

“You don’t say so,’ replied Décamps, ‘and there’s my
brother who wanted to go out shooting again to-day.’

‘Mademoiselle Camargo does not advise his doing so,’
remarked the doctor.

‘ How so ?’

‘My dear friend, I have been oi viaine you with an
inexpensive but reliable barometer. Hach time you see
Mademoiselle Camargo climb to the top of her ladder it’s
a sure sign of rain; when she remains at the bottom you
may count on fine weather, and if she goes up half-way,
THE STORY OF A FROG 383

don’t venture out without your umbrella; changeable,
changeable.’

‘ Dear me, dear me,’ said Décamps.

During the next six months Mademoiselle Camargo
continued to foretell the weather with perfect and un-
erring regularity. But for painful reasons into which we
need not inquire too closely, Mademoiselle’s useful career
soon closed, and she left a blank in the ménagerie.
384

THH WOODPHCKER TAPPING ON THE
HOLLOW OAK TREE

“

Most children who were taught music forty or fifty years
ago, learnt as one of their first tunes an air called ‘The
Woodpecker Tapping on the Hollow Oak Tree.’ Oak trees
are not the only ones that woodpeckers, and especially
American woodpeckers, ‘tap’ on. There is hardly any
old tree which they disdain to work upon, sometimes for
food, sometimes for nesting purposes, sometimes it would
seem merely for the sake of employment and of keeping
their bills in order.

For the woodpecker’s bill is a very powerful instru-
ment, and can get through a great deal of work. In the
case of the ‘ivory-billed woodpecker,’ it is not only white,
and hard, and strong, but it has a ribbed surface, which
tends to prevent its breaking, and even if he does not form
one of this class, the woodpecker is as clever in his own
line as any carpenter, and more industrious than many.
The moment that he notices symptoms of decay in any
tree, he flies off to make a careful examination of it, and
when he has decided on the best mode of attack, he loses
no time, and has even been known to strip all the bark
off a dead pine tree of thirty feet long in less than twenty
minutes. And this not in little bits, but in sheets five or
six feet long, and as whole as the fleece of a sheep when
it is sheared.

Of course different varieties of woodpeckers have little
differences in their habits, in the same way that habits
WOODPECKER TAPPING THE OAK TREE 385

differ in different families; but certain customs and ways
of digging are common to them all. Every woodpecker,
for instance, when placed in a wooden cage, will instantly
set to work to dig himself out of it, and to keep him safe,
he needs to be surrounded by wire, against which his bill
is utterly useless. In géneral the male and female work
by turns at the hole, which is always begun by the male,
and is as perfectly round as if it had been measured and
drawn from one point to another. For a while the boring
is quite straight, and then it takes a sloping direction, so
as to provide a partial shelter against the rain. Some-
times the bird will begin by a slope, and end in a direct
line, but the hole: is never straight all through, and the
depth varies from two to five feet, according to the kind
of woodpecker that is digging. The inside of the nest and
the passage to it are as smooth as if they had been
polished wlth a plane, and the chips of wood are often
thrown down in a careless manner, ai some distance, in
order that attention may not be attracted to the spot.
Often the bird’s labours have to begin, especially in
orchards, which are favourite nesting places with them,
with having to turn out swarms of insects, nestling com-
fortably between the bark and the tree. These he either
kills or eats; anyhow he never rests until they are safely
got rid of.

The woodpecker, is never still, and, in many respects,
is like a mischievous boy; so, as can be imagined, he is
not very easy to make apet of. One adventurous person,
however, captured a woodpecker in America, and has
left us a history of its performances during the three
days it lived in captivity. The poor bird was very
miserable in its prison, and cried so like a child that many
persons were completely taken in. Left alone for a short
time in the room while his captor had gone to look after
his horse, he examined the room carefully to see where
lay his best chance of escape. His quick eye soon
detected the plaster between the window and the ceiling,

ome
386 WOODPECKER TAPPING THE OAK TREE

and he began at once to attack the weak place. He
worked so hard that when his master returned he had laid
bare the laths, and had bored a hole bigger than his own
head, while the bed was strewn with big fragments of
plaster. A very little while longer and he would have
been free, and what a pity that he was disturbed in his
work! But his master was most anxious to keep him a
little longer, to observe his ways, so he tied him to the
leg of the table, and went off to get him some food. By
the time the man came back the mahogany table was
lying in bits about the floor, and the woodpecker was
looking eagerly round to see what other mischief he could
do. He would not eat food of any kind, and died in three
days, to the great regret of his captor.
387

DOGS OVER THE WATER

No animal, not even the horse, has made itself so many
friends as the dog. A whole library might be filled with
stories about what dogs have done, and men could learn
a great deal from the sufferings dogs have gone through
for masters that they love.

Whatever differences there may be between foreigners
and Englishmen, there is at any rate none in the behaviour
of British and foreign dogs. ‘Love me, love my dog,’ the
proverb runs, but in general it would be much more to the
point to say ‘love my dog, love me.’ We do not know
anything of the Austrian officer of whose death I am going
to tell you, but after hearing what his dog did, we should
all have been pleased to make the master’s acquaintance.

In the early years of this century, when nearly every
country in Europe was turned into a battlefield by
Napoleon, there was a tremendous fight between the
French and the Austrians at Castiglione in Lombardy,
which was then under the Austrian yoke. The battle was
hard fought and lasted several hours, but at length the
Austrian ranks were broken and they had to retreat, after
frightful losses on both sides. After the field had been
won, Napoleon, as his custom was, walked round among
the dead and dying, to see for himself how the day had
gone. Not often had he performed this duty amidst a
greater scene of blood and horror, and as he came to a
spot where the dead were lying thickest, he saw to his
surprise a small long-eared spaniel standing with his feet
on the breast of an Austrian officer, and his eyes fixed on

cod
388 DOGS OVER THE WATER

his face, waiting to detect the slightest movement. Ab-
sorbed in his watch, the dog never heard the approach of
the Emperor and his staff, but Napoleon called to one of
his attendants and pointed out the spaniel. At the sound
of his voice the spaniel turned round, and looked at the
Emperor, as if he knew that to him only he must appeal
for help. And the prayer was not in vain, for Napoleon
was very seldom needlessly cruel. The officer was dead
and beyond any aid from him, but the Emperor did what
he could, and gave orders that the dog should be looked
after by one of his own men, and the wounded Austrians
carefully tended. He knew what it was to be loved as
blindly. by men as that officer was loved by his dog. ~

Nearly two years before this time, France was trem-
bling in the power of a set of bloody ruffians, and in Paris
especially no man felt his head to be safe from one hour
to the other. Hundreds of harmless people were clapped
into prison on the most paltry charges, and if they were
not torn to pieces by infuriated crowds, they ended their
lives on the guillotine.

