Mersey, in England, singing sacred songs. The field where they were had
a forest on one side of it. As they were singing, a hare came out of
this forest, and ran toward the place where they were seated. When she
came up very near the spot, she suddenly stopped, and stood still for a
considerable time, appearing to enjoy the sound of the music. She
frequently turned her head, as if listening with intense interest. When
they stopped singing, she turned slowly toward the forest. She had
nearly reached the forest, when the gentlemen commenced singing again.
The hare turned around, and ran back swiftly, nearly to the spot where
she stood before, and listened with the same apparent pleasure, until
the music was finished, when she again retired toward the woods, and
soon disappeared.
Cowper was a great lover of pets; and I confess that I love him for this
trait in his character. He has endeared himself to me, indeed, as much
by the kindness he showed to the different animals which he had about
him, and which he had taught to love him, as by almost any other act of
his. I never think of Cowper, without thinking, too, of the interest he
took in every thing that breathed; and I hardly ever see a pet hare, or
rabbit, or squirrel, without thinking of him. If the reader is as much
interested in the poet as I am, he will like to see a portrait of him,
which I introduce in this connection. Many people take great delight in
hunting such beautiful and innocent animals as the fawn and the hare.
But Cowper was no sportsman. He could not bear to hurt any thing that
lived. You remember, perhaps, what he says in his "Task" about being
kind to animals. Let me see if I can quote it from memory. I guess I
can, for I learned it at school when a little boy, and those things are
always fixed in the memory more indelibly than those which are learned
in maturer years. I think he says--
"I would not enter on my list of friends--
Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility--the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail,
That crawls at eve along the public path;
But he who has humanity, forewarned,
Will step aside, and let the reptile live."
[Illustration: THE POET COWPER.]
He was right--the kind-hearted poet was right. Well, as I said before,
he was not only careful about giving pain to animals, but he was very
fond of pets. First and last, he had a good many of these pets. But
there were none of them that he took so great delight in as his hares.
He had two of these pretty little creatures, and they seemed to be as
fond of him as he was of them. Cowper was subject to fits of great
despondency, or depression of spirits. With him hypochondria was a sort
of chronic disease. He would try to be cheerful. He knew the nature of
his melancholy, and often tried to remedy indirectly what could not be
reached directly. He resorted to innocent amusements in order to lead
the mind away from the contemplation of its own ills, real or imaginary.
This was well--it was philosophical--but it did not always succeed. The
disease was too deeply seated in his system. The care which he took of
his pets was no doubt one of his favorite amusements. These hares--there
were three of them at first, though one of them did not live long--had
each very different characters. The poet described them in detail in one
of his letters. Puss was the greatest favorite. He was more tractable,
tame and affectionate than the rest. Once the fellow was very sick, and
his master treated him with a great deal of kindness, gave him medicine,
and nursed him so well that he recovered. Cowper says that Puss showed
his gratitude by licking his hand for a long time, a ceremony he never
went through with but once in his life, before or afterward. Bess, who
died young, was the funny one. He had a great fund of humor and
drollery. Tiney, though very entertaining in his way, seems to have been
rather a grave and surly fellow. When he died--and he lived to a good
old age, some nine years, I think--Cowper buried him with honor, and
wrote an epitaph for him. I will copy two or three stanzas from this
epitaph, to show that Tiney got quite as good a character as he
deserved.
EPITAPH ON A HARE.
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose feet ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo.
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack-hare.
Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,
And when he could, would bite.
I kept him for his humor's sake,
For he would oft beguile
My heart of thought, that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.
But now beneath this walnut shade,
He finds his long, last home,
And waits, in snug concealment laid,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
He, still more aged, feels the shocks,
From which no power can save,
And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.
The Goat.
Goats have been taught to perform a great many wonderful exploits. The
celebrated traveler, Dr. Clarke, gives a very curious account of a goat
which he came across in Arabia. This goat would perform some most
surprising feats of dexterity. "We met," he says, "an Arab with a goat,
which he led about the country to exhibit, in order to gain a
livelihood. He had taught this animal, while he accompanied its
movements with a song, to mount upon little cylindrical blocks of wood,
placed successively one above another, and resembling in shape the dice
belonging to a backgammon table. In this manner the goat stood, first on
the top of two; afterward of three, four, five, and six, until it
remained balanced upon the summit of them all, elevated several feet
above the ground, and with its fore feet collected upon a single point,
without throwing down the disjointed fabric on which it stood. The
diameter of the upper cylinder, on which its four feet alternately
remained until the Arab had ended his ditty, was only two inches, and
the length of each was six inches. The most curious part of the
performance took place afterward; for the Arab, to convince us of the
animal's attention to the turn of the air, sometimes interrupted the
ordinary _da capo_, or repeat, and as often as he did so, the goat
tottered, and appeared uneasy. When the man suddenly stopped, in the
middle of his song, the animal fell to the ground."
