An innkeeper once sent, as a present to a friend, a dog and cat that had been companions for more than ten months. The carrier took them, tied up in a bag. A short time after the dog and cat set out together, and returned to their old home, a distance of thirteen miles. They jogged along the road side by side, and on one occasion the dog gallantly defended his fellow-traveller from the attack of another dog they met.
A surgeon's mate on board a ship relates that while he was lying awake one evening, he saw a rat come into his berth, and after looking carefully about the place, go away with the greatest care and silence. Soon after it returned, leading by the ear another rat, which it left at a small distance from the hole by which they had entered. A third rat joined this kind conductor; they then foraged about, and picked up all the small scraps of biscuit; these they carried to the second rat, which seemed blind, and staid right on the spot where they had left it, nibbling such food as its faithful friends, whom the story-teller thinks were its children, brought to it from the more remote parts of the room.
A shepherd, who was hung for sheep-stealing, used to commit the robberies by means of his dog. Whenever he wished to steal any sheep, he sent the dog to do the business. He would visit a flock of sheep, looking them over, as if he intended buying some. The dog was always by his side, and to him he gave a signal secretly, whenever he saw any particular sheep he wanted. Sometimes he would pick out ten or twelve from a flock of some hundreds. Dog and man then went away, and from a distance of several miles, the dog would be sent back by himself in the night time. The wise creature picked out the very sheep the man had selected, separated them from the rest of the flock, and drove them before him, often a distance of ten or twelve miles, till he came up with his master, to whom he delivered them up.
While a ship on a voyage of discovery to the North Pole was locked in the ice, one morning the man at the masthead reported that three bears were making their way toward the vessel. They had, no doubt, been attracted by the scent of some blubber of a sea-horse which the crew was burning on the ice at the time. They proved to be a mother bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as large as their mother. They ran eagerly to the fire, drew out the part of the flesh that remainedunburned, and ate it greedily. The crew threw great lumps of the flesh upon the ice, and the old bear carried them away, one by one, laying a lump before each of her cubs, as she brought it, and thus dividing it, keeping only a small share for herself. As she was carrying off the last piece, the sailors shot both the cubs dead and wounded the mother, but not fatally. It would have touched the heart of all but the most unfeeling had they seen the affectionate concern of this poor animal in the dying moments of her young. Though terribly wounded herself, she crawled to the place where they lay, carrying a lump of flesh with her. She tore the lump in pieces, and laid it before them. When she saw that they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one, then upon the other, and tried to raisethem up, moaning meanwhile most pitifully. Finding she could not stir them, she went off, and when she had gone some distance, looked back and moaned, and called them. As that did not seem to entice them away, she crawled back, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time a few paces, looked behind her again, and for some time stood moaning and calling. As the cubs did not rise to follow her, she returned once more, and with signs of inexpressible fondness went round them, caressing them with her paws. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head toward the ship, and growled a curse upon their murderers, which they returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds.
A gentleman once owned a hen that was a fine mouser. She was seen constantly watching close to a corn rick, and the moment a mouse appeared, she seized it in her beak, and carried it to a meadow near by, where she would play with it like a young cat for some time, and then kill it. She has been known to catch four or five mice a day in this manner.
After the execution of Sabinus, the Roman general, who was put to death because of his attachment to the family of Germanicus, his body was left lying unburied upon the precipice of the Gemoniæ, as a warning to all who should dare to befriend the house of Germanicus. No friend had the courage to go near the body; one only remained true—his faithful dog. For three days the animal continued to watch the body, his mournful howling awakening the sympathy of every heart. Food was brought to him, and he was kindly coaxed to eat it; but on taking the bread, instead of eating it himself, he fondly laid it on his master's mouth and renewed his howling. Days thus passed, but not for a single moment did he leave the body.
The body was at length thrown into the Tiber, and the loving creature, still unwilling that it should perish, leaped into the water after it, and clasping the corpse between its paws, vainly tried to keep it from sinking.
