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THE
ANIMAL STORY BOOK
EDITED BY
ANDREW LANG
_WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. J. FORD_
[Illustration: {TWO ORAN OTANS}]
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
FOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK
LONDON, BOMBAY, CALCUTTA AND MADRAS
1914
_Copyright, 1896,_
By Longmans, Green, & Co.
_All rights reserved._
First Edition, September, 1896.
Reprinted, November, 1896, July, 1899,
June, 1904, February, 1909,
September, 1914.
THE FAIRY BOOK SERIES
Edited by Andrew Lang
_New and Cheaper Issue_
EACH VOLUME, $1.00 NET
THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK. With 138 Illustrations.
THE RED FAIRY BOOK. With 100 Illustrations.
THE GREEN FAIRY BOOK. With 101 Illustrations.
THE GREY FAIRY BOOK. With 65 Illustrations.
THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK. With 104 Illustrations.
THE PINK FAIRY BOOK. With 67 Illustrations.
THE BLUE POETRY BOOK. With 100 Illustrations.
THE TRUE STORY BOOK. With 66 Illustrations.
THE RED TRUE STORY BOOK. With 100 Illustrations.
THE ANIMAL STORY BOOK. With 67 Illustrations.
THE RED BOOK OF ANIMAL STORIES. With 65 Illustrations.
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS ENTERTAINMENTS. With 66 Illustrations.
THE VIOLET FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 54 other
Illustrations.
THE CRIMSON FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 43 other
Illustrations.
THE BROWN FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 42 other
Illustrations.
THE OLIVE FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 43 other
Illustrations.
THE ORANGE FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 50 other
Illustrations.
THE BOOK OF ROMANCE. With 8 Coloured Plates and 44 other
Illustrations.
THE RED ROMANCE BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 44 other
Illustrations.
THE BOOK OF PRINCES AND PRINCESSES. By Mrs. Lang. With 8
Coloured Plates and 43 other Illustrations.
THE RED BOOK OF HEROES. By Mrs. Lang. With 8 Coloured Plates
and 40 other Illustrations.
THE LILAC FAIRY BOOK. With 6 Coloured Plates and 46 other
Illustrations.
THE ALL SORTS OF STORIES BOOK. By Mrs. Lang. With 5 Coloured
Plates and 43 other Illustrations.
THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND HEROES. By Mrs. Lang. With 12 Coloured
Plates and 18 other Illustrations.
THE STRANGE STORY BOOK. By Mrs. Lang. With Portrait of Andrew
Lang, 12 Coloured Plates and 18 other Illustrations.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO., NEW YORK
[Illustration: ANDROCLES IN THE ARENA]
_To_
_MASTER FREDERICK LONGMAN_
This year our Book for Christmas varies,
Deals not with History nor Fairies
(I can't help thinking, children, you
Prefer a book which is _not_ true).
We leave these intellectual feasts,
To talk of Fishes, Birds, and Beasts.
These--though his aim is hardly steady--
These are, I think, a theme for Freddy!
Trout, though he is not up to fly,
He soon will catch--as well as I!
So, Freddy, take this artless rhyme,
And be a Sportsman in your time!
_PREFACE_
Children who have read our Fairy Books may have noticed that there are
not so very many fairies in the stories after all. The most common
characters are birds, beasts, and fishes, who talk and act like
Christians. The reason of this is that the first people who told the
stories were not very clever, or, if they were clever, they had never
been taught to read and write, or to distinguish between Vegetable,
Animal, and Mineral. They took it that all things were 'much of a
muchness:' they were not proud, and held that beast and bird could
talk like themselves, only, of course, in a different language.
After offering, then, so many Fairy Books (though the stories are not
all told yet), we now present you (in return for a coin or two) with a
book about the friends of children and of fairies--the beasts. The
stories are all true, more or less, but it is possible that Monsieur
Dumas and Monsieur Theophile Gautier rather improved upon their tales.
I own that I have my doubts about the bears and serpents in the tales
by the Baron Wogan. This gentleman's ancestors were famous Irish
people. One of them held Cromwell's soldiers back when they were
pursuing Charles II. after Worcester fight. He also led a troop of
horse from Dover to the Highlands, where he died of a wound, after
fighting for the King. The next Wogan was a friend of Pope and Swift;
he escaped from prison after Preston fight, in 1715, and, later,
rescued Prince Charlie's mother from confinement in Austria, and took
her to marry King James. He next became Governor of Don Quixote's
province, La Mancha, in Spain, and was still alive and merry in 1752.
Baron Wogan, descended from these heroes, saw no longer any king to
fight for, so he went to America and fought bears. No doubt he was as
brave as his ancestors, but whether all his stories of serpents are
absolutely correct I am not so certain. People have also been heard to
express doubts about Mr. Waterton and the Cayman. The terrible tale of
Mr. Gully and his deeds of war I _know_ to be accurate, and the story
of Oscar, the sentimental tyke, is believed in firmly by the lady who
wrote it. As for the stories about Greek and Roman beasts, Pliny, who
tells them, is a most respectable author. On the whole, then, this is
more or less of a true story-book.
There ought to be a moral; if so, it probably is that we should be
kind to all sorts of animals, and, above all, knock trout on the head
when they are caught, and don't let the poor things jump about till
they die. A chapter of a very learned sort was written about the
cleverness of beasts, proving that there must have been great
inventive geniuses among beasts long ago, and that now they have
rather got into a habit (which I think a very good one) of being
content with the discoveries of their ancestors. This led naturally to
some observations on Instinct and Reason; but there may be children
who are glad that there was no room for this chapter.
