The Percy Anecdotes: |
Reason serves when press'd,
But honest Instinct comes a volunteer. -- POPE.
AFTER the execution of Sabinus, the Roman general, who suffered death for his attachment to the family of Germanicus, his body was exposed to the public upon the precipice of the Gemoniae, as a warning to all who should dare to befriend the house of Germanicus: no friend had courage to approach the body; one only remained true - his faithful dog. For three days the animal continued to watch the body; his pathetic howlings awakened the sympathy of every heart. Food was brought him, which he was kindly encouraged to eat; but on taking the bread, instead of obeying the impulse of hunger, he fondly laid it on his master's mouth, and renewed his lamentations; days thus passed, nor did he for a moment quit the body.
The body was at length thrown into the Tiber, and the generous creature still unwilling that it should perish, leaped into the water after it, and clasping the corpse between his paws, vainly endeavoured to preserve it from sinking.
King Porus, in a battle with Alexander the Great, being severely wounded, fell from the back of his elephant. The Macedonian soldiers supposing him dead, pushed forward, in order to despoil him of his rich clothing and accoutrements; but the faithful elephant standing over the body of its master, boldly repelled every one who dared to approach, and while the enemy stood at bay, took the bleeding Porus up with his trunk, and placed him again on his back. The troops of Porus came by this time to his relief, and the king was saved: but the elephant died of the wounds which it had received in the heroic defence of its master.
When Antiochus was slain in battle by Centaretrius the Galatian, the victor exultingly leaped on the back of the fallen king's horse; but he had no sooner done so, than the animal, as if sensible that it was bestrode by the slayer of his master, instantly exhibited signs of the greatest fury, and bounding forwards to the top of a lofty rock, with a speed which defied every attempt of Centaretrius to disengage himself, leaped with him over the precipice, at the foot of which both were found dashed to pieces.
'I have been assured,' says Chenier, in his 'Present State of Morocco,' 'that a Brebe who went to hunt the lion, having proceeded far into a forest, happened to meet with two lion's whelps that came to caress him; the hunter stopped with the little animals, and waiting for the coming of the sire or the dam took out his breakfast, and gave them a part. The lioness arrived unperceived by the huntsman, so that he had not time, or perhaps wanted the courage, to take to his gun. After having for some time looked at the man that was thus feasting her young, the lioness went away, and soon after returned, bearing with her a sheep, which she came and laid at the huntsman's feet.
'The Brebe thus become one of the family, took this occasion of making a good meal, skinned the sheep, made a fire, and roasted a part, giving the entrails to the young. The lion in his turn came also; and, as if respecting the rights of hospitality, showed no tokens whatever of ferocity. Their guest the next day having finished his provisions, returned, and came to a resolution never more to kill any of those animals, the noble generosity of which he had so fully proved. He stroked and caressed the whelps at taking leave of them, and the dam and sire accompanied him till he was safely out of the forest.'
A dreadful famine raged at Buenos Ayres during the government of Don Diego de Mendoza, in Paraguay; yet Don Diego, afraid of giving the Indians a habit of spilling Spanish blood, forbade the inhabitants on pain of death to go into the fields in search of relief, placing soldiers at all the outlets to the country, with orders to fire upon those who should attempt to transgress his orders. A woman, however, called Maldonata, was artful enough to elude the vigilance of the guards, and escape; after wandering about the country for a long time, she sought for shelter in a cavern, but she had scarcely entered it, when she espied a lioness, the sight of which terrified her. She was, however, soon quieted by the caresses of the animal, who was in a state in which assistance is of the most service, and most gratefully remembered even by the brute creation. Of this the lioness gave her benefactress the most sensible proofs. She never returned from searching after her own daily subsistence, without laying a portion of it at the feet of Maldonata, until her whelps being strong enough to walk abroad, she took them out with her and never returned.
