Wolf outside a window
A famished Wolf was prowling about in search of food one morning. As he passed the door of a cottage built in a forest, he heard a mother say to her child,—
“Be quiet, or I will throw you out of the window, and the Wolf shall eat you.”
The Wolf sat all day waiting at the door. In the evening he heard the same woman fondling and petting her child, and saying,—
“He’s a good boy now, and if the Wolf should come, we will kill him.”
The Wolf, hearing these words, went home, gaping with cold and hunger. On his reaching his den, Mistress Wolf inquired of him why he returned tired and supperless, so contrary to his wont. He replied, “Why, forsooth! because I believed what a woman said!”
See-saw
See-saw! up in the air we go,High, high up; and down, down low.That boy in the cap’s such a regular lump,No wonder he comes to the ground with a bump.The little man tossed up so high in the airHas the best of the fun; it is really not fair.His sisters and brothers look on with delight,While the kitten and fowls think it quite a grand sight.The chickens go, “Cluck, cluck!” the boys shout with glee;And all seem to say: “Who so happy as we?”
See-saw! up in the air we go,
High, high up; and down, down low.
That boy in the cap’s such a regular lump,
No wonder he comes to the ground with a bump.
The little man tossed up so high in the air
Has the best of the fun; it is really not fair.
His sisters and brothers look on with delight,
While the kitten and fowls think it quite a grand sight.
The chickens go, “Cluck, cluck!” the boys shout with glee;
And all seem to say: “Who so happy as we?”
Flowers
A
A pretty little girl is Tiny, and she is alsonowa very nice one, but she used to have one great fault—she was very conceited. She fancied herself the prettiest and cleverest child in the world, and when she was with other little girls of the village where she lived, she was in the habit of telling them very plainly what she thought of herself; which, you may imagine, was not the way to make them like her. One day she had a lesson, however, which, I am glad to say, quite cured her; and I am going to tell you how the happy change was brought about.
That little girl you see in the picture, standing on the other side of the brook, is Tiny. This brook is in a little wood close to her mother’s cottage, and she has just been looking at the reflection of her own pretty face in the water, and thinking how much prettier it is than any other faces she ever sees. While she is occupied in this way, she hears somebody laugh, and looking up, sees a beautiful lady and an ugly little dwarf standing on the other side of the brook. The lady has bright wings upon her shoulders, and both she and the dwarf are laughing at poor little Tiny.
Tiny does not quite like being laughed at, but has no doubt they are admiring her all the same. She is very much astonished, though; when she hears the lady say:—
Child, lady, and dwarf
“Well, Tiny, I suppose you think yourself quite perfect. You are a vain little creature; and if you remain through life the same, nobody will love you, and you will never be happy: I will help you to become wiser. I am going to give you a pair of wings, with which you will be able to fly about, and see and hear a great deal which will serve as a useful lesson to you. The wings will only last till sunset, but you will have time to find out that there is vanity in others as well as yourself, and to judge how silly it is.”
After saying this, the fairy with her attendant dwarf disappear. But Tiny feels a strange pricking at her shoulders, and presently finds herself raised up from the ground by a pair of wings, which have grown out suddenly. She was always small for her age; and that is the reason she is called Tiny; but now she discovers that she has become no bigger than a little bird.
Child and giant owl
After flying a little way, she settles down among some pretty wild flowers, and finds herself close to a large owl. “What are you?” he says, for he cannot see well in the daylight. “Please, sir, I’m a little girl, only a good fairy has given me wings, that I may see the world, and grow wiser.” “Ha, ha, ha!” laughs the owl, “see the world indeed! Why, I’ve lived in the same barn all my life, and I’m the wisest bird there is; everybody knows that.”
“What a conceited, stupid old thing!” says Tiny to herself as she flies away.
Child, stork, and kangaroo
Presently she sees a stork and a kangaroo, who appear to be at high words. “What an enormous tail you’ve got!” says the stork to the kangaroo; “and are those little bits of things your forelegs? Why, you are perfectly ridiculous.” The kangaroo replies: “Silly bird! my form is perfect, and my beautiful tail is a wonder in itself, for it helps me to take my immense leaps. Go away to your swamp, and hide your own long sticks of legs, do.”