The longer stories from Monsieur Dumas were translated from the French
by Miss Cheape.
'A Rat Tale' is by Miss Evelyn Grieve, who knew the rats.
'Mr. Gully' is by Miss Elspeth Campbell, to whom Mr. Gully belonged.
'The Dog of Montargis,' 'More Faithful than Favoured,' and 'Androcles'
are by Miss Eleanor Sellar.
Snakes, Bears, Ants, Wolves, Monkeys, and some Lions are by Miss Lang.
'Two Highland Dogs' is by Miss Goodrich Freer.
'Fido' and 'Oscar' and 'Patch' are by Miss A. M. Alleyne.
'Djijam' is by his master.
'The Starling of Segringen' and 'Grateful Dogs' are by Mr. Bartells.
'Tom the Bear,' 'The Frog,' 'Jacko the Monkey' and 'Gazelle' are from
Dumas by Miss Blackley.
All the rest are by Mrs. Lang.
_CONTENTS_
PAGE
'Tom': an Adventure in the Life of a Bear in Paris 1
Sai the Panther 14
The Buzzard and the Priest 25
Cowper and his Hares 30
A Rat Tale 34
Snake Stories 43
What Elephants can Do 50
The Dog of Montargis 56
How a Beaver builds his House 64
The War Horse of Alexander 68
Stories about Bears 71
Stories about Ants 82
The Taming of an Otter 88
The Story of Androcles and the Lion 91
Monsieur Dumas and his Beasts 99
The Adventures of Pyramus 154
The Story of a Weasel 160
Stories about Wolves 163
Two Highland Dogs 174
Monkey Tricks and Sally at the Zoo 191
How the Cayman was killed 194
The Story of Fido 200
Beasts Besieged 205
Mr. Gully 209
Stories from Pliny 213
The Strange History of Cagnotte 215
Still Waters Run Deep; or, the Dancing Dog 219
Theo and his Horses: Jane, Betsy, and Blanche 225
Madame Theophile and the Parrot 231
The Battle of the Mullets and the Dolphins 233
Monkey Stories 237
Eccentric Bird Builders 245
The Ship of the Desert 248
Hame, hame, hame, where I fain wad be 253
Nests for Dinner 257
Fire-eating Djijam 259
The Story of the Dog Oscar 264
Dolphins at Play 274
The Starling of Segringen 278
Grateful Dogs 280
Gazelle 282
Cockatoo Stories 289
The Otter who was reared by a Cat 292
Stories about Lions 295
Builders and Weavers 307
More Faithful than Favoured 310
Dolphins, Turtles, and Cod 316
More about Elephants 321
Bungey 329
Lions and their Ways 333
The History of Jacko I. 338
Signora and Lori 348
Of the Linnet, Popinjay, or Parrot, and other Birds
that can Speak 351
Patch and the Chickens 354
The Fierce Falcon 356
Mr. Bolt, the Scotch Terrier 360
A Raven's Funeral 364
A Strange Tiger 368
Halcyons and their Biographers 373
The Story of a Frog 375
The Woodpecker Tapping on the Hollow Oak Tree 384
Dogs Over the Water 387
The Capocier and his Mate 394
Owls and Marmots 396
Eagles' Nests 399
_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS_
PAGE
Tom is invited to the Ball 3
'The Minuet was Tom's greatest Triumph' 9
Tom discovered in the Box 12
'They at last all took hold of his Tail' 16
Terror of the Orang-outang at Sai 17
Sai has to take a Pill 21
The Cats no match for the Buzzard 27
The Buzzard carries off Hat and Wig 28
'Seeing such a number of Rats, he left his Horses
and ran for his Life' 37
The Rats in the Larder 41
The Baron kills the Snake 44
The Baron slays the Horned Snake 46
How the Indians make the Horned Snake disgorge his
Dinner 48
The Elephant helps the Gardener 53
De Narsac recognises his Friend's Dog 57
The Dog flies at Macaire in the presence of the King 61
The Baron kills the Bear 75
The Grizzly 79
Androcles in the Lion's Cave 93
Androcles in the Arena 97
'Monsieur Dumas, may I accommodate you with my
Monkey and my Parrot?' 107
The Auvergnat and his Monkey 111
The Last of the Laidmanoirs and Mademoiselle
Desgarcins 120
Dumas arrives at Stora with his Vulture 127
'It's a regular Kennel' 131
Jugurtha becomes Diogenes 135
Pritchard and the Hens 142
'Pritchard reappeared next moment with a Hare
in his Mouth' 145
Cartouche outwits Pyramus 156
Mademoiselle de Laistre and her Weasel 161
'When Day broke' 166
The Death of the Famous Wolf of Gevaudan 171
'The Long Vigil' 187
The Capture of the Cayman 197
The Wounding of Fido 201
The Dream of the Hungry Lion 207
Cagnotte comes out of his Skin 217
'And what do you Think she Saw' 221
Blanche telling Ghost Stories to Jane in the Stable 227
How the Dolphins helped the Fishermen to catch
the Mullets 234
Two Oran Otans 238
The Baboons who stole the Poor Man's Dinner 241
Birds' Nests for Dinner 258
'In the full enjoyment of a large lighted Log
on the Dining-room Carpet' 261
'Oscar would charge and rout them' 265
'Oscar felt rather Frightened' 269
'Oh, Oscar, Oscar, lad what _have_ you Done?' 271
The Boy goes to School on the Dolphin's back 275
Dumas finds Joseph standing on Gazelle's back 284
Dumas brings Gazelle to No. 109 Faubourg St.-Denis 288
The Lion caught in the Pit 297
The Ambush 300
'All Three stopped to gaze at the Man who dared to
put himself in their Path' 303
'And pinned Him to the Ground' 314
'Long, Long Ago.' The Elephant dreams of his Old
Companions 323
The Elephant falls on his knees before the little
Scotch Terrier 327
Bungey at the Spanish Ambassador's House 331
The Hottentot noticed a huge Lion lying in the Water 335
Annoyance of the Captain on finding his Flask of
Rum upset 339
Lori refuses to Share with the Signora 349
A Raven's Funeral 365
The Tiger and his Friend 369
Love's disgraceful Behaviour out Shooting 377
The Sole Result of his Day's Sport 380
Mademoiselle Camargo becomes a Barometer 381
The Faithful Spaniel 389
_'TOM'_
_AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF A BEAR IN PARIS_
From Alexandre Dumas.