Some time after, Maldonata fell into the hands of the Spaniards, and being brought back to Buenos Ayres, was conducted before Don Francis Ruiz de Galan. Who then commanded there, on the charge of having left the city contrary to orders. Galan was a man of cruelty, and condemned the unfortunate woman to a death which none but the most cruel tyrant could have thought of. He ordered some soldiers to take her into the country and leave her tied to a tree, either to perish by hunger, or to be torn to pieces by wild beasts, as he expected. Two days after, he sent the same soldiers to see what was become of her; when, to their great surprise, they found her alive and unhurt, though surrounded by lions and tigers, which a lioness at her feet kept at some distance. As soon as the lioness perceived the soldiers, she retired a little, and enabled them to unbind Maldonata, who related to them the history of this lioness, whom she knew to be the same she had formerly assisted in the cavern. On the soldiers taking Maldonata away, the lioness fawned upon her as unwilling to part. The soldiers reported what they had seen to the commander, who could not but pardon a woman who had been so singularly protected, without appearing more inhuman than lions themselves.
Sir Harry Lee, of Ditchley, in Oxfordshire, ancestor of the Earls of Lichfield, had a mastiff which guarded the house and yard, but had never met with the least particular attention from his master, and was retained from his utility alone, and not from any particular regard. One night, as his master was retiring to his chamber, attended by his faithful valet, an Italian, the mastiff silently followed him upstairs, which he had never been known to do before, and, to his master's astonishment, presented himself in his bedroom. Being deemed an intruder, he was instantly ordered to be turned out; which being done, the poor animal began scratching violently at the door, and howling loudly for admission. The servant was sent to drive him away. Discouragement could not check his intended labour of love, or rather providential impulse; he returned again, and was more importunate than before to be let in. Sir Harry, weary of opposition, bade the servant open the door, that they might see what he wanted to do. This done, the mastiff with a wag of his tail, and a look of affection at his lord, deliberately walked up, and crawling under the bed, laid himself down as if desirous to take up his night's lodging there. To save farther trouble, but not from any partiality for his company, the indulgence was allowed. About the solemn hour of midnight the chamber door opened, and a person was heard stepping across the room; Sir Harry started from his sleep; the dog sprung from his covert, and seizing the unwelcome disturber, fixed him to the spot! All was dark; and Harry rang his bell in great trepidation, in order to procure a light. The person who was pinned to the floor by the courageous mastiff roared for assistance. It was found to be the valet, who little expected such a reception. He endeavoured to apologize for his intrusion, and to make the reasons which induced him to take this step appear plausible; but the importunity of the dog, the time, the place, the manner of the valet, all raised suspicions in Sir Harry's mind; and he determined to refer the investigation of the business to a magistrate. The perfidious Italian, alternately terrified by the dread of punishment, and soothed with the hopes of pardon, at length confessed that it was his intention to murder his master, and then rob the house. This diabolical design was frustrated only by the instinctive attachment of the dog to his master, which seemed to have been directed on this occasion by the interference of Providence. How else could the poor animal know the meditated assassination? How else could he have learned to submit to injury and insult for his well-meant services, and finally seize and detain a person, who, it is probable, had shewn him more kindness than his owner had ever done? It may be impossible to reason on such a topic, but the facts are indisputable. A full-length picture of Sir Harry, with the mastiff by his side, and the words. 'More faithful than favoured,' are still to be seen at the family seat at Ditchley, and are a lasting monument of the gratitude of the master, the ingratitude of the servant, and the fidelity of the dog.
A few days before the fall of Robespierre, a revolutionary tribunal in one of the departments of the North of France, condemned to death M. des R-, an ancient magistrate, and most estimable man, as guilty of conspiracy. M. des R. had a water spaniel, ten or twelve years old, of the small breed, which had been brought up by him, and had never quitted him. Des R. saw his family dispersed by a system of terror: some had taken flight; others, were arrested and carried into distant gaols; his domestics were dismissed; his friends had either abandoned him, or concealed themselves; he was himself in prison, and everything in the world was silent to him, except his dog. This faithful animal had been refused admittance into the prison. He had returned to his master's house, and found it shut; he took refuge with a neighbour who received him; but that posterity may judge rightly of the times in which we have existed, it must be added, that this man received him with trembling, and in secret, dreading lest his humanity for an animal should conduct him to the scaffold. Every day at the same hour the dog left the house, and went to the door of the prison. He was refused admittance, but he constantly passed an hour before it, and then returned. His fidelity at length won upon the porter, and he was, one day allowed to enter. The dog saw his master and clung to him. It was difficult to separate them, but the gaoler forced him away, and the dog returned to his retreat. He came back the next morning and every day; once each day he was admitted. He licked the hand of his friend, looked him in the face, again licked his hand, and went away of himself.
