A cap to deck his brows;
Then climbing up the highest trees,
Sat chattering on the boughs.
"The sailor waked, his caps were gone,
And loud and long he grieves,
Till, looking up with heart forlorn,
He spied at once the thieves.
"With cap of red upon each head
Full fifty faces grim,
The sailor sees amid the trees,
With all eyes fixed on him.
"He brandished quick a mighty stick,
But could not reach their bower,
Nor could he stone, for every one
Was far beyond his power.
"'Alas!' he thought, 'I've safely brought
My caps far o'er the seas;
But could not guess it was to dress
Such little rogues as these.'
"Then quickly down he threw his own,
And loud in anger cried,
'Take this one too, you thievish crew,
Since you have all beside.'
"But quick as thought the caps were thrown
From every monkey's crown,
For, like himself, each little elf
Threw his directly down.
"He then with ease did gather these,
And in his pack did bind;
Then through the woods conveyed his goods,
And sold them to his mind."
I daresay you could tell me the story of the monkeys who washed their hands
and faces in pitch, and so were caught. But from all the stories which are
told about monkeys, I fancy that we think of them too much as clever, and
noisy, and mischievous, and sometimes very ill-tempered and revengeful; so
I want to tell you something of their good and gentle ways, and especially
of their love for their little ones.
I used to watch a mother, in the monkey-house at the Gardens, nursing
her baby--a tiny grey thing, with its hair parted down the middle, and
the funniest, most knowing little face of its own. She nursed it in the
tenderest way, with such a loving expression on her face the while.
Then I have read of an American monkey driving away the flies which teased
her little one; and of another good mother who was seen washing the faces
of her family in a stream. And they are kind not only to their own; for if
a poor little monkey is left an orphan, it is sure to be taken care of by
some other monkey's father or mother.
A gentleman who was coming home from India tells this story: There were on
board two monkeys, one older than the other, but not its mother. One day
the little one fell overboard. The other at once jumped over the side of
the vessel to a part of the ship where she could stand, and holding on by
one hand, with the other she held out to the poor little drowning monkey
the end of the cord by which she was tied up, but which was then dangling
from her waist. It was a wonderful plan for her to think of, was it not?
But the cord was too short, and the little monkey was saved by a sailor who
threw it a rope, which came near enough for it to catch at and cling to.
I remember being told by a brother of mine who had once shot a young
monkey, that he could not forget the reproachful look which the poor mother
gave him, and he never again would shoot one. He said the little wounded
monkey cried like a child.
If you have ever seen a bat, you will think it strange to class these
winged creatures with monkeys, and it does at first sight seem a mistake
that they should be among the Mammalia at all; one would expect to see
all winged things in the Bird family. But the bat is rightly placed in
this division, and you will understand why it has been classed with the
Quadrumana, when you have carefully examined those soft, fan-like wings
which you can spread out with your fingers. If you could take a bat in your
hand, and look at it from head to foot, you would notice three things very
unlike a bird about it. In the first place, it has no feathers, but is
covered with very soft grey fur; it has no beak, but sharp teeth--so sharp
that I advise you to keep your fingers out of their way; then, look at its
long ears! It certainly cannot be a bird.
Besides being reckoned among the four-handed creatures, a Greek name has
been given to bats, from the curious way in which their fore paws, or
hands, have been lengthened out into wings; it means "hand-winged."
Now, keeping this name in mind, gently unfold the wing: the small bones
which you feel, over which the soft grey web is stretched, are really the
fingers of the animal, very long fingers they are, and the web is the skin
of the back and breast which has been drawn over them, so as to make this
strange hand-wing. If you cannot examine a live bat, perhaps by studying
this picture of one, you may understand better how this soft, dusky wing is
made.
[Illustration: "FLITTER-MOUSE" ON THE WING.]
The bat is what is called a nocturnal animal, because it cannot bear the
strong light of day, and flies about at night in search of its food. We
sometimes hear it said that a person is "as blind as a bat," but that is
because when bats are taken, contrary to their nature, into the sunlight,
they are so dazzled by it, that they fly blunderingly hither and thither,
in their efforts to get away from it. They have very sharp eyes, but they
do not use them by day, but sleep all day long, hitched to a stone in a
wall, or to a branch in the woods by their hind legs--always choosing a
dark place, and folding their wings around them like a curtain.