Some sixty years ago and more, a well-known artist named Decamps lived
in Paris. He was the intimate friend of some of the first authors,
artists, and scientific men of the day, and was devotedly fond of
animals of all sorts. He loved to paint them, and he kept quite a
small menagerie in his studio where a bear, a monkey, a tortoise, and
a frog lived (more or less) in peace and harmony together.
The bear's name was 'Tom,' the monkey was called 'Jacko I.,'[1] the
frog was 'Mademoiselle Camargo,' and the tortoise 'Gazelle.'
[1] To distinguish him from Jacko II., a monkey belonging to Tony
Johannot, the painter.
Here follows the story of Tom, the bear.
It was the night of Shrove Tuesday in the year 1832. Tom had as yet
only spent six months in Paris, but he was really one of the most
attractive bears you could wish to meet.
He ran to open the door when the bell rang, he mounted guard for hours
together, halberd in hand, standing on his hind legs, and he danced a
minuet with infinite grace, holding a broomstick behind his head.
He had spent the whole day in the exercise of these varied
accomplishments, to the great delight of the frequenters of his
master's studio, and had just retired to the press which did duty as
his hutch, to seek a little repose, when there was a knock at the
street door. Jacko instantly showed such signs of joy that Decamps
made a shrewd guess that the visitor could be no other than Fan, the
self-elected tutor in chief to the two animals--nor was he mistaken.
The door opened, Fan appeared, dressed as a clown, and Jacko flung
himself in rapture into his arms.
'Very good, very good,' said Fan, placing the monkey on the table and
handing him a cane. 'You're really a charming creature. Carry arms,
present arms, make ready, fire! Capital!'
'I'll have a complete uniform made for you, and you shall mount guard
instead of me. But I haven't come for you to-night; it's your friend
Tom I want. Where may he be?'
'Why, in his hutch, I suppose,' said Decamps.
'Tom! here, Tom!' cried Fan.
Tom gave a low growl, just to show that he knew very well who they
were talking of, but that he was in no hurry to show himself.
'Well!' exclaimed Fan, 'is this how my orders are obeyed? Tom, my
friend, don't force me to resort to extreme measures.'
Tom stretched one great paw beyond the cupboard without allowing any
more of his person to be seen, and began to yawn plaintively like a
child just wakened from its first sleep.
'Where is the broomstick?' inquired Fan in threatening tones, and
rattling the collection of Indian bows, arrows, and spears which stood
behind the door.
'Ready!' cried Decamps, pointing to Tom, who, on hearing these well
known sounds, had roused himself without more ado, and advanced
towards his tutor with a perfectly innocent and unconscious air.
'That's right,' said Fan: 'now be a good fellow, particularly as one
has come all this way on purpose to fetch you.'
[Illustration: TOM IS INVITED TO THE BALL]
Tom waved his head up and down.
'So, so--now shake hands with your friends:--first rate!'
'Do you mean to take him with you?' asked Decamps.
'Rather!' replied Fan; 'and give him a good time into the bargain.'
'And where are you going?'
'To the Carnival Masked Ball, nothing less! Now then Tom, my friend,
come along. We've got a cab outside waiting by the hour.'
As though fully appreciating the force of this argument, Tom trundled
down stairs four steps at a time followed by his friend. The driver
opened the cab door, and Tom, under Fan's guidance, stepped in as if
he had done nothing else all his life.
'My eye! that's a queer sort of a fancy dress,' said cabby; 'anyone
might take him for a real bear. Where to, gentlemen?'
'Odeon Theatre,' said Fan.
'Grrrooonnn,' observed Tom.
'All right,' said the cabman. 'Keep your temper. It's a good step from
here, but we shall get there all in good time.'
Half an hour later the cab drew up at the door of the theatre. Fan got
down first, paid the driver, handed out Tom, took two tickets, and
passed in without exciting any special attention.
At the second turn they made round the crush-room people began to
follow Fan. The perfection with which the newcomer imitated the walk
and movements of the animal whose skin he wore attracted the notice of
some lovers of natural history. They pressed closer and closer, and
anxious to find out whether he was equally clever in imitating the
bear's voice, they began to pull his hairs and prick his
ears--'Grrrooonnn,' said Tom.
A murmur of admiration ran through the crowd--nothing could be more
lifelike.
Fan led Tom to the buffet and offered him some little cakes, to which
he was very partial, and which he proceeded to swallow with so
admirable a pretence of voracity that the bystanders burst out
laughing. Then the mentor poured out a tumbler full of water, which
Tom took gingerly between his paws, as he was accustomed to whenever
Decamps did him the honour of permitting him to appear at table, and
gulped down the contents at one draught. Enthusiasm knew no bounds!
