kill an ox with one blow of his great paw, if he strikes it on the
back, and then seizing it in his great jaws, he will carry it off
almost as easily as you could carry a baby.
And when he has carried his prey to the spot where he chooses to have
his dinner, he shows that no beast can surpass him in the meat-eating
line. When he has satisfied his hunger on an ox, there is not much
left for those who come to the second table. And there are often other
Lions, younger and weaker than the one who has provided the dinner,
who must wait until their master or father is done before they have a
chance to take a bite. But, as you may see by this picture, they do
not wait very patiently. They roar and growl and grumble until their
turn comes.
[Illustration]
Lions have some very peculiar characteristics. When they have made a
bound upon their prey and have missed it, they seldom chase the
frightened animal. They are accustomed to make one spring on a deer or
an ox, and to settle the matter there and then. So, after a failure to
do this, they go to the place from which they have made the spring and
practise the jump over and over until they feel that they can make it
the next time they have a chance.
This is by no means a bad idea for a Lion--or a man either.
Another of their peculiarities is their fear of traps and snares.
Very often they will not spring upon an ox or a horse, simply because
it is tied to a tree. They think there is some trick when they see the
animal is fastened by a rope.
And when they come upon a man who is asleep, they will very often let
him lie undisturbed. They are not accustomed to seeing men lying about
in their haunts, and they don't know what to make of it. Sometimes
they take it in their heads to lie down there themselves. Then it
becomes disagreeable for the man when he awakes.
[Illustration]
A story of this kind is told of an African who had been hunting, and
who, being tired, had lain down to sleep. When he awoke there lay a
great Lion at a short distance from him! For a minute or two the man
remained motionless with fright, and then he put forth his hand to
take his gun, which was on the ground a few feet from him.
But when the Lion saw him move he raised his head and roared.
The man was quiet in a second.
After a while it began to be terribly hot, and the rocks on which the
poor man was lying became so heated by the sun that they burned his
feet.
But whenever he moved the old Lion raised his head and growled.
The African lay there for a very long time, and the Lion kept watch
over him. I expect that Lion had had a good meal just before he saw
this man, and he was simply saving him up until he got hungry again.
But, fortunately, after the hunter had suffered awfully from the heat
of the burning sun, and had also lain there all night, with this
dreadful beast keeping watch over him, the Lion became thirsty before
he got hungry, and when he went off to a spring to get a drink the
African crawled away.
If that Lion had been a Tiger, I think he would have killed the man,
whether he wished to eat him or not.
So there is something for the Lion's reputation.
BOB'S HIDING-PLACE.
[Illustration]
Bob was not a very big boy, but he was a lively little fellow and full
of fun. You can see him there in the picture, riding on his brother
Jim's back. One evening there happened to be a great many boys and
girls at Bob's father's house. The grown-up folks were having a family
party, and as they were going to stay all night--you see this was in
the country--some of them brought their children with them.
[Illustration]
It was not long after supper that a game of Blind-Man's-Buff was
proposed, and, as it would not do to have such an uproar in the
sitting-room as the game would produce, the children were all packed
off to the kitchen. There they have a glorious time. Jim is the first
one blindfolded, and, as he gropes after the others, they go stumbling
up against tables, and rattling down tin-pans, and upsetting each
other in every direction. Old Grandfather, who has been smoking his
pipe by the kitchen fire, takes as much pleasure in the game as the
young folks, and when they tumble over his legs, or come banging up
against his chair, he only laughs, and warns them not to hurt
themselves.
I could not tell you how often Grandfather was caught, and how they
all laughed at the blind-man when he found out whom he had seized.
But after a while the children became tired of playing
Blind-Man's-Buff, and a game of Hide-and-Seek was proposed. Everybody
was in favor of that, especially little Bob. It appears that Bob had
not a very good time in the other game. Everybody seemed to run up
against him and push him about, and whenever he was caught the
blind-man said "Bob!" immediately. You see there was no mistaking Bob;
he was so little.
But in Hide-and-Seek he would have a better chance. He had always
liked that game ever since he had known how to play anything. He was a
good little fellow for hiding, and he knew it.