When the day of sentence arrived, notwithstanding the crowd, notwithstanding the guard, the dog penetrated into the hall, and crouched himself between the legs of the unhappy man, whom he was about to lose for ever. The judges condemned him; he was reconducted to the prison, and the dog for that time did not quit the door. The fatal hour arrives; the prison opens; the unfortunate man passes out; it is his dog that receives him at the threshold. He clings upon his hand, that hand which so soon must cease to pat his caressing head. He follows him; the axe falls; the master dies; but the tenderness of the dog cannot cease. The body is carried away; the dog walks at its side; the earth receives it; he lays himself upon the grave.
There he passed the first night, the next day, and the second night. The neighbour in the meantime unhappy at not seeing him, risks himself in searching for the dog: guesses, from the extent of his fidelity, the asylum he had chosen, finds him, caresses him, and makes him eat. An hour afterwards the dog escaped, and regained his favourite place. Three months passed away, each morning of which he came to seek his food, and then returned to the grave of his master; but each day he was more sad, more meagre, more languishing, and it was evident that he was gradually reaching his end. An endeavour was made, by chaining him up, to wean him, but nature will triumph. He broke his fetters; escaped; returned to the grave, and never quitted it more. It was in vain that they tried to bring him back. They carried him food, but he ate no longer. For four-and-twenty hours he was seen employing his weakened limbs in digging up the earth that separated him from the remains of the being he had so much loved. Passion gave him strength, and he gradually approached the body; his labours of affection vehemently increased; his efforts became convulsive; he shrieked in his struggles; his faithful heart gave way, and he breathed out his last gasp, as if he knew that he had found his master.
Among a pack of hounds kept by a gentleman in the middle of the last century, was a favourite bitch that he was very fond of, and which he used to suffer to come and lie in his parlour. This bitch had a litter of whelps, and the gentleman one day took them out of the kennel, when the bitch was absent, and drowned them. Shortly afterwards she came into the kennel, and, missing her offspring, sought them most anxiously: at length she found them drowned in the pond. She then brought them one by one, and laid them at her master's feet in the parlour; and when she had brought the last whelp she looked up in her master's face, laid herself down, and died.
In a play which Germanicus Caesar exhibited at Rome, in the reign of Tiberius, there were twelve elephant performers, six males and six females, clothed as men and women. After they had, at the command of their keeper, danced and performed a thousand curious antics, a most sumptuous feast was served up for their refreshment. The table was covered with all sorts of dainties, and golden goblets filled with the most precious wines; and beds covered with purple carpets were placed around for the animals to lie upon, after the manner of the Romans when feasting. On these carpets the elephants laid themselves down, and at a given signal they reached out their trunks to the table, and fell to eating and drinking with as much propriety as if they had been so many honest citizens.
The case with which the elephant is taught to perform the most agile and difficult feats, forms a remarkable contrast to its huge unwieldiness of size. Aristotle tells us, that in ancient times, elephants were taught by their keepers to throw stones at a mark, to cast up arms in the air, and catch them again on their fall; and to dance not merely on the earth, but on the rope. The first, according to Suetonius, who exhibited elephant rope dancers, was Galba at Rome. The manner of teaching them to dance on the ground was simple enough (by the association of music and a hot floor); but we are not informed how they were taught to skip the rope, or whether it was the tight or the slack rope, or how high the rope might be.
The silence of history on these points is fortunate for the figurantes of the present day; since, but for this, their fame might have been utterly eclipsed. Elephants may in the days of old Rome have been taught to dance on the rope, but when was an elephant ever known to skip on a rope over the heads of an audience, or to caper amidst a blaze of fire fifty feet aloft in the air? What would Aristotle have thought of his dancing elephants, if he had seen Madame Saqui?
