him that he _had_ killed the pigeons. Now he saw the birds were
pigeons, not gulls, and, worse than killing them, he had, all
unknowingly, told his master a lie; and he could not undo it. He
whined a little as if in pain, and moved slowly out of the room. The
minister sat on, deep in thought, and then went outside the house to
see the sunset. Great bands of thick grey cloud wrapped the hill-tops
in their folds, and lay in long bands across the slopes, while here
and there in the rifts were patches of pale lemon-coloured sky. The
loch waters heaved sullenly against the shore. The minister looked
away from the sunset, and his eye fell on a little mound in the bed by
the cottage.
'What did I plant there?' he thought, and began poking it with his
stick.
'Oscar, Oscar!'
Oscar was bounding down the path. He had just determined to unbury the
pigeons and bring them to his master, and, even if he received a
beating, his master would know he had not meant to deceive.
But now, hearing the call, and the tone of the minister's voice, he
knew it was too late. He stopped, and then crept slowly towards that
tall black figure standing in the twilight, with the two white pigeons
lying at his feet.
'Oh, Oscar, Oscar lad, what _have_ you done?'
At that moment a boy came running to the gate.
'Ye'll be the minister that Sandy Johnston is speiring after. He says,
"Fetch the minister, and bid him come quick."'
[Illustration: 'OH, OSCAR, OSCAR LAD, WHAT _HAVE_ YOU DONE?']
The minister gave a few directions to Jean, and in a moment or two was
ready to go with the boy. It was a long row to the head of the loch,
and a long walk to reach the cottage where Sandy Johnston lay dying.
The minister stayed with him for two nights, till he seemed to need
his help no more, and then started off to come home. But while he was
being rowed along the loch, a fierce snowstorm came on. The boat
made but little way, and they were delayed two or three hours. Cold
and tired, the minister thought with satisfaction of his warm
fireside, with Oscar lying down beside his cosy chair. Then, for the
first time since it had happened, he thought of the pigeons, and he
half smiled as he recalled Oscar's downcast face as he came up the
path.
With quick steps he hurried along the street from the landing-place.
The snow was being blown about round him, and the night was fast
closing in. He was quite near his own gate now, and he looked up,
expecting to see the familiar brown head peering out of the door for
him; but there was no sign of it.
He opened the gate and strode in. Still no Oscar to welcome him.
'Jean, Jean!' he called. Jean appeared from the kitchen, and even in
the firelight he could see traces of tears on her rough face.
'Where is Oscar?'
'Ah, sir, after ye were gone wi' the lad, he wouldna' come into the
house, and wouldna' touch a morsel o' food. He lay quite still in the
garden, and last night he died. An' it's my belief, sir, he died of a
broken heart, because ye did na' beat him after killing the pigeons,
and he couldna' make it up wi' ye.'
And the minister thought so, too; and when Jean was gone, he sat down
by his lonely fireside and buried his face in his hands.
_DOLPHINS AT PLAY_
For some reason or other, dolphins, those queer great fish that always
seem to be at play, have been subjects for many stories. Pliny himself
has told several, and his old translator's words are so strange, that,
as far as possible, we will tell the tale as he tells it.
'In the days of Augustus Caesar, the Emperor,' says Pliny, 'there was a
dolphin entered the gulf or pool Lucrinus, which loved wondrous well a
certain boy, a poor man's son; who using to go every day to school
from Baianum to Puteoli, was wont also about noon-tide to stay at the
water side and call unto the dolphin, "Simo, Simo," and many times
would give him fragments of bread, which of purpose he ever brought
with him, and by this means allured the dolphin to come ordinarily
unto him at his call. Well, in process of time, at what hour soever of
the day this boy lured for him and called "Simo," were the dolphin
never so close hidden in any secret and blind corner, out he would and
come abroad, yea, and scud amain to this lad, and taking bread and
other victuals at his hand, would gently offer him his back to mount
upon, and then down went the sharp-pointed prickles of his fins, which
he would put up as it were within a sheath for fear of hurting the
boy. Thus, when he once had him on his back, he would carry him over
the broad arm of the sea as far as Puteoli to school, and in like
manner convey him back again home; and thus he continued for many
years together, so long as the child lived. But when the boy was
fallen sick and dead yet the dolphin gave not over his haunt, but
usually came to the wonted place, and missing the lad seemed to be
heavy and mourn again, until for very grief and sorrow he also was
found dead upon the shore.'