“That’s pretty well on both sides,” thinks Tiny; “each considers himself the most beautiful animal in the world.”
Frog and fish
“Croak! croak!” cries a frog, squatting on the bank of a stream; and the sound attracts Tiny. At the same moment, a fish, popping his nose out of the water, exclaims, “Stop that horrid noise! I can’t get my little ones to sleep.” “Don’t bother me about your little ones,” says the frog; “and why don’t you come out of the water if you’ve anything to say? But you’ve no legs: you’ve nothing to stand upon: you are an imperfect creature.” The fish rejoins, “As for you, you only hop; and when you are in the water, why don’t you swim gracefully, like me?”
Child, cat, and hare
Next Tiny alights on a terrace in a garden, where she sees a pretty white cat. Tiny calls, “Puss, puss!” when immediately out pops from among some cabbages a pert young hare. “Did you call?” he inquires. “You!” says the cat contemptuously, “are you Puss?” “Yes, indeed, I am called Puss by a great many people.” “Why, where is your tail, if you are a cat?” “Tail! pooh! what does a tail matter? Look at my fine long ears!”
“Just like the others,” thinks Tiny, as she flies away; “always quarrelling; and always praising themselves.”
Ostrich and toucan
Here we have an ostrich and a toucan. I think Tiny must have flown a long way to meet with these strange birds: but she finds that they are quarrelling like all the rest. The toucan is mocking the ostrich, because, with all its feathers, it cannot fly; and the ostrich laughs at the toucan for its enormous beak.
“I wish they wouldn’t all find fault with each other so much,” Tiny begins to think; “I am sure the ostrich is very beautiful, and I daresay the toucan has some good qualities, though his nose is rather ridiculous.”
Penguin and eagle
Then Tiny must have flown to a colder country, for here are a penguin and an eagle. “A nice cool breeze here!” says the penguin to Tiny, as he flaps his little wings, which look like leather. “Don’t waste your time in such company, little girl,” says the eagle; “that half-bird, half-fish is a disgrace to the family of birds, of which I am king.” “I may be humble and ugly,” rejoins the penguin, “but he is a bird of prey, without kindness or pity.”
The eagle looks so fierce at this retort that Tiny thinks it wise to fly away.
Grasshopper and mole
Tiny remembers now that the fairy had said her wings would last only till sunset, so she thinks it is time to fly towards home; for the sun is getting low already. You see, they are fairy wings, so she can fly just as fast as she pleases; and in a few minutes she alights in the wood, near the spot she had started from.
The first thing she sees, close to her in the long grass, is a handsome grasshopper. “How d’ye do, dear?” chirps he. “I am very glad to see you, for I am bored to deathwith the conversation of this stupid mole.” As he speaks, he points out to Tiny the mole’s nose just peeping out of a molehill. “You see,” he continues, “instead of being like me, instead of having bright sparkling eyes, and wearing a splendid green coat, all over gold, he is a very poor creature, with scarcely any eyes at all; and he spends his time almost always under ground, so of course he knows nothing, and is very dull company.” “What good doyoudo, with your green coat and gilding?” replies the mole. “You do nothing but chirp, while I devour the vermin that would eat up the roots of the corn. So that, although buried, I am useful to others.”
“Certainly the mole has the best of the argument there,” thinks Tiny. At that moment the sun goes down: Tiny’s wings drop off on to the ground, and at once shrivel up and disappear; she recovers, too, her natural size. Then she sees her mother’s cottage through the trees, and a candle just lighted is burning in the window.
As she walks towards it, she talks to herself as if she were somebody else. “Now, Miss Tiny,” she begins, and she touches her own breast with the point of her finger as she speaks,—“now, Miss Tiny, let us think a little. The good fairy told you you should learn a lesson and grow wise. Let us see what you have learnt. All these creatures are more or less conceited, and, just because they are so, they are always quarrelling; and how disagreeable and ridiculous they make themselves, to be sure! I wonder if Miss Tiny is as disagreeable and absurd as they are? If she is, she won’t be so any more. From this day, she will always try to see whatever there is that’s good and nice and pretty in everybody else, and make the most of it.”