John Leo, in his 'Description Africae,' printed in the year 1556, relates an account of an ass, which, if true, proves that this animal is not so stupid and indocile as he is commonly represented. He says, 'When the Mahommedan worship is over, the common people of Cairo resort to the part of the suburbs called Bed-Elloch, to see the exhibition of stage players, and mountebanks who teach camels, asses, and dogs, to dance. The dancing of the ass is diverting enough; for after he has frisked and capered about, his master tells him, that the Soldan meaning to build a great palace, intends to employ all the asses in carrying mortar, stones, and other materials; upon which the ass falls down with his heels upwards, closing his eyes and extending his chest, as if he were dead. This done, the master begs some assistance of the company, to make up for the loss of the dead ass; and having got all he can, he gives them to know that truly his ass is not dead, but only being sensible of his master's necessity, played that trick to procure some provender. Then he commands the ass to rise, who still lies in the same posture, notwithstanding all the blows he can give him; till at last he proclaims, that by virtue of an edict by the Soldan, all the handsome ladies are bound to ride out the next day upon the comeliest asses they can find, in order to see a triumphal show, and to entertain their asses with oats and Nile water. These words are no sooner pronounced than the ass starts up, prances, and leaps for joy. The master then declares that his ass has been pitched upon by the warden of his street to carry his deformed and ugly wife upon which the ass lowers his ears, and limps with one of his legs as if he were lame. Then the master, alleging that his ass admires handsome women, commands him to single out the prettiest lady in company; and accordingly he makes his choice by going round and touching one of the prettiest with his head, to the great amusement of the company.'
I, myself,' says Plutarch, 'saw a dog at Rome, whose master had taught him many pretty tricks, and amongst others the following: He soaked a piece of bread in a certain drug, which was indeed somniferous, but which he would have had us believe was a deadly potion. The dog, as soon as he had swallowed it, affected to quake, tremble, and stagger, as if quite stupefied. At length it fell down, seemed to breathe its last, and became stretched out in all the stiffness of death, suffering any person to pull it about or turn it over without indicating the least symptom of life. The master was now lavish in his endeavours to restore the poor creature to life; and after a short time, when it understood by a secret hint that its time for recovery was come, it began by little and little to revive, as if awaked from a dead sleep, slowly lifted up its head, and opening its eyes, gazed with a wild, vacant stare on all around. In a few minutes it got upon its feet, shook itself as it were free from its enthralment, and recognising its master, ran merrily up to him. The whole of this scene was performed so naturally, that all who were present (among whom was the Emperor Vespasian) were exceedingly delighted.'
Frejus, in his 'Relation of a Voyage made into Mauritania,' translated nto English, and printed in the year 1671, gives a singular anecdote of a lion, which he says was related to him in that country by very credible persons. About the year 1614 or 1615, two Christian slaves at Morocco made their escape, travelling by night, and hiding themselves in the tops of trees during the day, their Arab pursuers frequently passing by them. One night, while pursuing their journey, they mere much astonished and alarmed to see a great lion close by them, who walked when they walked, and stood still when they stood. Thinking this a safe conduct sent to them by Providence, they took courage, and travelled in the daytime in company with the lion. The horsemen who had been sent in pursuit came up, and would have seized upon them, but the lion interposed, and they were suffered to pass on. Every day these poor fugitives met with some one or other of the human race who wanted to seize them, but the lion was their protector until they reached the sea coast in safety, when he left them.
The fame of an English dog has been deservedly transmitted to posterity by a monument in basso-relievo, which still remains on the chimney-piece of the grand hall, at the Castle of Montargis in France. The sculpture, which represents a dog fighting with a champion, is explained by the following narrative:
Aubri de Mondidier, a gentleman of family and fortune, travelling alone through the Forest of Bondi, was murdered and buried under a tree. His dog, an English bloodhound, would not quit his master's grave for several days, till at length, compelled by hunger, he proceeded to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubri's at Paris, and by his melancholy howling seemed desirous of expressing the loss they had both sustained. He repeated his cries, ran to the door, looked back to see if any one followed him, returned to his master's friend, pulled him by the sleeve, and with dumb eloquence entreated him to go with him.