Indeed such was the delight and interest shown that when, at length,
Fan wished to leave the buffet, he found they were hemmed in by so
dense a crowd that he felt nervous lest Tom should think of clearing
the road with claws and teeth. So he promptly led his bear to a
corner, placed him with his back against the wall, and told him to
stay there till further orders.
As has been already mentioned, this kind of drill was quite familiar
to Tom, and was well suited to his natural indolence, and when a
harlequin offered his hat to complete the picture, he settled himself
comfortably, gravely laying one great paw on his wooden gun.
'Do you happen to know,' said Fan to the obliging harlequin, '_who_
you have lent your hat to?'
'No,' replied harlequin.
'You mean to say you don't guess?'
'Not in the least.'
'Come, take a good look at him. From the grace of all his movements,
from the manner in which he carries his head, slightly on one side,
like Alexander the Great--from the admirable imitations of the bear's
voice--you don't mean to say you don't recognise him?'
'Upon my word I don't.'
'Odry!'[2] whispered Fan mysteriously; 'Odry, in his costume from "The
Bear and the Pacha"!'
[2] A well-known actor of the time.
'Oh, but he acts a _white_ bear, you know.'
'Just so; that's why he has chosen a brown bear's skin as a disguise.'
'Ho, ho! You're a good one,' cried harlequin.
'Grrooonnn,' observed Tom.
'Well, now you mention it, I _do_ recognise his voice. Really, I
wonder it had not struck me before. Do ask him to disguise it better.'
'Yes, yes,' said Fan, moving towards the ball-room, 'but it will never
do to worry him. However, I'll try to persuade him to dance a minuet
presently.'
'Oh, could you really?'
'He promised to do so. Just give a hint to your friends and try to
prevent their teasing him.'
'All right.'
Tom made his way through the crowd, whilst the delighted harlequin
moved from one mask to another, telling his news with warnings to be
discreet, which were well received. Just then, too, the sounds of a
lively galop were heard, and a general rush to the ball-room took
place, harlequin only pausing to murmur in Tom's ear: 'I know you, my
fine mask.'
'Grroooonnn,' replied Tom.
'Ah, it's all very well to growl, but you'll dance a minuet, won't
you, old fellow?'
Tom waved his head up and down as his way was when anyone asked him a
question, and harlequin, satisfied with this silent consent, ran off
to find a columbine and to dance the galop.
Meanwhile, Tom remained alone with the waiters; motionless at his
post, but with longing eyes turned towards the counter on which the
most tempting piles of cake were heaped on numerous dishes. The
waiters, remarking his rapt attention, and pleased to tempt a
customer, stretched out a dish, Tom extended his paw and gingerly took
a cake--then a second--then a third: the waiters seemed never tired of
offering, or Tom of accepting these delicacies, and so, when the
galop ended and the dancers returned to the crush-room, he had made
short work of some dozens of little cakes.
Harlequin had recruited a columbine and a shepherdess, and he
introduced these ladies as partners for the promised minuet. With all
the air of an old friend he whispered a few words to Tom, who, in the
best of humours after so many cakes, replied with his most gracious
growl. The harlequin, turning towards the gallery, announced that his
lordship had much pleasure in complying with the universal request,
and amidst loud applause, the shepherdess took one of Tom's paws and
the columbine the other. Tom, for his part, like an accomplished
cavalier, walked between his two partners, glancing at them by turns
with looks of some surprise, and soon found himself with them in the
middle of the pit of the theatre which was used as a ball-room. All
took their places, some in the boxes, others in the galleries, the
greater number forming a circle round the dancers. The band struck up.
The minuet was Tom's greatest triumph and Fan's masterpiece, and with
the very first steps success was assured and went on increasing with
each movement, till at the last figure the applause became delirious.
Tom was swept off in triumph to a stage box where the shepherdess,
removing her wreath of roses, crowned him with it, whilst the whole
theatre resounded with the applause of the spectators.
Tom leant over the front of the box with a grace all his own; at the
same time the strains of a fresh dance were heard, and everyone
hurried to secure partners except a few courtiers of the new star who
hovered round in hope of extracting an order for the play from him,
but Tom only replied to their broadest hints with his perpetual
'Grroonnn.'
By degrees this became rather monotonous, and gradually Tom's court
dwindled away, people murmuring that, though his dancing powers were
certainly unrivalled, his conversation was a trifle insipid. An hour
later Tom was alone! So fleeting is public favour.
[Illustration: 'THE MINUET WAS TOM'S GREATEST TRIUMPH']
And now the hour of departure drew near. The pit was thinning and the
boxes empty, and pale rays of morning light were glinting into the
hall when the box-opener, who was going her rounds, heard sounds of
snoring proceeding from one of the stage boxes. She opened the door,
and there was Tom, who, tired out after his eventful night, had fallen
fast asleep on the floor. The box-opener stepped in and politely
hinted that it was six o'clock and time to go home.
'Grrooonnn,' said Tom.
'I hear you,' said the box-opener; 'you're asleep, my good man, but
you'll sleep better still in your own bed. Come, come, your wife must
be getting quite anxious! Upon my word I don't believe he hears a word
I say. How heavily he sleeps!' And she shook him by the shoulder.
'Grrrooonnn!'
'All right, all right! This isn't a time to make believe. Besides, we
all know you. There now, they're putting out the lights. Shall I send
for a cab for you?'
