HIS FIRST SKETCH.Beneatha cottage window,Upon a summer day,Two little ones are whilingThe sunny hours away.A portrait of his sisterThe boy draws on the wall;The little maid remonstrates,She likes it not at all.At first she sits there pouting—A tear is in her eye;But peals of merry laughterBurst from her by-and-by.What cares the budding artist?He plies his brush with zest;He is in downright earnest,Though she is but in jest.Art-fire is in his spirit,For Nature lit the flame;The first step he has takenUpon the road to fame.In childhood's early morning,Ere opened yet the flower,Within his soul is dawningThe future artist's power!Astley H. Baldwin.
B
eneatha cottage window,Upon a summer day,Two little ones are whilingThe sunny hours away.A portrait of his sisterThe boy draws on the wall;The little maid remonstrates,She likes it not at all.At first she sits there pouting—A tear is in her eye;But peals of merry laughterBurst from her by-and-by.What cares the budding artist?He plies his brush with zest;He is in downright earnest,Though she is but in jest.Art-fire is in his spirit,For Nature lit the flame;The first step he has takenUpon the road to fame.In childhood's early morning,Ere opened yet the flower,Within his soul is dawningThe future artist's power!
Astley H. Baldwin.
Oneminute, sir; just let my mate brush up the dust a bit, and sprinkle a drop o' water on the foot-plate, and we'll be all right and comfortable."So said an engine-driver on one occasion to the writer, and we are reminded of it when we step up to the "eight-foot" engine which is to carry us from King's Cross Station to York. To pull the fastest train in Great Britain, or indeed in the world, for one hundred and eighty-eight miles, at more than forty-eight miles an hour, is first-rate running. "Scotchmen" run also from the Midland Station at St. Pancras, and from Euston, but the quickest one is that on the Great Northern, and it is also the most punctual.Now, what do you say to a journey of one hundred and five miles, to Grantham? We will leave King's Cross, if you please, at ten in the morning—a nice comfortable time. We have had our breakfast, and the engine has had its meal of coal and plenty of water. It will want something, for it will travel fast.Here we are puffing up the incline, between the walls, and through the little tunnels which abound near London, on our way to Barnet. We could tell tales of Barnet, had we time. We could give you a long—perhaps much too long—description of the place near which the Yorkists and Lancastrians contended on that fatal fifth of April, when the Great Warwick was slain and Edward made king.But our engine-driver does not care for history much. He would rather tell us of his terrible winter journey a few years ago (in 1880), when he had to keep time, anddidkeep time, through snow and wind, the bitter blast making icicles on the engine out of steam, and hanging inches long from the carriage roofs.Now our "Flying Scotchman" runs through Peterborough—the Proud, as it was once called, when its monastery flourished, and where is now the splendid cathedral on which the Ironsides of Cromwell laid such hard hands. Shame upon them who destroyed the beautiful chapter-house and cloisters! Perhaps you do not associate your history at your school with the actual places you see, young readers, but a little time bestowed upon the history of the places you pass in a holiday trip will very greatly assist you in gaining a good knowledge of the past.
neminute, sir; just let my mate brush up the dust a bit, and sprinkle a drop o' water on the foot-plate, and we'll be all right and comfortable."
So said an engine-driver on one occasion to the writer, and we are reminded of it when we step up to the "eight-foot" engine which is to carry us from King's Cross Station to York. To pull the fastest train in Great Britain, or indeed in the world, for one hundred and eighty-eight miles, at more than forty-eight miles an hour, is first-rate running. "Scotchmen" run also from the Midland Station at St. Pancras, and from Euston, but the quickest one is that on the Great Northern, and it is also the most punctual.
Now, what do you say to a journey of one hundred and five miles, to Grantham? We will leave King's Cross, if you please, at ten in the morning—a nice comfortable time. We have had our breakfast, and the engine has had its meal of coal and plenty of water. It will want something, for it will travel fast.
Here we are puffing up the incline, between the walls, and through the little tunnels which abound near London, on our way to Barnet. We could tell tales of Barnet, had we time. We could give you a long—perhaps much too long—description of the place near which the Yorkists and Lancastrians contended on that fatal fifth of April, when the Great Warwick was slain and Edward made king.
But our engine-driver does not care for history much. He would rather tell us of his terrible winter journey a few years ago (in 1880), when he had to keep time, anddidkeep time, through snow and wind, the bitter blast making icicles on the engine out of steam, and hanging inches long from the carriage roofs.
Now our "Flying Scotchman" runs through Peterborough—the Proud, as it was once called, when its monastery flourished, and where is now the splendid cathedral on which the Ironsides of Cromwell laid such hard hands. Shame upon them who destroyed the beautiful chapter-house and cloisters! Perhaps you do not associate your history at your school with the actual places you see, young readers, but a little time bestowed upon the history of the places you pass in a holiday trip will very greatly assist you in gaining a good knowledge of the past.
Look at Peterborough. Here lies Queen Katherine, and here lay Mary, Queen of Scots, foryou a long—perhaps much too long—description a while, till James buried her in Westminster; and Scarlett, the sexton, who buried both queens, lies in the nave. But we cannot pause at Peterborough, though we should like to do so, for our iron steed is steaming along, and our driver is thinking of the ice and snow which he had to contend against. The Midland line runs overhead near here, and after a rapid run we pull up at Grantham.
Illustration: "HIS FIRST SKETCH."
"his first sketch." (Seep. 204.)"
During our stay we hear a little tale from our "fireman," who remembers on one of his trips an engine getting loose in front of the up express, and how he and another man got on a fresh engine, and ran after it on the other line. Oh, what a chase they had after the runaway! and at last they caught it in time to prevent a serious accident. It was a brave, but rash act, to set off after a "mad" engine, which had run away, no one knew how, out of the siding on to the main line.