The singularity of all these actions of the dog, added to the circumstance of his coming there without his master, whose faithful companion he had always been, prompted the company to follow the animal, who conducted them to a tree, where he renewed his howl, scratching the earth with his feet, and significantly entreating them to search that particular spot. Accordingly, on digging, the body of the unhappy Aubri was found.
Some time after, the dog accidentally met the assassin, who is styled by all the historians that relate this fact, the Chevalier Macaire, when instantly seizing him by the throat, he was with great difficulty compelled to quit his prey.
In short, whenever the dog saw the chevalier, he continued to pursue and attack him with equal fury. Such obstinate virulence in the animal, confined only to Macaire, appeared very extraordinary, especially to those who at once recollected the dog's remarkable attachment to his master, and several instances in which Macaire's envy and hatred to Aubri de Mondidier had been conspicuous.
Additional circumstances created suspicion, and at length the affair reached the royal ear. The king (Louis VIII.) accordingly sent for the dog, who appeared extremely gentle till he perceived Macaire in the midst of several noblemen, when he ran fiercely towards him, growling at and attacking him as usual.
The king, struck with such a collection of circumstantial evidence against Macaire, determined to refer the decision to the chance of battle; in other words, he gave orders for a combat between the chevalier and the dog. The lists were appointed in the Isle of Notre Dame, then an unenclosed, uninhabited place, and Macaire was allowed for his weapon a great cudgel.
An empty cask was given to the dog as a place of retreat, to enable him to recover breath. Everything being prepared, the dog no sooner found himself at liberty than he ran around his adversary, avoiding his blows, and menacing him on every side, till his strength was exhausted; then springing forward, he gripped him by the throat, threw him on the ground, and obliged him to confess his guilt, in the presence of the king and the whole court. In consequence of this, the chevalier, after a few days, was convicted upon his own acknowledgment, and beheaded on a scaffold in the Isle of Notre Dame.
The above recital is translated from 'Memoires sur les Duels,' and is cited by many critical writers, particularly by Julius Scaliger and Montfaucon, who has given an engraved representation of the combat between the dog and the chevalier.
A wren built her nest in a box, so situated that a family had an opportunity of observing the mother bird instructing the young ones in the art of singing peculiar to the species. She fixed herself on one side of the opening in the box, directly before her young, and began by singing over her whole song very distinctly. One of the young then attempted to imitate her. After proceeding through a few notes, its voice broke, and it lost the tune. The mother immediately recommenced where the young one had failed, and went very distinctly through the remainder. The young bird made a second attempt, commencing where it had ceased before, and continuing the song as long as it was able; and when the note was again lost, the mother began anew where it stopped, and completed it. Then the young one resumed the tune and finished it. This done, the mother sang over the whole series of notes a second time with great precision; and a second of the young attempted to follow her. The wren pursued the same course with this as with the first; and so with the third and fourth. It sometimes happened that the young one would lose the tune three, four, or more times in the same attempt; in which case the mother uniformly began where they ceased, and sung the remaining notes; and when each had completed the trial, she repeated the whole strain. Sometimes two of the young commenced together. The mother observed the same conduct towards them as when one sang alone. This was repeated day after day, and several times in a day.
Most of the small birds of Southern Africa (says Mr. Barrow) construct their nests in such a manner, that they can be entered only by one small orifice, and many suspend them from the slender extremities of high branches. A species of loxia, or grossbeak, always hangs its nest on a branch extending over a river or pool of water. It is shaped exactly like a chemist's retort; is suspended from the head, and the shank of eight or nine inches long, at the bottom of which is the aperture, almost touches the water. It is made of green grass firmly put together, and curiously woven. Another small bird, the Parus Capensis, or Cape Titmouse, constructs its nest of the pappus, or down of a species of asclepias.