[Illustration: THE WONDERFUL FEAT OF THE GOAT.]
A farmer in Scotland missed one of his goats, when his flock came home
at night. Being afraid the missing animal would get among the young
trees in his nursery, he sent two boys, wrapped up warm in their plaid
cloaks, to watch all night. In the morning, these boys climbed up the
brow of a hill near by, to hunt for the wanderer. They found her after a
long search. She was on the brow of a hill, and her young kid was by her
side. This faithful mother was defending the kid from the attack of a
fox. The enemy was using all the cunning and art he was master of, to
get possession of the little fellow, while the old goat was presenting
her horns in every direction, as he made his sallies. The boys shouted
at the top of their voices, in order to drive the fox away. But Master
Renard was probably aware that they would not dare to touch him. At any
rate, he kept up the assault. At last, getting out of patience with the
goat, he made a more resolute effort to seize the kid; and in an instant
all three of the animals rolled off the precipice, and were killed by
the fall. The fox was found at the bottom of the gorge, with the goat's
horns piercing his body.
A story is told by Mr. Bingley, which illustrates, in a very forcible
manner, the gratitude and affection of the goat. After the final
suppression of the Scottish rebellion of 1715, by the decisive battle of
Preston, a gentleman who had taken a very active share in it escaped to
the West Highlands, to the residence of a female relative, who afforded
him an asylum. As, in consequence of the strict search which was made
after the ringleaders, it was soon judged unsafe for him to remain in
the house of his friend, he was conducted to a cavern in a sequestered
situation, and furnished with a supply of food. The approach to this
lonely abode consisted of a small aperture, through which he crept,
dragging his provisions along with him. A little way from the mouth of
the cave the roof became elevated, but on advancing, an obstacle
obstructed his progress. He soon perceived that, whatever it might be,
the object was a living one; but unwilling to strike at a venture with
his dirk, he stooped down, and discovered a goat and her kid lying on
the ground. The animal was evidently in great pain, and feeling her body
and limbs, he ascertained that one of her legs had been fractured. He
bound it up with his garter, and offered her some of his bread; but she
refused to eat, and stretched out her tongue, as if intimating that her
mouth was parched with thirst. He gave her water, which she drank
greedily, and then she ate the bread. At midnight he ventured from the
cave, pulled a quantity of grass and the tender branches of trees, and
carried them to the poor sufferer, which received them with
demonstrations of gratitude. The only thing which this fugitive had to
arrest his attention in this dreary abode, was administering comfort to
the goat; and he was, indeed, thankful to have any living creature
beside him. She quickly recovered, and became tenderly attached to him.
It happened that the servant who was intrusted with the secret of his
retreat fell sick, when it became necessary to send another with
provisions. The goat, on this occasion, happening to be lying near the
mouth of the cavern, opposed his entrance with all her might, butting
him furiously; the fugitive, hearing a disturbance, went forward, and
receiving the watchword from his new attendant, interposed, and the
faithful goat permitted him to pass. So resolute was the animal on this
occasion, that the gentleman was convinced she would have died in his
defence.
[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]
The Tiger.
Such of my readers as have had an opportunity to look a little into
natural history, are probably aware that the tiger belongs to the cat
family. Many of its habits are very like those of the domestic cat. Did
you ever see an old cat preparing to make a spring at a mouse or a bird?
If you have, you have noticed that she crouches on the ground, and
creeps stealthily along toward her victim, without making the least
noise, until she is near enough, and then suddenly springs upon her
prey. The tiger pursues the same course.
A British officer, who lived for awhile in India, where tigers abound,
was returning, in the evening, to the house where he resided, after
dining with another officer, when he was met by his servants, who were
making a great noise, in order to frighten away a tiger which was known
to be prowling about the neighborhood. Although he had been some years
in India, the young officer had never seen a tiger, as it happened,
except from a distance; and he determined he would gratify his
curiosity, if possible, and have a good view of the animal. So he
dismissed his servants, and seated himself opposite the jungle, where
the tiger was supposed to be, and there looked out for the enemy. It was
moonlight, and the ferocious beast soon discovered the officer. The
latter could distinctly see all the motions of his savage foe. He
approached so slowly as scarcely to make the least noise. Then,
crouching down, he prepared to make the fatal spring at his victim. At
this instant, however, the officer, taking off a bear skin cap which he
wore, swung it in the air, and shouted as loudly as he could. This so
frightened the tiger that he made off with himself, and was soon out of
sight in the bushes.