From Grantham to Doncaster the railway opens up so many memories. We pass Newark, near which the ruins of the old castle may be seen. King John died here; Cardinal Wolsey lodged here, and James I. also stayed within its walls; the whole place teems with memories of Charles and his Parliamentary foes. We pass on near Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood and his merry men lived, and fought, and stole the king's deer; and then past Doncaster, where the engines and carriages of the Great Northern Railway, which ends near here, are made and repaired.
Doncaster was a very important place in olden times, and a whole volume of adventures might be written concerning the personages who visited it.
While we are talking, the "Flying Scotchman," the quickest of all the Scotch trains, goes tearing along to York. We have heard of Dick Turpin's celebrated ride to York on his bonnie "Black Bess," but we have a finer horse—a green-painted steed—to ride on. In the "good old times" which we read about so much it took four days to get to York, sleeping on the road; now our trains run the distance in less than four hours! Coaching is very pleasant as an amusement, but for business we must have our Iron Horse.
We can lunch at York. Our train waits for no one, but if we like we can eat our sandwich on the platform, and look over old York city, with its dear old Minster, its river, its red-roofed houses; and if we close our eyes for a few minutes, our mental vision will show us many stirring scenes here.
We can imagine the Scots hovering around old York, assisted by the Britons, attacking the gouty Emperor Severus, who afterwards built one of the great walls across Britain to supplement Hadrian's rampart from the Solway to the "Wall's End"—a name now "familiar in our mouths as household" coals. Do you remember what the old worn-out Roman Emperor said at York when he was dying? He looked at the urn of gold in which his ashes were to be carried to Rome, and remarked, "Thou shalt soon hold what the world could scarcely contain!" Then we can see the end of the great Roses' Wars, the heads on the grim spikes of the city gates, while a long procession of kings and queens files out from the cathedral doors, on whose site a church has stood ever since Easter, 627A.D.
If we had only time to sit and recall all the grand events which have happened in York Minster, we should have to wait for the next "Flying Scotchman," and perhaps for the next after that.
"Any more going on?" "Yes, we are." "Quick, please; all right." The train can't wait while we dream about the past; and have we not Darlington in front of us? Ah! there we must stop a little. Here are the cradles of all the "Flying Scotchmen," "Wild Irishmen," "Dutchmen," "Zulus"; of the four hundred expresses of England, and the thousands of other trains, fast and slow, which traverse the United Kingdom and the world. Yes, Darlington was the nursery of the locomotive railway-engine, and Mr. Pease the head nurse who taught it to run on the Stockton and Darlington line in 1825. To the Darlington Quaker family Stephenson's success was due, and the success of Stephenson's locomotive was owing to Hadley—William Hadley—who has been rightly called the "Father of the Modern Locomotive."
We are now on the North-Eastern line, which ends at Berwick-on-Tweed—for the true Great Northern, though its carriages run over the whole route, does not work the traffic all the way. The North-Eastern hurries us along towards Newcastle-on-Tyne, over Robert Stephenson's high-level bridge, and then over the North British line at Edinburgh.
What do we see from this breezy elevation? "Oh, earth, what changes hast thou seen!" What does a writer say of this? "The mountain stream beneath us, once a broad shallow, now affords depth for the heaviest ships. Away on the northern bank the Roman wall lies hid, its arrowy route just marked by a burial heave of the turf. Before us stands the massive keep, with sturdy Norman walls—the trains of the North-Eastern are scrunching on the curve within a yard of it. Stephenson's engine looks down on Elizabethan gables;" and so on. Near Newcastle—at Wylam and Killingworth—the first locomotive engines were born which changed the country and revolutionised travelling.
The warders at Berwick no longer look out from the castle walls to descry the glitter of Southern spears. The bell-tower from which the alarm was sounded is now silent—the only bell heard within the precincts of the castle being that of the railway porter, announcing the arrival and departure oftrains. The Scotch express passes along the bridge, and speeds southward on the wings of steam. But no alarm spreads across the Border now.
We shall cross the Tweed presently, and pass through the country of the Moss-troopers and the territories of the Lords Marchers, the scene of so many conflicts and fatal raids. We first cross the Coquet, "the stream of streams," the poet calls it:—
"There's mony a sawmon lies in Tweed,An' mony a trout in Till;But Coquet—Coquet aye for me,If I may have my will!"
"There's mony a sawmon lies in Tweed,An' mony a trout in Till;But Coquet—Coquet aye for me,If I may have my will!"
We get a view of the Cheviots; and Tweed-mouth passed, we cross the "Royal Border Bridge," and run into Berwick.
What a record of battle has Berwick! In these peaceful times at home we can hardly picture the old walls on which we walk manned with armoured soldiery, and King John within his house, a burning torch in his hand, setting fire to the town, or hanging up the people by the feet till they told where their money-bags were hidden. In those days and in Edward's time, the "Flying Scotchmen" were Highlanders who were dispersed by the English king. Wallace avenged the slaughter, and seized Berwick; Robert Bruce and Douglas climbed into the town with their trusty men. Half Wallace's body was sent here as a trophy, and the Countess of Buchan was hung out from the walls in a cage!
Beacons again burn in the bell-tower, and Edward and Bruce again engage, and Berwick was only finally deprived of its warlike appearance when James the First united England and Scotland. These are some of the tales the old stones tell us as we pause in Berwick, which within our own memory was so specially mentioned in all forms of national prayer and thanksgiving, as being a kind of neutral ground upon the Border.
Now puffing through Dunbar, past the Field of Preston-pans, and through a district ever memorable in the history of Scotland, we reach the modern Athens "Auld Reekie"—Edinburgh the Beautiful—where the "Flying Scotchman" folds his wings and "flies" no more. His work is done this journey!