This nest is made of the texture of flannel, and the finest fleecy hosiery is not more soft. Near the upper end projects a small tube about an inch in length, with an orifice about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. Immediately under the tube is a small hole in the side, that has no communication with the interior part of the nest; in this hole the male sits at night, and thus they are both screened from the weather. The sparrow in Africa hedges round its nest with thorns; and even the swallow under the eaves of houses, or in the rifts of rocks, makes a tube to its nest of six or seven inches in length. The same kind of birds in Northern Europe, having nothing to apprehend from monkeys, snakes, and other noxious animals, construct open nests.
A Canadian goose, kept at East Barnet, in Hertfordshire, a few years ago, was observed to attach itself in the strongest and most affectionate manner to the house dog, but never presumed to go into the kennel except in rainy weather; whenever the dog barked, the goose would cackle, and run at the person she supposed the dog barked at, and try to bite him by the heels. Sometimes she would attempt to feed with the dog; but this the dog, who treated his faithful companion with indifference, would not suffer. This bird would not go to roost with the others at night, unless driven by main force; and when in the morning they were turned into the field, she would never stir from the yard gate, but sit there the whole day in sight of the dog. At length orders were given that she should no longer be molested; being thus left to herself, she ran about the yard with him all night, and what is particularly remarkable, whenever the dog went out of the yard and ran into the village, the goose always accompanied him, contriving to keep up with him by the assistance of her wings, and in this way of running and flying, followed him all over the parish. This extraordinary affection of the goose towards the dog, which continued till his death, two years after it was first observed, is supposed to have originated in his having saved her from a fox, in the very moment of distress.
While the dog was ill, the goose never quitted him, day or night, not even to feed; and it was apprehended that she would have been starved to death, had not a pan of corn been set every day close to the kennel. At this time, the goose generally sat in the kennel, and would not suffer any one to approach it, except the person who brought the dog's, or her own food. The end of this faithful bird was melancholy; for when the dog died, she would still keep possession of the kennel; and a new house dog being introduced, which in size and colour resembled that lately lost, the poor goose was unhappily deceived, and going into the kennel as usual, the new inhabitant seized her by the throat and killed her.
A shepherd, who was hanged for sheep stealing about forty years ago, used to commit his depredations by means of his dog. When he intended to steal any sheep, he detached the dog to perform the business. With this view, under pretence of looking at the sheep, with an intention to purchase them, he went through the flock with the dog at his foot, to whom he secretly gave a signal, so as to let him know the particular sheep he wanted, perhaps to the number of ten or twelve, out of a flock of some hundreds: he then went away, and from a distance of several miles, sent back the dog by himself in the night time, who picked out the individual sheep that had been pointed out to him; separated them from the flock, and drove them before him, frequently a distance of ten or twelve miles, till he came up with his master, to whom he delivered up his charge.
A Scotch newspaper of the year 1816, states that a carrion crow, perceiving a brood of fourteen chickens under the care of the parent hen, on a lawn, picked up one; but on a young lady opening the window and giving an alarm, the robber dropped his prey. In the course of the day, however, the plunderer returned, accompanied by thirteen other crows, when every one seized his bird, and carried off the whole brood at once.
In the Netherlands, they use dogs of a very large and strong breed, for the purpose of draught. They are harnessed like horses, and chiefly employed in drawing little carts with fish, vegetables, &c., to market. Previous to the year 1795, such dogs were also employed in smuggling; which was the more easy, as they are exceedingly docile. The dogs were trained to go backwards and forwards between two places on the frontiers, without any person to attend them. Being loaded with little parcels of goods, lace, &c., like mules, they set out at midnight, and only went when it was perfectly dark. An excellent quick-scented dog always went some paces before the others, stretched out his nose towards all quarters, and when he scented custom-house officers, &c., turned back, which was the signal for immediate flight. Concealed behind bushes, in ditches, &c., the dogs waited till all was safe, then proceeded on their journey, and reached at last beyond the frontier the dwelling house of the receiver of the goods, who was in the secret. But here, also, the leading dog only at first shewed himself; on a certain whistle, which was a signal that all was right, they all hastened up. They were then unloaded, taken to a convenient stable, where there was a good layer of hay, and well fed. There they rested until midnight, and then returned in the same manner back, over the frontiers.