Tiny keeps to her resolution; the consequence is, that everybody loves her, and she is happier than ever she has been before.
Eating a tiny house
There was an old woman called Nothing-at-all,Who lived in a dwelling exceedingly small;A man stretched his mouth to its utmost extent,And down at one gulp house and old woman went.
There was an old woman called Nothing-at-all,
Who lived in a dwelling exceedingly small;
A man stretched his mouth to its utmost extent,
And down at one gulp house and old woman went.
The man he was troubled with terrible pain,And wished the old woman and house up again;He groaned and he yelled, but could get no relief,And he died of his gluttony, ’tis my belief.
The man he was troubled with terrible pain,
And wished the old woman and house up again;
He groaned and he yelled, but could get no relief,
And he died of his gluttony, ’tis my belief.
Child in bath
U
“Unpleasant!” says the Sponge, “very unpleasant to be squeezed like this.”
“Nonsense, you stupid thing,” says the water; “what are you made for I should like to know, if not to be squeezed. You are not nice soft, lukewarm water like me.”
“Don’t talk so much, but mind your own business, and think how I go on rubbing,” says the soapy Flannel; “rub, rub! if I didn’t rub so hard we should never make a clean little girl.”
“I am glad to say that this little ear is quite clean now,” says the Towel, slyly; “now we have only the other one to do. I have rubbed the little pink cheeks till they glow again.”
Washing a child
“First this little right shoulder, and then the left,” says the little clean shirt. “How white and dimpled they are! it is quite a pleasure to touch them: I think they must belong to a very good child.”
“Well, we haven’t got any thinner either in the night,” exclaim the socks to the little round fat waddling legs.
“Come, come, come, little horse, and be shod!” say the shoes.
Up comes the brush, bristling finely. “Let me see what I can do here,” says he; and soon the pretty golden locks are disentangled. And comb giving his assistance, a nice parting is made, and then Brush says, “I think we have done our work very nicely.”
“Over the head without spoiling the pretty curls,” says the Petticoat. “Yes, that’s the way we do it.”
“Now I’m coming!” says the little Frock, like a person of importance for whom all the rest have been waiting. It knows quite well it is a pretty blue frock, all trimmed withbraid, and that the little child chose the stuff to make it; and that it is her favourite frock.
Dressing a child
“Now, if you please, I must come, for I am quite as important, if not so gay as you,” says the pinafore; “besides, I have two little pockets.”
“I live in one,” says the Pocket-handkerchief, “and before I get into it, I should like very much to know if the little nose is quite nice and tidy.”
Mr. Pocket-handkerchief being quite satisfied, a chorus of voices shout, “All ready now!”
“Ah! but here is a tear, a stupid little tear, on my darling’s face. Never mind, I’ll kiss it off,” says Mamma, who came into the nursery at that minute.
Clean child
Country scene at dusk
T
The sun has set, the sky is calm,And yonder uplands dim,With all the little trees, stand outA sharp and fringe-like rim.
The sun has set, the sky is calm,
And yonder uplands dim,
With all the little trees, stand out
A sharp and fringe-like rim.
A roll of clouds like indigoHangs in the lower sky,All edged above with crimson fire,And piled up gloriously.
A roll of clouds like indigo
Hangs in the lower sky,
All edged above with crimson fire,
And piled up gloriously.
And far behind are flakes and flaws,And streaks of purest red;And feathery dashes, paling slow,Still linger overhead.
And far behind are flakes and flaws,
And streaks of purest red;
And feathery dashes, paling slow,
Still linger overhead.
And far, far off—how far it looks!—The sky is green and clear,And still in front a little flightOf black clouds saileth near.
And far, far off—how far it looks!—
The sky is green and clear,
And still in front a little flight
Of black clouds saileth near.
Oh! wondrous sight! oh! joyous hour!Ye workmen passing by,Why stay ye not your boisterous mirthTo gaze upon the sky?