Among the last of the victims betoré the fall of Robes-
pierre, which finished the Reign of Terror, was a magis-
trate in one of the departments in the North of France
whom everyone looked up to and respected. It may be
thought that it would not have been easy to find a pretext
for throwing into prison a man of such an open and
honourable life,.but when other things failed, a vague
accusation of conspiracy against the Government was
always possible, and accordingly the magistrate was ar-
rested in his own house. No one was there to help him
or to share his confinement. He had long sent away his
children to places of safety; some of his relations were in
gaol like himself, and his friends dared not come forward.
They could have done him no good, and would only have
shared his fate. In those dark days every man had to suffer
alone, and nobly they did it. Only one friend the magis-
trate had who ventured openly to show his affection, and

DOGS OVER THE WATER 391

even he might go no farther than the prison doors, namely
his spaniel, who for twelve years had scarcely left his side;
but though dogs were not yet proscribed, the spaniel’s
whinings availed nothing, andthe gates were shut against
him. At first he refused to believe that his master wauld
never come back, and returned again and again with the
hopes of meeting the magistrate on his way home. At last
the dog’s spirits gave way, and he went to the house of a
friend of the family who knew him well, and received him
kindly. Even here, however, he had to be carefully hidden
lesthis protector should be charged with sheltering the dog
of an accused person, and have to pay the penalty on the
guillotine. The animal seemed to know what was ex-
pected of him, and never barked or growled as dogs love to
do; and indeed he was too sad to take any interest in
what was going on around him. The only bright spot in
his day was towards evening when he was secretly let out,
and he made straight for the gate of the prison. The gate
was never opened, but he always hoped that thes time it
would be, and sat on and on till he felt that his chance
was gone for that day. All the prison officials knew him
by sight, and were sorry for him, and one day the gaoler’s
heart was softened, and he opened the doors, and led him
to his master’s cell. It would be difficult to say which of
the two was the happier, and when the time came for the
prisoners to be locked up for the night, the man could
scarcely tear away the dog, so closely did he cling to his
master. However, there was no help for it, he had to be’
put outside, lest it should occur to some one in authority
to make a visit of inspection tothe prison. Next evening
the dog returned at the same hour and was again admitted,
and when his time was up, he went home with a light
heart, sure that by sunset next day he would be with his
beloved master.

This went on for several weeks, and the dog, at any
rate, would have been quite satisfied if it had gone on for
ever. But one morning the magistrate was told that he
392 DOGS OVER THE WATER

was to be brought before his judges to make answer to
his charge and receive his sentence. In the midst of a
vast crowd, which dared not show sympathy even if it
felt it, the magistrate pleaded for the last time, without a
friend to give him courage except his dog, which had
somehow forced himself through guards and crowd, and
lay crouched between his legs, happy at this unexpected
chance of seeing his master.

Sentence of death was pronounced, as was inevitable,
and the hour of execution was not long delayed. -In the
wonderful way that animals always do know when some-
thing out of the common is passing, the spaniel was
sitting outside the door when his master walked out for
the last time, although it was long before the hour of his
daily visit. Alone, of all the friends that he had known
and loved, his dog went with him, and stood beside him
on the steps of the guillotine, and sat at his feet when his
head fell. Vaguely the spaniel was aware that something
terrible had happened; his master, who had never failed
him before, would not speak to him now. It was in vain
to lick his hand: he got no pat in answer. But if his
master was asleep, and his bed was underground, then
he too must sleep by his side till the morning came and
the world awoke again.

So two nights passed, and three. Then his friend,
who had sheltered him during these long weeks, came to
look for him, and, after much coaxing and caressing, per-
suaded him to return to his old hiding-place. With great
difficulty he was induced to swallow some food, but the
moment his protector’s back was turned, he rushed out
and fought his way to his master’s grave.

This lasted for three months, and every day the dog
looked gadder and thinner than the day before. At length
his friend thought he would try a new plan with him,
and tied him firmly up. But in the morning he found
that the dog had, like Samson, broken through his bonds,
and was lying on the grave, which he never left again.
DOGS OVER THE WATER 393

Food was brought to him—he never came to seek it him-
self, and in time he refused even what was lying there
before him.” One day his friends found him trying to
scratch up the earth where his master lay; and all at
once his strength gave way, and with one howl he died,
showing the two men who stood around of love that was
stronger than death, and fidelity that lasted beyond the
grave."

One more story of a little dog—this fime an English
one—and I have done.

It was on February 8, 1587, that Mary Queen of Scots
ended her eighteen years of weary captivity upon a scaffold
at Fotheringay. Carefully dressed in a robe of black velvet,
with along mantle of satin floating above it, and her head
covered with a white crape veil, Mary ascended the plat-
form, where the executioner was awaiting her. Some
English nobles, sent by Queen Elizabeth to see that her
orders were carried. out, were standing by, and some of
Queen Mary’s. faithful women. But besides these was one
whose love for her was hardly less—the Queen’s little
dog, who had been her constant companion in the prison.
‘He was sitting there the whole time,’ says an eye-witness; .
‘keeping very quiet, and never stirring from her side ;
but as soon as the head was stricken off and placed upon ~
the seat, he began to bestir himself and cry out; after-
wards he took up a position between the body and the
head, which he kept until some one came and removed
him, and this had to be done by violence.’ We are not
told who took him away and tenderly washed off the
blood of Mary which was staining his coat, but we may
be sure that it was one of the Queen’s ladies who cherished
everything that belonged to her, and in memory of her
mistress would care for her little dog to the end of its
days.

1 From Observations in Natural History.
394

THH CAPOCIER AND HIS MATE

WueEn Vaillant the traveller was in Africa, he made the
acquaintance of a bird to which he gave the name of
capocier. It was a small creature, which was in the
habit of coming with its mate several times a day into
Vaillant’s tent; a proceeding which he thought arose
from pure friendship, but which he soon found sprang
from interested motives. Vaillant was making a collection
of birds, and his table was strewn about with moss, wool, —
and such things as he used for stuffing. The capocier,
with more sense than might have been expected of him,
found out very soon that it was much easier to steal
Vaillant’s soft material than to collect it laboriously for
himself, and the naturalist used to shut his eyes with
amusement while the birds flew off with a parcel of stuff-
ing as big as themselves.

He followed them, and tracked them to a bush which
grew by a spring in the corner of adeserted garden. Here
they had placed a thick layer of moss, in a fork of one of
the branches, and were ‘now engaged in weaving in grass,
cotton, and flax. The whole of the second day the little
pair worked hard, the male making in all forty-six journeys
to Vaillant’s room, for thieving purposes. The spoil was
always laid either on the nest itself, or within the reach
of the female, and when enough had been collected, they
both trampled it in, and pressed it down with their
bodies.

At last the male got tired, and tried to prevail on his
wife to play a game. She declined, and said she had no


THH CAPOCIER AND HIS MATE 395

time for such things; so, to revenge himself, the male
proceeded to pull to pieces her work. Seeing that he
would have his own way, the female at length consented
to play for a, little, and fluttered from bush to bush, while
her mate flew after her, but she always managed to keep
just out of his reach. When he had had enough, he let
her go back to her work, while he sang a song for a little,
and then made ready to help build the nest. He found,
or stole, the materials necessary, and carried them back
to his wife, who packed them firmly in and made all tidy.
But her husband was much more idle than she, and he
soon tired of steady labour. He complained of the heat,
and laughed at her for being in such a hurry, and said
there was plenty of time before them, and he wanted a
little fun. So eight times during that one morning the
poor wife had to leave off her building, and hide her im-
patience, and pretend to play, when she would much
rather have been doing something else, and it was three
days before the bottom was finished and the sides begun.

