Europe was turned into a battlefield by Napoleon, there was a
tremendous fight between the French and the Austrians at Castiglione
in Lombardy, which was then under the Austrian yoke. The battle was
hard fought and lasted several hours, but at length the Austrian ranks
were broken and they had to retreat, after frightful losses on both
sides. After the field had been won, Napoleon, as his custom was,
walked round among the dead and dying, to see for himself how the day
had gone. Not often had he performed this duty amidst a greater scene
of blood and horror, and as he came to a spot where the dead were
lying thickest, he saw to his surprise a small long-eared spaniel
standing with his feet on the breast of an Austrian officer, and his
eyes fixed on his face, waiting to detect the slightest movement.
Absorbed in his watch, the dog never heard the approach of the Emperor
and his staff, but Napoleon called to one of his attendants and
pointed out the spaniel. At the sound of his voice the spaniel turned
round, and looked at the Emperor, as if he knew that to him only he
must appeal for help. And the prayer was not in vain, for Napoleon was
very seldom needlessly cruel. The officer was dead and beyond any aid
from him, but the Emperor did what he could, and gave orders that the
dog should be looked after by one of his own men, and the wounded
Austrians carefully tended. _He_ knew what it was to be loved as
blindly by men as that officer was loved by his dog.
Nearly two years before this time, France was trembling in the power
of a set of bloody ruffians, and in Paris especially no man felt his
head to be safe from one hour to the other. Hundreds of harmless
people were clapped into prison on the most paltry charges, and if
they were not torn to pieces by infuriated crowds, they ended their
lives on the guillotine.
[Illustration: {THE FAITHFUL SPANIEL}]
Among the last of the victims before the fall of Robespierre, which
finished the Reign of Terror, was a magistrate in one of the
departments in the North of France whom everyone looked up to and
respected. It may be thought that it would not have been easy to find
a pretext for throwing into prison a man of such an open and
honourable life, but when other things failed, a vague accusation of
conspiracy against the Government was always possible, and accordingly
the magistrate was arrested in his own house. No one was there to help
him or to share his confinement. He had long sent away his children to
places of safety; some of his relations were in gaol like himself, and
his friends dared not come forward. They could have done him no good,
and would only have shared his fate. In those dark days every man had
to suffer alone, and nobly they did it. Only one friend the magistrate
had who ventured openly to show his affection, and even _he_ might
go no farther than the prison doors, namely, his spaniel, who for
twelve years had scarcely left his side; but though dogs were not yet
proscribed, the spaniel's whinings availed nothing, and the gates were
shut against him. At first he refused to believe that his master would
never come back, and returned again and again with the hopes of
meeting the magistrate on his way home. At last the dog's spirits gave
way, and he went to the house of a friend of the family who knew him
well, and received him kindly. Even here, however, he had to be
carefully hidden lest his protector should be charged with sheltering
the dog of an accused person, and have to pay the penalty on the
guillotine. The animal seemed to know what was expected of him, and
never barked or growled as dogs love to do; and indeed he was too sad
to take any interest in what was going on around him. The only bright
spot in his day was towards evening when he was secretly let out, and
he made straight for the gate of the prison. The gate was never
opened, but he always hoped that _this_ time it would be, and sat on
and on till he felt that his chance was gone for that day. All the
prison officials knew him by sight, and were sorry for him, and one
day the gaoler's heart was softened, and he opened the doors, and led
him to his master's cell. It would be difficult to say which of the
two was the happier, and when the time came for the prisoners to be
locked up for the night, the man could scarcely tear away the dog, so
closely did he cling to his master. However, there was no help for it,
he had to be put outside, lest it should occur to some one in
authority to make a visit of inspection to the prison. Next evening
the dog returned at the same hour and was again admitted, and when his
time was up, he went home with a light heart, sure that by sunset next
day he would be with his beloved master.
This went on for several weeks, and the dog, at any rate, would have
been quite satisfied if it had gone on for ever. But one morning the
magistrate was told that he was to be brought before his judges to
make answer to his charge and receive his sentence. In the midst of a
vast crowd, which dared not show sympathy even if it felt it, the
magistrate pleaded for the last time, without a friend to give him
courage except his dog, which had somehow forced himself through
guards and crowd, and lay crouched between his legs, happy at this
unexpected chance of seeing his master.
Sentence of death was pronounced, as was inevitable, and the hour of
execution was not long delayed. In the wonderful way that animals
always _do_ know when something out of the common is passing, the
spaniel was sitting outside the door when his master walked out for
the last time, although it was long before the hour of his daily
visit. Alone, of all the friends that he had known and loved, his dog
went with him, and stood beside him on the steps of the guillotine,
and sat at his feet when his head fell. Vaguely the spaniel was aware
that something terrible had happened; his master, who had never failed
him before, would not speak to him now. It was in vain to lick his
hand: he got no pat in answer. But if his master was asleep, and his
bed was underground, then he too must sleep by his side till the
morning came and the world awoke again.