Oh! wondrous sight! oh! joyous hour!
Ye workmen passing by,
Why stay ye not your boisterous mirth
To gaze upon the sky?
Ye merry children playing near,Why stop ye not your play,To see how God with glory crownsThe closing of the day?
Ye merry children playing near,
Why stop ye not your play,
To see how God with glory crowns
The closing of the day?
Oh! would that they whose weary mindsThe things of sense enthral,Upon whose lives but scanty raysOf grace and beauty fall,—
Oh! would that they whose weary minds
The things of sense enthral,
Upon whose lives but scanty rays
Of grace and beauty fall,—
Would that they knew what noble storeOf purest joy and loveIs given to bless the poor man’s lot,And lift his heart above.
Would that they knew what noble store
Of purest joy and love
Is given to bless the poor man’s lot,
And lift his heart above.
Lepers healed
O
One of the most common faults—or rather, I should say, one of the most common sins—that we meet with in the world, is that of ingratitude. Some are ungrateful from pride or conceit, thinking that the kindnesses or services of others are due to them of right. But most people are ungrateful simply from thoughtlessness: yet this very thoughtlessness—the want of thoughtfor others—has its root in what is the foundation of all faults—selfishness.
Even in dumb creatures—from whom, by the way, we may often learn good lessons—we seldom see ingratitude. If you are kind and gentle to a dog or cat, a horse or bird, it will be thankful, and generally manage in its own fashion to make you understand its gratitude. My darling children, never be ungrateful! Be grateful to God first of all—be grateful to God for everything. Be grateful to your father and mother; and be grateful also to all those who show so many kindnesses to you. Never forget to thank them both with heart and lip.
I am going to tell you to-day of an instance of man’s ingratitude: not that of man to man, but of ingratitude to our Lord Jesus Christ.
We are told by St. Luke that,—“It came to pass as Jesus went to Jerusalem, He passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. And as He entered into a certain village, there met Him ten men that were lepers, which stood afar off; and they lifted up their voices, and said, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.’ And when He saw them, He said unto them, ‘Go, show yourselves unto the priests.’ And it came to pass that, as they went, they were cleansed.”
I must tell you that this leprosy, with which these poor people were afflicted, was a terrible disease common among the Jews at that time. It was a disease of the skin, which was hereditary, and also was caught by contagion. Hence those afflicted with it were prohibited by strict laws from associating with other people. They might not enter the walled cities at all, and in the villages they were obliged to live apart from the other inhabitants. You see these lepers “stood afar off” while they cried out to Jesus for mercy.
We must suppose that before anyone recovering from the leprosy was allowed to associate with his fellow-citizens, he had to go before the priests, that they shouldpronounce him cured; and this explains the injunction of our Saviour—“Go, show yourselves to the priests.” The lepers had faith, and turned at once to obey. They had scarcely moved a step when the change in their condition seems to have taken place; and we may imagine their joy and surprise, on looking at each other, to see the ghastly and loathsome hue of the leprous skin change for the bloom and freshness of health. But now we come to the sad instance of ingratitude.
St. Luke goes on to tell us—still speaking of the lepers:—“And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God; and fell down on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving Him thanks.”
Thus we find, out of these ten, one only showed himself grateful, and thought, before aught else, of glorifying God, and giving thanks to Jesus. The other nine, in their joy at the blessing which had just been bestowed upon them, forgot the Bestower of that blessing. They hastened on, thinking only of their own good fortune, and eager to make known their recovery to the priests, that they might be restored to communication with their fellow men.
Our Saviour only remarked upon this instance of ingratitude:—“Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine?”
Open book
Shipwrecked child
I
I made the acquaintance of my little friend Charlie under very unusual and startling circumstances. When I saw him for the first time he was situated as you see him in the picture. I saw a lad about thirteen years of age, clinging desperately, for very life, to the topmast of a sunken ship in the British Channel. I will tell you how it happened.
I must go back nearly twenty years;—indeed, I ought to explain that Charlie was a little friend of mine a long time ago; now he’s a grown-up man. Well, twenty years ago I was not very old myself; but my sister, who is some years older than I am, was already married, and her husband was very fond of yachting. They lived, during a great part of the year, in the Isle of Wight, and there I often used to go to stay with them.