[Illustration: THE BOY GOES TO SCHOOL ON THE DOLPHIN'S BACK]
_THE STARLING OF SEGRINGEN_
Translated from the German of Johann Peter Hebel.
In a little German village in Suabia, there lived a barber, who
combined the business of hair-cutting and shaving with that of an
apothecary; he also sold good brandy, so that he had no lack of
customers, not to speak of those who merely wished to pass an hour in
gossiping.
Not the least of the attractions, however, was a tame starling, named
Hansel, who had been taught to speak, and had learnt many sayings
which he overheard, either from his master, the barber, or from the
idlers who gathered about the shop. His master especially had some
favourite sayings, or catchwords, such as, 'Truly, I am the barber of
Segringen'--for this is the name of the village--'As heaven will,' 'By
keeping bad company,' and the like; and these were most familiar to
the starling.
Everybody for miles round had at least heard of Hansel, and many came
on purpose to see him and hear him talk, for Hansel would often
interpose a word into the conversation, which came in very aptly.
But it happened one day, Hansel's wings--which had been cut--having
grown again, that he thought to himself: 'I have now learnt so much, I
may go out and see the world.' And when nobody was looking,
whirr!--away he went out of the window.
Seeing a flock of birds, he joined them, thinking: 'They know the
country better than I.'
But alas! this knowledge availed them little, for all of them, with
Hansel, fell into a snare which had been laid by a fowler, who soon
came to see what was in his net. Putting in his hand, he drew out one
prisoner after another, callously wringing their necks one by one.
But suddenly, when he was stretching out his murderous fingers to
seize another victim, this one cried out: 'I am the barber of
Segringen!'
The man almost fell backwards with astonishment and fright, believing
he had to do with a sorcerer at least; but presently recovering
himself a little, he remembered the starling, and said: 'Eh, Hansel,
is it you! How did you come into the net?'
'By keeping bad company,' replied Hansel.
'And shall I carry you home again?'
'As heaven will,' replied the starling.
Then the fowler took him back to the barber, and related the manner of
his capture, receiving a good reward.
The barber also reaped a fine harvest, for more people came to his
shop on purpose to see the clever bird, who had saved his life by his
ready tongue.
_GRATEFUL DOGS_
From 'Das Echo,' June 8, 1895. Letter to the editor, signed G. M.,
Mexico, purporting to be an extract from a letter of his brother in
Nebraska. I have translated and recast it.
A farmer in Nebraska--one of the Western States of North
America--possessed two dogs, a big one called Fanny, and a small one
who was named Jolly. One winter day the farmer went for a walk and
took with him his two pets; they came to a brook that ran through the
farm, and was now frozen up.
Fanny crossed it without much ado, but Jolly, who was always afraid of
water, distrusted the ice, and refused to follow. Fanny paused at the
other side, and barked loudly to induce her companion to come, but
Jolly pretended not to understand.
Then Fanny ran back to him, and tried to explain that it was quite
safe, but in vain, Jolly only looked after his master, and whimpered;
upon which, Fanny, losing patience, seized him by the collar, and
dragged him over.
For this kindness Jolly showed himself grateful some time afterwards.
Fanny, greedy creature, was fond of fresh eggs. When she heard a hen
cackle she always ran to look for the nest, and one day she discovered
one under the fruit-shed. But, alas! she could not get the beloved
dainty because she was too large to go under the shed. Looking very
pensive and thoughtful, she went away, and soon returned with Jolly,
bringing him just before the hole.
Jolly, however, was stupid and did not understand; Fanny put her head
in, and then her paws, without being able, with all her efforts, to
reach the egg; the smaller dog, seeing that there was something in the
hole, went in to look, but not caring for eggs, came out empty-handed.
Thereupon Fanny looked at him in such a sad and imploring way, that
her master, who was watching them, could scarcely suppress his
laughter.
At last Jolly seemed to understand what was wanted; he went under the
shed again, brought out the egg, and put it before Fanny, who ate it
with great satisfaction, and then both dogs trotted off together.