By the Author of "How the Owls of the Pampas treated their Friends," &c.
Onthe branch of a gigantic tree in one of the South American forests a young ant was reposing; he had been working hard all day, being a brisk, spirited fellow, and so he was rather tired, and he lazily watched an old relation of his own, who was slowly climbing the trunk towards him, his fine white polished head glancing against the bark.
"Well, Long-legs," cried the young cousin, as his elder approached, "where are you going at this late hour? I should have fancied that you would have been asleep after all the trouble you had in marching to-day."
Illustration: "HE ... EXECUTED A LITTLE WAR-DANCE.""he ... executed a little war-dance."
"he ... executed a little war-dance."
"My dear Shiny-pate," said the old warrior, as he settled in a little crevice and stretched out his tired limbs, while he rolled up a tiny, tiny blade of grass for a would-be cigar, "I am the bearer of news."
"Why, what is the matter?" cried Shiny-pate anxiously, jumping up so suddenly that he hit his poor little head sharply against a projecting knob.
"Silly goose! nothing is the matter," answered his friend, "only you are a little grander than you thought you were: you are promoted to be an officer—a lieutenant, in fact; so now you can assist me on our marches."
"Oh! Long-legs, is it really true?" exclaimed the young ant. "Am I to be an officer, to march the men about, to lead them to glory?" and he tried to shout "hurrah," but did not know how, so he only executed a little war-dance on the branch of the tree, while his old friend looked on, smiling grimly.
"Now I hope you will distinguish yourself, my child," said he paternally, when Shiny-pate was tired of skipping about. "You will very soon have an opportunity of showing your valour, for to-morrowwe are to undertake a dangerous expedition to a distant country, and your courage will be tried."
So saying, he began creeping down the tree, disregarding the entreaties of his young companion, to stay a little longer and tell him where they were going. "No, no," he muttered; "that will be time enough to-morrow; go to sleep and be strong."
Very good advice, certainly; but when children are put to bed before the sun has set in the long summer evening, while the birds are still singing, and the bats have not begun to come out, and they feel desperately inclined to play a little longer, I am afraid they don't relish it much.
However, Shiny-pate was a good, sensible little creature, and he went off very meekly, but he awoke early in the morning, ready for the fray.
"Breakfast first," said he to himself; but no: the older officers said they had to fight first, and eat afterwards; so they soon began to arrange their marching order.
A column of ants, at least a hundred yards in length, but not very wide, was soon formed; each leader had charge of twenty workers. The officers were not expected to march in the main line, but to walk outside their company, and keep it in order; and great was our hero's pride and delight when he surveyed his own particular men, and thought what an example of bravery he would set them.
At last all were ready, and the army moved off in beautiful order. The officers ran up and down the ranks, inspecting everything, their white helmets glistening in the sun, and as Shiny-pate's position was well to the front, he had great opportunities.
Illustration: "THE ARMY MOVED OFF.""the army moved off."
"the army moved off."
After they had proceeded for some time with great gravity and care, they came to a tree from which hung a couple of nests belonging to the large wasps of the country, and after a moment's discussion it was decided that the ants should mount and rifle them as a first move, so the obedient soldiers hastened on, and Shiny-pate, who knew nothing of the enterprise, joyfully waved his sword at the head of his troops. How astonished, how disgusted he was, when he felt the first wasp-sting he had ever experienced!
He almost fell from the nest with amazement, but he would not give in—"No, never, die first!" he thought, so he rushed on, and was among the foremost to enter the cells where the young pupæ were carefully walled in, and tearing them from their cosy cradles, the ants proceeded to devour them.
Illustration: "SALUTING HIS COMMANDER.""saluting his commander."(p.209).
"saluting his commander."(p.209).
However, though the nests were large, and the grubs many in number, there were not half or quarter enough for the army. More and more ants came trooping up the tree, trying to squeeze into the places where there was no room for them, and mournfully calling out that they also were very hungry. So as soon as the pasteboard domicile was empty, the little creatures descended from their elevation, and again pursued their line of march, this time without any incident occurring until they saw in the distance the figure of a man.
Now most of the ants had never seen a human being before, but what did that matter? Their ardour rose, their eyes sparkled, their long slender limbs raced over the ground, and soon theperson who had been silly enough to stand and watch the advancing host was covered with the nimble insects, who quickly ran up into his coat-pockets, down his neck, and, in fact, wherever there was any aperture, inserting their sharp fangs, and injecting their poison, until he yelled with fear and pain. He had not been very long in the country, and did not understand the habits of the creatures, so at first he remained in his absurd position, capering about, and trying to brush off the ants. But as he found that their numbers so increased every moment, he began to get really alarmed, lest he should soon be "eaten up alive," and so he ran away very ignominiously, being pursued for some distance by the host of insects; but as soon as he had outrun them, the difficult task of trying to detach those already fastened to his person began. The fierce little insects preferred being pulled to pieces to letting go their hold, and their hooked mandibles remained securely fixed in poor John Lester's skin long after their bodies had been torn off.
Fortunately for himself, Shiny-pate was not included in the number who lost their lives. When the onslaught began, Long-legs commanded him to keep his detachment quiet, as their services were not required; so the steady little ant obeyed orders, and though he stood on tip-toe with impatience, and trembled with excitement, he kept out of the fray.
"Now it is all over—march!" cried Long-legs authoritatively, as John's flying coat-tails disappeared round a tree.
"Shall we not wait for the others?" inquired a young officer very politely, saluting his commander with the back of his tiny foot in true military style.
Illustration: "AN ARMY OF ANTS.""an army of ants."(p.210).
"an army of ants."(p.210).