The “Swallow”—that was the name of my brother-in-law’s yacht—was a beautiful boat, and many happy hours have I passed on board her, as she skimmed merrily over the sparkling water. I delighted to sit on deck, watching the fishing-boats as they rode bravely from wave to wave; or sometimes wondering at some large ship, as it passed by, on which men live for weeks and months without ever touching land. We used to sail long distances, and occasionally be out for several days and nights together. My brother-in-law’s skipper could tell me what country almost every vessel that we saw was bound for. Some were sailing to climates where the heat is so great that our most sultry summer in England is comparatively cold; others were off northward, perhaps whale-fishing, where they would see huge icebergs, and hear the growling of the polar bears.
We were taking our last cruise of the season: it was already near the end of October, and the weather was becoming stormy. Passing out of the Solent into the Channel, we found the sea much rougher than we expected; and as night came on it blew a regular gale. The wind and sea roared, the rain poured down in torrents, and the night seemed to me to be the darkest I had ever known. But on board the “Swallow” we had no fear; we trusted to the seamanship of our skipper and the goodness of our vessel, and went to bed with minds as free from fear as if the sea were smooth and the sky clear.
I awoke just as dawn was breaking, dressed quickly, andthrowing a water-proof cloak over me, popped my head up the companion-ladder to see how things looked. The old skipper was on deck; he had not turned in during the night. I wished him good-morning, and he remarked, in return, that the wind was going down, he thought. Looking at the sea, I observed two or three large fragments of wood floating near, and they attracted his notice at the same moment.
“Has there been a wreck, captain?” I asked, with a feeling of awe.
“That’s about what it is, miss,” answered the old seaman.
“Do you think the people are drowned?” I inquired anxiously.
“Well,” replied Captain Bounce, casting, as I thought, rather a contemptuous glance at me, “people don’t in general live under water, miss.”
“Perhaps they may have had boats,” I said meekly. “Do you think boats could have reached the shore in such a storm?”
“Well,” answered the old captain, “they might have had boats and they mightn’t; and the boats, supposing they had ’em, might have lived through the storm, and at the same time they mightn’t.”
This was not giving me much information, and I thought to myself that my friend the skipper did not seem so much inclined for a chat as usual; I turned to look at the sea in search of more pieces of wreck, when I discovered, in the distance, a dark speck rising out of the water. I pointed it out to the skipper at once, who took his glass out of his pocket, and, after looking through it for a moment, exclaimed,—
“There’s something floating there, and a man clinging to it, as I’m alive!”
As he spoke, my brother-in-law came on deck, and also took a look through the telescope. Then he, the captain, and every sailor on board became eager and excited; youwould have thought it was some dear friend of each whose life was to be saved. The yacht was headed in the direction of the object, the boat was quickly lowered, the captain himself, with four sailors, jumping into it; and, in another minute, they caught in their arms a poor little exhausted and fainting boy, as he dropped from the mast of a large sunken ship. We could now distinguish the tops of all the three masts appearing above the waves; for the sea was not deep, and the ship had settled down in an upright position.
Poor Charlie Standish was soon in the cabin of the yacht, and after swallowing some champagne he revived sufficiently to tell us his story. The sunken ship was the “Melbourne,” bound for Australia, and this was Charlie’s first voyage as a midshipman on board. During the darkness of the night she had been run into by a large homeward-bound merchantman of the same class. She sank within an hour of the collision. In the scramble for the boats Charlie thought he had but little chance for finding a place; and as the ship filled, and kept sinking deeper in the water, an instinct of self-preservation led him to climb into the rigging. Then up he went, higher and higher, even to the topmast; and at last, when the vessel went down all at once, he found himself, to his inexpressible relief, still above the surface.