When the game had begun, and all the children--except the biggest
girl, who was standing in a corner, with her hands before her face,
counting as fast as she could, and hoping that she would come to one
hundred before everybody had hidden themselves--had scampered off to
various hiding-places, Bob still stood in the middle of the
kitchen-floor, wondering where in the world he should go to! All of a
sudden--the girl in the corner had already reached sixty-four--he
thought he would go down in the cellar.
There was no rule against that--at least none that he knew of--and so,
slipping softly to the cellar-door, over in the darkest corner of the
kitchen, he opened it, and went softly down the steps.
There was a little light on the steps, for Bob did not shut the door
quite tightly after him, and if there had been none at all, he would
have been quite as well pleased. He was not afraid of the dark, and
all that now filled his mind was the thought of getting somewhere
where no one could possibly find him. So he groped his way under the
steps, and there he squatted down in the darkness, behind two barrels
which stood in a corner.
"Now," thought Bob, "she won't find me--easy."
He waited there a good while, and the longer he waited the prouder he
became.
"I'll bet mine's the hardest place of all," he said to himself.
[Illustration]
Bob heard a great deal of noise and shouting after the big girl came
out from her corner and began finding the others, and he also heard a
bang above his head, but he did not know that it was some one shutting
the cellar-door. After that all was quiet.
Bob listened, but could not hear a step. He had not the slightest
idea, of course, that they had stopped playing and were telling
stories by the kitchen fire. The big girl had found them all so easily
that Hide-and-Seek had been voted down.
Bob had his own ideas in regard to this silence. "I know," he
whispered to himself, "they're all found, and they're after me, and
keeping quiet to hear me breathe!"
And, to prevent their finding his hiding-place by the sound of his
breathing, Bob held his breath until he was red in the face. He had
heard often enough of that trick of keeping quiet and listening to
breathing. You couldn't catch him that way!
When he was at last obliged to take a breath, you might have supposed
he would have swallowed half the air in the cellar. He thought he had
never tasted anything so good as that long draught of fresh air.
"Can't hold my breath all the time!" Bob thought. "If I could, maybe
they'd never find me at all," which reflection was much nearer the
truth than the little fellow imagined.
I don't know how long Bob had been sitting under the steps--it may
have been five minutes, or it may have been a quarter of an hour, and
he was beginning to feel a little cold--when he heard the cellar-door
open, and some one put their foot upon the steps.
"There they are!" he thought, and he cuddled himself up in the
smallest space possible.
Some one was coming down, sure enough, but it was not the children, as
Bob expected. It was his Aunt Alice and her cousin Tom Green. They had
come down to get some cider and apples for the company, and had no
thought of Bob. In fact, when Bob was missed it was supposed that he
had got tired and had gone up-stairs, where old Aunt Hannah was
putting some of the smaller children to bed.
So, of course, Alice and Tom Green did not try to find him, but Bob,
who could not see them, thought it was certainly some of the children
come down to look for him.
In this picture of the scene in the cellar, little Bob is behind those
two barrels in the right-hand upper corner, but of course you can't
see him. He knows how to hide too well for that.
[Illustration]
But when Tom and Alice spoke, Bob knew their voices and peeped out.
"Oh!" he thought, "it's only Aunt Alice and he. They've come down for
cider and things. I've got to hide safe now, or they'll tell when they
go up-stairs."
"I didn't know _all_ them barrels had apples in! I thought some were
potatoes. I wish they would just go up-stairs again and leave that
candle on the floor! I wonder if they will forget it! If they do, I'll
just eat a whole hat-full of those big red apples, and some of the
streakedy ones in the other barrel too; and then I'll put my mouth to
the spigot of that cider-barrel, and turn it, and drink and drink and
drink--and if there isn't enough left in that barrel, I'll go to
another one and turn that. I never did have enough cider in all my
life. I wish they'd hurry and go up.
"Kissin'! what's the good of kissin'! A cellar ain't no place for
that. I expect they won't remember to forget the candle if they don't
look out!
"Oh, pshaw! just look at 'em! They're a-going up again, and taking the
candle along! The mean things!"
Poor little Bob!