"None of them will ever return," replied the colonel sternly. "Do your duty, and obey orders."
So the army again started off, and after a long and dusty march the pioneers came in sight of a pretty little cottage; but I must relate who the inhabitants were before I go any farther.
The house belonged to an Irish gentleman of the name of Wolfe, who, after emigrating to South America, and building a house for his family, a few months before this story opens, brought out his wife, four children, and their old and faithful servant, called John Lester, to keep him company, and help him in the new life he had chosen for himself.
Mrs. Wolfe was rather an inexperienced young lady, and the manners and customs of the place and people, particularly those of the coloured servant, Chunga, astonished her immensely. The white lady had a great horror of creeping things of all kinds; she could hardly bear to get into her bath, for she sometimes found a centipede, as long as her hand, drowned in it.
At night, when the lamp was lighted, cockchafers and insects of all kinds buzzed and flew round it, until their wings were singed; then they danced hornpipes on the table over Mrs. Wolfe's work or writing, falling most likely into the ink-bottle first, and then spinning about with their long legs, smearing everything with which they came in contact, till she used to run away and implore her husband to "kill them all and have done with it." The children thought it was rather fun, except when a scorpion stung them. They had a playabout the lizards, which were pretty and harmless, and they used to count how many different kinds of beetles were killed each night.
Sometimes the baby screamed when a particularly large spider walked across its face; but these little trials had to be borne.
On the morning of this memorable day, as Mrs. Wolfe was employed in some household duties, Chunga rushed into the verandah, joyfully crying—
"Oh, missie! oh, missie! de birds are come!"
"What birds?" inquired her mistress in amazement, wondering what new object was going to be exhibited to her, but almost expecting to see a creature with three legs, or two heads.
"De pittas, missie; de ant-thrushes, you call them," said the black woman, gleefully. "Now missie's house will be clean; massa is away, all de tings will be turned out," and as she spoke, she seized her mistress's dress, and, gently drawing her to the open door, directed her attention to several dark-coloured, short-tailed birds which were hopping from tree to tree in the neighbourhood.
"I don't see anything extraordinary about them," said Mrs. Wolfe, in a disappointed tone; "they are only small ugly birds."
"But look dere, missie," persisted Chunga, pointing towards the forest, from the dark shades of which Shiny-pate and his battalions were emerging.
"Why, it is an army of ants!" cried the Irish lady. "How curious! how pretty!"
"Dey is coming here," remarked Chunga carelessly, as she watched the procession.
Illustration: "THE WARRIORS DASHED IN.""the warriors dashed in."
"the warriors dashed in."
"Here!" echoed Mrs. Wolf in horror; "what for? What shall we do? They will eat all the things in my store-room, they will bite my children!" and she flew to the nursery as she spoke.
But the advancing host moved steadily along, the officers gave orders to enter the house, and our young hero, though quite a novice in the work, was one of the first to creep through a slit in the walls.
"Now," cried Long-legs, "first kill the cockroaches and other small game. Come on; don't be afraid."
So the warriors dashed into the principalroom, mounted the rafters, and began a fierce battle. The sleepy cockroaches, fat and heavy from good living, sprawled about, but made a very poor fight. Shiny-pate and two or three of his men would seize one of the kicking old fellows, and either push him or pull him to the edge of the rafters, whence he would fall with a dull thud on the floor, when he was generally too much stunned to make any more resistance, but even if he did he was soon overpowered, bitten, and dragged out of the house.
When the rafters were cleared, our hero was running swiftly across the floor, when a choky voice called him, and he saw his old friend's head protruding from an aperture in a large wooden chest.
"Come here! come here!" cried Long-legs. "There are loads of them inside, and I want help."
"Loads of what?" inquired Shiny-pate, rather incredulously.
"Of all kinds of food," replied the colonel; "but unfortunately it is very hard to get at them; they are hidden among the folds of some white stuff that almost suffocates me."
Shiny-pate at once proceeded to crawl into the chest, but fortunately Chunga, who knew thehabits of the little insects, had been going round the house opening every press and box, and now she flung aside the cover of the great linen-chest, and in darted the little marauders, and speedily drew forth hundreds of the hideous cockroaches.
But soon all the small game was cleared off, and yet the attacking party cried for more, and cast hungry eyes at Mrs. Wolfe and the children, who had been skipping about on the floor, trying not to stand on anything, for foraging ants are not to be trifled with; and Chunga said, solemnly—
"If missie kills any ants, they kill her."
So the fear of touching any of them had greatly impeded the lady's movements; she had to step gently on the points of her toes whenever she saw a clear space. She had to rescue her baby from the cradle, and her other children from different parts of the house; and then each child, as it was carried away, began to cry for some particular toy that had been left behind, so that getting them safe and sound into the garden was a work of time. However, at last they were all seated round their mother, only dreadfully hungry, and longing for their breakfast, while the house remained in undisturbed possession of the ants.
At last, even Chunga thought it wise to beat a retreat, so she came gliding gently out, bringing the welcome news that she had seen several ants carrying off an immense scorpion, which "must have been de one dat stung massa, and made him so ill a few days before;" and that the ants were now attacking the rats and mice.
"Rats and mice!" screamed all the children in delight. "Will they kill the horrible things?"