A tame elephant kept by a merchant was allowed to go at large. The animal used to walk about the streets in as quiet and familiar a manner as any of the people, and took great pleasure in visiting the shops, especially those which sold herbs and fruit, where he was well received, except by a couple of brutal cobblers, who, without any cause, took offense at the generous creature, and once or twice tried to wound his trunk with their awls. The noble animal, who knew it was beneath him to crush them, did not hesitate to punish them by other means. He filled his large trunk with water, not of the cleanest quality, and advancing to them, as usual, covered them all at once with the very dirty flood. The fools were laughed at, and the punishment applauded.
A Just Retaliation.—Page 48A Just Retaliation.—Page 48
A gentleman travelling through Mecklenburg relates the following curious incident which happened at an inn at which he was staying. After dinner, the landlord placed on the floor a large dish of soup, and then gave a loud whistle. At once there came into the room a mastiff, a fine Angora cat, an old raven, and a remarkably large rat, with a bell about its neck. These four animals went to the dish, and without disturbing one another, fed together. After they had eaten, the dog, cat, and rat lay before the fire, and the raven hopped about the room.
In the reign of Augustus Cæsar there was, in the Lucrine lake, a dolphin which formed a most romantic attachment to the son of a poor man. The boy had to go every day from Baiæ to Puteoli to school, and such were the friendly terms on which he had got with the dolphin, that he had only to wait by the banks of the lake and cry, “Simo, Simo”—the name he had given to the animal, when, lo! Simo came scudding to the shore, let fall the sharp prickles of his skin, and gently offered his back for the boy to mount upon. The boy, nothing afraid, used to mount at once, and the dolphin, without either rein or spur, would speed across the sea to Puteoli, and after landing the young scholar, wait about the shore till it was time for the boy to go home, when it would again perform the same sort of friendly service. The boy was not ungrateful for such great kindness, and used every day to bring a good store of food for Simo, which the animal would take from his hand in the most tame and kindly manner imaginable. For several years this friendly intercourse was kept up. It was, in fact, only ended by the death of the boy. As the story goes, the dolphin felt so badly when the lad failed to come as usual, that it threw itself on the shore, and died, as was thought, of very grief and sorrow at the loss of its friend.
One day a tradesman, walking with a friend, offered to wager that if he were to hide a five-shilling piece in the dust, his dog would find it and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money marked and hidden. When the two had gone on some distance, the tradesman called to his dog that he had lost something, and told him to seek it. The dog turned back at once, and his master and his friend went on their way. Meanwhile a traveller, driving a small chaise, saw the piece of money which his horse had kicked from its hiding-place, alighted, took it up and drove to his inn. The dog had just reached the spot in search of the lost piece, when the stranger picked it up. He followed the chaise, went into the inn, and, having scented the coin in the pocket of the traveller, he kept leaping up at him. Supposing him to be some dog that had lost his master, the traveller took these actions as marks of affection, and as the animal was handsome, decided to keep him. He gave him a good supper, and on retiring, took him with him to his room. But no sooner had he pulled off his trousers than they were seized by the dog. The owner, thinking that the dog only wanted to play with them, took them away. The animal began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, thinking the animal wanted to go out. The dog snatchedup the trousers, and away he went, the traveller, with his nightcap on, posting after him. The dog ran full speed to his master's house, followed by the stranger, who accused the dog of robbing him. “Sir,” said the master, “my dog is a very faithful creature; and if he ran away with your trousers, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you.” The traveller became still more angry. “Keep calm, sir,” answered the other, smiling; “no doubt there is in your purse a five-shilling piece which you picked up in the road, and which I hid, knowing my dog would bring it back. This was the reason for the robbery which he committed upon you.” The stranger said he had found such a coin, gave it up to the man, and went on his way. But the clever dog had thus proven himself to be a good finder.
A wild stork was brought by a farmer into his poultry yard, to be the companion of a tame one, which he had long kept there; but the tame stork, disliking a rival, fell upon the poor, wild stranger, and beat him so terribly that he took wing and flew off.
About four months afterwards, however, his injuries having all healed, he returned to the poultry yard, with three other storks, who no sooner alighted than they all together fell upon the tame stork, and killed it.