There he sat in his corner, all alone again in the darkness and
silence, for Tom and Alice had shut the cellar-door after them when
they had gone up-stairs. He sat quietly for a minute or two, and then
he said to himself:
"I b'lieve I'd just as lieve they'd find me as not."
And to help them a little in their search he began to kick very gently
against one of the barrels.
Poor Bob! If you were to kick with all your force and even upset the
barrel they would not hear you. And what is more, they are not even
thinking of you, for the apples are now being distributed.
"I wonder," said the little fellow to himself, "if I could find that
red-apple barrel in the dark. But then I couldn't tell the red ones
from the streakedy ones. But either of 'em would do. I guess I won't
try, though, for I might put my hand on a rat. They run about when
it's dark. I hope they won't come in this corner. But there's nothin'
for 'em to eat in this corner but me, and they ain't lions. I wonder
if they'll come down after more cider when that's all drunk up. If
they do, I guess I'll come out and let Aunt Alice tell them all where
I am. I don't like playin' this game when it's too long."
[Illustration]
And so he sat and waited and listened, and his eye-lids began to grow
heavy and his head began to nod, and directly little Bob was fast
asleep in the dark corner behind the barrels.
By ten o'clock the children were all put to bed, and soon after the
old folks went up-stairs, leaving only Tom Green, Alice, and some of
the young men and women down in the big sitting-room.
Bob's mother went up into the room where several of the children were
sleeping, and after looking around, she said to the old colored nurse:
"Hannah, what have you done with Bob?"
"I didn't put him to bed, mum. I spect Miss Alice has took him to her
bed. She knowed how crowded the chil'un all was, up here."
"But Alice has not gone to bed," said Bob's mother.
"Don't spect she has, mum," said Hannah. "But I reckon she put him in
her bed till she come."
"I'll go and see," said Bob's mother.
She went, and she saw, but she didn't see Bob! And he wasn't in the
next room, or in any bed in the house, or under any bed, or anywhere
at all, as far as she could see; and so, pretty soon, there was a nice
hubbub in that house!
Bob's mother and father, and his grandfather, and Hannah, and the
young folks in the parlor, and nearly all the rest of the visitors,
ransacked the house from top to bottom. Then they looked out of doors,
and some of them went around the yard, where they could see very
plainly, as it was bright moonlight. But though they searched and
called, there was no Bob.
The house-doors being open, Snag the dog came in, and he joined in the
search, you may be sure, although I do not know that he exactly
understood what they were looking for.
Some one now opened the cellar-door, but it seemed preposterous to
look down in the cellar for the little fellow.
But nothing was preposterous to Snag.
The moment the cellar-door was opened he shuffled down the steps as
fast as he could go. He knew there was somebody down there.
And when those who followed him with a candle reached the
cellar-floor, there was Snag, with his head between the barrels,
wagging his tail as if he was trying to jerk it off, and whining with
joy as he tried to stick his cold nose into the rosy face of little
sleeping Bob.
It was Tom Green who carried Bob up-stairs, and very soon indeed, all
the folks were gathered in the kitchen, and Bob sleepily told his
story.
"But Tom and I were down in the cellar," said his Aunt Alice, "and we
didn't see you."
"I guess you didn't," said Bob, rubbing his eyes. "I was a-hidin' and
you was a-kissin'."
What a shout of laughter arose in the kitchen at this speech!
Everybody laughed so much that Bob got wide awake and wanted some
apples and cake.
The little fellow certainly made a sensation that night; but it was
afterwards noticed that he ceased to care much for the game of
Hide-and-Seek. He played it too well, you see.
THE CONTINENTAL SOLDIER.
[Illustration]
Did you ever see a Continental Soldier? I doubt it. Some twenty years
ago there used to be a few of them scattered here and there over the
country, but they must be nearly all gone now. About a year ago there
were but two of them left. Those whom some of us can remember were
rather mournful old gentlemen. They shuffled about their
dwelling-places, they smoked their pipes, and they were nearly always
ready to talk about the glorious old days of the Revolution. It was
well they had those days to fall back upon, for they had but little
share in the glories of the present. When they looked abroad upon the
country that their arms, and blood perhaps, had helped give to that
vigorous Young America which now swells with prosperity from Alaska to
Florida, they could see very little of it which they could call their
own.
