in a nest upon the church of Castor and Pollux; which to make a trial
how he could fly, took his first flight into a shoemaker's shop just
over against the said church. The master of the shop was well enough
content to receive this bird, as commended to him from so sacred a
place, and in that regard set great store by it. This raven in short
time being acquainted to man's speech, began to speak, and every
morning would fly up to the top of the Rostra, or public pulpit for
orations, when, turning to the open Forum or market place, he would
salute and bid good-morrow to Tiberius Caesar, and after him to
Germanicus and Drusus, the young princes, every one by their names:
and anon the people of Rome also that passed by. And when he had so
done, afterwards would fly again to the shoemaker's shop aforesaid.
This duty practised, yea and continued for many years together, to the
great wonder and admiration of all men.
Now it fell out so, that another shoemaker who had taken the next shop
unto him, either upon a malicious envy or some sudden spleen and
passion of anger, killed the raven. Whereat the people took such
indignation, that they, rising in an uproar, first drove him out of
that street, and made that quarter of the city too hot for him; and
not long after murdered him for it. But contrariwise, the carcase of
this raven was solemnly interred, and the funeral performed with all
the ceremonial obsequies that could be devised. For the corpse of this
bird was bestowed in a coffin, couch, or bed, and the same bedecked
with chaplets of fresh flowers of all sorts, carried upon the
shoulders of two blackamoors, with minstrels before, sounding the
haut-boys, and playing on the fife, as far as the funeral fire, which
was piled and made in the right hand of the causey Appia, in a certain
plain or open field.
[Illustration: A RAVEN'S FUNERAL]
So highly reputed the people of Rome that ready wit and apt
disposition in a bird, as they thought it a sufficient cause to ordain
a sumptuous burial therefore.
_A STRANGE TIGER_
Bingley's _Animal Biography_.
In the year 1790, a baby tiger only six weeks old, whose skin was most
beautifully marked in black and yellow, and whose figure was as
perfectly modelled as the figure of any tiger could be, was put on
board a large East India Company's ship called the 'Pitt,' to be
brought to London as a present to George III. Of course, in those
days, no one ever thought of coming through the Red Sea, but all
vessels sailed all the way round by the Atlantic, so the voyage
naturally took many months, especially if the winds were unfavourable.
Under these circumstances it was as well to choose your
fellow-passengers carefully, as you had to live such a long time with
them.
[Illustration: THE TIGER AND HIS FRIEND]
Unlike most of its tribe, the little tiger soon made itself at home on
board ship, and as it was too small to do much harm, it was allowed to
run about loose and played with anybody who had time for a game. It
generally liked to sleep with the sailors in their hammocks, and they
would often pretend to use it for a pillow, as it lay at full length
on the deck. Partly out of fun, and partly because it was its nature
so to do, the tiger would every now and then steal a piece of meat, if
it found one handy. One day it was caught red-handed by the carpenter,
who took the beef right out of its mouth, and gave it a good beating,
but instead of the man getting bitten for his pains, as he might have
expected, the tiger took his punishment quite meekly, and bore the
carpenter no grudge after. One of its favourite tricks was to run out
to the very end of the bowsprit, and stand there looking over the sea,
and there was no place in the whole ship to which it would not climb
when the fancy took it. But on the whole, the little tiger preferred
to have company in its gambols, and was especially fond of dogs, of
which there were several on board. They would chase each other and
roll over together just like two puppies, and during the ten months or
so that the voyage from China lasted, they had time enough to become
fast friends. When the vessel reached London, the tiger was at once
taken to the Tower, which was the Zoological Gardens of those days.
The little fellow did not mind, for he was always ready to take what
came and make the best of it, and all the keepers grew as fond of him
as the sailors had been.
No more is known about him for eleven months, when he was quite grown
up, and then one day, just after he had had his dinner, a black
rough-haired terrier pup was put into his cage. Most tigers would have
eaten it at once, but not this one, who still remembered his early
friends on board ship. He used to watch for the pup every day, and
lick it all over, taking care never to hurt it with his rough tongue.
In general, the terrier had its food outside the cage, but sometimes
it was forgotten, and then it would try to snatch a bit of the tiger's
meat; but this the tiger thought impertinent, and made the dog
understand that it was the one thing he would not stand.