Although there are few who would dispute the cleverness and sagacity of the larger animals, it is doubtful if there are many who credit the mouse with even average intelligence. The following instance may go far to raise our humble friend in the popular estimation; more especially as the story is told by one who really saw the whole performance. In a country where berries are scarce, these little animals were obliged to cross a river to make their forages. In returning with their booty to their homes, they had to recross the stream; in doing which they showed an ingenuity little short of marvelous. The party, which consisted of five, selected a water-lily leaf, on which they placed their berries in a heap in the middle; then, by their united force, they brought it to the water's edge, and after launching it, jumped on it, and placed themselves round the heap, with their heads joined over it, and their backs to the water. In this manner they drifted down the stream until they reached the opposite shore, when they unloaded their cargo, and stored it away for the coming rainy day.
Some years ago, a donkey was employed at Carisbrook Castle, in the Isle of Wight, in drawing water by means of a large wheel from a very deep well, thought to have been sunk by the Romans. When the keeper wanted water, he would say to the donkey, “Tom, my boy, I want water; get into the wheel, my lad.” Thomas, thereupon, got in, with a speed and wisdom that would have done credit to a nobler animal. No doubt he knew the exact number of times the wheel had to turn upon its axis to bring up the bucket, because every time he brought it to the surface of the well, he stopped and turned round his honest head to note the moment when his master laid hold of the bucket to draw it toward him, because he had then a nice turn to make either to draw back, or to go ahead a little. It was pleasing to see with what steadiness and regularity the poor animal did his work.
During the French Revolution M. des R——, an ancient magistrate and most estimable man, was condemned to die on the charge of conspiracy, and was thrown into prison. M. des R—— had a water spaniel, which had been brought up by him, and was always with him. Shut out of the prison, he returned to his master's house, and found it closed. He then took refuge with a neighbor. Every day at the same hour, the dog left the house, and went straight to the door of the prison, where he whined mournfully. He was refused admittance, but each day he spent an hour before the door, and then went away. His fidelity at last won over the porter, and one day he was allowed to enter. The dog saw his master and clung to him. The jailer could hardly drive him away. He came back the next morning, and every day; once each day he was admitted. He licked the hand of his friend, looked him in the face, again licked his hand, and went away of his own accord.
After the execution, at which the dog was present, he walked by the side of the corpse to its burial place, and after the ceremony laid himself upon the grave. There he passed the first night, the next day, and the next night. The neighbor, in the meantime, unhappy at not seeing him, went in search of his friend, and found him by his master's grave. He caressed him and made him eat a little food.He even coaxed the faithful creature away for a few moments, but he soon returned to his master's grave. Three months passed. The dog came each morning to get his food, and then returned to the grave. Each day he was more sad, more lean, more feeble. He was chained up, but broke his fetters; escaped; returned to the grave, and never left it more. It was in vain that they tried to get him back. They carried him food, but he ate no longer. For hours he was seen digging up with his weakened limbs the earth that separated him from his beloved master. Passion gave him strength, and at last he was near to the body. Then his faithful heart gave way, and he breathed out a last gasp, as if he knew he had found his master.
An elephant, from some motive of revenge, killed his mahout, or driver. The man's wife, who beheld the dreadful scene, took her two children, and threw them at the feet of the angry animal, saying, “Since you have slain my husband, take my life also, and that of my children.” The elephant instantly became calm looked at them a moment, and then, as if stung with remorse, took up the eldest boy with his trunk, placed him on his neck, adopted him for his driver, and would never afterwards allow any other person to mount him.
In a play exhibited at Rome, in the reign of Tiberius, there were twelve elephant performers, six male and six female, all fixed up in fancy costumes. After they had, at the command of their keeper, danced and performed a thousand curious antics, a most sumptuous feast was served up for their refreshment. The table was covered with all sorts of dainties and golden goblets filled with the most precious wines. Couches covered with purple carpets were placed around for the animals to lie upon, after the manner of the Romans when feasting, and on these couches the elephants laid themselves down. At a given signal they reached out their trunks to the table, and fell to eating and drinking with as much propriety as if they had been so many men and women.