Certainly the making of the bottom was rather a
troublesome business; for the birds had to roll over every
part of it, so as to get it firm and hard. Then, when all
was right, they made a border, which they first trimmed
round, and next overlaid with cotton, pressing it all to-
gether with their breasts and shoulders. The twigs of
the bush in which the nest was built were interlaced into
the sides to prevent the whole structure being blown
down, and particular care was taken that none of them
should stick out in the inside of the nest, which was
absolutely smooth and solid. After seven days it was
done, and very pretty it was. It was perfectly white in
colour, and about nine inches high on the outside where
it had been made very thick, and not more than five
inches within. However that was quite big enough for
two such little people.








OWLS AND MARMOTS

It is curious, when we come to think of it, how very few
of the creatures that live upon the earth, ever take the
trouble to build any kind of house tolive in. For the most
part, they are contented to find out some cave or hole or
convenient place where they can be hidden, and from
which they can steal forth to get their food, but as for
collecting materials from the outside to make their
dwelling place stronger or more beautiful, as do the
beavers, for instance, why, we might all look for many
years before we should find a horse or a tiger employing
himself like that!

_. Yet we all know that all the birds that live (the
cuckoo excepted) manage to build some kind of a nest,
and so do some fishes and many insects. It would take
too long to write about them all, but we will just see
how some of the cleverest among them go to work.

One of the first things that struck Europeans trayel-
ling sixty or seventy years ago in the wild country beyond
the great Mississippi, was the fact that whole districts,
sometimes several acres in extent and sometimes several
miles, were covered with little mounds of the shape of a
pyramid, about two feet wide at the bottom, and at
the most eighteen inches high. These are the houses of
the marmots or prairie dogs, and when deserted as they .
often are by their original inhabitants, they become the
homes of burrowing owls.

Nowa neat, comfortable, well-built house is really quite
OWLS AND MARMOTS 307

necessary for the marmot, as he goes fast to sleep when
the weather begins to get cold, and does not wake up till
the sun is shining warmly again on the earth above him.
Then he sets to work, either to repair the walls of his
house which have been damaged by the heavy rains and
hard frosts, or if that seems useless labour, to dig a fresh
one somewhere else. But industrious as he is, the hard
work does not make the marmot at alla ‘dull boy,’ and
he can still spare time for a good game now and then.

Of course, as we are talking about birds, perhaps we
ought not to be describing marmots, which are naturally
‘not birds at all; but as they build for the burrowing owls
to inhabit, a description of the houses may not be out of
place. :

The entrance to the marmot’s house is either at the
top or on the side of the little mound above ground.
Then he hollows out a passage straight down for one, or
sometimes two feet, and this passage is continued in a
sloping direction for some distance further, when it
leads, like a story in the ‘Arabian Nights,’ into a large
warm room, built of sofi dry grass, which has been
packed into a tight, firm mass. In general the outside of
the little mounds is covered with small plants and
grasses, so that the marmot always has his food near at
hand, but occasionally they prefer to make their villages
in barren spots, as being safer from enemies. Still,
wherever they are, the sociable little colony of marmois
are said to be haunted by at least one burrowing owl, a
bird about nine inches long, and from a distance not very
unlike the marmot itself, when it is sitting up, listening
for the approach of danger. Ifno burrow seems likely to
be vacant at the time he wants one, the owl does not
scruple to turn out the owner, who has to begin all his
labour over again. Sometimes, when affairs above ground
are more than usually disturbed, and foes of all kinds are
prowling about, seeking whom they may devour, owls and
marmots and rattlesnakes, and lizards rush helter-skelter
398 OWLS AND MARMOTS

into the underground city, taking refuge from the dangers
of the upper world. It would be a strange sight if we
could see it, and it would be stranger still if the fugitives
manage to separate without some of the party having
gone to make the dinners of the rest.
399

HAGLES’ NESTS

a

Eacuns, as a rule, build their nests on the shelves of
rocks, high out of reach of any but the boldest climbers.
There are, however, some species among them who prefer
the tops of trees, at a height varying from fifteen to fifty
feet. These nests are constructed of long sticks, grass,
and even reeds, and are often as much as five or six feet
high, and at least four broad. Soft pine tops form the
lining, and a bed for the young.’ Many eagles are clever
divers, and like the excitement of catching their own fish,
instead of merely forcing the fish-hawks to give up their
prey, and an American naturalist gives an interesting
account of the sporting proceedings of two eagles on the .
Green River in Kentucky. The naturalist had been lying
hidden among the rocks on the bank of the river for about
two hours, when suddenly far above his head where the
eagle had built his nest, he heard a loud hissing, and on
looking up, saw that the little eaglets had crawled to
the edge of the nest, and were dancing with hope
and excitement at the idea of a good dinner. Ina few
moments the parent eagle reached the rock and balancing
himself on the edge by the help of his wings and tail,
handed over his spoil to the young ones. The little eagles
seemed in luck that day, for soon their mother appeared .
in sight carrying in her claws a perch. But either the
watcher below made some movement, or else her eyes
were far sharper than her mate’s, for with a loud ery she
400 ‘HAGLES’ NESTS

dropped her fish, and hovered over the nest to protect it
in case of an attack. When all was quiet again, the
naturalist went out cautiously to examine the perch, which
he found to weigh as much as 54 lbs. You do not catch
such big perch in England.

PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STRERT SQUARE
LONDON








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'2011-11-17T23:57:00-05:00'
describe
'600' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLPZ' 'sip-files00013.txt'
9a487abeabe909512a53004c234670ad
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'2011-11-18T00:01:36-05:00'
describe
'3243' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQA' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
057342970dd1d8fa1a65d5eacb533484
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'2011-11-17T23:57:59-05:00'
describe
'340036' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQB' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
4a807eed8a627a3ba3f163e00f4f1e3e
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describe
'103777' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQC' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
935ac3cf1a48acc7170110ab6a8fce47
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describe
'29548' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQD' 'sip-files00015.pro'
15be5609426072b0701683834c6525ff
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'2011-11-17T23:57:35-05:00'
describe
'32831' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQE' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
db5f72fbb5230f992613ff7e012b88af
8954f2e44aa2e5d1d4866d2334b8ffad954e233a
'2011-11-17T23:53:20-05:00'
describe
'2728824' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQF' 'sip-files00015.tif'
8e066e9edfc7734d2ee2746c5718372e
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'2011-11-18T00:00:34-05:00'
describe
'1178' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQG' 'sip-files00015.txt'
737bb8521d0ec3d1b1ae41fc892c29d6
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'2011-11-18T00:02:37-05:00'
describe
'8444' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQH' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
1f34899d5b670981a389d8118ade5ae4
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'2011-11-17T23:53:30-05:00'
describe
'339877' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQI' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
4437ba0dd1113b7cf518ea6fbe9aad99
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'2011-11-17T23:56:52-05:00'
describe
'136234' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQJ' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
180bf829c4cb2e5502a2d3bf7f11ba41
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'2011-11-18T00:00:29-05:00'
describe
'39620' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQK' 'sip-files00016.pro'
c25963c22af0c83fbbc1ef2efe4d5a12
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'2011-11-18T00:05:04-05:00'
describe
'43496' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQL' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
34a842202a48f6e615897b52a5da7d4e
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'2011-11-17T23:54:18-05:00'
describe
'2728328' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQM' 'sip-files00016.tif'
4bee32139d973ea9b9d82c9ca8ca5c6a
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'2011-11-17T23:53:16-05:00'
describe
'1558' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQN' 'sip-files00016.txt'
b8398e050646eb9f543d4857968f2dac
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'2011-11-17T23:52:33-05:00'
describe
'10935' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQO' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
a5d6e13ecf39a581c44276cb1bc93834
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'2011-11-17T23:53:04-05:00'
describe
'340040' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQP' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
0f801d0afa896561ba0b46e2bb0339bc
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'2011-11-17T23:57:54-05:00'
describe
'101327' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQQ' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
9c5a01b16066aca274f53c892b8a1c59
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'2011-11-17T23:59:00-05:00'
describe
'27985' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQR' 'sip-files00017.pro'
4469c8a15e78013f6bf15fb9cf43034d
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describe
'32841' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQS' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
69f2748baa4bf633abd1dbe3b6fd10a0
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'2011-11-17T23:56:59-05:00'
describe
'2728984' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQT' 'sip-files00017.tif'
7343fadca3f9d21bf7a4811c9deb8263
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'2011-11-17T23:56:20-05:00'
describe
'1138' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQU' 'sip-files00017.txt'
e8220468270070b86e70ff45327f7f7f
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'2011-11-18T00:01:02-05:00'
describe
'8616' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQV' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
fe9bb9205b6f92d3e8c6f0ed1cb97db1
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'2011-11-18T00:00:38-05:00'
describe
'339781' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQW' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
3957496c0358cee94f344e476f57cad4
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'2011-11-17T23:52:13-05:00'
describe
'11833' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQX' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
47309bf00a8cccbd58f5043cb1fe843b
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'2011-11-17T23:57:44-05:00'
describe
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79d5cc7db7d705150045f5a45baabf92
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'2011-11-17T23:57:10-05:00'
describe
'2725444' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLQZ' 'sip-files00018.tif'
56d51d036b9efe5edd2cffe4538142f1
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'2011-11-17T23:58:39-05:00'
describe
'1016' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRA' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
8bf9b37666d9564f05dd38e3f0849b67
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'2011-11-17T23:56:56-05:00'
describe
'339408' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRB' 'sip-files00019.jp2'
84480d068b75111a809b1932e79393aa
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'2011-11-17T23:53:06-05:00'
describe
'98248' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRC' 'sip-files00019.jpg'
c6f5c4e651cd1d99567d10e1cfc9b59c
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'2011-11-17T23:59:27-05:00'
describe
'37837' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRD' 'sip-files00019.pro'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:28-05:00'
describe
'29799' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRE' 'sip-files00019.QC.jpg'
d5b1de4a013bac0bb0d3173abfc9957a
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'2011-11-17T23:53:51-05:00'
describe
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d36c6093f124f0cfdd3ccee875b88cac
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'2011-11-18T00:00:21-05:00'
describe
'1660' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRG' 'sip-files00019.txt'
399465060149135c63619b61058f6a04
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'2011-11-17T23:55:15-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'7645' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRH' 'sip-files00019thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:55:16-05:00'
describe
'339695' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRI' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
f8c0672331b3856debaeed7aa8b03968
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'2011-11-18T00:02:38-05:00'
describe
'48539' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRJ' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
13e202777cb010befdd2d04d43e057ac
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'2011-11-17T23:56:24-05:00'
describe
'12490' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRK' 'sip-files00020.pro'
d7e6825f1ee87d9c806967ec62fd08e9
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describe
'14696' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRL' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2724936' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRM' 'sip-files00020.tif'
1c7363c3b15f62c8655d11cdc6640006
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'2011-11-18T00:02:44-05:00'
describe
'531' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRN' 'sip-files00020.txt'
b6e36fd6173210017d9fe662fbb2e811
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'2011-11-17T23:58:32-05:00'
describe
'3910' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRO' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
fa7cb4b6d0318626b9659ba54c33eeba
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'2011-11-17T23:53:57-05:00'
describe
'339575' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRP' 'sip-files00021.jp2'
a642a289ae56fbbb4c8029922b4dd4a6
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'2011-11-17T23:54:44-05:00'
describe
'94727' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRQ' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
fc556a884346e0cfb745ce40fbd123e5
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'2011-11-17T23:55:18-05:00'
describe
'43959' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRR' 'sip-files00021.pro'
042e005413a6745034624fd562a8452f
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'2011-11-17T23:57:31-05:00'
describe
'29164' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRS' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:57:45-05:00'
describe
'2725224' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRT' 'sip-files00021.tif'
2c0dbcd318827ec9e59f340530cac26c
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describe
'2033' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRU' 'sip-files00021.txt'
8eae2b681c2d3317bb8c219019d98e15
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'2011-11-17T23:56:15-05:00'
describe
'7454' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRV' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
518d70eb899f65225f30aad8d61c07b3
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describe
'338110' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRW' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
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'2011-11-17T23:55:44-05:00'
describe
'117243' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRX' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
592be52b347e9ed8fd0e23ebf543ef05
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'2011-11-18T00:01:23-05:00'
describe
'54306' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRY' 'sip-files00022.pro'
d7ecacfd4a161f4737a1cf4aa492bb4f
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'2011-11-17T23:58:20-05:00'
describe
'34248' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLRZ' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
7954c8d2d11490dd7585e19efa69f7d4
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'2011-11-17T23:56:26-05:00'
describe
'2713944' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSA' 'sip-files00022.tif'