After several months of close companionship, the terrier was for some
reason taken away, and one day, when the tiger awakened from his
after-dinner nap, he found the terrier gone, and a tiny Dutch mastiff
in its place. He was surprised, but as usual made no fuss, and
proceeded to give it a good lick, much to the alarm of the little
mastiff. However, its fright soon wore off, and in a day or two it
might be seen barking round him and even biting his feet, which the
tiger never objected to, perhaps because he could hardly have felt it.
Two years after the tiger had been settled in the Tower, the very same
carpenter who had beaten him for stealing the beef came back to
England and at once paid a visit to his old friend. The tiger was
enchanted to see him, and rushing to the grating, began rubbing
himself against it with delight. The carpenter begged to be let into
the cage, and though the keepers did not like it, he declared there
was no danger, and at last they opened the door. In a moment the tiger
was by his side, nearly knocking him down with joy and affection,
licking his hands and rubbing his head on his shoulders, and when,
after two or three hours, the carpenter got up to go, the tiger would
hardly let him leave the den, for he wanted to keep him there for
ever.
But all tigers cannot be judged by this tiger.
_HALCYONS AND THEIR BIOGRAPHERS_
Some of the old writers, such as Pliny, Plutarch, Ovid, and Aristotle,
tell a pretty story about a bird called the halcyon, which flew
sporting over the seas, and in midwinter, when the days were shortest,
sat on its nest and brooded over its eggs. And Neptune, who loved
these small, gay-plumaged creatures, took pity on them, and kept the
waves still during the time of their sitting, so that by-and-bye the
days in a man's life that were free from storm and tempest became
known as his 'halcyon days,' by which name you will still hear them
called.
Now after a careful comparison of the descriptions of the ancient
writers, modern naturalists have come to the conclusion that the
'halcyon' of Pliny and the rest was no other than our beautiful
kingfisher, which flashes its lovely green and blue along the rivers
and cascades both of the Old World and the New. It is now known that
the kingfisher is one of the burrowing birds, and that it scoops out
in the sand or soft earth of the river banks a passage which is often
as much as four feet long and grows wider as it recedes from the
water. It feeds upon fish, and fish bones may be found in large
numbers on the floor of the kingfisher's house, which, either from
laziness or a dislike to change, he inhabits for years together. His
eyes are wonderfully quick, and he can detect a fish even in turbulent
waters from the bough of a tree. Then he makes a rapid dart, and
rarely misses his prey. No bird has been the subject of so many
superstitions and false stories as the kingfisher, which attracted
much attention from its great beauty. Ovid changes the king of
Magnesia and his wife Alcyone into kingfishers, Pliny talks of the
bird's sweet voice (whereas its note is particularly harsh and ugly),
and Plutarch mistakes the sea-urchin's shell for that of the halcyon.
Even the Tartars have a story to tell of this bird, and assure us that
a feather plucked from a kingfisher and then cast into the water will
gain the love of every woman it afterwards touches, while the Ostiacs
held that the possession of the skin, bill, and claws of the
kingfisher will ensure the owner a life made up of 'halcyon days.'
_THE STORY OF A FROG_
PART I
Everyone knows what excitement the approach of the shooting season
causes to a certain class of people in Paris. One is perpetually
meeting some of them on their way back from the canal where they have
been 'getting their hands in' by popping at larks and sparrows,
dragging a dog after them, and stopping each acquaintance to ask: 'Do
you like quails and partridges?' 'Certainly.' 'Ah, well, I'll send you
some about the second or third of next month.' 'Many thanks.' 'By the
way I hit five sparrows out of eight shots just now. Not bad, was it?'
'First rate indeed!'
Well, towards the end of August, 1830, one of these sportsmen called
at No. 109, in the Faubourg St.-Denis, and on being told that Decamps
was at home, climbed to the fifth floor, dragging his dog up step by
step, and knocking his gun against every corner till he reached the
studio of that eminent painter. However, he only found his brother
Alexandre, one of those brilliant and original persons whose inherent
laziness alone prevented his bringing his great natural gifts to
perfection.
He was universally voted a very good fellow, for his easy good nature
made him ready to do or give whatever anyone asked. It was not
surprising, therefore, that the new comer soon managed to persuade
Alexandre that nothing could be more delightful than to attend the
opening of the shooting season on the plains of St.-Denis, where,
according to general report, there were swarms of quails, clouds of
partridges, and troops of hares.