'Grrroooonnn.'
'Come, come, the Odeon Theatre isn't an inn; come, be off! Oh,
_that's_ what you're after, is it? Fie, Monsieur Odry, fie! I shall
call the guard; the inspector hasn't gone to bed yet. Ah, indeed! You
won't obey rules! You are trying to beat me, are you? You would beat a
woman--and a former artiste to M. Odry, would you? For shame! But we
shall see. Here, help--police--inspector--help!'
'What's the matter?' cried the fireman on duty.
'Help!' screamed the box-opener, 'help!'
'What's the matter?' asked the sergeant commanding the patrol.
'Oh, it's old mother what's her name, shrieking for help in one of the
stage boxes.'
'Coming!' shouted the sergeant.
'This way, Mr. Sergeant, this way,' cried the box-opener.
'All right, my dear, here I am. But where are you?'
'Don't be afraid; there are no steps--straight on this way--he's in
the corner. Oh, the rascal, he's as strong as a Turk!'
'Grrrooonnn,' said Tom.
'There, do you hear him? Is that to be called a Christian language?'
'Come, come, my friend,' said the sergeant, who had at last managed to
distinguish Tom in the faint twilight. 'We all know what it is to be
young--no one likes a joke better than I do--but rules are rules, and
the hour for going home has struck, so right about face, march! and
quick step too.'
'Grrrooonnn'--
'Very pretty; a first-rate imitation. But suppose we try something
else now for a change. Come, old fellow, step out with a good will.
Ah! you won't. You're going to cut up rough, are you? Here, my man,
lay hold and turn him out.'
'He won't walk, sergeant.'
'Well, what are the butt ends of your muskets for? Come, a tap or two
will do no harm.'
'Grrrooonnn--Grrrooonnn--Grrrooonnn--'
'Go on, give it him well!'
'I say, sergeant,' said one of the men, 'it strikes me he's a _real_
bear. I caught hold of him by the collar just now, and the skin seems
to grow on the flesh.'
'Oh, if he's a real bear treat him with every consideration. His owner
might claim damages. Go and fetch the fireman's lantern.'
'Grrrooonnn.'
'Here's the lantern,' said a man; 'now then, throw some light on the
prisoner.'
The soldier obeyed.
'It is certainly a real snout,' declared the sergeant.
'Goodness gracious me!' shrieked the box-opener as she took to her
heels, 'a real live bear!'
'Well, yes, a real live bear. Let's see if he has any name or address
on him and take him home. I expect he has strayed, and being of a
sociable disposition, came in to the Masked Ball.'
'Grrrooonnn.'
'There, you see, he agrees.'
'Hallo!' exclaimed one of the soldiers.
'What's the matter?'
[Illustration: TOM DISCOVERED IN THE BOX]
'He has a little bag hung round his neck.'
'Open the bag.'
'A card.'
'Read the card.'
The soldier took it and read:
'My name is Tom. I live at No. 109 Rue Faubourg St.-Denis. I have
five francs in my purse. Two for a cab, and three for whoever takes me
home.'
'True enough; there are the five francs,' cried the sergeant. 'Now
then, two volunteers for escort duty.'
'Here!' cried the guard in chorus.
'Don't all speak at once! Let the two seniors have the benefit of the
job; off with you, my lads.'
Two of the municipal guards advanced towards Tom, slipped a rope round
his neck and, for precaution's sake, gave it a twist or two round his
snout. Tom offered no resistance--the butt ends of the muskets had
made him as supple as a glove. When they were fifty yards from the
theatre, 'Bah!' said one of the soldiers, ''tis a fine morning.
Suppose we don't take a cab. The walk will do him good.'
'Besides,' remarked the other, 'we should each have two and a half
francs instead of only one and a half.'
'Agreed.'
Half an hour later they stood at the door of 109. After some knocking,
a very sleepy portress looked out.
'Look here, Mother Wideawake,' said one of the guard; 'here's one of
your lodgers. Do you recognise him?'
'Why, I should rather think so. It's Monsieur Decamps' bear!'
The same day, Odry the actor received a bill for little cakes,
amounting to seven francs and a half.
_SAI THE PANTHER_
From Loudon's _Magazine of Natural History_.
About seventy or eighty years ago two little panthers were deserted by
their mother in one of the forests of Ashantee. They were too young to
get food for themselves, and would probably have died had they not
been found by a passing traveller, and by him taken to the palace as a
present to the king. Here they lived and played happily for several
weeks, when one day the elder and larger, whose name was Sai, gave his
brother, in fun, such a dreadful squeeze that, without meaning it, he
suffocated him. This frightened the king, who did not care to keep
such a powerful pet about him, and he gave him away to Mr. Hutchison,
an English gentleman, who was a sort of governor for the English
traders settled in that part of Africa.
Mr. Hutchison and Sai took a great fancy to each other, and spent a
great deal of time together, and when, a few months later, Mr.
Hutchison returned to Cape Coast he brought Sai with him. The two
friends always had dinner at the same time, Sai sitting at his
master's side and eating quietly whatever was given him. In general he
was quite content with his portion, but once or twice, when he was
hungrier than usual, he managed to steal a fowl out of the dish. For
the sake of his manners the fowl was always taken from him, although
he was invariably given some other food to satisfy his hunger.