"THE CAT ... STOOD WITH GLARING EYES""The rats that fought poor Kitty," pursued George, for this had been a sore trouble to the children. Mrs. Wolfe had brought a fine handsome tortoise-shell cat from Ireland with her, thinking how delightful it would be to have her house quite free from vermin, only, unfortunately, they were so very numerous that poor "Lady Catherine," as the children named their pussy, though she did her best at first, could not by any possibility keep their numbers in check, and she now lived a miserable life, being afraid of moving from her master's protection, and growing daily thinner and weaker from the combined influences of fear, and being unable to perform her usual duties; and as the children loved her dearly, and treated her like one of themselves, they all set up a howl of dismay when their darling's name was mentioned to them.It was answered by a fearful burst of caterwauling from the interior of the house. The shrieks and yells were really terrific, and the whole party, regardless of their enemies inside, rushed back again to the door, and peeping in, beheld a sight which was almost ludicrous.There was a shelf near one of the children's beds at a great height from the floor, and to this Lady Catherine (the cat) had mounted, but now she was surrounded, and her retreat completely cut off. There were ants to right of her, ants to left of her, and ants in front of her; and as the little creatures, led on by Shiny-pate the valorous, attacked her with determined precision, the cat, with every hair bristling up on her body, stood with glaring eyes, lifting first one foot and then anotherto escape her tormentors. Sometimes she stood on her hind legs and frantically tore the insects from her coat, but she wanted courage enough to make the very high jump from the shelf to the floor.Mrs. Wolfe and the children were so distressed at the sight, that kind-hearted Chunga offered to try and save their favourite, and she crept cautiously into the house, trying to avoid standing on the ants with her bare feet. Lady Catherine's screams redoubled when she saw a friend approaching, but she did not treat the black woman very kindly, for as soon as she stood under the shelf the cat made one frantic leap to her shoulders, and inserting her sharp claws, held on tenaciously.It was now Chunga's turn to scream, which she did in good earnest; and as she found she could not detach the cat, she fled from the house with her burden clinging tightly to her copper-coloured shoulders, and ran almost into the arms of John Lester, who was returning home. He was quick enough to see what had happened, so, snatching up an old broom with one hand he seized Lady Catherine with the other, and gave her such a sweeping as she had never experienced before, and which, indeed, she strongly objected to; but her cries were disregarded, and she was soon free from the insects, and the children joyfully clutched hold of her.
"The rats that fought poor Kitty," pursued George, for this had been a sore trouble to the children. Mrs. Wolfe had brought a fine handsome tortoise-shell cat from Ireland with her, thinking how delightful it would be to have her house quite free from vermin, only, unfortunately, they were so very numerous that poor "Lady Catherine," as the children named their pussy, though she did her best at first, could not by any possibility keep their numbers in check, and she now lived a miserable life, being afraid of moving from her master's protection, and growing daily thinner and weaker from the combined influences of fear, and being unable to perform her usual duties; and as the children loved her dearly, and treated her like one of themselves, they all set up a howl of dismay when their darling's name was mentioned to them.
It was answered by a fearful burst of caterwauling from the interior of the house. The shrieks and yells were really terrific, and the whole party, regardless of their enemies inside, rushed back again to the door, and peeping in, beheld a sight which was almost ludicrous.
There was a shelf near one of the children's beds at a great height from the floor, and to this Lady Catherine (the cat) had mounted, but now she was surrounded, and her retreat completely cut off. There were ants to right of her, ants to left of her, and ants in front of her; and as the little creatures, led on by Shiny-pate the valorous, attacked her with determined precision, the cat, with every hair bristling up on her body, stood with glaring eyes, lifting first one foot and then anotherto escape her tormentors. Sometimes she stood on her hind legs and frantically tore the insects from her coat, but she wanted courage enough to make the very high jump from the shelf to the floor.
Mrs. Wolfe and the children were so distressed at the sight, that kind-hearted Chunga offered to try and save their favourite, and she crept cautiously into the house, trying to avoid standing on the ants with her bare feet. Lady Catherine's screams redoubled when she saw a friend approaching, but she did not treat the black woman very kindly, for as soon as she stood under the shelf the cat made one frantic leap to her shoulders, and inserting her sharp claws, held on tenaciously.
It was now Chunga's turn to scream, which she did in good earnest; and as she found she could not detach the cat, she fled from the house with her burden clinging tightly to her copper-coloured shoulders, and ran almost into the arms of John Lester, who was returning home. He was quick enough to see what had happened, so, snatching up an old broom with one hand he seized Lady Catherine with the other, and gave her such a sweeping as she had never experienced before, and which, indeed, she strongly objected to; but her cries were disregarded, and she was soon free from the insects, and the children joyfully clutched hold of her.
"THE LIVING CHAIN OF INSECTS"But meantime Shiny-pate had been carried off in a coil of Chunga's hair, whence he had crept from the cat's fur, and very uncomfortable he felt. He knew that his single arm could never overcome the Indian woman; he was deserted by his troops, and he had no one to direct him. He thought he had better try to alight from his precarious position, and endeavour to rejoin his men; but when he moved, Chunga—whose nerves were a little upset—cried, "Oh! Massa John, brush me too, brush me;" and began tearing her hair down to make ready for the performance. But just at that moment another insect dropped from the tree above her down on her arm, and administered such an electric shock that a thrill ran up to her shoulder, her hands fell, and Shiny-pate, seizing his opportunity, ran swiftly down her back and rushed towards the house, where the scene of confusion was but little abated.The ants had by this time slain every living thing which had occupied the dwelling, and dragged them into the long grass outside; and the soldiers, after their hard fighting, were endeavouring to satisfy their hunger. This, however, the officers objected to, for they knew by experience what would happen; the pittas had not accompanied them on their march for nothing. The ugly black birds had their eyes wide open, and knew what they were about; they had been waiting and watching all this time, hopping about on the neighbouring trees, and now at last their turn came. The ants gorged with their prey could not escape: down pounced the pittas, and they certainly made the most of their opportunity. The hardened veterans, the most agile warriors, were gobbled up in a moment, and the officers in despair ran here and there, seeing the carnage, but being quite unable to prevent it.At last, by the time Mrs. Wolfe and her family ventured back to their clean and well-swept house, Shiny-pate by frantic exertions had managed to collect his own troop—he had only lost two of his twenty soldiers.