_GAZELLE_
PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A TORTOISE
Alexandre Dumas, in whose book, as I told you, I read the story of Tom
the Bear, as well as those of other animals, was one day walking past
the shop of a large fishmonger in Paris. As he glanced through the
window he saw an Englishman in the shop holding a tortoise, which he
was turning about in his hands. Dumas felt an instant conviction that
the Englishman proposed to make the tortoise into turtle soup, and he
was so touched by the air of patient resignation of the supposed
victim that he entered the shop, and with a sign to the shopwoman
asked whether she had kept the tortoise for him which he had bespoken.
The shopwoman (who had known Dumas for many years) understood with
half a word, and gently slipping the tortoise out of the Englishman's
grasp, she handed it to Dumas, saying, 'Pardon, milord, the tortoise
was sold to this gentleman this morning.'
The Englishman seemed surprised, but left the shop without
remonstrating, and Dumas had nothing left for it but to pay for his
tortoise and take it home.
As he carried his purchase up to his rooms on the third floor he
wondered what could have possessed him to buy it, and what on earth he
was to do with it now he had got it. It was certainly a remarkable
tortoise, for the moment he put it down on the floor of his bedroom it
started off for the fireplace at such a pace as to earn for itself the
name of 'Gazelle.'
Once near the fire, Gazelle settled herself in the warmest corner she
could find, and went to sleep.
Dumas, who wished to go out again and was afraid of his new possession
coming to any harm, called his servant and said: 'Joseph, whilst I am
out you must look after this creature.'
Joseph approached with some curiosity. 'Ah!' he remarked, 'why, it's a
tortoise; that creature could bear a carriage on its back.'
'Yes, yes, no doubt it might, but I beg you won't try any experiments
with it.'
'Oh, it wouldn't hurt it,' assured Joseph, who enjoyed showing off his
information. 'The Lyons diligence might drive over it without hurting
it.'
'Well,' replied his master, 'I believe the great sea turtle _might_
bear such a weight, but I doubt whether this small variety----'
'Oh, _that's_ of no consequence,' interrupted Joseph; 'it's as strong
as a horse, and small though it is, a cartload of stones might
pass----'
'Very good, very good; never mind that now. Just buy the creature a
lettuce and some snails.'
'Snails! why, is its chest delicate?'
'No, why on earth do you ask such a thing?'
'Well, my last master used to take an infusion of snails for his
chest--not that it prevented----'
Dumas left the room without waiting for the end. Before he was
half-way downstairs he found that he had forgotten his handkerchief,
and on returning surprised Joseph standing on Gazelle's back,
gracefully poised on one leg, with the other out-stretched behind him
in such a way that not an ounce of his eleven-stone weight was lost on
the poor creature.
'Idiot! what are you about?'
'There, sir, didn't I say so?' rejoined Joseph, proudly.
'There, there, give me a handkerchief and mind you don't touch that
creature again.'
[Illustration: DUMAS FINDS JOSEPH STANDING ON GAZELLE'S BACK]
'There, sir,' said the irrepressible Joseph, bringing the
handkerchief. 'But indeed you need not be at all afraid; a waggon
could drive over----'
Dumas fled.
He returned rather late at night, and no sooner took a step into his
room than he felt something crack under his boot. He hastily raised
his foot and took a further step with the same result: he thought he
must be treading on eggs. He lowered his candlestick--the carpet was
covered with snails.
Joseph had obeyed orders literally. He had bought the lettuces and the
snails, had placed them all in a basket and Gazelle on the top, and
then put the basket in the middle of his master's bedroom. Ten minutes
later the warmth of the fire thawed the snails into animation, and the
entire caravan set forth on a voyage of discovery round the room,
leaving silvery tracks behind them on carpet and furniture.
As for Gazelle, she was quietly reposing at the bottom of the basket,
where a few empty shells proved that all the fugitives had not been
brisk enough to make their escape.
Dumas, feeling no fancy for a possible procession of snails over his
bed, carefully picked up the stragglers one by one, popped them back
into the basket, and shut down the lid. But in five minutes' time he
realised that sleep would be out of the question with the noise going
on, which sounded like a dozen mice in a bag of nuts. He decided to
move the basket to the kitchen.
On the way there it occurred to him that if Gazelle went on at this
rate she would certainly die of indigestion before morning. He
remembered that the owner of the restaurant on the ground floor had a
tank in the back yard where he often put fish to keep till wanted, and
it struck him that the tank would be the very place for his tortoise.
