also a very great many disadvantages. On the whole, we should be very
thankful indeed that we were born in this century, and not in the good
old times of yore.
A little boy once made a very wise remark on this subject. He said: "I
wish I could have seen George Washington and Israel Putnam; but I'm
glad I didn't, for if I'd been alive then, I should have been dead
now."
There is enough in that boy's remark for a whole composition, if any
one chose to write it.
THE GIRAFFE.
[Illustration]
Some one once called the Giraffe a "two-story animal," and the remark
was not altogether inapplicable.
As you see him in the picture, lying down, he seems to be high enough
for all ordinary purposes; but when he stands up, you will see that
his legs--or his lower story--will elevate him to a surprising height.
The ordinary giraffe measures about fifteen feet from the top of his
head to the ground, but some of them have been known to be over
sixteen feet high. Most of this height is owing to their long necks,
but their fore-legs are also very long. The hind-legs seem much
shorter, although, in reality, they are as long as the fore-legs. The
legs and neck of the Giraffe are made long so that he can eat the
leaves from the tops of young trees. This tender foliage is his
favorite diet; but he will eat the foliage from any part of a tree,
and he is content with the herbage on the ground, when there is
nothing else.
He is not a fighting animal. Those little horns which you see on his
head, and which look as if they had been broken off--although they are
really their full size--are of no use as offensive weapons. When
danger threatens him he runs away, and a funny sight he is then. He
can run very fast, but he is very awkward; he goes like a cow on
stilts.
But when there is no chance for him to run away, he can often defend
himself, for he can kick like a good fellow. His hind-legs fly so fast
when he is kicking that you can hardly see them, and he has been known
to drive off a lion by this means of defence.
When hunters wish to catch a giraffe alive, they generally drive him
into a thick woods, where his great height prevents him from running
very rapidly; and as soon as they come up with him, they endeavor to
entangle him in ropes, to throw him down, and to put a halter round
his neck. If they only keep out of the way of his heels, there is no
need of being afraid of him. When they have secured him they lead him
off, if he will come; but if he is an old fellow he will not walk
after them, and he is too strong to be easily pulled along, no matter
how many men may be in the hunt. So in this case they generally kill
him, for his skin is valuable, and his flesh is very good to eat. But
if the giraffe is a young one, he will follow his captors without
difficulty, for these animals are naturally very gentle.
Why the natives of Africa should desire to obtain living giraffes,
unless it is to sell them to people who wish to carry them to other
countries, travellers do not inform us. We have never heard that any
domestic use was made of them, nor that they were kept for the sake of
their meat. But we suppose the hunters know their own business.
It is probable that the lion is really the greatest enemy of the
giraffe. It is not often that this crafty and powerful hunter will put
himself within reach of his victim's heels. Approaching softly and
slowly, the lion waits until he is quite near the giraffe, and then,
with one bound, he springs upon his back. Sometimes the giraffe
succeeds in shaking him off, but generally they both fall
together--the giraffe dead, and the lion with his appetite whetted for
an enormous dinner.
UP IN THE AIR.
[Illustration: UP IN A BALLOON.]
[Illustration]
We have already taken a journey under the earth, and now, if you like,
we will try a trip in the air. Anything for a novelty. We have lived
on the surface of the earth ever since we were born.
We will make our ascent in a balloon. It has been thought by some
folks, that there were easier methods of ascending into the air than
by a cumbrous balloon, but their inventions never became popular.
For instance, look at the picture of a flying-man.
This gentleman had an idea that he could fly by the aid of this
ingenious machinery. You will see that his wings are arranged so that
they are moved by his legs, and also by cords attached to his arms.
The umbrella over his head is not intended to ward off the rain or the
sun, but is to act as a sort of parachute, to keep him from falling
while he is making his strokes. The basket, which hangs down low
enough to be out of the way of his feet, is filled with provisions,
which he expects to need in the course of his journey.
That journey lasted exactly as long as it took him to fall from the
top of a high rock to the ground below.
But we are not going to trust ourselves to any such _harem-scarem_
contrivance as this. We are going up in a regular balloon.