I remember being very much afraid of bats when I was a child. An old castle
by the sea swarmed with them, and when my brothers took lighted pieces of
wood and went into the dark, deserted ruin to rouse the sleeping bats and
see whether they could not catch one, the way in which the poor dazed
creatures flew at our faces in their blind efforts to escape frightened
me very much, and when one was caught and put into my hand I disliked the
"creepy" feel of the soft wings too much to keep it long. I knew nothing
about bats then, and was silly enough to think that they were "horrid"
and "frightful" creatures--words which we should not use in speaking of
anything that God has made. Now that I have learnt a little about them, I
fancy I should not mind going into that old castle, and having another look
at them; but still I do not think I should care to have one for a pet.
Perhaps you think no one would; but I have read of a tame bat which knew
its master, and loved to be stroked and petted as much as a dog would.
Indeed it behaved very much like a dog, for it would climb up its master's
coat and rub its head against him--more like a cat, you will say, in
this--and lick his hands. When its master sat down, the bat used to hitch
itself up to the back of his chair, and it would take flies and insects
from his hand. But I have no doubt he was always a dull pet in the daytime;
for it really is his time for sleep, and we cannot change the nature of
animals, and ought not to try to do so.
Talking about sleeping, I must not forget to tell you that a bat is like a
dormouse in one respect: it does not fly away to a warm, country when the
cold is coming, and the insects are getting scarce, but goes off to sleep
in a barn, or belfry, or cave, and sleeps on all through the winter,
needing neither food nor drink. There are many different kinds of bats
about which you can read in Natural History books; one kind eats fruit, not
insects. The bat is about the size of a mouse, and feeds its young, as the
mouse does, with milk. When we were speaking of the animals mentioned in
the Bible no one thought of the bat; but it is referred to among the birds
or winged things, which might not be eaten by the Israelites; also in
Isaiah ii. we read that in that day when the Lord alone shall be exalted,
"a man shall cast his idols of silver and his idols of gold ... to the
moles and to the bats"--for they especially haunt waste and desolate
places.
Now we must leave the Four-handed family, and come to the largest class
among the Mammalia--the Quadrupeds. As all four-footed animals, no matter
how unlike each other they may be in other respects, belong to this family,
you may imagine what a very large one it must be. Naturalists have divided
the Quadrupeds into different classes, and at the head of them they place
the Carnivora, or flesh-eaters, so called because they are beasts of prey,
catching birds and smaller animals alive, and eating them.
The animals of the Cat kind--lions, tigers, panthers, jaguars--are the most
beautiful as well as the most dangerous of this class. They have long and
sharp teeth, and very long claws--five on the forefeet and four on the
hinder-feet--and these claws are kept sharp by being guarded within a soft
sheath when not wanted; so that all these cat-like creatures tread very
softly.
You have often noticed how pussy can stretch out her claws when she wishes
to climb or to scratch, but you know they are most often hidden within this
velvet sheath. If you have ever watched your cat creeping cautiously nearer
and nearer to her prey, and then suddenly springing upon the poor little
mouse or bird, you will know exactly how such great and terrible cats as
lions and tigers spring upon their prey, whether it be a cow or a sheep, a
man or a child.
Of all of them, none is so fierce as the
"Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,"
which is found now in only one quarter of the world--in Asia, especially
India--and is so bold that he will fight with a lion.
[Illustration: TIGER AND CROCODILE--"THE TUG-OF-WAR."]
No beast has such a beautiful skin; but you may not know that this
wonderful coat is made for use as well as for beauty. A writer who has
observed very carefully says, "However lovely nature frames or fashions a
plant or a bird or an animal, it is never for ornament, but for some actual
purpose or use." It is a good thing to bear this in mind, and to try to
find out the uses of the beautiful things which you see. The stripes of
the tiger are so very like the long grass--taller than a tall man--of the
jungle, is its home, that the hunters, mounted on their trained elephants,
cannot see him, unless he betrays his hiding-place by some movement.