As a result of this visit, Alexandre Decamps ordered a shooting coat
from his tailor, a gun from the first gun-maker's in Paris, and a pair
of gaiters from an equally celebrated firm; all of which cost him 660
francs, not to mention the price of his licence.
On August 31 Alexandre discovered that one important item was still
wanting to his outfit--a dog. He went at once to a man who had
supplied various models to his brother Eugene's well-known picture of
'performing dogs,' and asked if he happened to have any sporting dogs.
The man declared he had the very thing, and going to the kennel
promptly whipped off the three-cornered hat and little coat worn by a
black and white mongrel whom he hastened to present to his customer as
a dog of the purest breed. Alexandre hinted that it was not usual for
a pointer to have such sharp-pointed ears, but the dealer replied that
'Love' was an English dog, and that it was considered the very best
form for English dogs to have pointed ears. As this statement _might_
be true, Alexandre made no further objections, but paid for the dog
and took Love home with him.
At five o'clock next morning Alexandre was roused up by his sporting
friend, who, scolding him well for not being ready earlier, hurried
him off as fast as possible, declaring the whole plain would be shot
before they could get there.
It was certainly a curious sight; not a swallow, not even the meanest
little sparrow, could rise without a volley of shots after it, and
everyone was anxiously on the look-out for any and every sort of bird
that could possibly be called game.
Alexandre's friend was soon bitten by the general fever and threw
himself energetically amidst the excited crowd, whilst Alexandre
strolled along more calmly, dutifully followed by Love. Now everyone
knows that the first duty of any sporting dog is to scour the field
and _not_ to count the nails in his master's boots. This thought
naturally occurred to Alexandre, and he accordingly made a sign to
Love and said: 'Seek!'
[Illustration: LOVE'S DISGRACEFUL BEHAVIOUR OUT SHOOTING]
Love promptly stood up on his hind legs and began to dance.
'Dear me,' said Alexandre, as he lowered his gun and contemplated his
dog: 'It appears that Love unites the lighter accomplishments to his
more serious education. I seem to have made rather a good bargain.'
However, having bought Love to point and not to dance, he waited till
the dance was over and repeated in firm tones: 'Seek!'
Love stretched himself out at full length and appeared to be dead.
Alexandre put his glass into his eye and inspected Love. The
intelligent creature was perfectly immovable; not a hair on his body
stirred, he might have been dead for twenty-four hours.
'This is all very pretty,' said Alexandre, 'but, my friend, this is
not the time for these jokes. We are here to shoot--let us shoot.
Come! get up.'
Love did not stir an inch.
'Wait a bit,' remarked Alexandre, as he picked up a stick from the
ground and took a step towards Love, intending to stir him up with it:
'Wait a bit.' But no sooner did Love see the stick in his master's
hand than he sprang to his feet and eagerly watched his movements.
Alexandre thinking the dog was at last going to obey, held the stick
towards him, and for the third time ordered him to 'seek.'
Love took a run and sprang gracefully over the stick.
Love could do three things to perfection--dance on his hind legs, sham
dead, and jump for the king!
Alexandre, however, who did not appreciate the third accomplishment
any more than he had done the two others, broke the stick over Love's
back, which sent him off howling to his master's friend.
As fate would have it the friend fired at that very moment, and an
unfortunate lark fell right into Love's jaws. Love thankfully accepted
this windfall, and made but one mouthful of the lark. The infuriated
sportsman threw himself on the dog, and seizing him by the throat to
force open his jaws, thrust in his hand and drew out--three tail
feathers: the bird itself was not to be thought of.
Bestowing a vicious kick on the unhappy Love, he turned on Alexandre,
exclaiming: 'Never again do you catch me shooting with you. Your brute
of a dog has just devoured a superb quail. Ah! come here if you dare,
you rascal!'
Poor Love had not the least wish to go near him. He ran as fast as he
could to his master, a sure proof that he preferred blows to kicks.
However, the lark seemed to have whetted Love's appetite: and
perceiving creatures of apparently the same kind rise now and then
from the ground, he took to scampering about in hopes of some second
piece of good luck.