So two nights passed, and three. Then his friend, who had sheltered
him during these long weeks, came to look for him, and, after much
coaxing and caressing, persuaded him to return to his old
hiding-place. With great difficulty he was induced to swallow some
food, but the moment his protector's back was turned, he rushed out
and fought his way to his master's grave.
This lasted for three months, and every day the dog looked sadder and
thinner than the day before. At length his friend thought he would try
a new plan with him, and tied him firmly up. But in the morning he
found that the dog had, like Samson, broken through his bonds, and was
lying on the grave, which he never left again. Food was brought to
him--he never came to seek it himself, and in time he refused even
what was lying there before him. One day his friends found him trying
to scratch up the earth where his master lay; and all at once his
strength gave way, and with one howl he died, showing the two men who
stood around of love that was stronger than death, and fidelity that
lasted beyond the grave.[11]
[11] From _Observations in Natural History_.
One more story of a little dog--this time an English one--and I have
done.
It was on February 8, 1587, that Mary Queen of Scots ended her
eighteen years of weary captivity upon a scaffold at Fotheringay.
Carefully dressed in a robe of black velvet, with a long mantle of
satin floating above it, and her head covered with a white crape veil,
Mary ascended the platform, where the executioner was awaiting her.
Some English nobles, sent by Queen Elizabeth to see that her orders
were carried out, were standing by, and some of Queen Mary's faithful
women. But besides these was one whose love for her was hardly
less--the Queen's little dog, who had been her constant companion in
the prison. 'He was sitting there the whole time,' says an
eye-witness, 'keeping very quiet, and never stirring from her side;
but as soon as the head was stricken off and placed upon the seat, he
began to bestir himself and cry out; afterwards he took up a position
between the body and the head, which he kept until some one came and
removed him, and this had to be done by violence.' We are not told who
took him away and tenderly washed off the blood of Mary which was
staining his coat, but we may be sure that it was one of the Queen's
ladies who cherished everything that belonged to her, and in memory of
her mistress would care for her little dog to the end of its days.
_THE CAPOCIER AND HIS MATE_
When Vaillant the traveller was in Africa, he made the acquaintance of
a bird to which he gave the name of capocier. It was a small creature,
which was in the habit of coming with its mate several times a day
into Vaillant's tent; a proceeding which he thought arose from pure
friendship, but which he soon found sprang from interested motives.
Vaillant was making a collection of birds, and his table was strewn
about with moss, wool, and such things as he used for stuffing. The
capocier, with more sense than might have been expected of him, found
out very soon that it was much easier to steal Vaillant's soft
material than to collect it laboriously for himself, and the
naturalist used to shut his eyes with amusement while the birds flew
off with a parcel of stuffing as big as themselves.
He followed them, and tracked them to a bush which grew by a spring in
the corner of a deserted garden. Here they had placed a thick layer of
moss, in a fork of one of the branches, and were now engaged in
weaving in grass, cotton, and flax. The whole of the second day the
little pair worked hard, the male making in all forty-six journeys to
Vaillant's room, for thieving purposes. The spoil was always laid
either on the nest itself, or within the reach of the female, and when
enough had been collected, they both trampled it in, and pressed it
down with their bodies.
At last the male got tired, and tried to prevail on his wife to play a
game. She declined, and said she had no time for such things; so, to
revenge himself, the male proceeded to pull to pieces her work. Seeing
that he would have his own way, the female at length consented to play
for a little, and fluttered from bush to bush, while her mate flew
after her, but she always managed to keep just out of his reach. When
he had had enough, he let her go back to her work, while he sang a
song for a little, and then made ready to help build the nest. He
found, or stole, the materials necessary, and carried them back to his
wife, who packed them firmly in and made all tidy. But her husband was
much more idle than she, and he soon tired of steady labour. He
complained of the heat, and laughed at her for being in such a hurry,
and said there was plenty of time before them, and he wanted a little
fun. So eight times during that one morning the poor wife had to leave
off her building, and hide her impatience, and pretend to play, when
she would much rather have been doing something else, and it was three
days before the bottom was finished and the sides begun.
Certainly the making of the bottom _was_ rather a troublesome
business; for the birds had to roll over every part of it, so as to
get it firm and hard. Then, when all was right, they made a border,
which they first trimmed round, and next overlaid with cotton,
pressing it all together with their breasts and shoulders. The twigs
of the bush in which the nest was built were interlaced into the sides
to prevent the whole structure being blown down, and particular care
was taken that none of them should stick out in the inside of the
nest, which was absolutely smooth and solid. After seven days it was
done, and very pretty it was. It was perfectly white in colour, and
about nine inches high on the outside where it had been made very
thick, and not more than five inches within. However that was quite
big enough for two such little people.
_OWLS AND MARMOTS_
It is curious, when we come to think of it, how very few of the
creatures that live upon the earth ever take the trouble to build any
kind of house to live in. For the most part, they are contented to
find out some cave or hole or convenient place where they can be
hidden, and from which they can steal forth to get their food, but as
for collecting materials from the outside to make their dwelling place
stronger or more beautiful, as do the beavers, for instance, why, we
might all look for many years before we should find a horse or a tiger
employing himself like that!