He at once put his idea into execution, got back to his room and to
bed, and slept soundly till morning.
Joseph woke him early.
'Oh, sir, such a joke!' he exclaimed, standing at the foot of the bed.
'What joke?'
'Why, what your tortoise has been up to!'
'What on earth do you mean?'
'Well, sir, could you believe that it got out of your room--goodness
knows how--and walked downstairs and right into the tank?'
'You owl! you might have guessed I put it there myself.'
'Did you indeed, sir? Well, you certainly _have_ made a mess of it
then.'
'How so?'
'Why the tortoise has eaten up a tench--a superb tench weighing three
pounds--which the master of the restaurant put into the tank only last
night. The waiter has just been telling me about it.'
'Go at once and fetch me Gazelle and the scales.'
During Joseph's absence his master took down a volume of Buffon, and
consulted that eminent authority on the subject of tortoises and
turtles. There seemed to be no doubt, according to the celebrated
naturalist, that these creatures did eat fish voraciously when they
got the chance.
'Dear, dear,' thought Dumas, 'I fear the owner of the tank has Buffon
on his side.'
Just then Joseph returned with the accused in one hand and the kitchen
scales in the other.
'You see,' began the irrepressible valet, 'these sort of creatures eat
a lot. They need it to keep up their strength, and fish is
particularly nourishing. Only see how strong sailors are, and they
live so much on fish----'
His master cut him short.
'How much did you say that tench weighed?'
'Three pounds. The waiter asks nine francs for it.'
'And Gazelle ate it all?'
'Every bit except the head, the back-bone, and the inside.'
'Quite correct, Monsieur Buffon had said as much. Very well--but
still--three pounds seems a good deal.'
He put Gazelle in the scale. She weighed exactly two pounds and a
half! The deduction was simple. Either Gazelle had been falsely
accused or the theft had been much smaller than was represented.
Indeed the waiter readily took this view of the matter, and was quite
satisfied with five francs as an indemnity.
The varied adventures of Gazelle had become rather a bore, and her
owner felt that he must try to find some other home for her. She spent
the following night in his room, but thanks to the absence of snails
all went well. When Joseph came in next morning, his first act as
usual was to roll up the hearth-rug, and, opening the window, to shake
it well out in the air. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation and flung
himself half out of the window.
'What's the matter, Joseph?' asked his master, only half awake.
'Oh, sir--it's your tortoise. It was on the rug, and I never saw
it--and----'
'Well! and----?'
'And I declare, before I knew what I was about, I shook it out of the
window.'
'Imbecile!' shouted Dumas, springing out of bed.
'Ah!' cried Joseph with a sigh of relief. 'See, she's eating a
cabbage!'
And so she was. Her fall had been broken by a rubbish heap, and after
a few seconds in which to recover her equanimity, she had ventured to
thrust her head out, when finding a piece of cabbage near, she at once
began her breakfast.
'Didn't I say so, sir?' cried Joseph, delighted. 'Nothing hurts those
creatures. There now, whilst she's eating that cabbage a
coach-and-four might drive over her----'
'Never mind, never mind; just run down and fetch her up quick.'
[Illustration: DUMAS BRINGS GAZELLE TO NO. 109 FAUBOURG ST.-DENIS]
Joseph obeyed, and as soon as his master was dressed he called a cab,
and taking Gazelle with him, drove off to No. 109 in the Faubourg
St.-Denis. Here he climbed to the fifth floor and walked straight into
the studio of his friend, who was busy painting a delightful little
picture of performing dogs. He was surrounded by a bear, who was
playing with a log as he lay on his back, a monkey, busy pulling a
paint brush to pieces, and a frog, who was half-way up a little ladder
in a glass jar. You will, I dare say, have guessed already that the
painter's name was Decamps, the bear's Tom, the monkey's Jacko I., and
the frog's Mademoiselle Camargo, and you will not wonder that Dumas
felt that he could not better provide for Gazelle than by leaving her
as an addition to the menagerie in his friend's studio.[8]
[8] See p. 375.
_COCKATOO STORIES_
_Naturalist's Note-Book._ Reeves & Turner: 1868.