But meantime Shiny-pate had been carried off in a coil of Chunga's hair, whence he had crept from the cat's fur, and very uncomfortable he felt. He knew that his single arm could never overcome the Indian woman; he was deserted by his troops, and he had no one to direct him. He thought he had better try to alight from his precarious position, and endeavour to rejoin his men; but when he moved, Chunga—whose nerves were a little upset—cried, "Oh! Massa John, brush me too, brush me;" and began tearing her hair down to make ready for the performance. But just at that moment another insect dropped from the tree above her down on her arm, and administered such an electric shock that a thrill ran up to her shoulder, her hands fell, and Shiny-pate, seizing his opportunity, ran swiftly down her back and rushed towards the house, where the scene of confusion was but little abated.
The ants had by this time slain every living thing which had occupied the dwelling, and dragged them into the long grass outside; and the soldiers, after their hard fighting, were endeavouring to satisfy their hunger. This, however, the officers objected to, for they knew by experience what would happen; the pittas had not accompanied them on their march for nothing. The ugly black birds had their eyes wide open, and knew what they were about; they had been waiting and watching all this time, hopping about on the neighbouring trees, and now at last their turn came. The ants gorged with their prey could not escape: down pounced the pittas, and they certainly made the most of their opportunity. The hardened veterans, the most agile warriors, were gobbled up in a moment, and the officers in despair ran here and there, seeing the carnage, but being quite unable to prevent it.
At last, by the time Mrs. Wolfe and her family ventured back to their clean and well-swept house, Shiny-pate by frantic exertions had managed to collect his own troop—he had only lost two of his twenty soldiers.
So our little insects again set out. They were dreadfully tired, and they lagged behind, though their leader longed to overtake some of the advance-guard, which had already gone on. Poor little fellow! his first day's fighting had certainly been an arduous one, and it was not over yet; his exertions to keep his men in order were wonderful. Butafter marching some distance the ants saw before them a little stream of water, running merrily along, but presenting a serious barrier to their progress.
Shiny-pate at first thought the water might not extend far, and led his company along the bank; but as he found to his dismay that the stream grew wider instead of narrower, his fertile little brain began to devise a plan, and soon he had hit upon a very ingenious one. He selected a shrub with a long branch, which extended across part of the stream, and having marched his men to the very extremity of this bough he caught hold of it with his fore-legs and hung down, ordering one of the soldiers to creep down his body and hang on to the end of it; another followed and clung to the second ant, and so on. By this means the living chain of insects, when long enough, was wafted by the wind to the other bank of the stream, where the foremost ant caught a firm hold, and the brave Shiny-pate then swung off his bough, and followed by all the others crept carefully across their companions' bodies, until the foremost ant, who had been holding on all this time by his hind legs, being relieved from the weight of his comrades, was able to twirl round and obtain a safer footing.
The danger was surmounted, and the officer now inspected his little troop with triumph; indeed, he spoke a few encouraging words which actually caused his soldiers to salute in a body, as they could not cheer, and cry with one voice that they were not afraid to go anywhere with him.
This was, of course, very gratifying to such a young officer, and our hero was beginning to thank his enthusiastic followers when a slight noise attracted his attention, and he suddenly remembered that the time for vigilance was not over: for in the tree above them he beheld a little ant-eater slowly uncoiling itself before beginning its nightly excursion.
Shiny-pate saw its long slimy tongue being uncoiled like a piece of ribbon when the animal yawned; and well he knew that any ant who was unfortunate enough to touch that sticky object would never return to tell the tale; he therefore instantly determined on flight.
So our hero ordered a stampede, but he kept last of all the party, ready to sacrifice himself for the general good if need be; and after a little time his exertions were rewarded, for he happily overtook the main body of ants under the guidance of old Long-legs, and the worthy veteran was so pleased at seeing his young companion safe that he actually fell on his neck and hugged him; and there is no saying what might have happened next if two twinkling lights had not appeared in the distance. They were only fire-flies that an Indian had tied to his feet in order to illumine his path, but the sight made the friends restrain their transports until they reached home.
Then, after all their labours and adventures, they gave themselves up to enjoyment. Long-legs, Shiny-pate, and other distinguished officers who had done their duty for their home and relations, were chaired by their admiring soldiers and carried round the nest, while the fire-flies lit up the triumphal march, and the beetles sang in chorus.
We leave Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe enjoying for the first time a house cleared of both reptiles and insects, and Lady Catherine purring her delight at being relieved from her enemies. No doubt, if she could have given us the benefit of her thoughts, she would have joined the bipeds in saying—
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good."
Illustration: "A LITTLE ANT-EATER SLOWLY UNCOILING ITSELF.""a little ant-eaterslowly uncoiling itself."(p.210).
"a little ant-eaterslowly uncoiling itself."(p.210).
Illustration: FORTRESS OF ANTONIA, JERUSALEM (CALLED PILATE'S HOUSE).fortress of antonia, jerusalem(called pilate's house).
fortress of antonia, jerusalem(called pilate's house).
twas early morning, not yet seven o'clock. Yet Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor of Judæa, was astir. For the Paschal Feast of the Jews was fast approaching, and having heard rumours of strange things going on amongst them, he anticipated some serious disturbance. He was, therefore, in no pleasant humour, and his dark brow was contracted, his teeth were firmly set, and in his stern and somewhat fierce eyes was a look of mingled anger, scorn, and disgust.