Yet we all know that all the birds that live (the cuckoo excepted)
manage to build some kind of a nest, and so do some fishes and many
insects. It would take too long to write about them all, but we will
just see how some of the cleverest among them go to work.
One of the first things that struck Europeans travelling sixty or
seventy years ago in the wild country beyond the great Mississippi,
was the fact that whole districts, sometimes several acres in extent
and sometimes several miles, were covered with little mounds of the
shape of a pyramid, about two feet wide at the bottom, and at the most
eighteen inches high. These are the houses of the marmots or prairie
dogs, and when deserted as they often are by their original
inhabitants, they become the homes of burrowing owls.
Now a neat, comfortable, well-built house is really quite necessary
for the marmot, as he goes fast to sleep when the weather begins to
get cold, and does not wake up till the sun is shining warmly again on
the earth above him. Then he sets to work, either to repair the walls
of his house which have been damaged by the heavy rains and hard
frosts, or if that seems useless labour, to dig a fresh one somewhere
else. But industrious as he is, the hard work does not make the marmot
at all a 'dull boy,' and he can still spare time for a good game now
and then.
Of course, as we are talking about birds, perhaps we ought not to be
describing marmots, which are naturally not birds at all; but as they
build for the burrowing owls to inhabit, a description of the houses
may not be out of place.
The entrance to the marmot's house is either at the top or on the side
of the little mound above ground. Then he hollows out a passage
straight down for one, or sometimes two feet, and this passage is
continued in a sloping direction for some distance further, when it
leads, like a story in the 'Arabian Nights,' into a large warm room,
built of soft dry grass, which has been packed into a tight, firm
mass. In general the outside of the little mounds is covered with
small plants and grasses, so that the marmot always has his food near
at hand, but occasionally they prefer to make their villages in barren
spots, as being safer from enemies. Still, wherever they are, the
sociable little colony of marmots are said to be haunted by at least
one burrowing owl, a bird about nine inches long, and from a distance
not very unlike the marmot itself, when it is sitting up, listening
for the approach of danger. If no burrow seems likely to be vacant at
the time he wants one, the owl does not scruple to turn out the owner,
who has to begin all his labour over again. Sometimes, when affairs
above ground are more than usually disturbed, and foes of all kinds
are prowling about, seeking whom they may devour, owls and marmots and
rattlesnakes, and lizards rush helter-skelter into the underground
city, taking refuge from the dangers of the upper world. It would be a
strange sight if we could see it, and it would be stranger still if
the fugitives manage to separate without some of the party having gone
to make the dinners of the rest.
_EAGLES' NESTS_
Eagles, as a rule, build their nests on the shelves of rocks, high out
of reach of any but the boldest climbers. There are, however, some
species among them who prefer the tops of trees, at a height varying
from fifteen to fifty feet. These nests are constructed of long
sticks, grass, and even reeds, and are often as much as five or six
feet high, and at least four broad. Soft pine tops form the lining,
and a bed for the young. Many eagles are clever divers, and like the
excitement of catching their own fish, instead of merely forcing the
fish-hawks to give up their prey, and an American naturalist gives an
interesting account of the sporting proceedings of two eagles on the
Green River in Kentucky. The naturalist had been lying hidden among
the rocks on the bank of the river for about two hours, when suddenly
far above his head where the eagle had built his nest, he heard a loud
hissing, and on looking up, saw that the little eaglets had crawled to
the edge of the nest, and were dancing with hope and excitement at the
idea of a good dinner. In a few moments the parent eagle reached the
rock and balancing himself on the edge by the help of his wings and
tail, handed over his spoil to the young ones. The little eagles
seemed in luck that day, for soon their mother appeared in sight
carrying in her claws a perch. But either the watcher below made some
movement, or else her eyes were far sharper than her mate's, for with
a loud cry she dropped her fish, and hovered over the nest to protect
it in case of an attack. When all was quiet again, the naturalist went
out cautiously to examine the perch, which he found to weigh as much
as 51/2 lbs. You do not catch such big perch in England.
THE END.
Transcriber's Note
Some stories have a source provided, which appeared as footnotes in
the original book. The transcriber has instead presented them as
subtitles below the main chapter title.
Archaic and variant spelling is preserved as printed.
Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
Hyphenation has been made consistent.
The following typographic errors have been repaired:
Page 7--wrapt amended to rapt--"The waiters, remarking his
rapt attention, ..."
Page 77--be amended to he--"Then, having made a huge fire in
front of the entrance, which, moreover, he barricaded ..."
Page 144--by-and-by amended to by-and-bye, for
consistency--"And by-and-bye he came back, dragging Pritchard
by his stake."
Page 250--Then amended to The--"The Ababde chief's advice
was--and always had been--to send out ..."
Page 255--Northumbriam amended to Northumbrian--"A
Northumbrian pointer showed a still more wonderful instance
..."
Page 287--idemnity amended to indemnity--"... and was quite
satisfied with five francs as an indemnity."
Page 290--quiet amended to quite--"His parents never quite
knew what occurred, ..."
Page 301--coupe amended to coup--"... before the latter gives
him the _coup de grace_."
Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in
the middle of a paragraph.