427d25b2ccd7bdbbfd7982e683000c94
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'2011-11-18T00:01:53-05:00'
describe
'2491' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSB' 'sip-files00022.txt'
4d6fcee4cb14977bdffd6eaeaf09985f
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'2011-11-17T23:54:20-05:00'
describe
'8660' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSC' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
4fc410fd45d1225585afe97e3097cc61
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'2011-11-18T00:01:29-05:00'
describe
'336085' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSD' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
e7315e0aa8bc4353010b8aee2270ce05
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'2011-11-17T23:58:54-05:00'
describe
'110392' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSE' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
16177aa58d3004d043f6b193058b23a8
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describe
'33215' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSF' 'sip-files00023.pro'
65277e28a308e5fdbe63f6967e8614e9
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'2011-11-17T23:56:50-05:00'
describe
'32879' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSG' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
2f572579aa3e6dbd6c39c0e5b0183482
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'2011-11-17T23:52:02-05:00'
describe
'2697284' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSH' 'sip-files00023.tif'
4d47b2f84f03468ce10f2a1ea0a90ebe
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'2011-11-18T00:04:50-05:00'
describe
'1407' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSI' 'sip-files00023.txt'
ed2d99584e728d828eeaf5af57cf4831
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'2011-11-17T23:53:56-05:00'
describe
'8043' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSJ' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
b1d140381ffe5f0bec2a023504b65257
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'2011-11-17T23:53:34-05:00'
describe
'337362' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSK' 'sip-files00024.jp2'
b1eedd451623de8b98e749a3bb76e9c8
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'2011-11-17T23:58:14-05:00'
describe
'143303' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSL' 'sip-files00024.jpg'
15c4776d85671d406dd85bfd0b0c93c2
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'2011-11-18T00:03:12-05:00'
describe
'46271' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSM' 'sip-files00024.pro'
14dbaa01c44bb7da7930ac90d3883a52
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describe
'42355' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSN' 'sip-files00024.QC.jpg'
ed582b9375a9dbfbcf07558047eaa5bc
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describe
'2708204' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSO' 'sip-files00024.tif'
6dd6a06ae444e10f08fc9d852865e734
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'2011-11-17T23:54:17-05:00'
describe
'1842' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSP' 'sip-files00024.txt'
c0a8cfc88010238e26c691161b810514
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'2011-11-17T23:58:51-05:00'
describe
'10864' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSQ' 'sip-files00024thm.jpg'
ee0c21fcbd23660209049f05fdd636de
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'2011-11-18T00:01:46-05:00'
describe
'329497' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSR' 'sip-files00025.jp2'
abdecf509ae24b93165ae4d7dd145e33
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describe
'93414' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSS' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
04cab3f01092db6bc052fc2994c6e15b
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'2011-11-17T23:54:12-05:00'
describe
'1189' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLST' 'sip-files00025.pro'
f2cd8c425841fa74883a922b63a74809
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'2011-11-18T00:02:23-05:00'
describe
'21918' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSU' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
347230a97bbae729094dd0921bf84aab
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'2011-11-17T23:59:25-05:00'
describe
'2646368' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSV' 'sip-files00025.tif'
5df7b3e3a41424e2d77be8ac5959b2ca
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'2011-11-17T23:52:34-05:00'
describe
'50' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSW' 'sip-files00025.txt'
b322c28d16ba60e342fa35775137c881
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'2011-11-17T23:52:24-05:00'
describe
'5202' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLSX' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
123df5f6f9c256fb61fa8032f3795601
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'2011-11-17T23:57:20-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:17-05:00'
describe
'2593984' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLVZ' 'sip-files00037.tif'
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'2011-11-18T00:03:19-05:00'
describe
'2086' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWA' 'sip-files00037.txt'
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describe
'12509' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWB' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
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describe
'336108' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWC' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
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'2011-11-18T00:03:56-05:00'
describe
'161170' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWD' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:01-05:00'
describe
'7604' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWE' 'sip-files00038.pro'
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describe
'42585' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWF' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
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'2011-11-18T00:01:59-05:00'
describe
'2699028' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWG' 'sip-files00038.tif'
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describe
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describe
'11889' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWI' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
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describe
'342783' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWJ' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:52:41-05:00'
describe
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describe
'232' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWO' 'sip-files00041.txt'
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'2011-11-17T23:55:46-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'12276' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWP' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-18T00:04:54-05:00'
describe
'339534' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWQ' 'sip-files00042.jp2'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:52:38-05:00'
describe
'1215' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWU' 'sip-files00042thm.jpg'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
'47673' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWY' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2587652' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLWZ' 'sip-files00043.tif'
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:00:15-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:45-05:00'
describe
'339426' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXC' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
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describe
'162195' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXD' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:01:28-05:00'
describe
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:00:27-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:59:39-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:57:04-05:00'
describe
'327431' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXJ' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:54-05:00'
describe
'85536' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXK' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:54:24-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:58:43-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:59:24-05:00'
describe
'119' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXO' 'sip-files00045.txt'
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'2011-11-17T23:57:08-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:59:09-05:00'
describe
'329462' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXQ' 'sip-files00046.jp2'
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'2011-11-18T00:03:06-05:00'
describe
'12746' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXR' 'sip-files00046.jpg'
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:58:38-05:00'
describe
'1124' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXU' 'sip-files00046thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-18T00:03:57-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
'51995' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXX' 'sip-files00047.pro'
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describe
'47394' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXY' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2673372' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLXZ' 'sip-files00047.tif'
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'2011-11-17T23:52:00-05:00'
describe
'2134' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYA' 'sip-files00047.txt'
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describe
'11003' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYB' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:45-05:00'
describe
'339619' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYC' 'sip-files00048.jp2'
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'2011-11-18T00:01:43-05:00'
describe
'65937' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYD' 'sip-files00048.jpg'
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'2011-11-18T00:01:39-05:00'
describe
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describe
'19284' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYF' 'sip-files00048.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2724432' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYG' 'sip-files00048.tif'
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'2011-11-18T00:00:22-05:00'
describe
'801' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYH' 'sip-files00048.txt'
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describe
'5183' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYI' 'sip-files00048thm.jpg'
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describe
'327732' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYJ' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
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'2011-11-18T00:02:26-05:00'