An American gentleman was hunting foxes, accompanied by two bloodhounds. The dogs were soon in scent, and followed a fox nearly two hours, when suddenly they appeared at fault. The gentleman came up with them near a large log lying upon the ground, and was much surprised to find them taking a circuit of a few rods without an object, every trace of the game seeming to have been lost, while they still kept yelping. On looking round about himself, he saw sly Reynard stretched upon the log, as still as if he were dead. The master made several efforts to direct the attention of his dogs toward the fox, but failed. At last he went so near the artful creature that he could see it breathe. Even then no alarm was shown; and the gentleman, seizing a club, aimed a blow at him, which Reynard evaded by a leap from his strange hiding-place, having thus for a time effectually eluded his greedy pursuers.
A gentleman once owned a mastiff which guarded the house and yard, but had never any particular attention from his master. One night, as his master was retiring to his room, attended by his valet, an Italian, the mastiff silently followed him upstairs, something which he had never been before known to do, and to his master's astonishment, came into his bedroom. He was at once turned out; but the poor animal began scratching violently at the door, and howled loudly for admission. The servant was sent to drive him away; but again he returned, and seemed more anxious than before to be let in. Getting tired of his barking, the gentleman bade the servant open the door, that they might see what it was the animal wanted to do. As soon as he was let in the dog walked to the bed, and crawling under it, laid himself down as if intending to spend the night there. To save farther trouble, this was allowed. About midnight the chamber door opened, and some one was heard stepping carefully across the floor. The gentleman started from his sleep; the dog sprang from his covert, and seizing the unwelcome intruder, fixed him to the spot. All was dark, and the gentleman rang his bell in great fear in order to procure a light. The person who was pinned to the floor by the courageous mastiff was roaring for assistance. It was found to be the valet, who little expected such a reception. He tried to apologize for his intrusion, and to make the reasons which led him to take this step appear plausible; but the importunity of the dog, the time, the place, the manner of the valet, all raised the suspicions of his master, and he determined to refer the investigation of the business to a magistrate. The Italian at length confessed that it was his intention to murder his master and then rob the house. This he would surely have done, had it not been for the great wisdom of the dog and his wonderful friendship for a master who had never treated him with the kindness that he should have done.
A gardener, in removing some rubbish one day, found two ground toads of uncommon size, weighing no less than seven pounds. While he was watching them, he was surprised to see that one of them got upon the back of the other, and then both moved slowly over the ground toward a place of retreat. Upon further examination he found that the one on the back of the other had been badly wounded by a blow from his spade, and was thus unable to get back to its home without the help of its friend.
The ease with which the elephant is taught to perform the most difficult feats forms a remarkable contrast to its huge size and clumsiness. Aristotle tells us that in ancient times elephants were taught by their keepers to throw stones at a mark, to cast up arms in the air, and catch them again on their fall; and to dance, not merely on the earth, but on the rope. The first, according to the historian Suetonius, who exhibited elephant rope dancers, was Galba at Rome. The manner of teaching them to dance on the ground was simple enough (simply music and a very hot floor); but we are not told how they were taught to skip the rope, or whether it was the tight or the slack rope, or how high the rope was. The silence of history on these points is fortunate for the dancers of the present day; since, but for this, their fame might have been utterly eclipsed. Elephants may, in the days of old Rome, have been taught to dance on a rope, but when was an elephant ever known to skip on a rope over the heads of an audience, or to caper amidst a blaze of fire fifty feet aloft in the air? What would Aristotle have thought of his dancing elephants if he had seen some of the elephants who perform to-day?
A traveller tells a singular anecdote of a lion, which he says was told to him by a very credible person. About the year 1614 or 1615, two Christian slaves at Morocco made their escape, travelling by night, and hiding themselves in the tops of trees during the day, their Arab pursuers often passing them by. One night, while travelling along, they were much astonished and alarmed to see a great lion close by them, walking when they walked and standing still when they did. Thinking this a safe conduct sent to them by Providence, they took courage and travelled in the daytime in company with the lion. The horsemen who had been sent in pursuit came up, and would have seized upon them, but the lion interposed, and they were allowed to pass on. Every day these poor slaves met with some one or other person who wanted to seize them, but the lion was their protector until they reached the sea coast in safety, when he left them.