It was difficult to look upon those feeble old men and imagine that
they were once full of vigor and fire; that they held their old
flintlocks with arms of iron when the British cavalry rushed upon
their bayonets; that their keen eyes flashed a deadly aim along their
rusty rifle-barrels; that, with their good swords quivering in their
sinewy hands, they urged their horses boldly over the battle-field,
shouting brave words to their advancing men; and that they laughed at
heat and cold, patiently endured hunger and privation, strode along
bravely on the longest marches, and, at last, stood proudly by when
Cornwallis gave up his sword.
Those old gentlemen did not look like anything of that sort. Their
old arms could hardly manage their old canes; their old legs could
just about carry them on a march around the garden, and they were very
particular indeed about heat and cold.
But History and Art will better keep alive the memory of their good
deeds, and call more vigorously upon the gratitude of their
countrymen, than those old Continentallers could themselves have done
it, had they lived on for years and years, and told generation after
generation how once they galloped proudly along the ranks, or, in
humbler station, beat with vigorous arm the stirring drum-roll that
called their comrades to the battle-field.
[Illustration]
A JUDGE OF MUSIC.
[Illustration]
It is not well to despise anybody or anything until you know what they
can do. I have known some very stupid-looking people who could do a
sum in the rule-of-three in a minute, and who could add up a column of
six figures abreast while I was just making a beginning at the
right-hand bottom corner. But stupid-looking beings are often good at
other things besides arithmetic. I have seen doctors, with very dull
faces, who knew all about castor-oil and mustard-plasters, and above
you see a picture of a Donkey who understood music.
This animal had a very fine ear for music. You can see how much ear he
had, and I have no doubt that he enjoyed the sweet sounds from one end
to the other of those beautiful long flaps. Well, he very often had an
opportunity of enjoying himself, for the lady of the house was a fine
musician, and she used to sing and play upon the piano nearly every
day. And as soon as he heard the sweet sounds which thrilled his
soul, the Donkey would come to the parlor window and listen.
One day the lady played and sang something which was particularly
sweet and touching. I never heard the name of the song--whether it was
"I'm sitting on the stile, Mary," or "A watcher, pale and weary"--but
if it was the latter, I am not surprised that it should have overcome
even a jackass. At any rate, the music so moved the soul of Mr. Donkey
that he could no longer restrain himself, but entering the open door
he stepped into the parlor, approached the lady, and with a voice
faltering from the excess of his emotion, he joined in the chorus!
The lady jumped backwards and gave a dreadful scream, and the Donkey,
thinking that the music went up very high in that part, commenced to
bray at such a pitch that you could have heard him if you had been up
in a balloon.
That was a lively concert; but it was soon ended by the lady rushing
from the room and sending her man John to drive out the musical
jackass with a big stick.
Fortunately, all donkeys have not this taste for music. The nearest
that the majority of jackasses come to being votaries of music is when
their skins are used for covering cases for musical instruments. And
if they have any ambition in the cause of harmony, that is better than
nothing.
THE SENSITIVE PLANT.
There was never a better name for a plant than this, for the delicate
leaves which grow on this slender stalk are almost as sensitive to the
touch as if they were alive. If you place your hand on a growing
plant, you will soon see all the leaves on the stem that you have
touched fold themselves up as tightly as if they had been packed up
carefully to be sent away by mail or express. In some of the common
kinds of this plant, which grow about in our fields, it takes some
time for the leaves to fold after they have been touched or handled;
but if you watch them long enough--five or ten minutes--you will see
that they never fail to close. They are not so sensitive as their
cultivated kindred, but they still have the family disposition.
Now this is certainly a wonderful property for a plant to possess, but
it is not half so strange as another trait of these same pretty green
leaves. They will shut up when it is dark, and open when it is light.
It may be said that many other plants will do this, but that is a
mistake. Many flowers and leaves close at _night_ and open in the
_day-time_, but very few indeed exhibit the peculiar action of the
sensitive plant in this respect. That plant will open at night if you
bring a bright light into the room where it is growing, and it will
close its leaves if the room is made dark in the day-time.