About thirty years ago a gentleman, who was fond of birds and beasts,
took into his head to try if parrots could not be persuaded to make
themselves at home among the trees in his garden. For a little while
everything seemed going beautifully, and the experimenter was full of
hope. The parrots built their nests in the woods, and in course of
time some young ones appeared, and gradually grew up to their full
size. Then, unluckily, they became tired of the grounds which they
knew by heart, and set off to see the world. The young parrots were
strong upon the wing, and their beautiful bright bodies would be seen
flashing in the sun, as much as fifteen miles away, and, then, of
course, some boy or gamekeeper with a gun in his hand was certain to
see them, and covet them for the kitchen mantel-shelf or a private
collection.
The cockatoos however did not always care to choose trees for their
building places. One little pair, whose grandparents had whisked about
in the heat of a midsummer day in Australia, found the climate of
England cold and foggy, and looked about for a warm cover for their
new nest. They had many conversations on the subject, and perhaps one
of these may have been overheard by a jackdaw, who put into their
minds a brilliant idea, for the very next morning the cockatoos were
seen carrying their materials to one of the chimneys, and trying to
fasten them together half-way up. But cockatoos are not as clever as
jackdaws about this kind of thing, and before the nest had grown to
be more than a shapeless mass, down it came, and such a quantity of
soot with it, that the poor cockatoos were quite buried, and lay for a
day and night nearly smothered in soot, till they happened to be found
by a housemaid who had entered the room. But in spite of this mishap
they were not disheartened, and as soon as their eyes and noses had
recovered from their soot bath, they began again to search for a more
suitable spot. To the great delight of their master, they fixed upon a
box which he had nailed for this very purpose under one of the gables,
and this time they managed to build a nest that was as good as any
nest in the garden. Still, they had no luck, for though the female
laid two eggs, and sat upon them perseveringly, never allowing them to
get cold for a single instant, it was all of no use, for the eggs
turned out to be both bad!
Some cousins of theirs, a beautiful white cockatoo and his lovely
rose-coloured wife, were more prosperous in their arrangements. They
scooped out a most comfortable nest with their claws and bills in the
rotten branch of an acacia tree, and there they brought up two young
families, all of them white as snow, with flame-coloured crests. The
eldest son, unhappily for himself, got weary of his brothers and
sisters, and the little wood on the outskirts of the garden, where he
was born, and one winter day took a flight towards the town. His
parents never quite knew what occurred, but the poor young cockatoo
came back severely wounded, to the great fury of all his family, who
behaved very unkindly to him. It is a curious fact that no animals and
very few birds can bear the sight of illness, and these cockatoos were
no better than the rest. They did not absolutely ill-treat him, but
they refused to let him enter their nest, and insisted that he should
live by himself in a distant bush. At last his master took pity on
him, and brought him into the garden, but this so enraged the
cockatoos who were already in possession, that they secretly murdered
him. However it is only just to the race of cockatoos to observe that
they are not always so bad as this, for during the very same season an
unlucky young bird, whose wing and leg were broken by an accident, was
adopted by an elderly cockatoo who did not care for what her
neighbours said, and treated him as her own son. The following year,
when nesting time came round, the white cockatoos went back to their
acacia branch, but were very much disgusted to find a pair of grey
parrots there before them, and a little pair of bald round heads
peeping over the edge. These little parrots grew up with such very bad
tempers that no one would have anything to do with them, and as for
their own relations, they looked upon them with the contempt that a
cat often shows to a man. To be sure these relations were considered
to be rather odd themselves, for they did not care to be troubled with
a family of their own, so had taken under their protection two little
kittens, who had been born in one of the boxes originally set apart
for the parrots. The two birds could not endure to see the old cat
looking after her little ones, and whenever she went out for a walk or
to get her food, one of the parrots always took her place in the box.
It would have been nice to know how long this went on, and if the
kittens adopted any parrot-like ways. Luckily, there was one
peculiarity of the parrots which it was beyond their power to imitate,
and that was the horrible voice which renders the society of a parrot,
and still more of a cockatoo, unendurable to most people.
_THE OTTER WHO WAS REARED BY A CAT_
_Naturalist's Note-Book._
There is still living in the kingdom of Galloway a wonderful cat who
is so completely above all the instincts and prejudices of her race,
that she can remain on friendly terms with young rabbits, and wile
away a spare hour by having a game with a mouse. A _real_ game, where
the fun is not all on one side, but which is enjoyed by the mouse as
much as by the cat.