A European gentleman, who has spent some time in Java, tells us a
thrilling story about the adventure of a criminal with a tiger. The poor
man was condemned, as is the custom in that country, to fight a large
royal tiger, whose ferocity was raised to the highest point by want of
food and artificial irritation. The only weapon allowed to the human
combatant was a lance, with the point broken off. After wrapping a cloth
round his left fist and arm, the man entered the arena with an air of
undaunted calmness, and fixed a steady, menacing gaze upon the brute.
The tiger sprang furiously upon his intended victim, who, with
extraordinary boldness and rapidity, thrust his left fist into the
gaping jaws, and at the same moment, with his keen, pointless dagger,
ripped up the breast to the very heart. In less than a minute the tiger
lay dead at his conqueror's feet. The criminal was forgiven.
[Illustration: THE TIGER.]
Several years ago, an Englishman, by the name of Munro, was killed by a
tiger in the East Indies. The particulars of this distressing scene are
given by an eye-witness. "We went on shore," says the writer of the
narrative, "to shoot deer, of which we saw innumerable tracks, as well
as of tigers; notwithstanding which, we continued our diversion till
near three o'clock, when, sitting down by the side of a jungle to
refresh ourselves, a roar like thunder was heard, and an immense tiger
seized on our unfortunate friend, and rushed again into the jungle,
dragging him through the thickest bushes and trees, every thing giving
way to his monstrous strength; a tigress accompanied his progress. The
united agonies of horror, regret, and fear, rushed at once upon us. I
fired on the tiger; he seemed agitated; my companion fired also, and, in
a few minutes after this, our unfortunate friend came up to us bathed in
blood. Every medical assistance was vain, and he expired in the space of
twenty-four hours, having received such deep wounds from the teeth and
claws of the animal, as rendered his recovery hopeless. A large fire,
consisting of ten or twelve whole trees, was blazing by us at the time
this accident took place, and ten or more natives were with us. The
human mind can scarce form any idea of the scene of horror. We had
hardly pushed our boat from that accursed shore, when the tigress made
her appearance, almost raging mad, and remained on the sand, exhibiting
signs of the utmost ferocity, all the while we continued in sight."
There is an account given of a small party who entered a cave, to seek
shelter from a terrible storm, in South America. The storm raged with
such violence, that they could not hear each other speak; the
cedar-trees were struck down, and the torrents of rain rushed from the
mountains. Suddenly a growling noise was heard at the end of the cave.
They soon found, to their amazement and horror, that they had taken
refuge in a tiger's cave, and that the growling proceeded from two young
cubs. At this moment the Indians who attended them gave the alarm that a
tiger was approaching. The Indians mounted a tree, and the party in the
cave blocked up the mouth of it with a large and heavy stone, which
fortunately lay near. A dreadful roar was heard, which was replied to by
the growling of the two cubs, and the flaming eyes of a tremendous tiger
were seen glowing with fury between the top of the stone and the rock
just above it. The tiger attempted to remove the stone, but his
prodigious strength was unequal to the attempt, and he howled more
tremendously than before. Several of the party had leveled their muskets
and pistols at the head of the tiger, through the narrow opening left by
the stone; but the storm had damped the powder, and the pieces could not
be discharged. The young cubs were then killed and thrust through the
hole to the tiger on the outside, who, after turning them over and
examining them, broke afresh into the wildest fury. The Indians
discharged several arrows at the infuriated animal, but his thick skin
repelled them. The storm ceased, and the thunder was heard only in the
distance, but the tiger laid himself down at the mouth of the cave. In a
short time a roar was heard near, which was answered by the tiger, who
sprang up directly on his feet. The Indians in the tree gave a wild
shriek, as a tigress bounded toward the cave. The howling of the two
animals, after the tigress had examined her cubs, was truly terrible,
and every one in the cavern gave himself over for lost. A powder-flask,
containing their whole stock of gunpowder, had been upset in turning out
the young cubs, so that they were reduced to despair. The tigress, after
staring wildly at the stone at the opening of the cavern, sprang against
it with all her force, and would probably have displaced it, had not the
party joined together to hold it in its place. Suddenly the two tigers
turned their heads toward the forest, and disappeared. The Indians
descended the tree, and urged the party in the cave to take the
opportunity of escaping, for that the tigers had ascended the heights to
find another way into the cave. No time was to be lost; they hurried
through the forest till they came to a wide chasm with a rushing stream
below it. A bridge of reeds had been thrown across the chasm, and over
this bridge they passed, but the tigers were close in pursuit. The last
of the party who crossed the bridge cut the fastenings which tied it to
the rock, and hoped by this means to secure safety, when the tigress
rushed toward the chasm, made a spring, and fell down upon the pointed
rocks below, and from thence into the torrent at the bottom. It was a
fearful sight to see this ferocious animal for a moment in the air,
without knowing whether she would be able to clear the chasm. The tiger
paused not a moment, but making an amazing spring, reached the opposite
side with his fore paws. As he clung to the rock, one of the party
plunged his sword into the breast of the furious beast, while another
struck him a blow on the head with the butt-end of his gun. The tiger
let go his hold, and fell back into the abyss. This was a dreadful
moment! for the man who struck the tiger on the head could not recover
himself; he reeled over the edge of the fearful precipice, stretched out
his hand in vain to seize hold of something with which to save himself,
and then was precipitated into the horrid gulf below!