What most astonished us all was that a boy so young should have been able to hold on for more than an hour to a slippery mast, exposed to the fury of the wind, and within reach, even, of the lashing waves. We sailed home at once to the Isle of Wight, and wrote to the boy’s mother, a widow living in London, to tell her of his safety. The boy himself stayed with us two or three days. My brother-in-law took a great fancy to him; he has watched his career, and seen him at intervals, ever since. Charlie Standish is now a chief mate on board a great merchantman of the same class as the “Melbourne.”
Puzzle images
Now find out this puzzle page, children. Two of these objects begin with C, one with M, one with O, one with P, and one with S. Try if you can find out what they all are.
Wooded stream
A SONG FOR AUTUMN.[play]
Andantino.
1.Good-bye, daisy pink, and rose, and snow-white lily too;Every pretty flower that blows, here’s a kiss for you.Good-bye, merry bird and bee, and take this tiny song....For the ones you sang to me all the summer long.
1.
Good-bye, daisy pink, and rose, and snow-white lily too;
Every pretty flower that blows, here’s a kiss for you.
Good-bye, merry bird and bee, and take this tiny song....
For the ones you sang to me all the summer long.
2.Good-bye, mossy little rill, that shivers in the cold;Leaves, that fall on vale and hill, cover you with gold.Good-bye, pretty birds that roam, and rills, and flowers, and trees;But when winter’s gone, come home; come whene’er you please.
2.
Good-bye, mossy little rill, that shivers in the cold;
Leaves, that fall on vale and hill, cover you with gold.
Good-bye, pretty birds that roam, and rills, and flowers, and trees;
But when winter’s gone, come home; come whene’er you please.
Lions
T
The Lion is called the king of beasts, because he is the most courageous, the strongest, and the grandest-looking of all beasts. The picture represents a great lion and his family; you see he has just caught a poor little gazelle, of which herds are found in the plains of Africa. And that, as I daresay you know, is also the country of the lions.
Lions belong to what is called the cat tribe of animals, as do also tigers and leopards. The members of this tribe are remarkable for their powerful jaw, large fangs, the quickness and grace of their movements, and for the manner in which the sharp hooked claws of the feet are drawn back when not in use, and thrust forward when needed for action.
The colour of the lion is a tawny yellow, lighter on the under parts of the body, and darker above. The ears are almost black, and there is a tuft of black hair at the tip of the tail. When full-grown, the male lion has a thick, shaggy mane of long hair, which falls from the neck and shoulders, covering the throat and breast. He measures some four feet in height at the shoulder, and about eleven feet in length, including the tail. These measurements, however, are only applicable to the animals which have lived in freedom in their native land, with their limbs unshackled, and spirits unbroken.
The lioness is a smaller animal than her mate, the difference in size appearing greater than it really is, because she is without the shaggy mane, which makes the lion seem so grand and imposing. But though smaller, she is quite as terrible as the lion; and if she has cubs tolook after and protect, she is a fearful enemy to any who cross her path.
I think it would amuse you to hear an anecdote of a revengeful lioness, which I lately read. The gentleman, who relates the story, was out with a party of hunters in Southern Africa, in search of elephants. They had not had much sport, and as they were going to encamp for a day, this gentleman thought he would ride off alone to a patch of jungle or wood not far away, which appeared likely to harbour wild beasts. He discovered no sign of elephants, but he found a new footprint made by a lion. Now he had never shot a lion, and had a great ambition to do so; accordingly, he followed the lion’s track, which of course was very brave of him, but, I must say, I think, very rash. After a little while he came suddenly upon the savage beast, and luckily shot him dead at the first shot.
Having achieved this exploit, he was anxious to carry back the skin with him as a trophy; and therefore set to work to skin the dead beast, which, it seems to me, must have been a most horrible business. This operation took a long time, and when accomplished, our friend the hunter found great difficulty in persuading his horse to carry the skin. Horses have a great horror of lions, and the poor animal probably did not feel sure that the skin alone could do him no harm.