How weary he was of these perpetual riots! How he despised the conquered Jews and their pretensions of religion, while their actions were mean and vile. They professed a sanctity superior to that of any nation upon earth. And yet he knew that every day they indulged in flagrant sins, and were influenced by motives that others would scorn to yield to. Oh! if he dared but show them what he thought of them and their hollow professions. But he must restrain his feelings. Several times already, in his impatience of their ways, he had given vent to his wrath in actions that, he knew too well, would not bear the examination of his master, the emperor of Rome.
The Roman emperors, bad as some of them were, liked to know that all their provinces were well governed, that the people had no just cause of complaint; and that their customs, religions, and prejudices were respected. And they would punish severely any governor who, by misrule, brought dishonour on the name of Rome.
Pilate knew that he had wilfully trampled upon the religious prejudices of the Jews, and that when they had risen up against him he had massacred them by the thousand. He remembered how he had once brought some Roman eagles from Cæsarea to Jerusalem, where no heathen ensign could be suffered; how he had also placed there some gilt votive shields, dedicated to the Emperor Tiberius; and how, to bring water from the pools of Solomon into the city, he had taken money from the sacred treasury. He remembered, too, how, when the Jews had rebelled against these proceedings, he had sent disguised soldiers amongst them, to stab them with daggers concealed beneath their garments; how he had once massacred 3,000 of them, and how at another festal season, 20,000 dead bodies had strewed the courts of the Temple. And up before his mind there came also the recollection of how, at one of their feasts, he had killed some Galilæans, and mingled their blood with that of their sacrifices upon the altar; and how he had also attacked the Samaritans, as they worshipped upon Mount Gerizim.
Yes, he had given the Jews just cause of complaint; and if he vexed them further, they might report him to Rome, and have him banished or put to death. So he would have to be careful how he treated them for the future.
The knowledge of this in nowise calmed his perturbed spirit. And as he wondered how, in case of another riot, he should manage to curb his wrathful and impatient disgust, he paced uneasily the Hall of Judgment.
This was an apartment in a splendid edifice—which was known as the fortress of Antonia—in which he resided when at Jerusalem, an old palace of Herod the Great. Its floors were of agate and lazuli. The ceilings of its gilded roofs were of cedar painted with vermilion. The bema, on which he sat to administer justice, was probably the golden throne of Archelaus. In front of the Hall of Judgment was a costly pavement of variously coloured marble, called by the Jews Gabbatha. Yet amid all this splendour he was but ill at ease.
And now suddenly the Roman procurator stopped and listened. Hooting and yelling, there were the wild cries of a dreaded mob, as he had anticipated. Yes, it was even so. They had begun early enough, those Jews. What could it be all about?
Nearer and nearer came the ominous sounds. He went to the door of his apartment, and looked out. There, coming across the bridge that spanned the Tyropœon Valley, was an infuriated crowd, venting their spleen upon some poor victim, whom they were evidently bringing to him. His arms were fast bound to His side. A rope was round His neck. And they were dragging Him along, as if He were some wild beast that they had caught in the act of making ravages amongst them.
After Him came the chief men of Jerusalem, the Sanhedrists, with, perhaps, the High Priest at their head, followed by the chief priests and scribes, and a great crowd of people.
Now they reached the Hall of Judgment; and the foremost of them were dragging the poor Man up the noble flight of stairs.
The Roman knight scowled as they approached, and darted at them a look of bitterest resentment.
What faces they had! Did ever any one see features so distorted by wicked passions? How he would have liked to drive them all away! But he must not. They were evidently in a fury; and what might they not do, if he opposed them?
He turned to look at their prisoner, expecting to see some murderous-looking fellow, who had been taken in some act of wicked outrage. But what a different sight met his view!
Instead of a defiant thief or murderer, a pale and weary Man stood before him. A world of suffering was in His sorrowful eyes; but there was no trace of violence there. He had the purest, noblest, most open countenance that Pilate had ever beheld; and the governor's attention was arrested. In the face of that poor, worn-out sufferer were expressed the meekness and gentleness of a lamb, the deepest tenderness and pity, the most ineffable sweetness and perfect calmness, the majesty of a king, the perfection of a god. Who could He be? Was He really only human? Or had the spirit of some of the Roman gods come down and taken up its abode in Him? Pilate could not tell; but he was amazed and confounded; and in his contemplation of that wondrous countenance he forgot for a while his trouble and vexation.
All too soon, however, he was recalled to the business before him. The Jews were clamouring outside the Hall to have sentence of death passed upon their Victim.
But it was not so easy to gain their point as they had expected. The Roman knight, who had not hesitated to order his soldiers to fall upon the ignoble Jews, could not condemn, without trial, that Man who was undoubtedly the one perfect type of the human race. And he sternly demanded, "What accusation bring ye against thisMan?"
Then came a storm of bitter invective and false accusations. He had been stirring up the people against the Roman government, they said. He had been forbidding them to pay tribute to Cæsar; and proclaiming Himself a King.
As Pilate looked upon Jesus, he felt that there was no sedition in Him.Theywere rioters, he knew too well; but as for that Man—well, there might be some truth in His kingship, there was something so noble, so majestic about Him. And entering the hall, into which Jesus had been led, he asked, "ArtThouthe King of the Jews?"
"I am a king," Jesus, acknowledged, as He thought of the myriads of bright-winged angels who in the Better Land had flown to do His bidding, and of the thousands upon thousands of faithful followers, not yet born, who would some day share His throne. "I am a King, but not of this world." And at His simple words Pilate's heart misgave him still more.
Whocouldthis strange man be, who was so far above all other men? Where had He come from? And where was His kingdom? Was He in some mysterious way connected with the heavens?
Oh, how he wished that those Jews had settled the matter amongst themselves, and that he could avoid having anything to do with it! They were resolved, he could see, on having His blood; and he dared not go altogether against them. Yet how could he condemna Man like that?