A goose was once observed to attach itself in the strongest and most affectionate manner to the house dog, but never offered to go into the kennel except in rainy weather. Whenever the dog barked, the goose would cackle, and run at the person she supposed the dog barked at, and try to bite him by the heels. She would sometimes try to feed with the dog, but this the dog, who treated his faithful companion with indifference, would not allow. This bird would not go to roost with the others at night, unless she was driven by main force; and when in the morning they were all turned into the field, she would never stir from the yard gate, but sit there the whole day in sight of the dog. At length orders were given that she should not longer be molested. Being thus left to herself, she ran about the yard with him all night and what is most strange, whenever the dog went out of the yard and ran into the village, the goose always went with him, managing to keep up with him by the help of her wings, and thus running and flying, followed him all over the town. This strange affection of the goose for the dog, which continued till his death, two years after it was first noticed, is supposed to have been due to the fact, that once, in her very young days, he had saved her from a fox.
While the dog was ill, the goose never left him, day or night, not even to feed, and she would surely have starved to death had not a pan of corn been set every day close to the kennel. At this time the goose generally sat in the kennel, and would not allow any one to come near it, except the person who brought the dog's or her own food. The end of this faithful bird was very sad; for when the dog died, she would still keep possession of the kennel. A new house dog was bought, which in size and color so resembled the one lately lost that the poor goose was unhappily deceived, and going into the kennel as usual, the new dog seized her by the throat and killed her.
When Antiochus was killed in battle by Centaretrius the Galatian, the victor exultingly leaped on the back of the fallen king's horse; but he had no sooner done so, than the animal, as if sensible that it was bestridden by the slayer of its master, at once showed signs of the greatest fury, and bounding forward to the top of a lofty rock, with a speed which defied every attempt of Centaretrius to disengage himself, leaped with him over the precipice, at the foot of which both were found dashed to pieces. Thus did the noble horse revenge his master's death.
A young man, anxious to get rid of his dog, took it along with him to the river. He hired a boat, and rowing out into the stream, threw the animal in. The poor creature tried to climb up the sides of the boat, but his master, whose wish was to drown him, kept on pushing him back into the water with the oar. In doing this, he fell into the water himself, and would certainly have been drowned, had not the dog, as soon as he saw his master struggling helplessly in the stream, allowed the boat to float away, seized his master's coat, and held him above water till help came, and his life was saved.
A female elephant belonging to a gentleman in Calcutta broke loose from her keeper, and was lost in the woods. The excuses which the keeper made were not admitted. It was supposed that he had sold the elephant; his wife and family therefore were sold for slaves, and he himself was condemned to work upon the roads.
About twelve years after, this man was ordered into the country to assist in catching wild elephants. The keeper fancied he saw his long-lost elephant in a group that was before them. He was determined to go up to it; nor could the strongest arguments as to the danger of such a risk keep him from his purpose. When he came near the creature, she knew him, and giving him three salutes by waving her trunk in the air, knelt down and received him on her back. She afterwards helped in securing the other elephants, and likewise brought her three young ones. The keeper recovered his reputation; and, as a recompense for his sufferings and bravery, had a certain sum of money settled on him for life.
A Frenchman of family and fortune, travelling alone through a forest, was murdered and buried under a tree. His dog, an English bloodhound, would not leave his master's grave till at length, compelled by hunger, he went to the house of a friend of his master's, and by his mournful howling seemed trying to make him know that something had happened. He repeated his cries, ran to the door, looked back to see if any one followed him, went back to his master's friend, pulled him by the sleeve, and with a great deal of earnestness seemed begging him to follow.
Struck by these actions, the company decided to follow the dog, who led them to a tree where he began scratching the earth and howling. On digging, the body of the unhappy man was found.
Some time after, the dog accidentaly met the murderer, instantly seized him by the throat, and was with the greatest difficulty compelled to loose his hold. As the dog continued to follow and attack the man, though kind and gentle to all others, his actions began to attract notice and comment.
At last the affair reached the king's ear. He sent for the dog, who seemed very gentle till he saw the murderer, when he ran at him fiercely, growling and snapping at him as usual.