Alexandre had some difficulty in keeping up with him, for Love hunted
his game after a fashion of his own, that is to say with his head up
and his tail down. This would seem to prove that his sight was better
than his scent, but it was particularly objectionable to his master,
for he put up the birds before they were within reach, and then ran
barking after them. This went on nearly all day.
Towards five o'clock Alexandre had walked about fifteen miles and Love
at least fifty; the former was exhausted with calling and the latter
with barking, when, all of a sudden Love began to point, so firmly and
steadily that he seemed changed to stone.
At this surprising sight Alexandre, forgetful of all his fatigues and
disappointments, hurried up, trembling lest Love should break off
before he could get within reach. No fear; Love might have been glued
to the spot. Alexandre came up to him, noted the direction of his eyes
and saw that they were fixed on a tuft of grass, and that under this
grass there appeared to be some greyish object. Thinking it must be a
young bird which had strayed from its covey, he laid down his gun,
took his cap in his hand, and cautiously creeping near, like a child
about to catch a butterfly, he flung the cap over the unknown object,
put in his hand and drew out--a frog!
Anyone else would have flung the frog away, but Alexandre
philosophically reflected that there must certainly be some great
future in store for this, the sole result of his day's sport; so he
accordingly put the frog carefully into his game bag and brought it
home, where he transferred it to an empty glass jam jar and poured the
contents of his water-bottle on its head.
[Illustration: THE SOLE RESULT OF HIS DAY'S SPORT]
So much care and trouble for a frog may appear excessive; but
Alexandre knew what this particular frog had cost him, and he treated
it accordingly.
It had cost him 660 francs, without counting his licence.
PART II
'Ah, ah!' cried Dr. Thierry as he entered the studio next day, 'so
you've got a new inmate.' And without paying any attention to Tom's
friendly growls or to Jacko's engaging grimaces, he walked straight up
to the jar which contained Mademoiselle Camargo--as she had already
been named.[10]
[10] A fashionable dancer in Paris.
Mademoiselle Camargo, unaware that Thierry was not only a learned
doctor, but also a most intellectual and delightful person, fell to
swimming round and round her jar as fast as she could go, which
however did not prevent her being seized by one of her hind legs.
[Illustration: MADEMOISELLE CAMARGO BECOMES A BAROMETER]
'Dear me,' said Thierry, as he turned the little creature about, 'a
specimen of the _Rana temporaria_. See, there are the two black spots
near the eyes which give it the name. Now if you only had a few dozens
of this species, I should advise you to have a fricassee made of their
hind legs, to send for a couple of bottles of good claret, and to ask
me to dinner. But as you only happen to have one, we will, with your
leave, content ourselves with making a barometer.
'Now,' said Thierry, opening a drawer, 'let us attend to the
prisoner's furniture.' Saying which he took out two cartridges, a
gimlet, a penknife, two paint-brushes, and four matches. Decamps
watched him without in the least understanding the object of all these
preparations, which the doctor was making with as much care as though
for some surgical operation.
First he emptied the powder out of the cartridges into a tray and kept
the bullets. Then he threw the brushes and ties to Jacko and kept the
handles.
'What the deuce are you about?' cried Decamps, snatching his two best
paint-brushes from Jacko. 'Why you're ruining my establishment!'
'I'm making a ladder,' gravely replied Thierry.
And true enough, having bored holes in the bullets, he fixed the brush
handles into them so as to form the sides of the ladder, using the
matches to make the rungs. Five minutes later the ladder was completed
and placed in the jar, where the weight of the bullets kept it firmly
down.
No sooner did Mademoiselle Camargo find herself the owner of this
article of furniture than she prepared to test it by climbing up to
the top rung.
'We shall have rain,' said Thierry.
'You don't say so,' replied Decamps, 'and there's my brother who
wanted to go out shooting again to-day.'
'Mademoiselle Camargo does not advise his doing so,' remarked the
doctor.
'How so?'
'My dear friend, I have been providing you with an inexpensive but
reliable barometer. Each time you see Mademoiselle Camargo climb to
the top of her ladder it's a sure sign of rain; when she remains at
the bottom you may count on fine weather, and if she goes up
half-way, don't venture out without your umbrella; changeable,
changeable.'
'Dear me, dear me,' said Decamps.