At first the inhabitants of the castle and the children were much
afraid of him, but he soon became very tame, and his teeth and claws
were filed so that he should not hurt anyone, even in play. When he
got a little accustomed to the place, he was allowed to go where he
liked within the castle grounds, and a boy was told off to look after
him. Sometimes the boy would go to sleep when he ought to have been
watching his charge, and then Sai, who knew perfectly well that this
was not at all right, would steal quietly away and amuse himself till
he thought his keeper would be awake again. One day, when he returned
from his wanderings, he found the boy, as usual, comfortably curled up
in a cool corner of the doorstep sound asleep. Sai looked at him for a
moment, and then, thinking that it was full time for him to be taught
his duty, he gave him one pat on his head, which sent the boy over
like a ninepin and gave him a good fright, though it did not do him
any harm.
Sai was very popular with everybody, but he had his own favourites,
and the chief of these was the governor, whom he could not bear to let
out of his sight. When his master went out he would station himself at
the drawing-room window, where he could watch all that was going on,
and catch the first sight of his returning friend. Being by this time
nearly grown up, Sai's great body took up all the space, to the great
disgust of the children, who could see nothing. They tried to make him
move, first by coaxings and then by threats, but as Sai did not pay
the smallest attention to either one or the other, they at last all
took hold of his tail and pulled so hard that he was forced to move.
[Illustration: 'THEY AT LAST ALL TOOK HOLD OF HIS TAIL']
Strange to say, the black people were a great deal more afraid of Sai
than any of the white ones, and one of his pranks nearly caused the
death of an old woman who was the object of it. It was her business to
sweep out and keep clean the great hall of the castle, and one morning
she was crouching down on all fours with a short broom in her hand,
thinking of nothing but how to get the dust out of the floor, when
Sai, who had hidden himself under a sofa, and was biding his time,
suddenly sprang on to her back, where he stood triumphantly. The old
woman believed her last hour had come, and the other servants all ran
away shrieking, lest it should be their turn next. Sai would not
budge from his position till the governor, who had been alarmed by the
terrible noise, came to see what was the matter, and soon made Master
Sai behave himself.
[Illustration: TERROR OF THE ORANG-OUTANG AT SAI]
At this time it was settled that Sai was to travel to England under
the care of one of his Cape Coast friends and be presented to the
Duchess of York, who was very fond of animals. In those days, of
course, journeys took much longer than they do now, and there were
other dangers than any which might arise from storms and tempests.
While the strong cage of wood and iron was being built which was to
form Sai's house on the way to England, his lady keeper thought it
would be a good opportunity to make friends with him, and used to
spend part of every day talking to him and playing with him; for this,
as everyone knows, is the only way to gain the affection of bird or
beast. It was very easy to love Sai; he was so gentle and caressing,
especially with children; and he was very handsome besides in his
silky yellow coat with black spots, which, as the French say, does not
spoil anything. Many creatures and many men might have made a great
fuss at being shut into a cage instead of being allowed to walk about
their own house and grounds, but everyone had always been kind to Sai,
so he took for granted it was all right, and made himself as
comfortable as he could, and was quite prepared to submit to anything
disagreeable that he thought reasonable. But it very nearly happened
that poor Sai had no voyage at all, for while he was being hauled from
the canoe which had brought him from the shore into the ship, the men
were so afraid to come near him that they let his cage fall into the
sea, and if the sailors from the vessel had not been very quick in
lowering a boat it would have been too late to save him. As it was,
for many days he would not look up or eat or speak, and his friend was
quite unhappy about him, although the same symptoms have sometimes
been shown by human beings who have only been _on_ the sea instead of
_in_ it. At last he was roused from his sad condition by hearing the
lady's voice. He raised his head and cocked his ears, first a little,
then more; and when she came up to the cage he rolled over and over
with delight, and howled and cried and tried to reach her. When he got
a little calmer she told him to put his paws through the bars and
shake hands, and from that moment Sai was himself again.
Now it was a very strange taste on the part of a panther whose fathers
and grandfathers had lived and died in the heart of African forests,
but Sai loved nothing so much as lavender water, which white people
use a great deal in hot countries. If anyone took out a handkerchief
which had been sprinkled with lavender water, Sai would instantly
snatch it away, and in his delight would handle it so roughly that it
was soon torn to atoms. His friend in charge knew of this odd fancy,
and on the voyage she amused herself regularly twice a week with
making a little cup of paper, which she filled with the scent and
passed through the bars, taking care never to give it him till he had
drawn back his claws into their sheaths. Directly he got hold of the
cup Sai would roll over and over it, and would pay no attention to
anyone as long as the smell lasted. It almost seemed as if he liked it
better than his food!
For some reason or other the vessel lay at anchor for nearly two
months in the river Gaboon, and Sai might have been allowed to leave
his cage if he had not been an animal of such very strong prejudices.
Black people he could not endure, and, of course, they came daily in
swarms with food for the ship. Pigs, too, he hated, and they ran
constantly past his cage, while as for an orang-outang monkey about
three feet high, which a black trader once tried to sell to the
sailors, Sai showed such mad symptoms at the very sight of it that the
poor beast rushed in terror to the other end of the vessel, knocking
down everything that came in its way. If the monkey took some time
to recover from his fright, it was very long before Sai could
forget the shock he had received. Day and night he watched and
listened, and sometimes, when he fancied his enemy was near, he would
give a low growl and arch his back and set up his tail; yet, as far as
we know, he had never from his babyhood killed anything.
[Illustration: SAI HAS TO TAKE A PILL]
But when at last the winds were favourable, and the ship set sail for
the open sea, other adventures were in store for the passengers.