describe
'125276' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYK' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:00:37-05:00'
describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:58-05:00'
describe
'1673' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYO' 'sip-files00049.txt'
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describe
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describe
'339391' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYQ' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:58:47-05:00'
describe
'2100' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYV' 'sip-files00050.txt'
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'2011-11-18T00:00:49-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-18T00:00:53-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABLYX' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
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'2011-11-17T23:52:35-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-18T00:01:13-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:56:30-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:08-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:55:07-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-18T00:00:46-05:00'
describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:56:29-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:47-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:52:47-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:51:59-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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8c76834c5de899fb40ca6df595e80c1958a71541
describe
'51300' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCD' 'sip-files00063.pro'
9f8460dbfcb98fb1792dd9520659a526
6f62f5b71fa064afeef3bb9f81b431b9091e1fb0
describe
'47625' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCE' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
a5ea3db28d5718724df5b1e0b91fad89
2fc0a7f73ccee5d0c2182cd16152102e6454017c
'2011-11-17T23:54:16-05:00'
describe
'2568836' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCF' 'sip-files00063.tif'
9a53f5c11bcf8ea26908b72f226c2a22
5cdeccb33da25855e035f11b1236c70973719231
'2011-11-17T23:57:55-05:00'
describe
'2109' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCG' 'sip-files00063.txt'
bc8c2975a09b4571e5f789b2837e3bf9
a5ddc5ded41bcb633de5834b99a3546502ca5b7e
describe
'12497' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCH' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
71a5b0dddae08472cbcb8fae3f9bfd16
bd8d086a596549e492dbf0ee10c4aee7c66fad16
describe
'339715' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCI' 'sip-files00064.jp2'
8acabd065a45e4d961a86fedb01167fb
6c4ef9cdf61ea21cfddc58abac624918f70c29a8
'2011-11-17T23:54:53-05:00'
describe
'154353' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCJ' 'sip-files00064.jpg'
f4d88896f54e52be4eeab6c935426f65
86cc034c3e93b4f0597aa6b1010eb20a8b3c917d
'2011-11-17T23:52:39-05:00'
describe
'49852' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCK' 'sip-files00064.pro'
f2c7f447646f4892cd06ad139f314941
19e8678aca022a8289218b24783d0f82774ea4cc
describe
'45591' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCL' 'sip-files00064.QC.jpg'
e86d5575b177584d7da6886bb92f8710
3a4940f7a44e8aaf36a060ea223e659ad8614ece
'2011-11-18T00:01:55-05:00'
describe
'2726988' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCM' 'sip-files00064.tif'
0197ad5c5e1d6ec99b74e1791c58df2a
6ede3035195098f4926aa1328c1e290bc229666a
describe
'2038' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCN' 'sip-files00064.txt'
f7275a8c54a50ae4aea12f40fc87ff58
ae8269a9c850118e2d50bcaeda35a4a7aa2a353c
'2011-11-17T23:58:37-05:00'
describe
'11123' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCO' 'sip-files00064thm.jpg'
0e2ff3390dc661bcc3e4a5ff1f017b02
18d99e8d5c0fb7674052e8af71b135f0e25a42c3
describe
'339574' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCP' 'sip-files00065.jp2'
dacd0d13a66d6e9f47897744f55783af
277577888e13438548db09958603ef3129cf6daf
'2011-11-18T00:01:35-05:00'
describe
'157223' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCQ' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
b340c87a797de9838787eb77da1a669f
c91584560c7146bd97da05666b089c34cca08fa9
'2011-11-17T23:53:24-05:00'
describe
'25618' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCR' 'sip-files00065.pro'
1c243fbf1345cb818659877ac850fc5d
14e6ef3b31aa476eb9d5ace81143a7abd42bec97
'2011-11-17T23:58:31-05:00'
describe
'41786' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCS' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
ca3b29afeeb4f4202a208a5fb8480dbd
1dae727ad27078f9cc78815437835d717a5c8e8b
'2011-11-17T23:55:56-05:00'
describe
'2725992' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCT' 'sip-files00065.tif'
17d08900994127c88d01feba270b2018
8ffb1a2baf77d3e6d7c8625b8133784451657d46
'2011-11-17T23:56:46-05:00'
describe
'1073' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCU' 'sip-files00065.txt'
868f3e936d4c7a5a1390dee7f3fd6fee
70c95a7e6c5ab5bd363756076e934132f9615e25
describe
'10509' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCV' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
174c406f816c2b894d1e5924b4f967a7
8d135d26cc1dfcf877294cee59b7f6aa21f33955
'2011-11-17T23:56:21-05:00'
describe
'339563' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCW' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
1814d2bccf49622d86338ae9862c5c16
aa933fe8b05df36ad89982f114759cf839ef121a
'2011-11-17T23:57:40-05:00'
describe
'92688' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCX' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
8d235762467ad09a194bd8640b8137b0
d5922efac3931bea012a5c4baefed321e05232a5
'2011-11-18T00:00:24-05:00'
describe
'29472' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCY' 'sip-files00066.pro'
786a8b3cba4485c6f6a25377e5111ddd
b6b5aabd20d98400396de8ad49a5c05cccb08663
describe
'27638' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMCZ' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
8d0ad2fb0ec4a148f33babbc94939ab0
49c7ce7e2046d8d1e2e57533dc08841cd55c243c
describe
'2725052' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDA' 'sip-files00066.tif'
ea6e25cbe95c902dfd7856b9ba748ce8
2b23550712e1bdf333124495f8315df69f3b08a1
describe
'1179' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDB' 'sip-files00066.txt'
6c69b473b72f5110e9b63d1e4e9f080d
25abb460872b36985890df78c9ed0f352c3b3e8f
'2011-11-18T00:03:25-05:00'
describe
'6969' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDC' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
3efe4832a053365b31ee796c8e575ea8
f58dddd5104dc364792000cdf6502230dc905b38
'2011-11-18T00:03:09-05:00'
describe
'331694' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDD' 'sip-files00067.jp2'
8446ee5212c4f6264093756370ab5713
49ac2d703a9ead755cb50fa0fdb4ea5b11da38af
describe
'120797' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDE' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
ad090f1e26224d1e9fa3ab3a5c57f09d
0c840aa35811f80c86ab6529a0c9af3d7b1f711a
'2011-11-17T23:54:55-05:00'
describe
'38672' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDF' 'sip-files00067.pro'
82afa15c29f22bc3b814b4f8453afa09
baf6f0e6959a67590540afda04318d29a03e3efa
describe
'35651' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDG' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
f112c4aefe008c2cef4517ec3960f2d7
ce600c34c1f051fbb64b4b9a1a7a128ae5d9a76b
describe
'2662992' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDH' 'sip-files00067.tif'
d3bf048361512a5f70fdf10e07d29a0f
7d3fed9c787209b482940a0e3db2fdb1fcf398a3
'2011-11-18T00:04:08-05:00'
describe
'1616' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDI' 'sip-files00067.txt'
777bdbf1aed71cc590c523a99da61ae7
b56a463589a8383c91e44e3a0894aa3ff620db58
describe
'9228' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDJ' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
19dcbe6db706be91c0caa8a623d730f6
fbb540fdd93c3e6e1ae3269696e7442dd7368d85
describe
'339395' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDK' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
504ab3d0843d43168427c2a1af1b86e0
e18452376b6bf075338a03a7eda70aa6ee431e9c
describe
'148602' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDL' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
324587c3662901ad955687582d0da6dd
fbd8f113e4d6852d8e00c4d42048acc983e507f9
'2011-11-17T23:55:03-05:00'
describe
'24337' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDM' 'sip-files00068.pro'
72d8edd6d9d3ab1a08532cae871f4d2a
e5b7581a175685baf43ddeab6544cdaefb8329c3
describe
'39705' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDN' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
a5137b3841febeecd5bf0f51f3035903
99187c2199ed7ed68e336154ccc6c14b7607d579
'2011-11-17T23:55:21-05:00'
describe
'2724988' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDO' 'sip-files00068.tif'
697e255a88505982f03db43d1f845b59
8b9561178f3266fa76fd32d3aaeb70457fff1349
'2011-11-17T23:52:32-05:00'
describe
'1399' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDP' 'sip-files00068.txt'
b145b4d722fb02c34b13d8c42a86da74
db463fa4369e64e8baacba6e1fb245b70a5f763d
'2011-11-17T23:59:23-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'10072' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDQ' 'sip-files00068thm.jpg'
e411bebb2af8e36ef2e760579cb5b239
408604c519ecba65ce87138943af5aec66e66cea
describe
'332960' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDR' 'sip-files00069.jp2'
3ebaf66d14a58078d967b044120c803e
2a8478720a8bed24e41012f0785e7c02343ec9cd
describe
'154035' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDS' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
1f0db3cb848d80adfff37247a834202c
a7c04059b158daee66bbf1077a6d16ce21c7b9c0
'2011-11-17T23:58:01-05:00'
describe
'51775' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDT' 'sip-files00069.pro'
4c6f12e608f3f85a4ade9f16c2daa8df
c237553a410d49b91a5ccb328d813f75e49ddc66
'2011-11-18T00:02:34-05:00'
describe
'45882' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDU' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
825e432be7077d6a4563389d3dea3642
b318e6872e70642cdf8245bed112e6ea50b8002a
describe
'2673020' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDV' 'sip-files00069.tif'
1c48dd601b96a5889fc0a10c76c43c8f
a0bec91b239a7c5de75c0b4e25225a30dc94e37a
'2011-11-17T23:56:58-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDW' 'sip-files00069.txt'
f9a02a0bd8d55eb27f803f362038c42f
2ecffa264eff08953a7ca7a0cac49f59e2ea44f8
'2011-11-18T00:02:50-05:00'
describe
'10926' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDX' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
1a69a7330281d86f6a2aca7daa7b6f3f
8873357a64cbb354437b3276390a1ea34269a291
describe
'339448' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDY' 'sip-files00070.jp2'
00f7b5838ef26af0a1e9595b97da876f
bebf1d51c279a0641797fc5e9f9db01701fd74aa
describe
'185288' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMDZ' 'sip-files00070.jpg'
ac0c2d3f7b4a2138ec5f012e8049858f
2f0aec7c63651ea426bc8ef03f6eb2e122b15af9
describe
'17754' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEA' 'sip-files00070.pro'
5048cd3aa31b90cfe52a80f9bd64bef9
f61ccfa918e43edf372c3aab3723bcdbcae3eac2
describe
'48988' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEB' 'sip-files00070.QC.jpg'