We all know how balloons are made, and this one of ours is like most
others. It is a great globular bag, made of strips of silk sewn
together, and varnished with a certain composition which renders the
balloon air-tight. The car in which we will travel is made of
wicker-work, for that is both light and strong, and it is suspended
from a net-work of strong cord which covers the whole balloon. It
would not do, you know, to attach a cord to any particular part of the
silk, for that would tear it. In the top of the balloon is a valve,
and a cord from it comes down into the car. This valve is to be pulled
open when we wish to come down towards the earth. The gas then
escapes, and of course the balloon descends. In the car are bags of
sand, and these are to be emptied out when we think we are too heavy
for the balloon, and are either coming down too fast or are not as
high as we wish to go. Relieved of the weight of a bag, the balloon
rises.
Sand is used because it can be emptied out and will not injure anybody
in its descent. It would be rather dangerous, if ballooning were a
common thing, for the aëronauts to throw out stones and old iron, such
as are used for the ballast of a ship. If you ever feel a shower of
sand coming down upon you through the air, look up, and you will
probably see a balloon--that is, if you do not get some of the sand in
your eyes.
The gas with which our balloon is to be filled is hydrogen gas; but I
think we will not use the pure hydrogen, for it is troublesome and
expensive to produce. We will get permission of the city gas
authorities to take gas from one of their pipes.
That will carry us up very well indeed. When the balloon is nearly
full--we never fill it entirely, for the gas expands when it rises
into lighter air, and the balloon would explode if we did not leave
room for this expansion--it is almost as round as a ball, and swells
out proudly, struggling and pulling at the ropes which confine it to
the ground.
[Illustration]
Now we have but to attach the car, get in, and cut loose. But we are
going to be very careful on this trip, and so we will attach a
parachute to the balloon. I hope we may not use it, but it may save us
in case of an accident. This is the manner in which the parachute will
hang from the bottom of the car.
It resembles, you see, a closed umbrella without a handle, and it has
cords at the bottom, to which a car is attached. If we wish to come
down by means of this contrivance, we must descend from the car of the
balloon to that of the parachute, and then we must unfasten the rope
which attaches us to the balloon. We shall then drop like a shot; but
as soon as the air gets under our parachute it will spread open, and
our descent will immediately begin to be much more gradual, and if
nothing unusual occurs to us, we shall come gently to the ground. This
picture shows the manner in which we would come down in a parachute.
[Illustration]
This man's balloon has probably burst, for we see it is tumbling down,
and it will no doubt reach the ground before him.
When all is ready and we are properly seated in the car, with our
instruments and extra clothes and ballast, and some provisions, we
will give the word to "let her go."
There!
Did you see that?
The earth dropped right down. And it is dropping, but more slowly,
yet.
That is the sensation persons generally experience when they first go
up in a balloon. Not being used to rising in the air, they think at
first that they are stationary, and that the earth and all the people
and houses on it are falling below them.
Now, then, we are off! Look down and see how everything gets smaller,
and smaller, and smaller. As we pass over a river, we can look down to
its very bottom; and if we were not so high we could see the fishes
swimming about. The houses soon begin to look like toy-cottages, and
the trees like bushes, and the creeks and rivers like silvery bands.
The people now appear as black spots; we can just see some of them
moving about; but if they were to shout very loud we might hear them,
for sound travels upward to a great distance.
[Illustration: MOONLIGHT ABOVE THE CLOUDS.]
Soon everything begins to be mixed up below us. We can hardly tell the
woods from the fields; all seem pretty much alike. And now we think it
is getting foggy; we can see nothing at all beneath us, and when we
look up and around us we can see nothing but fog.
[Illustration]
We are in the clouds! Yes, these are the clouds. There is nothing very
beautiful about them--they are only masses of vapor. But how thick
that vapor is! Now, when we look up, we cannot even see the balloon
above us. We are sitting in our little basket-work car, and that is
all we know! We are shut out from the whole world, closed up in a
cloud!
But this foggy atmosphere is becoming thinner, and we soon shoot out
of it! Now we can see clearly around us. Where are the clouds? Look!
there they are, spread out like a great bed below us.