Pirates infested the coast of Africa in those days, and they came on
board and carried off everything of value, including the stores of
provisions. The only things they did not think worth removing were the
parrots, of which three hundred had been brought by the sailors, and
as these birds could not stand the cold, and died off fast as the ship
steered north, Sai was allowed one a day, which just managed to keep
him alive. Still, there is very little nourishment to be got out of a
parrot, especially when you eat it with the feathers on, and Sai soon
became very ill and did not care even for parrots. His keeper felt his
nose and found it dry and feverish, so she begged that she might take
him out of his cage and doctor him herself. A little while before, Sai
would have been enchanted to be free, but now he was too ill to enjoy
anything, and he just stretched himself out on deck, with his head on
his mistress's feet. Luckily she had some fever medicine with her,
good for panthers as well as men and women, and she made up three
large pills which she hoped might cure Sai. Of course it was not to be
expected that he would take them of his own free will, so she got the
boy who looked after him to hold open his mouth, while she pushed down
the pills. Then he was put back into his cage, the boy insisting on
going with him, and both slept comfortably together. In a few days,
with the help of better food than he had been having, he got quite
well, and on his arrival in England won the admiration of the Duchess
of York, his new mistress, by his beauty and gentle ways. As his
country house was not quite ready for him, he was left for a few
weeks with a man who understood animals, and seemed contented and
happy, and was allowed to walk about as he liked. Here the Duchess of
York used constantly to visit him and play with him, even going to see
him the very day before he--and she--were to move into the country. He
was in excellent spirits, and appeared perfectly well, but he must
somehow have taken a chill, for when, on the following day, the
Duchess's coachman came to fetch him, he found poor Sai had died after
a few hours' illness from inflammation of the lungs.
After all he is not so much to be pitied. He had had a very happy
life, with plenty of fun and plenty of kindness, and he had a very
rapid and painless death.
_THE BUZZARD AND THE PRIEST_
Bingley's _Animal Biography_.
About one hundred and forty years ago a French priest received a
present of a large brown and grey bird, which had been taken in a
snare intended for some other creature, and was very wild and savage.
The man who brought it was quite ignorant what kind of bird it was,
but the priest knew it to be the common buzzard, and made up his mind
to try to tame it. He began by keeping it shut up, and allowing it to
take no food except out of his hand, and after about six weeks of this
treatment it grew much quieter, and had learnt to know its master. The
priest then thought it would be safe to give the buzzard a little more
freedom, and after carefully tying its wings, so that it could not fly
away, he turned it out into the garden. Of course it was highly
delighted to find itself in the sun once more, and hopped about with
joy, and the time passed quickly till it began to get hungry, when it
was glad to hear its master calling it to come in to dinner. Indeed,
the bird always seemed so fond of the priest, that in a few days he
thought he might leave it quite free, so he unfastened its wings and
left them loose, merely hanging a label with his own name round its
neck, and putting a little bell round its leg. But what was the poor
man's disgust, to see the buzzard instantly spread out its great wings
and make for the neighbouring forest, deaf to all his calls! He
naturally expected that, in spite of his trouble and precautions, the
bird had flown away for ever, and sat sadly down to prepare his next
day's sermon. Now sermons are things that take up a great deal of
attention, and he had almost forgotten his lost favourite when he was
startled by a tremendous noise in the hall outside his study, and on
opening the door to see what was the matter, he saw his buzzard
rushing about, followed by five others, who were so jealous of its
copper plate and bell, that they had tried to peck them off, and the
poor thing had flown as fast as it could to its master's house, where
it knew it was safe.
After this it took care not to wander too far from home, and came back
every night to sleep on the priest's window sill. Soon it grew bolder
still, and would sit on the corner of the table when he was at dinner,
and now and then would rub his head against his shoulder, uttering a
low cry of affection and pleasure. Sometimes it would even do more,
and follow him for several miles when he happened to be riding.
But the buzzard was not the only pet the priest had to look after.
There were ducks, and chickens, and dogs, and four large cats. The
ducks and chickens it did not mind, at least those that belonged to
the house, and it would even take its bath at the same time with the
ducklings, and never trod upon them when they got in its way, or got
cross and pecked them. And if hawks or any such birds tried to snap up
the little ones who had left their mother's wing to take a peep at the
world, the buzzard would instantly fly to their help, and never once
was beaten in the battle. Curiously enough, however, it seemed to
think it might do as it liked with the fowls and ducks that belonged
to other people, and so many were the complaints of cocks and hens
lamed and killed, that the priest was obliged to let it be known that
he would pay for all such damage, in order to save his favourite's
life. As to dogs and cats, it always got the better of _them_; in any
experiment which it amused the priest to make. One day he threw a
piece of raw meat into the garden where the cats were collected, to
be scrambled for. A young and active puss instantly seized it and ran
away with her prize, with all the other cats after her. But quick as
she was, the buzzard, who had been watching her movements from the
bough of a tree, was quicker still. Down it pounced on her back,
squeezed her sides with its claws, and bit her ears so sharply, that
she was forced to let go. In one moment another cat had picked the
morsel up in its teeth, but it did not hold it long. The process that
had answered for one cat would answer for a second, as the buzzard
very well knew. Down he swooped again, and even when the whole four
cats, who saw in him a common enemy, attacked the bird at once, they
proved no match for him, and in the end they were clever enough to
find that out.
[Illustration: THE CATS NO MATCH FOR THE BUZZARD]
It is not easy to know what buzzards in general think about things,
but this one hated scarlet as much as any bull. Whenever he saw a red
cap on any of the peasants' heads, he would hide himself among the
thick boughs overhanging the road where the man had to pass, and would
nip it off so softly that the peasant never felt his loss. He would
even manage to take off the wigs which every one wore then, and that
was cleverer still, and off he would carry both wigs and caps to a
tall tree in a park near by, and hang them all over it, like a new
kind of fruit.