But, suddenly, his face brightened. Some one in the crowd said that Jesus belonged to Galilee. Then he could send Jesus to Herod, the tetrarch of Galilee, who was then in Jerusalem, having come up to the feast. By doing so he should throw the responsibility on to Herod, and should then not be compelled either to vex the Jews, on the one hand, and thus bring about his own punishment, or to crucify this Man, who was so great a mystery to him, and, perhaps, bring down upon himself the anger of the gods.
Pilate heaved a great sigh of relief, as Jesus was led away to Herod. Now he was free, he thought, and, if that more than innocent Man were put to death, as He would be, he, at least, would be guiltless of his blood, and very cleverly he had managed it, without stirring up against himself the wrath of the Jews.
But it was not to be so.
Before long the dreaded mob returned. Herod had sent Jesus away, finding no fault in Him. And the Jews brought him again to Pilate.
Heavily as lead the hooting and the yelling fell upon the governor's ears. What should he do? Whatcouldhe do? Oh, if only he had not acted so wrongly in the past, he might have dared to do right now! If only he had not violated the Roman law he might now have vindicated its majesty! He might have told the Jews that he, a Roman governor, could not think of so gross an injustice as condemning such a Man, and that they were only actuated by envy and hatred. Oh, if he could only wipe out his past offences, and stand clear concerning the Jews, he might, also, stand clear concerning this Jesus, who was called the Christ!
But his hands were stained with crime; and,like a child who tells a second falsehood to get out of the trouble of having told a first, he must make the guilt of a still deeper dye.
But could he not in some way conciliate the Jews, and save Jesus as well? he wondered. Yes; he would pretend to look upon Him as guilty; but would remind them of the custom of releasing some prisoner at the Passover; and try to persuade them to have Jesus set free. But they preferred Barabbas; and Pilate tried another plan. He would inflict upon Jesus the painful and humiliating punishment of scourging and let Him go.
But what right had he to do that to an innocent Man? How fast he was yielding! And what a coward a guilty conscience had made of him!
But much as he was to blame, there was sent to him a warning that could not be despised.
That morning, a troublous dream had come to Claudia Procula, Pilate's wife, who was a Jewish proselyte. And now, messengers from her came running out of breath, and standing before the golden bema, delivered the message she had sent; "Have thou nothing to do with that just Man; for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of Him."
This troubled Pilate more and more; and his face paled, and his strong limbs trembled. He remembered how, not very long before, when Cæsar's enemies were plotting against his life, a dream had come to his wife, Calpurnia, who had sent to warn him not to go to the meeting of the senate, on the Ides of March. But he went in spite of the dream, and was murdered! And now, a similar warning was sent to him to strengthen him to do right. Should he heed it, and let the innocent Jesus go free? It was still in his power to refuse to crucify Him; and what remorse he would save himself? and what bitter anguish! But notwithstanding the warning dream, he took the last fatal step.
"Ibis ad crucem," "Thou must go to the cross," he said to Jesus, and to the attendant, "I miles, expedi crucem," "Soldier, go prepare the cross."
Unable to shake off that ominous dream, he called for water, and washed his hands, saying, "I am innocent of the blood of this just person." But he could not wash away his responsibility, or that last greatest crime of giving up to the fiendish malice of a cruel mob the Innocent One about whom he had had such misgivings and such a warning.
From that day all peace of mind fled from him; and before long he was pining away in bitter exile and poverty; the very punishment having come upon him that he had tried to avert.
H. D.
37. Who was the only woman to whom it is recorded that Jesus used the tender word "Daughter"?
38. Where does St. John tell us that those who are untruthful shall have no part with the people of God in the holy city?
39. Which of the greater prophets prophesied that God's people should be "named the Priests of the Lord?"
40. Where, in the book of the Revelation, are we shown that Jesus still appears in heaven as the Lamb once slain?
41. Where are we told that children, as well as grown-up people, are known by their works?
42. Where are we assured that if, in difficult circumstances, we are influenced by the fear of man, we shall bring trouble upon ourselves, while, if we trust in God, we shall be safely kept?
43. About whom did Jesus use the only word of unmixed contempt that He is recorded to have spoken?
44. What four things does Solomon speak of as being "little upon the earth, but they are exceeding wise"?
45. Where is the custom, followed by Pilate, of washing the hands as a sign of innocence of crime, spoken of in the Old Testament?
46. What wise man exhorts us to keep our garments always white; and who tells us that a part of pure religion consists in keeping ourselves unspotted from the world?
47. What great heathen king called God "a revealer of secrets"?
48. Where are we assured that, to the upright, light arises in the darkness?
25. Twice. In St. Matt. vi. 9-13 and St. Luke xi. 2-4.
26. In Job xxviii. 28.
27. From the words, "I went into Arabia" (Gal. i. 17), coupled with his speaking of Sinai in iv. 24, 25.
28. In Prov. xvi. 32.
29. In Ps. lvi. 8.
30. Only in the New Testament (Acts vii. 60; 1 Cor. xv. 6, 18; 1 Thess. iv. 13-15; 2 Pet. iii. 4).
31. As giving up the ghost, and being gathered to their people (Gen. xxv. 8, xxxv. 29, xlix. 29, 33; Numb. xx. 24, 26, xxvii. 13, &c).
32. St. Matthew and St. Mark (St. Matt. xxvi. 36—45; St. Mark xiv. 32-41).
33. In the genealogy of our Lord, given by St. Matthew (St. Matt. 1. 6).
34. Seven (Gen. vii. 7-10). God himself (Gen. vii. 16).
35. Ten (2 Sam. xviii. 15).
36. It was first placed in David's tent, and afterwards in the Tabernacle at Nob, whence it was given again to David (1 Samuel xvii. 54, xxi. 1, 9).