At last all was satisfactorily arranged, and the hunter started to return to the encampment; but so much time had been lost, that before he had gone far, night began to close in, and he thought it best to bivouac where he was till daylight. There was a stream of water close by; and he had with him a blanket, a flask of brandy, and a box of matches. He took the precaution also, before it was quite dark, to shoot a guinea-fowl for his supper. Then, collecting a quantity of dry wood, he piled it up in a circle, leaving space enough inside for himself, his horse, and the skin. Setting fire to the wood, he considered himself safe from any attack of wild beasts within this magic circle offire, and made himself comfortable for the night. He cooked and ate his supper, and then, lying down by the side of his horse, soon began to doze.
Presently he was disturbed by a loud snort from his horse. He rose up, and kicking the burning wood together with the heel of his boot, made a brighter blaze, and distinctly saw the head of an old lioness looking through the surrounding bushes. She was gone in an instant, but you may be sure the hunter did not go to sleep again. He suspected at once that she was the widow of the lion he had killed, and that she had followed the scent of his skin to be revenged upon his murderer.
Our hunter made his fire burn as brightly as he could, and remained upon the watch for the lioness. He thought he could see her again among the bushes, and seizing a piece of burning wood, threw it at her; then he detected her slinking away into the darkness. He did not fire, for he saw too imperfectly to be sure of his aim. Not long afterwards he suddenly heard a terrific roar, and at the same moment some large body flew through the air close to him. Then followed a crash, and the hunter saw his poor horse knocked down, as if shot, beneath the weight of the lioness, who stood on him, tearing at him and growling. The hunter fired: the first shot wounded her, the second killed; but she had so far revenged the lion’s death that she had killed the horse.
The hunter now had her skin as well as the lion’s, which must have been a satisfaction to him. He set to work to skin her at once, and then buried both skins in the ground that they might not be eaten or damaged by prowling animals, while he trudged back on foot to the encampment. In the afternoon he returned in a waggon, and fetched away both skins, which he kept as trophies.
My own experience of a lioness is of a very different sort to this, as my acquaintance with either lions or lionesses has been made only at the Zoological gardens. But I remember a few years ago there was a dear old lionessthere, who had five little cubs; and I can only say her kindness and tenderness to her young ones would have afforded a good example to many mothers.
I will tell you another anecdote about a lion. It is related of a lion of the Zoological gardens, who died there of inflammation of the lungs many years ago. Sir Edwin Landseer was then just rising into fame as a painter of animals, and a friend of his suggested to the manager of the gardens, that the dead lion should be sent to Sir Edwin, in case he might like to paint it.
So one morning, just at daylight, (this is how the story is told) the artist was awakened by a knocking at his bedroom door. He called out to know who was there.
“Please, sir,” was the reply, “have you ordered a lion?”
“Ordered a what?”
“A lion, sir; have you ordered a lion? because there’s a dead one just come to the door.”
“Oh, very well,” said the great painter, “take him in: I’ll be down directly.”
Dressing hurriedly, he went downstairs, and beheld the enormous beast stretched at full length upon the floor of his studio. The artist quickly arranged his palette, and painted a picture of a lion lying dead in the desert. The picture was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1849, and added greatly to the artist’s fame.
Lion
Child and doll
T
There, go to sleep, Dolly, in own mother’s lap;I’ve put on your night-gown and neat little cap;So sleep, pretty baby, and shut up your eye:By-bye, little Dolly; lie still, and by-bye.
There, go to sleep, Dolly, in own mother’s lap;
I’ve put on your night-gown and neat little cap;
So sleep, pretty baby, and shut up your eye:
By-bye, little Dolly; lie still, and by-bye.
I’ll lay my clean handkerchief over your head,And then make believe that my arms are your bed,So hush! little dear, and be sure you don’t cry;By-bye, little Dolly; lie still, and by-bye.
I’ll lay my clean handkerchief over your head,
And then make believe that my arms are your bed,
So hush! little dear, and be sure you don’t cry;
By-bye, little Dolly; lie still, and by-bye.
There, now it is morning, and time to get up,And I’ll crumb you a mess in my doll’s china cup;So wake, little baby, and open your eye,For I think it high time to have done with by-bye.
There, now it is morning, and time to get up,
And I’ll crumb you a mess in my doll’s china cup;
So wake, little baby, and open your eye,
For I think it high time to have done with by-bye.