[Illustration: THE BUZZARD CARRIES OFF HAT AND WIG]
As may be imagined, a bird so bold made many enemies, and was often
shot at by the keepers, but for a long time it appeared to bear a
charmed life, and nothing did it any harm. However, one unlucky day a
keeper who was going his rounds in the forest, and who did not know
what a strange and clever bird this buzzard was, saw him on the back
of a fox which he had attacked for want of something better to do, and
fired two shots at them. One shot killed the fox; the other broke the
wing of the buzzard, but he managed to fly out of reach of the
keeper, and hid himself. Meanwhile the tinkling of the bell made the
keeper guess that this must be the priest's pet, of which he had so
often heard; and being anxious to do what he could to repair the
damage he had done, he at once told the priest what had happened. The
priest went out directly to the forest, and gave his usual whistle,
but neither on that evening nor on several others was there any reply.
At last on the seventh night he heard a low answer, and on searching
narrowly all through the wood, the priest found the poor buzzard,
which had hopped nearly two miles towards its old home, dragging its
broken wing after it. The bird was very thin, but was enchanted to see
his old master, who carried him home and nursed him for six weeks,
when he got quite well, and was able to fly about as boldly as ever.
_COWPER AND HIS HARES_
From Bingley's _British Quadrupeds_.
No one was fonder of animals, or kinder to them, than Cowper the poet,
who lived towards the end of the last century; but of all creatures he
loved hares best, perhaps because he, like them, was timid and easily
frightened. He has left a very interesting account of three hares that
were given to him when he was living in the country in the year 1774,
and as far as possible the poet shall tell his own story of the
friendship between himself and his pets--Puss, Tiney, and Bess, as he
called them.
Cowper was not at all a strong man, and suffered terribly from fits of
low spirits, and at these times he could not read, and disliked the
company of people, who teased him by giving him advice or asking him
questions. It was during one of these seasons of solitude and
melancholy that he noticed a poor little hare belonging to the
children of one of his neighbours, who, without meaning really to be
unkind, had worried the little thing almost to death. Soon they got
tired even of playing with it, and the poor hare was in danger of
being starved to death, when their father, whose heart was more tender
than theirs, proposed that it should be given to their neighbour Mr.
Cowper.
Now Cowper, besides feeling pity for the poor little creature, felt
that he should like to teach and train it, and as just then he was too
unhappy to care for his usual occupations, he gladly accepted the
present. In a very short time Puss was given two companions, Tiney
and Bess, and could have had dozens more if Cowper had wanted them,
for the villagers offered to catch him enough to have filled the whole
countryside if he would only give the order.
However, Cowper decided that three would be ample for his purposes,
and as he wished them to learn nice clean habits, he began with his
own hands to build them a house. The house contained a large hall and
three bedrooms, each with a separate bed, and it was astonishing how
soon every hare knew its own bedroom, and how careful he was (for in
spite of their names they were all males) never to go into those of
his friends.
Very soon all three made themselves much at home in their comfortable
quarters, and Puss, the first comer, would jump on his master's lap
and, standing up on his hind legs, would bite the hair on his temples.
He enjoyed being carried about like a baby, and would even go to sleep
in Cowper's arms, which is a very strange thing for a hare to do. Once
Puss got ill, and then the poet took care to keep him apart from the
other two, for animals have a horror of their sick companions, and are
generally very unkind to them. So he nursed Puss himself, and gave him
all sorts of herbs and grasses as medicine, and at last Puss began to
get better, and took notice of what was going on round him. When he
was strong enough to take his first little walk, his pleasure knew no
bounds; and in token of his gratitude he licked his master's hand,
first back, then front, and then between every finger. As soon as he
felt himself quite strong again, he went with the poet every day,
after breakfast, into the garden, where he lay all the morning under a
trailing cucumber, sometimes asleep, but every now and then eating a
leaf or two by way of luncheon. If the poet was ever later than usual
in leaving the house, Puss would down on his knees and look up into
his eyes with a pleading expression, or, if these means failed, he
would seize his master's coat between his teeth, and pull as hard as
he could towards the window. Puss was, perhaps, the pleasantest of all
the hares, but Bess, who died young, was the cleverest and most
amusing. He had his little tempers, and when he was not feeling very
well, he was glad to be petted and made much of; but no sooner had he
recovered than he resented any little attentions, and would growl and
run away or even bite if you attempted to touch him. It was impossible
really to tame Tiney, but there was something so serious and solemn in
all he did, that it made you laugh even to watch him.
Bess, the third, was very different from the other two. He did not
need taming, for he was tame from the beginning, as it never entered
into his head that anyone could be unkind to him. In many things he
had the same tastes as his friends. All three loved lettuces,
dandelions, and oats; and every night little dishes were placed in
their bedrooms, in case they might feel hungry. One day their master
was clearing out a birdcage while his three hares were sitting by, and
he placed on the floor a pot containing some white sand, such as birds
use instead of a carpet. The moment they saw the sand, they made a
rush for it and ate it up greedily. Cowper took the hint, and always
saw, after that, that sand was placed where the hares could get at it.
After supper they all spent the evenings in the parlour, and would
tumble over together, and jump over each other's backs, and see which
could spring the farthest, just like a set of kittens. But the
cleverest of them all was Bess, and he was also the strongest.