The king, struck with the strange behavior of the noble animal, decided to refer the decision to the chance of battle. In other words, he gave orders for a combat between the assassin and the dog. The lists were appointed, and the man was allowed for his weapon a great cudgel.
An empty cask was given to the dog as a place of retreat, to give him a chance to recover his breath. The dog, finding himself at liberty ran round his adversary, avoiding his blows, and threatening him on every side, till his strength was exhausted; then springing forward, he gripped him by the throat, threw him on the ground, and made him confess before the king and the whole court. The assassin was afterward convicted and beheaded.
The following is an instance of the wonderful cunning shown by the Raccoon. It is very fond of crabs, and when in quest of them, will stand by the side of a swamp, and hang its tail over into the water. The crabs, mistaking the tail for food, are sure to lay hold of it; and as soon as the sly beast feels them pinch, he pulls them out with a sudden jerk. He then takes them to a little distance from the water's edge, and in eating them, is careful to get them crossways in his mouth, lest he should suffer from their nippers.
Various have been the opinions upon the difference of speed between a well-bred greyhound and a racehorse, if opposed to each other. Wishes had been often expressed by the sporting world that some standard could be adopted by which the superiority of speed could be fairly ascertained, when the following incident happened, and afforded some information upon what had before been considered a matter of great uncertainty. In the month of December, 1800 a match was to have been run over Doncaster racecourse for one hundred guineas, but one of the horses being withdrawn, a mare started alone, that by running the ground she might ensure the wager. After having run about a mile in the four, she was joined by a greyhound, which leaped into the course from one side, and entering into the competition, continued to race with the mare for the other three miles, keeping nearly head and head, and affording an excellent treat to the field by the energetic exertions of each. At passing the distance post five to four was bet in favor of the greyhound; when parallel with the stand it was even betting, and any person might have taken his choice from five to ten. The mare, however, had the advantage by a head at the end of the race.
A thief who had broken into the shop of Cellini, the artist, and was breaking open the caskets in order to get at some jewels, was arrested in his progress by a dog, against whom he found it a difficult matter to defend himself with a sword. The faithful animal ran to the room where the journeymen slept, but as they did not seem to hear him barking, he drew away the bed-clothes, and pulling them alternately by the arms, forcibly woke them; then barking very loud, he showed the way to the thief, and went on before; but the men would not follow him, and at last they locked their door. The dog, having lost all hopes of the assistance of these men, undertook the task alone, and ran downstairs. He could not find the villain in the shop, but instantly rushing into the street came up with him, and tearing off his cloak, would have treated him according to his deserts if the fellow had not called to some tailors in the neighborhood, and begged them to help him. They came to his aid, and drove the poor animal away.
A gentleman who had taken an active part in the rebellion of 1715, after the battle of Preston escaped into the West Highlands, where a lady, a near relative, gave him a hiding-place. A faithful servant conducted him to the mouth of a cave and gave him an abundant store of food. The fugitive crept in at a low opening, dragging his stores along. When he reached a wider and higher place, he found some obstacle before him. He drew his dirk, but unwilling to strike, lest he might take the life of a companion in hiding, he stooped down, and found a goat with her kid stretched on the ground. He soon saw that the animal was in great pain, and feeling her body and limbs, found that her leg was broken. He bound it up with his garter, and offered her a share of the bread beside him; but she put out her tongue, as if to tell him that her mouth was parched with thirst. He gave her water, which she drank readily, and then ate some bread. After midnight he ventured out of the cave. All was still. He plucked an armful of grass and cut some tender twigs, which the goat accepted with signs of great joy and thankfulness. The prisoner took a great deal of comfort in having a living creature in his dungeon, and he caressed and fed her tenderly. The man who was trustedto bring him supplies fell sick; and when another tried to enter the cavern, the goat furiously opposed him, presenting her horns in all directions, till the fugitive, hearing a disturbance, came forward. The new attendant gave the watchword, and so the prisoner knew he was all right. He spoke to the goat, and she obeyed him, and allowed the servant to enter. The gentleman was sure that had a band of soldiers attacked the cavern, his grateful patient would have died in his defense.