Other plants take note of times and seasons. The sensitive plant obeys
no regular rules of this kind, but acts according to circumstances.
When I was a boy, I often used to go to a green-house where there were
a great many beautiful and rare plants; but I always thought that the
sensitive plant was the most wonderful thing in the whole
collection, and I did not know then how susceptible it was to the
influence of light. I was interested in it simply because it seemed to
have a sort of vegetable reason, and understood that it should shut up
its leaves whenever I touched it.
[Illustration: THE SENSITIVE PLANT.]
But there were things around me in the vegetable kingdom which were
still more wonderful than that, and I took no notice of them at all.
In the garden and around the house, growing everywhere, in the most
common and ordinary places, were vines of various kinds--I think there
were more morning-glories than anything else--and these exhibited a
great deal more sense, and a much nearer approach to reasoning powers,
than the sensitive plants, which were so carefully kept in the
green-house.
When one of these vines came up out of the earth, fresh from its seed,
the first thing it wanted, after its tendrils began to show
themselves, was something to climb up upon. It would like a good high
pole. Now, if there was such a pole within a few feet of the little
vine it would grow straight towards it, and climb up it!
It would not grow first in one direction, and then in another and then
in another, until it ran against something to climb on, but it would
go right straight towards the pole, as if it saw it, and knew it was a
good one for its purpose.
I think that there is not much in the vegetable kingdom more wonderful
than that.
SIR MARMADUKE.
[Illustration]
Sir Marmaduke was a good old English gentleman, all of the olden time.
There you see him, in his old-fashioned dining-room, with his
old-fashioned wife holding her old-fashioned distaff, while he is
surrounded by his old-fashioned arms, pets, and furniture.
On his hand he holds his hawk, and his dogs are enjoying the great
wood fire. His saddle is thrown on the floor; his hat and his pipes
lie near it; his sword and his cross-bows are stood up, or thrown
down, anywhere at all, and standing by his great chair is something
which looks like a coal-scuttle, but which is only a helmet.
Sir Marmaduke was certainly a fine old gentleman. In times of peace he
lived happily with his family, and was kind and generous to the poor
around him. In times of war he fought bravely for his country.
But what a different old gentleman would he have been had he lived in
our day!
Then, instead of saying "Rebeck me!" and "Ods Boddikins!" when his
hawk bit his finger or something else put him out of humor, he would
have exclaimed, "Oh, pshaw!" or, "Botheration!" Instead of playing
with a hawk, he would have had a black-and-tan terrier,--if he had any
pet at all; and his wife would not have been bothering herself with a
distaff, when linen, already spun and woven, could be bought for fifty
cents a yard. Had she lived now, the good lady would have been mending
stockings or crocheting a tidy.
Instead of a pitcher of ale on his supper-table, the good knight would
have had some tea or coffee; and instead of a chine of beef, a mess of
pottage, and a great loaf of brown bread for his evening meal, he
would have had some white bread, cakes, preserves, and other trifles
of that sort, which in the olden days were considered only fit for
children and women. The good old English gentlemen were tremendous
eaters. They used to take five meals a day, and each one of them was
heavy and substantial.
If Sir Marmaduke had any sons or daughters, he would have treated them
very differently in the present day. Instead of keeping them at home,
under the tuition of some young clergyman or ancient scholar, until
they should be old enough and accomplished enough to become pages to a
great lord, or companions to some great lady, he would have sent them
to school, and the boys--the younger ones, at least--would have been
prepared for some occupation which would support them, while the girls
would have been taught to play on the piano and to work slippers.
In these days, instead of that old helmet on the floor, you would have
seen a high-top hat--that is, if the old gentleman should continue to
be as careless as the picture shows him; instead of a cross-bow on the
floor, and another leaning against the chair, you would have seen a
double-barrelled gun and a powder-horn; and instead of the picturesque
and becoming clothes in which you see Sir Marmaduke, he would have
worn some sort of a tight-fitting and ugly suit, such as old gentlemen
now-a-days generally wear.