Tiger-hunting is a very dangerous sport, and many tigers are killed, not in
the chase, but by being taken in pitfalls by the natives.
I am sure you know a great deal about the king of beasts, and I need
not describe him, since you have probably both seen him and heard his
terrible voice. Still, we can have little idea, from seeing lions in this
country--very likely born in captivity--how majestic the king is in his
forest home in Africa. Those who have heard his roar echoing through the
forest, say that it rolls along like distant thunder, and that when he is
angry his eyes flash with a gleam almost like lightning. His strength is
so enormous that one blow of that soft paw, which looks so harmless, will
break the back of a horse, or knock down the strongest man; and he will
carry off a young cow as a cat carries off a mouse. Young lions are very
pretty, and as playful as kittens. I have seen a happy family all in one
cage--a great African lion called Hannibal, with a very royal look; a
lioness and her four cubs, playing with a retriever pup! The cribs looked
very much like big puppies, and had such innocent, gentle little faces,
that you would have liked to pat and pet them.
You will not be surprised to hear that the lion was the one chosen by all
the little boys, when they answered their question about animals mentioned
in the Bible. They all found the story telling how David, when he was a
shepherd boy, killed both a lion and a bear, when they had taken a lamb
from the flock, and rescued the helpless little creature out of the very
mouth of the lion--and how he said to King Saul, "The Lord hath delivered
me out of the paw of the lion" [that strong paw which can knock a man
down], "and out of the paw of the bear, He will deliver me out of the hand
of this Philistine;" and, strong in the Lord and in the power of His might,
he went to meet the boastful giant of whom everyone was afraid.
[Illustration: "THE LONELY LION LEAVES HIS LONELY LAIR."]
I also had references given me to Daniel in the den of lions and to the sad
story of the prophet who disobeyed the word of the Lord, and was slain by
a lion. Will you see whether you can find the name of one against whom a
young lion roared? "And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and
he rent him as he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand."
And also the name of one of King David's mighty men, who "went down ... and
slew a lion in the midst of a pit, in time of snow?" There are no lions now
in Palestine, but they were at one time often seen there; they made their
lair in caves among the mountains, and on the reedy banks of the Jordan.
[Illustration: THE LEOPARD.]
Other wild beasts--which are really great cats--are the beautifully spotted
Panthers or Leopards of Africa and Asia, the fierce and cunning Jaguar of
South America, and the Puma, sometimes called, without much reason for the
name, the American lion.
Wild cats were once common in England, and it has been thought that our
home-cats are their descendants, only tamed; but I believe this is not
true, and that our cats came from the East. It is generally thought that
they are not very affectionate animals, or rather that their affections are
set upon places more than upon people; but they are certainly very fond of
their own kittens, and very proud of them when they first begin to "walk
high," which I suppose answers to a baby's beginning to "run away."
Mr. Wood, in _The Boy's Own Book of Natural History_, tells a pretty story
about a baker's cat, which was so fond of him, when he was a young man at
college, that she used to come regularly morning and evening to have her
breakfast and tea with him. He says, "She continued her attentions for some
time, but one morning she was absent from her accustomed corner, nor did
she return till nearly a week had passed, when she came again, but always
seemed uneasy unless the door were open. A few days afterwards, she came
up as usual, and jumped on to my knee, at the same time putting a little
kitten into my hand. She refused to take it back again, so I restored it to
its brothers and sisters myself. A few hours afterwards, on going into my
bedroom, I found another black kitten fast asleep on the bed." Fancy this
mother being so anxious to show her kittens, and so sure that her friend
would be pleased to find one in his bed!
Next to the Cat family comes that of the Dog, and in this family Wolves,
Jackals, and Foxes are placed, as well as Dogs. I had some texts about
wolves given me by the boys, but I do not think we shall have time to speak
of them now. Wolves and jackals and foxes are very much like dogs run wild,
while dogs in many respects are like these wild animals become tame; so
much so, that it is believed that the "friend of man" has altered a good
deal in the thousands of years during which he has been his constant
companion; he has become less fierce, but has also lost some of the
independence which once belonged to him, and is very much behind foxes and
jackals in knowing how to take care of himself and get his own living.