How they glisten and sparkle in the bright sunlight!
Is not this glorious, to ride above the clouds, in what seems to us
illimitable space! The earth is only a few miles below us, it is true,
but up and around us space _is_ illimitable.
[Illustration]
But we shall penetrate space no longer in an upward direction. It is
time we were going back to the world. We are all very cold, and the
eyes and ears of some of us are becoming painful. More than that, our
balloon is getting too large. The gas within it is expanding, on
account of the rarity of the air.
We shall pull the rope of the valve.
Now we are descending. We are in the clouds, and before we think much
about it we are out of them. We see the earth beneath us, like a great
circular plain, with the centre a little elevated. Now we see the
rivers; the forests begin to define themselves; we can distinguish
houses, and we know that we are falling very rapidly. It is time to
throw out ballast. We do so, and we descend more slowly.
Now we are not much higher than the tops of the trees. People are
running towards us. Out with another bag of sand! We rise a little.
Now we throw out the anchor. It drags along the ground for some
distance, as the wind carries us over a field, and then it catches in
a fence. And now the people run up and pull us to the ground, and the
most dangerous part of our expedition is over.
[Illustration]
For it is comparatively safe to go up in a balloon, but the descent
is often very hazardous indeed.
On the preceding page is a picture of a balloon which did not come
down so pleasantly as ours.
With nine persons in it, it was driven over the ground by a tremendous
wind; the anchors were broken; the car was bumped against the ground
ever so many times; and the balloon dashed into trees, breaking off
their branches; it came near running into a railroad train; it struck
and carried away part of a telegraph line, and at last became tangled
up in a forest, and stopped. Several of the persons in it had their
limbs broken, and it is a wonder they were not all killed.
The balloon in which we ascended was a very plain, common-sense
affair; but when aerial ascents were first undertaken the balloons
were very fancifully decorated.
For instance, Bagnolet's balloon and that of Le Flesselles, of which
we have given you pictures, are much handsomer than anything we have
at present. But they were not any more serviceable for all their
ornamentation, and they differed from ours in still another way--they
were "hot-air balloons."
Other balloons were furnished with all sorts of fans, rudders, etc.,
for the purpose of steering them, or accelerating their motion up or
down.
On the next page is one of that kind.
This balloon ascended from Dijon, France, in 1784, but the
steering-apparatus did not prove to be of much use.
There were other balloons devised by the early aëronauts, which were
still stranger than that one which arose from Dijon. The _Minerva_,
the picture of which you can examine at your leisure, was invented by
a Mr. Robertson, in the beginning of this century. He wished to make
a grand aerial voyage of several months, with a company of about sixty
persons, and therefore he had to have a very large balloon. To procure
this he desired the co-operation of the scientific men throughout
Europe, and sent plans and descriptions of his projected balloon to
all the learned societies.
[Illustration]
This great ship of the air was to be a regular little town, as you may
see. The balloon was to be one hundred and fifty feet in diameter, and
was to carry a large ship, on which the passengers would be safe if
they descended in the water, even if it were the middle of the ocean.
Everything was to be provided for the safety and convenience of the
passengers. Around the upper part of the balloon you will see a
platform, with sentries and tents. These soldiers were to be called
the "air-marines." There is a small balloon--about the common
size--which could be sent off like a small boat whenever occasion
required. If any one got tired of the expedition, and wanted to go
home, there was a parachute by which he might descend. On the deck of
the ship, near the stern, was to be a little church; small houses hung
from below, reached by ladders of silk, which were to be used as
medicine-rooms, gymnasiums, etc.; and under the ship would hang a
great hogshead, as big as a house, which would contain provisions and
stores, and keep them tight and dry. There was also a kitchen; and a
cannon, with which to fire off salutes, besides a number of guns,
which you see projecting from the port-holes of the ship. These, I
suppose, were to be used against all enemies or pirates of the air,
sea, or land.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
I cannot enumerate all the appendages of this wonderful balloon--you
see there are telescopes, sails, great speaking-trumpets, anchors,
etc.; but I will merely remark that it was never constructed.