59f2a041834ec177422cc54d675e214f
1e11c34538a1a4996635bccbccb5cf68ee556f02
describe
'2725780' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEC' 'sip-files00070.tif'
c88457cac970c81b5e048663c3463853
a168237559a81d6792772e93d07cd8dcfc891b9d
'2011-11-18T00:03:40-05:00'
describe
'1109' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMED' 'sip-files00070.txt'
989378e02bc4e398a70145855fe31f41
f7c931dbd25cda77b3cf474d0cb06664d3c98977
describe
Invalid character
'12413' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEE' 'sip-files00070thm.jpg'
19684148e3d66e77330cfd9c08dff37d
5b2e85ff25e7c3608262375da66d9cfd32f95bc9
describe
'327999' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEF' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
05ca16cca925c718220dd0a3bff167c9
fd0811e0a2f97e32e6dfefc642e836f99b2a0660
'2011-11-18T00:01:37-05:00'
describe
'153139' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEG' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
b09f4fe9fd0ced7755c0457cb35a891d
6b45e7bd24cfcb8fdcee76edcafce70de6dab437
describe
'50429' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEH' 'sip-files00071.pro'
a32742cc19400f685aaf8ba23627d612
a146ccc59e5d265ff9394d2c2988268a245b574f
'2011-11-17T23:58:09-05:00'
describe
'45293' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEI' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
b0a0de6985a8734463d5931bd5882661
ab4a3038f140bc84e152ab8b538465f9227afe9b
'2011-11-17T23:52:48-05:00'
describe
'2633976' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEJ' 'sip-files00071.tif'
9a26934cca1366bc948c4f351b27f990
7704085635355989facc60140ed6d4e034b99650
'2011-11-18T00:01:49-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEK' 'sip-files00071.txt'
4d6df79948ca5b27a659be2d302c8336
8bf9b7961a31d1cfce9fc7524c7b4bdadfcf1e69
'2011-11-18T00:01:03-05:00'
describe
'11716' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEL' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
4da1c56ed1e9b3b80fd7516a341323eb
b7687964841d219e63af0edf792c1ede4694bcb6
'2011-11-18T00:05:03-05:00'
describe
'339864' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEM' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
67539154abd60588197f5672776f8221
8a2fc926dda6cfc59e7196d028db6736e5204813
describe
'125769' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEN' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
adaeee32d2595a276f399c982cd35077
3c6c69ceb7139bf5255d15018f84283fe6572620
'2011-11-17T23:57:37-05:00'
describe
'21854' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEO' 'sip-files00072.pro'
fd3410c6d0ea0b471c1d84682be464d5
74edbb432d6efd5180fd75d246fd553d2c3497ff
'2011-11-17T23:54:23-05:00'
describe
'35514' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEP' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
c276ca4831f7bfcc0be8b7b8cb439c1a
866827a04743192fc98419ed2b4b9c69aa24ffd4
'2011-11-17T23:59:46-05:00'
describe
'2728044' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEQ' 'sip-files00072.tif'
c295bc64297e1b8cd62f8f1092edfef6
b78c5af22557baaf8abe37b2047ed4018c0ce6ad
describe
'966' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMER' 'sip-files00072.txt'
b19efafb7021dc5c66663d214ad55547
0e6d5edff1c2725e3ffee9888599d7131f825929
describe
Invalid character
'9034' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMES' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
34f215e91f0c4335a7479c24a71d7dac
388ca9d94839a657d03b1abf1e7b6f0e3ade56af
'2011-11-18T00:01:45-05:00'
describe
'319392' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMET' 'sip-files00073.jp2'
359bd06d53eb4db9646d8e3e5391f6bc
02dacdce93715fbadf55c3fb813d743f2178a42d
describe
'109933' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEU' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
e253bf4bb05785db1da8215ee699e0ed
0b6a364eea14f610f3aedb7e6ef4b6124c8be0ed
describe
'34045' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEV' 'sip-files00073.pro'
04bf0a10ead7ef49a5f36b0f6d700d66
07969a8f1ccf551fc87cb8f53ff6540ca216c515
describe
'33057' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEW' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
c165ed9a6608c50e7232070a45031cec
e98da6cfdda8e35e05f75f32fa7ee5b54cad6e70
'2011-11-17T23:52:57-05:00'
describe
'2563796' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEX' 'sip-files00073.tif'
a815d3e51912f403974916e2c5668167
b441f76b82486a5c902e6905f7c44b4be5e7ffb8
'2011-11-18T00:00:28-05:00'
describe
'1414' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEY' 'sip-files00073.txt'
4bf3a7a9b4dd4bae53a11a5bff676930
8ac56db62196b1b03d10cf919d80282e19cf296d
describe
'8853' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMEZ' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
b8705d3fdc1642be39b9f3f8a4d2d81d
25da39590bdaff1a340927c711b0e33b34a90284
'2011-11-17T23:58:24-05:00'
describe
'339599' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFA' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
16372ce8425d0231b46428838d7be8ce
039d5061ba525d0c265c48ef104d5d9720384a26
'2011-11-17T23:56:02-05:00'
describe
'119460' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFB' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
1d5281c76dd8487941d3d85291bde91e
bf9b6e5542339d0a7354c8ef15654ceb9a3f39d9
describe
'37907' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFC' 'sip-files00074.pro'
ce50352a06d8fba97c399336d7feee0c
ec2a9e58e679f48633bc254b2c00b88ebf2ed5b9
'2011-11-17T23:57:14-05:00'
describe
'36267' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFD' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
a0e474409e1003b3761262c260bb4b31
62dfc24b577925de2a4b679b34343e7d54b11f3d
'2011-11-17T23:59:57-05:00'
describe
'2725644' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFE' 'sip-files00074.tif'
1786a64c89933e13135c2f820f460bb4
0a5ea699dafaf9f1a8bdb080dee5286a92c4e434
'2011-11-17T23:58:41-05:00'
describe
'1576' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFF' 'sip-files00074.txt'
e2de4508e827b7d4251178034c35f752
f9382751e252aabafe9b8e99e2103247cb25ac59
'2011-11-17T23:52:36-05:00'
describe
'8894' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMFG' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
173a52dfaca7514181c98165a35ea2aa
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMMU' 'sip-files00104.jp2'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
'1627' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMPD' 'sip-files00112.txt'
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describe
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describe
'338173' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMPF' 'sip-files00113.jp2'
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describe
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describe
'53874' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMPH' 'sip-files00113.pro'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSE' 'sip-files00124.tif'
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'2011-11-17T23:53:38-05:00'
describe
'1935' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSF' 'sip-files00124.txt'
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describe
'11034' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSG' 'sip-files00124thm.jpg'
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describe
'336725' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSH' 'sip-files00125.jp2'
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describe
'150514' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSI' 'sip-files00125.jpg'
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describe
'49909' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSJ' 'sip-files00125.pro'
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describe
'45354' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSK' 'sip-files00125.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2702936' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSL' 'sip-files00125.tif'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:22-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSM' 'sip-files00125.txt'
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'2011-11-18T00:01:41-05:00'
describe
'11137' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSN' 'sip-files00125thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-18T00:00:39-05:00'
describe
'339438' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSO' 'sip-files00126.jp2'
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'2011-11-17T23:54:59-05:00'
describe
'138446' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSP' 'sip-files00126.jpg'
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describe
'46060' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSQ' 'sip-files00126.pro'
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describe
'42472' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSR' 'sip-files00126.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2724832' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSS' 'sip-files00126.tif'
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describe
'1850' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMST' 'sip-files00126.txt'
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describe
'10559' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSU' 'sip-files00126thm.jpg'
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describe
'337379' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSV' 'sip-files00127.jp2'
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describe
'127881' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSW' 'sip-files00127.jpg'
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describe
'40152' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSX' 'sip-files00127.pro'
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describe
'38695' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSY' 'sip-files00127.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2708000' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMSZ' 'sip-files00127.tif'
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'2011-11-17T23:54:46-05:00'
describe
'1717' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTA' 'sip-files00127.txt'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:55-05:00'
describe
'10527' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTB' 'sip-files00127thm.jpg'
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describe
'339351' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTC' 'sip-files00128.jp2'
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describe
'126342' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTD' 'sip-files00128.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:59:29-05:00'
describe
'40866' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTE' 'sip-files00128.pro'
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describe
'39785' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTF' 'sip-files00128.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2724720' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTG' 'sip-files00128.tif'
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describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTH' 'sip-files00128.txt'
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describe