We ought to treat with great respect and kindness a creature which we have
in this way made dependent upon us, and one which gives us its affection
so freely, and is so glad even of a kind word or look from its master or
mistress.
Dogs have a good deal of dignity, and their feelings are very easily hurt.
Perhaps you think it is saying too much for a doggie to talk of its having
feelings that can be hurt, but I assure you dogs _have_ feelings, and very
keen ones too.
The master of a little Skye terrier found that a reproachful word, or a
look of displeasure, would make him miserable for a whole day; he never
thought of such a thing as beating him; but once, when he was away from
home, his brother, who did not know the dog, kindly took him out every day
for a walk in the park. One day, when he wanted him to come on, he gave him
a blow with his glove. The dog, who had been playing about with a friend
he had met, stopped and looked up at him in surprise, as if he would have
said, "If you knew whose dog I am you would never treat me so,"--then
turned and ran away home. Next day he was again taken out by his master's
brother, but when they had gone a little way he stopped, looked in his face
as much as to say, "You remember what you did?" and then trotted home; he
could never again be induced to go out with the person who had so offended
his dignity. This sensitive little Skye could not bear to see anyone hurt,
and when driving with his master would pull his sleeve, and try to check
him every time he touched the horse with his whip.
A little white, curly dog, whom the children knew well, had a great
objection to his Saturday bath, and would get out of the way when he saw
it was coming. Tippoo submitted to be washed when he found there was no
escape; but a little dog belonging to a lady used to make such a fuss over
his weekly bath that at last none of the servants would run the risk of
being bitten and snapped at by him. His mistress tried threatening him,
then beating, then keeping him without his dinner; but all was of no use
until she made up her mind to see what taking no notice of him would do.
The doggie found it very hard when his dear mistress came home, and he ran
out with his joyful bark to welcome her, to see her turn her head away from
him just when he was longing for a pat or a kind word; and I fancy the
lady found it hard too, constantly to disappoint all his little efforts to
attract her attention; but she went on for more than a week, showing her
pet in this way that something was wrong, and there is no doubt at all that
the wise little creature knew what it was. He looked very miserable all the
time, and at last crept quietly to her side, and, as she says in telling
the story, "gave a look which said as plainly as any spoken words could
have done, 'I can stand it no longer; I submit.' Then, after patiently
bearing the washing, without snapping or fighting, he came in wagging his
tail with a joyful bark, as much as to say, 'It's all right now'!"
I am sure you have read or heard accounts of the large Newfoundland dogs;
of whose courage in saving children who fall into the water, many beautiful
stories are told; and also of the dear, faithful Collies with their pointed
noses, who know all their master's sheep, and will drive them wherever they
are told to go; and even, when two flocks have got mixed, will separate
them with the most wonderful patience and cleverness. A Scotch shepherd,
who loved poetry, and made some verses about the skylark, which Sharley and
May repeat, tells a story of one of these dogs which I am sure you will
think worth remembering.
The collie's name was Sirrah, and his master prized him greatly. When the
shepherd first bought him he was scarcely a year old, "and," he says, "knew
so little of herding that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but as
soon as he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged
me, I can never forget with what anxiety and eagerness he learned his
different evolutions. He would try every way deliberately, till he found
out what I wanted him to do, and when I once made him understand a
direction he never forgot or mistook it again."
Sirrah's master once had charge of a flock of seven hundred lambs, and one
night the whole flock broke up into three divisions, and ran away in the
dark, so that the shepherd could not tell where they had gone. The night
was so dark that he could not even see Sirrah, much less tell him how to
find the lost lambs; but the dog knew exactly what had happened, and had no
doubt at all about whose duty it was to get the flock together again. All
night long the shepherd sought in vain, not being able even to discover
what direction either of the three flocks of truant lambs had taken; but in
the morning he suddenly came upon his dog, guarding the whole flock--all
the seven hundred brought back, and not one of them lost.