One of the safest, and sometimes the most profitable, methods of using
a balloon, is that shown in the picture, "Safe Ballooning." Here a
battle is going on, and the individuals in the balloon, safely
watching the progress of events and the movements of the enemy,
transmit their observations to the army with which they are connected.
Of course the men on the ground manage a balloon of this sort, and
pull it around to any point that they please, lowering it by the ropes
when the observations are concluded. Balloons are often used in
warfare in this manner.
But during the late siege of Paris, balloons became more useful than
they have ever been since their invention. A great many aëronauts left
the besieged city, floated safely over the Prussian army, and
descended in friendly localities. Some of these balloons were
captured, but they generally accomplished their purposes, and were of
great service to the French. On one occasion, however, a balloon from
Paris was driven by adverse winds to the ocean, and its occupants were
drowned.
It has not been one hundred years since the balloon was invented by
the brothers Montgolfier, of France. They used heated air instead of
gas, and their balloons were of course inferior to those of the
present day. But we have not improved very much upon the original
balloon, and what progress will eventually be made in aerial
navigation it is difficult to prophesy. But there are persons who
believe that in time air-ships will make regular trips in all
directions, like our present steamboats and railroad-trains.
If this is ever the case, I hope we may all be living to see it.
[Illustration: DRIVEN OUT TO SEA]
THE HORSE OF ARABIA.
The Arabian horse has long been celebrated as the most valuable of his
race. He is considered an aristocrat among horses, and only those
steeds which can trace their descent from Arabian ancestors have the
right to be called "thorough-bred."
Occasionally an Arabian horse is brought to this country, but we do
not often see them. In fact, they would not be as valuable here as
those horses which, besides Arabian descent, have also other
characteristics which especially adapt them to our country and
climate.
In Arabia the horse, as an individual, especially if he happens to be
of the purest breed, is more highly prized than in any other part of
the world. It is almost impossible to buy a favorite horse from an
Arab, and even if he can be induced to sell it, the transaction is a
very complicated one. In the first place, all the relations and allies
of the owner must give their consent, for the parting with a horse to
a stranger is a very important matter with them. The buyer must then
make himself sure that the _whole of the horse_ belongs to the man who
is selling him, for the Arabs, when they wish to raise money, very
often do so by selling to a member of their tribe a fore-leg, a
hind-leg, or an ear, of one of their horses; and in this case, the
person who is a part owner of the animal must have his proportionate
share of all profits which may arise from its sale or use. This
practice is very much like our method of mortgaging our lands.
When the horse is finally bought and paid for, it had better be taken
away as soon as possible, for the Arabs--even those who have no
interest whatever in the sale--cannot endure to see a horse which once
belonged to their tribe passing into the hands of strangers. And
therefore, in order to soothe their wounded sensibilities, they
often steal the animal, if they can get a chance, before the buyer
carries him out of their reach.
[Illustration: ARABIAN HORSE.]
The Arabian horse is generally much more intelligent and docile than
those of our country. But this is not altogether on account of his
good blood. The Arab makes a friend and companion of his horse. The
animal so constantly associates with man, is talked to so much, and
treated so kindly, that he sometimes shows the most surprising
intelligence. He will follow his master like a dog; come at his call;
stand anywhere without moving, until his master returns to him; stop
instantly if his rider falls from his back, and wait until he mounts
again; and it has been said that an Arabian horse has been known to
pick up his wounded master from the field of battle, and by fastening
his teeth in the man's clothes, to carry him to a place of safety.
There is no doubt, if we were to treat our horses with gentleness and
prudence, and in a measure make companions of them whenever it was
possible, that they would come to regard us with much of the affection
and obedience which the Arabian horse shows to his master.
INDIAN PUDDINGS: PUMPKIN PIES.
[Illustration]
Some of the good old folks whom I well remember, called these things
"Ingin-puddins and punkin pies," but now we all know what very
incorrect expressions those were. Rut, even with such highly improper
names, these delicacies tasted quite--as well in those days as they
do now, and, if my youthful memory does not mislead me, they tasted a
little better.