Child in cupboard
L
Little Tiny had a sad habit of tasting everything that came in her way. This was because she was so greedy; and it was very naughty too, because she used to take things that had not been given to her. Atlast she had a lesson, which I am going to tell you of, and I think it almost cured her of her bad habit.
One day Tiny’s mother was in the kitchen, preparing some nice dish, and she said to her little girl,—“Run into the back kitchen, dear, and bring me a lemon; you will find some upon the shelf.” When Tiny found herself alone in the back kitchen, she looked about to see if there was anything she could taste. On a shelf she saw a number of jars, which looked as if they contained jam, or preserves, or something of that sort; so she placed a stool, and standing on tip-toe upon it, chose a pretty little jar, which she took down. It contained some yellow powder: she put her fingers into the powder without hesitation, and then put them into her mouth. Bah! it was mustard. Crying and spluttering, she went back to her mamma, who simply said,—“My dear, it serves you right.”
Child and cat
Dog
J
Here is another of Aunt Totty’s stories about her pet animals. I shall tell it to my little readers as nearly as I can in her own words; and they must fancy Aunt Totty seated in the midst of her little nephews and nieces, who are all ready to listen. This is how she begins:—
“Now, my dears, I am going to give you an account of a pet I had whose name was Jacquot. I daresay you think from the name it must have been a monkey or a parrot. No such thing! it was a great brown bear, and this is how I made his acquaintance.
“I was not more than nine years old, and was travelling with my papa and mamma, and my brother, who was two or three years older than myself. We were making a tour in Switzerland, and stopped for a few days at a town of which I forget the name now; for you may suppose it was a great many years ago. However, what Idoremember is that a fair was being held in the town at the time, and that is how it happened that the bear was there.
“On the morning after our arrival I came down early,—as I thought, before anyone else of the party—and seated myself at the open window of our sitting-room in the hotel. As I sat there watching all that was going on outside, I saw my brother cross the courtyard of the hotel, coming out from a long low range of buildings on the other side of it. A minute afterwards he entered the room, and coming up to me, said with an air of mystery,—‘Totty, I want to show you something: come with mebefore mamma and papa are down; you’ll see something curious.’
“‘What is it?’ I inquired, feeling quite excited.
“‘I won’t tell you what it is; but come along and see,’ answered my brother.
“As he spoke, he led me downstairs. We crossed the courtyard hand in hand, and entered the stables of the hotel. I could not help looking about rather nervously, as he led me past a number of horses and mules—keeping always, however, at a safe distance from their heels—till we came to the last stall of all. In a corner of this, I perceived a huge ragged hairy ball, but what it was I could not at first imagine. I saw that a strong chain attached it to a ring in the wall; then I discovered that it was some living creature, for its sides rose and fell with the breath as it slept. A man, who was lying on some straw close by, seeing my brother and me, rose up, and said in French,—‘You need not be afraid, he won’t hurt you.’ Then patting the creature with his hand, he added,—‘You wouldn’t hurt the young lady, would you, Jacquot?’
“The ball uncurled itself, growled, and rose upon four legs. It was a bear: but the saddest-looking, the thinnest, and most ragged you can imagine. It had twenty scars on different parts of its body, and one ear was almost torn away. I must have looked shocked and distressed, for the man seemed to understand my thoughts, and said,—‘Ah, well! what can you expect? poor Jacquot is not happy.’
“Then he went on to tell us the bear’s history. It appeared that he was himself only the keeper or attendant of the bear, not the owner. He told us that Jacquot was born in the Pyrènean mountains: he was caught when quite a baby, and received an excellent education, being able to dance and perform every trick a bear can learn; he was perfect also in point of docility. At one year of age, his education being considered complete, he had been sold to the man who was still his master. This man, at thetime he made the purchase, was the owner also of other animals. Jacquot’s first companions were a camel, two monkeys, and a red and blue parrot. One of the monkeys passed the greater part of his time on the bear’s back, the other monkey and the parrot on the back of the camel. But they were not a happy family: the monkeys and parrot bit and scratched, and generally tyrannised over, the patient camel and the good-natured bear.