'10213' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTI' 'sip-files00128thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:53:59-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTJ' 'sip-files00129.jp2'
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describe
'122429' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTK' 'sip-files00129.jpg'
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describe
'38976' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTL' 'sip-files00129.pro'
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describe
'37165' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTM' 'sip-files00129.QC.jpg'
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describe
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describe
'1663' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTO' 'sip-files00129.txt'
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describe
'10212' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTP' 'sip-files00129thm.jpg'
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describe
'339728' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTQ' 'sip-files00130.jp2'
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describe
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describe
'45648' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTS' 'sip-files00130.pro'
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describe
'42622' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTT' 'sip-files00130.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2726848' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTU' 'sip-files00130.tif'
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'2011-11-17T23:55:49-05:00'
describe
'1857' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTV' 'sip-files00130.txt'
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describe
'10464' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTW' 'sip-files00130thm.jpg'
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describe
'339447' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTX' 'sip-files00131.jp2'
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describe
'181939' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMTY' 'sip-files00131.jpg'
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describe
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describe
'48293' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUA' 'sip-files00131.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2725412' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUB' 'sip-files00131.tif'
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describe
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describe
Invalid character
'12404' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUD' 'sip-files00131thm.jpg'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:03:20-05:00'
describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:57:13-05:00'
describe
'1670' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUJ' 'sip-files00132.txt'
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:01:57-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-18T00:03:31-05:00'
describe
'38584' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUN' 'sip-files00133.pro'
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'2011-11-18T00:02:43-05:00'
describe
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'2011-11-18T00:03:08-05:00'
describe
'2724516' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUP' 'sip-files00133.tif'
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describe
'1655' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUQ' 'sip-files00133.txt'
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describe
'10237' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUR' 'sip-files00133thm.jpg'
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describe
'339852' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUS' 'sip-files00134.jp2'
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describe
'144754' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUT' 'sip-files00134.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:59:28-05:00'
describe
'45839' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUU' 'sip-files00134.pro'
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describe
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describe
'2728016' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUW' 'sip-files00134.tif'
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'2011-11-18T00:02:32-05:00'
describe
'1922' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUX' 'sip-files00134.txt'
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'2011-11-17T23:59:34-05:00'
describe
'10515' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUY' 'sip-files00134thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:52:55-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMUZ' 'sip-files00135.jp2'
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describe
'96290' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVA' 'sip-files00135.jpg'
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describe
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describe
'27190' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVC' 'sip-files00135.QC.jpg'
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describe
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describe
'690' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVE' 'sip-files00135.txt'
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:12-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVG' 'sip-files00136.jp2'
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'2011-11-17T23:53:48-05:00'
describe
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describe
'42579' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVI' 'sip-files00136.pro'
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describe
'40271' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVJ' 'sip-files00136.QC.jpg'
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:56:25-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
'10236' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVT' 'sip-files00137thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-18T00:03:39-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVU' 'sip-files00138.jp2'
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describe
'142991' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVV' 'sip-files00138.jpg'
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describe
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describe
'44256' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVX' 'sip-files00138.QC.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:57:16-05:00'
describe
'2726472' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVY' 'sip-files00138.tif'
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describe
'1869' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMVZ' 'sip-files00138.txt'
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describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMWA' 'sip-files00138thm.jpg'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:04:31-05:00'
describe
'1837' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMWG' 'sip-files00139.txt'
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'2011-11-17T23:58:12-05:00'
describe
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describe
'339582' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMWI' 'sip-files00140.jp2'
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:56:47-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
Invalid character
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:53:35-05:00'
describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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describe
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'2011-11-17T23:52:54-05:00'
describe
'47131' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMYW' 'sip-files00149.QC.jpg'
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describe
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'2011-11-18T00:01:58-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMYY' 'sip-files00149.txt'
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describe
'11340' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMYZ' 'sip-files00149thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:58:02-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZA' 'sip-files00150.jp2'
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describe
'153998' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZB' 'sip-files00150.jpg'
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describe
'47928' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZC' 'sip-files00150.pro'
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describe
'45304' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZD' 'sip-files00150.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2724872' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZE' 'sip-files00150.tif'
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describe
'1920' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZF' 'sip-files00150.txt'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:57-05:00'
describe
'11194' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZG' 'sip-files00150thm.jpg'
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describe
'326801' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZH' 'sip-files00151.jp2'
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describe
'79712' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZI' 'sip-files00151.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:55:58-05:00'
describe
'3127' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZJ' 'sip-files00151.pro'
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describe
'20170' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZK' 'sip-files00151.QC.jpg'
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describe
'2624496' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZL' 'sip-files00151.tif'
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'2011-11-17T23:56:04-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZM' 'sip-files00151.txt'
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describe
'5029' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZN' 'sip-files00151thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:52:56-05:00'
describe
'327075' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZO' 'sip-files00152.jp2'
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describe
'11140' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZP' 'sip-files00152.jpg'
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describe
'3048' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZQ' 'sip-files00152.QC.jpg'
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describe
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describe
'1002' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZS' 'sip-files00152thm.jpg'
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'2011-11-17T23:54:02-05:00'
describe
'320186' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZT' 'sip-files00153.jp2'
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describe
'139353' 'info:fdaE20081001_AAAACBfileF20081002_AABMZU' 'sip-files00153.jpg'
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