There is no stage of the rise and progress of Indian puddings and
pumpkin pies, with which, when a youngster, I was not familiar. In the
very beginning of things, when the fields were being ploughed, "we
boys" were there. True, we went with no intent to benefit either the
corn-crop or the pumpkin-vines. We merely searched in the newly
turned-up earth for fish-worms. But for all that, we were there.
And when the corn was all planted, how zealous we used to be about the
crows! What benevolent but idiotic old scarecrows we used to
construct, and how _extremely_ anxious we were to be intrusted with
guns, that we might disperse, at once and forever, these black
marauders! For well we knew that a few dead crows, stuck up here and
there on stakes, would frighten away all the rest of the flock.
But we were not allowed the guns, and, even if we had had them, it is
probable that the crows would all have died of old age, had they
depended for an early death upon our powder and shot. With their
sagacity, their long sight, and their sentinels posted on the high
trees around the field, they were not likely to let a boy with a gun
approach very near to them. I have heard--and have no doubt of the
truth of the statement--that one of the best ways to shoot crows is to
go after them in a wagon, keeping your gun, of course, as much out of
sight as possible. Crows seem to know exactly what guns are intended
for. But they are seldom afraid of a wagon. They expect no danger from
it, and one can frequently drive along a country road while crows are
quietly feeding in the field adjoining, quite close to the fence.
But if any one goes out to shoot crows in this way he had better be
very careful that he has an excessively mild and unimpressible horse.
For, if the horse is frightened at the report of the gun, and dashes
away, and smashes the wagon, and breaks his harness, and spills
everything out of the wagon into the dust, mud, and bramble-bushes,
and throws the gunner heels over head into a ditch, it may be that a
dead crow will hardly pay him for his trouble and expense in procuring
it.
But after a time the corn got so high that it was not afraid of a
bird, and then we forgot the crows. But we liked to watch the corn in
all its stages. We kept a sharp look-out for the young pumpkin-vines,
and were glad to see the beans, which were planted in the hills with
the corn in some parts of the field.
There is one great advantage in a corn-field which many other fields
do not possess: you can always walk in it! And when the corn is higher
than your head, and the great long leaves are rustling in the wind,
and you can hardly see each other a dozen yards away, what a glorious
thing it is to wander about amidst all this cool greenness, and pick
out the biggest and the fattest ears for roasting!
You have then all the loveliness of Nature, combined with the hope of
a future joy, which Art--the art of your mother, or whoever roasts the
corn--will give you.
But the triumph of the corn-field is not yet. The transformation of
its products into Indian puddings and pumpkin pies will not occur
until the golden Autumn days, when the sun, and the corn, and the
pumpkins are all yellow alike, and gold--if it was not so
scarce--would be nothing to compare to any of them. Then come the men,
with their corn-cutters--pieces of scythe-blades, with handles fitted
to them--and down go the corn-stalks. Only one crack apiece, and
sometimes a big cut will slice off the stalks on a whole hill.
How we used to long to wield those corn-cutters!
But our parents thought too much of our legs.
When the corn has been cut and carried away, the pumpkins are enough
to astonish anybody. We never had any idea that there were so many!
At last, when the days were getting short, and the mornings were a
little cool, and the corn was in the cribs, and the pumpkins were in
the barn, and some of us had taken a grist to the mill, then were the
days of the pudding of Indian corn and the pies of pumpkin!
Then we stayed in the kitchen and saw the whole delightful process,
from the first mixing of the yellow meal with water, and the first cut
into the round pumpkins, until the swelling pudding and the tranquil
pie emerged in hot and savory grandeur from the oven.
It is of no use to expect those days to return. It is easy enough to
get the pies and the puddings, but it is very hard to be a boy again.
LIVING IN SMOKE.
[Illustration]
Here is a mosquito of which the bravest man might be afraid; but,
fortunately, these insects are not found quite so large as the one in
the drawing, for he is considerably magnified. But when we hear even a
very small fellow buzzing around our heads, in the darkness of a
summer night, we are very apt to think that he sounds as if he were at
least as big as a bat.