During the next six months Mademoiselle Camargo continued to foretell
the weather with perfect and unerring regularity. But for painful
reasons into which we need not inquire too closely, Mademoiselle's
useful career soon closed, and she left a blank in the menagerie.
_THE WOODPECKER TAPPING ON THE HOLLOW OAK TREE_
Most children who were taught music forty or fifty years ago, learnt
as one of their first tunes an air called 'The Woodpecker Tapping on
the Hollow Oak Tree.' Oak trees are not the only ones that
woodpeckers, and especially American woodpeckers, 'tap' on. There is
hardly any old tree which they disdain to work upon, sometimes for
food, sometimes for nesting purposes, sometimes it would seem merely
for the sake of employment and of keeping their bills in order.
For the woodpecker's bill is a very powerful instrument, and can get
through a great deal of work. In the case of the 'ivory-billed
woodpecker,' it is not only white, and hard, and strong, but it has a
ribbed surface, which tends to prevent its breaking, and even if he
does not form one of this class, the woodpecker is as clever in his
own line as any carpenter, and more industrious than many. The moment
that he notices symptoms of decay in any tree, he flies off to make a
careful examination of it, and when he has decided on the best mode of
attack, he loses no time, and has even been known to strip all the
bark off a dead pine tree of thirty feet long in less than twenty
minutes. And this not in little bits, but in sheets five or six feet
long, and as whole as the fleece of a sheep when it is sheared.
Of course different varieties of woodpeckers have little differences
in their habits, in the same way that habits differ in different
families; but certain customs and ways of digging are common to them
all. Every woodpecker, for instance, when placed in a wooden cage,
will instantly set to work to dig himself out of it, and to keep him
safe, he needs to be surrounded by wire, against which his bill is
utterly useless. In general the male and female work by turns at the
hole, which is always begun by the male, and is as perfectly round as
if it had been measured and drawn from one point to another. For a
while the boring is quite straight, and then it takes a sloping
direction, so as to provide a partial shelter against the rain.
Sometimes the bird will begin by a slope, and end in a direct line,
but the hole is never straight all through, and the depth varies from
two to five feet, according to the kind of woodpecker that is digging.
The inside of the nest and the passage to it are as smooth as if they
had been polished with a plane, and the chips of wood are often thrown
down in a careless manner, at some distance, in order that attention
may not be attracted to the spot. Often the bird's labours have to
begin, especially in orchards, which are favourite nesting places with
them, with having to turn out swarms of insects, nestling comfortably
between the bark and the tree. These he either kills or eats; anyhow
he never rests until they are safely got rid of.
The woodpecker is never still, and, in many respects, is like a
mischievous boy; so, as can be imagined, he is not very easy to make a
pet of. One adventurous person, however, captured a woodpecker in
America, and has left us a history of its performances during the
three days it lived in captivity. The poor bird was very miserable in
its prison, and cried so like a child that many persons were
completely taken in. Left alone for a short time in the room while his
captor had gone to look after his horse, he examined the room
carefully to see where lay his best chance of escape. His quick eye
soon detected the plaster between the window and the ceiling, and he
began at once to attack the weak place. He worked so hard that when
his master returned he had laid bare the laths, and had bored a hole
bigger than his own head, while the bed was strewn with big fragments
of plaster. A very little while longer and he would have been free,
and what a pity that he was disturbed in his work! But his master was
most anxious to keep him a little longer, to observe his ways, so he
tied him to the leg of the table, and went off to get him some food.
By the time the man came back the mahogany table was lying in bits
about the floor, and the woodpecker was looking eagerly round to see
what other mischief he could do. He would not eat food of any kind,
and died in three days, to the great regret of his captor.
_DOGS OVER THE WATER_
No animal, not even the horse, has made itself so many friends as the
dog. A whole library might be filled with stories about what dogs have
done, and men could learn a great deal from the sufferings dogs have
gone through for masters that they love.
Whatever differences there may be between foreigners and Englishmen,
there is at any rate none in the behaviour of British and foreign
dogs. 'Love me, love my dog,' the proverb runs, but in general it
would be much more to the point to say 'love my dog, love me.' We do
not know anything of the Austrian officer of whose death I am going to
tell you, but after hearing what his dog did, we should all have been
pleased to make the master's acquaintance.