A novel exhibition was presented in the city of Boston, not long ago,
which attracted the attention of every body, old and young. Herr
Driesbach, the famous tamer of wild animals, made his appearance in an
elegant sleigh, with his pet tiger by his side. In this manner he rode
through the streets. The tiger, it is said, seemed to enjoy the
sleighing mightily, and leaped upon his master, from time to time,
licking his face, and showing other signs of excitement. Driesbach had
to strike him several times, to keep him from making too enthusiastic
demonstrations. After astonishing the citizens for a considerable time,
Driesbach alighted at his hotel, with his tiger, and taking him into one
of the apartments, invited gentlemen to walk in and be introduced,
though there were very few who seemed willing to avail themselves of the
privilege.
[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]
[Illustration: THE RHINOCEROS.]
The Rhinoceros.
From the accounts of those who are best acquainted with the rhinoceros,
it appears that the animal is tamed only with great difficulty, and
never to such an extent that it is always safe to approach him. Sir
Everard Home gives the following account of one in a menagerie in
London: "He was so savage, that about a month after he came, he
endeavored to kill the keeper, and nearly succeeded. He ran at him with
the greatest fury; but, fortunately, the horn of the animal passed
between the keeper's thighs, and threw him on the head of the
rhinoceros. The horn struck a wooden partition, into which it was forced
to such a depth, that the animal, for a minute, was unable to withdraw
it; and during this interval, the man escaped. By discipline, the
keeper afterward got the management of him; but frequently, more
especially in the middle of the night, fits of phrensy came on, and
while these lasted, nothing could control his rage. He ran, with great
swiftness, round his den, playing all kinds of antics, making hideous
noises, breaking every thing to pieces, and disturbing the whole
neighborhood. While this fit was on, the keeper never dared to come near
him."
When the rhinoceros is quietly pursuing his way through his favorite
glades of mimosa bushes (which his hooked upper lip enables him readily
to seize, and his powerful grinders to masticate), his horns, fixed
loosely in his skin, make a clapping noise by striking one against the
other; but on the approach of danger, if his quick ear or keen scent
makes him aware of the vicinity of a hunter, the head is quickly raised,
and the horns stand stiff, and ready for combat on his terrible front.
The rhinoceros is often accompanied by a sentinel, to give him
warning--a beautiful green-backed and blue-winged bird, about the size
of a jay--which sits on one of his horns.
The following account of the perils of a party hunting for the
rhinoceros is given by Mr. Bruce, a traveler of celebrity: "We were on
horseback, at the dawn of the day, in search of the rhinoceros; and
after having searched about an hour in the thickest part of the forest,
one of these animals rushed out with great violence, and crossed the
plain toward a thicket of canes, at the distance of nearly two miles.
But though he ran, or rather trotted, with surprising speed, considering
his bulk, he was in a short time pierced with thirty or forty javelins.
This attack so confounded him, that he left his purpose of going to the
thicket, and ran into a deep ravine, without outlet, breaking about a
dozen of the javelins as he entered. Here we thought he was caught in a
trap--for he had scarcely room to turn--and a servant, who had a gun,
standing directly over him, fired at his head. The animal fell
immediately, to all appearance dead. All those on foot now jumped into
the ravine, to cut him up. But they had scarcely begun, when the animal
recovered himself so far as to rise upon his knees; and he would
undoubtedly have destroyed several of the men, had not one of them, with
great presence of mind, cut the sinew of the animal's hind leg. To this
precaution they were indebted, under God, for their lives."
The rhinoceros and the elephant have been known to engage in a pitched
battle, in which case the former always comes off victor. The combat,
however, is a very furious one.
There are two species of the rhinoceros. The one which is represented in
the engraving is the double-horned rhinoceros. It is perhaps the largest
of land animals, with the exception of the elephant. When pursued,
notwithstanding its large, unwieldy body, it can run with astonishing
swiftness.
[Illustration: CHAPTER END DECORATION]
The Alligator.
On the whole, though the alligator can hardly claim any attention from
us in these stories, owing to his manner of locomotion, and some other
circumstances, yet I think I will introduce him to the reader, as I have
two or three anecdotes about his tribe, which are worth reading, and as
he comes within the qualifications for introduction to our present
company of animals, so far as to possess the specific number of
locomotive organs.