I have been told that while a trained sheep-dog is so valuable to his
master, and can be so trusted by him, one that has been allowed to grow
up without any teaching or training is of little worth. The training must
begin while the collie is young, and an old hand at it says, "The first
thing to learn your pup is to mind at the word." From this beginning the
dog goes on until he seems almost to read his master's thoughts in his
face, and to watch each movement of his hand and each glance of his eye. Of
one of these dogs his master says:
"I have known him lie night and day among from ten to twenty pails full of
milk, and never once break the cream of one of them with the tip of his
tongue; nor would he suffer cat, rat, nor any other creature to touch it."
Sheep-dogs become very much attached to each other, as this story shows.
Two Scotch collies were fast friends, going everywhere together until one
of them died, and was buried on the top of a hill. The other watched the
spot, and when no one was by, actually scratched at the new-made grave, and
dug up the body of his comrade. Afterwards, when it had been buried again,
and heavy stones laid round the place, he still kept watch there, howling
piteously and eating nothing, until he died upon the grave of the friend he
had loved so well.
But while there are so many beautiful stories of the loving and faithful
and tender and true ways of dogs, we must not forget that they sometimes
show cruel and revengeful tempers, as well as something of that low kind of
cleverness which tries to deceive, and on account of which the fox has such
a bad name.
Only the other day I was told about a dog who actually killed a pretty
little kitten from pure jealousy, because he could not bear to see his
mistress pet and fondle it. _He_ had been the pet for a long time, and
when this new favourite came, he showed his dislike in many ways. One day
Flossie--the little kitten--was missing, and could nowhere be found. At
last, something about the dog's guilty look made his mistress sure that he
knew better than anyone else what had become of her. So she looked at him
very severely, and said, "Turk, _you_ know where little Flossie is. Show me
directly."
Turk walked straight to the waste-paper basket, which was under the table,
and began to take the paper out, bit by bit. At the bottom of the basket
lay the poor little furry pet, killed by the dog in a fit of jealousy! How
sad it is to think what sin has done, how even in the animals it may be
seen that they belong to a world where the man, whom God made head over
them, turned away from Him, and distrusted and disobeyed Him.
But since I have told you of Turk's cruel jealousy, I must not forget a
very pretty story of a dog who saved the life of a kitten which was to have
been drowned. When he saw the poor little thing thrown into the pond, he
swam after it and brought it back, laying it at the feet of the groom who
had thrown it into the water. The man took the helpless creature up and
threw it back again, and again the dog rescued it. A third time it was
thrown into the water, and a third time saved from drowning; but now the
dog brought it to the opposite side of the pool, carried it home in his
mouth, and laid it beside the fire to dry. In this case which would you
rather be like--the man or the dog?
The children often say that our Tippoo, the little white dog of which I
told you, does things "just like a person"; he will contentedly eat what
he does not care for, because he expects to get something he likes, as a
reward. If he has been naughty, you can generally know it by his face, and
he will hide away under the sofa, until brought out from his refuge, and
made to show what he has been doing. He cannot bear to be laughed at;
nothing hurts his feelings so sorely, unless indeed it be seeing a little
child petted: this is almost more than he can bear. But he behaves better
than Psyche, another little Maltese terrier of my acquaintance, who used to
fly at anyone who dared to kiss her mistress. Poor little Psyche's was a
sad end, for she was killed by a carriage while crossing the street to get
to her mistress.
Dogs have all sorts of ways of making their wants known, but I think you
will admit that a little dog called Button was particularly clever in his
way of doing it, when you hear how he managed. He used to have goat's milk
for breakfast, and one morning, when he thought breakfast-time had passed
without any being brought to him, he made up his mind that he had been
forgotten; so he went to the closet where the china was kept, fetched the
cup in which his milk was always given him, carried it in his teeth, and
laid it down at the feet of the maid who used to milk the goat for him. I
think he had earned his breakfast, don't you?
[Illustration: OUR GOAT--"NAN."]