A gentleman travelling through Mecklenburg about thirty years ago, was witness to the following curious circumstance in the post-house at New Stargard. After dinner, the landlord placed on the floor a large dish of soup, and gave a loud whistle. Immediately there came into the room a mastiff, a fine Angora cat, an old raven, and a remarkably large rat with a bell about its neck. These four animals went to the dish, and without disturbing each other, fed together; after which the dog, cat, and rat, lay before the fire, while the raven hopped about the room.
The mouse which has given to Husafell, in Jutland, a celebrity which it might not have otherwise possessed, is supposed by Alafsen and Porelsen to be a variation of the wood or economical mouse. In a country, says Mr. Pennant, where berries are but thinly dispersed these little animals are obliged to cross rivers to make their distant forages. In returning with their booty to their magazines, they are obliged to recross the stream; of the mode of doing which Mr. Alafsen gives the following account:- 'The party, which consists of from six to ten, select a piece of dried cow-dung, on which they place the berries on a heap in the middle; then, by their united force, bring it to the water's edge, and after launching it, embark and place themselves round the heap, with their heads joined over it, and their backs to the water, their tails pendent in the stream, serving the purpose of rudders.'
Some doubts having been entertained as to the truth of this mousaic mode of navigation, a recent traveller in Jutland made a particular point of inquiring of different individuals as to the fact, and the confirmation which he furnishes is most clear and explicit. 'It is now,' he says, 'established as an important fact in natural history, by the testimony of two eyewitnesses of unquestionable veracity, the clergyman of Briamslok and Madame Benedictson of Skikesholm; both of whom assured me that they had seen the expedition repeatedly. Madame B. in particular, recollected having spent a whole afternoon, in her younger days, at the margin of a small lake, on which these navigators had embarked, and amused herself and her companions by driving them away from the side of the lake as they approached them.'
Leopold, Duke of Loraine, had a bear called Marco, of the sagacity and sensibility of which we have the following remarkable instance. During the winter of 1709, a Savoyard boy, ready to perish with cold in a barn, in which he had been put by a good woman, with some more of his companions, thought proper to enter Marco's hut, without reflecting on the danger which he ran in exposing himself to the mercy of the animal which occupied it. Marco, however, instead of doing any injury to the child, took him between his paws, and warmed him by pressing him to his breast until the next morning, when he suffered him to depart to ramble about the city. The Savoyard returned in the evening to the hut, and was received with the same affection. For several days he had no other retreat, and it added not a little to his joy, to perceive that the bear regularly reserved part of his food for him. A number of days passed in this manner without the servants knowing anything of the circumstance. At length, when one of them came one day to bring the bear his supper, rather later than ordinary, he was astonished to see the animal roll his eyes in a furious manner, and seeming as if he wished him to make as little noise as possible, for fear of awaking the child, whom he clasped to his breast. The animal, though ravenous, did not appear the least moved with the food which was placed before him. The report of this extraordinary circumstance was soon spread at court, and reached the ears of Leopold; who, with part of his courtiers, was desirous of being satisfied of the truth of Marco's generosity. Several of them passed the night near his hut and beheld with astonishment that the bear never stirred as long as his guest showed an inclination to sleep. At break of day the child awoke, was very much ashamed to find himself discovered, and, fearing that he would be punished for his rashness, begged pardon. The bear however caressed him, and endeavoured to prevail on him to eat what had been brought to him the evening before, which he did at the request of the spectators, who conducted him to the prince. Having learned the whole history of this singular alliance, and the time which it had continued, Leopold ordered care to be taken of the little Savoyard, who would doubtless have soon made his fortune, had he not died a short time after.
A young man, desirous of getting rid of his dog, took it along with him to the Seine. He hired a boat, and rowing into the stream, threw the animal in. The poor creature attempted to climb up the side of the boat, but his master, whose intention was to drown him, constantly pushed him back with the oar. In doing this, he fell himself into the water, and would certainly have been drowned, had not the dog, as soon as he saw his master struggling in the stream, suffered the boat to float away, and held him above water till assistance arrived, and his life was saved.
Dr. Arnaud d'Antilli one day talking with the Duke de Liancourt upon the new philosophy of M. Descartes, maintained that beasts were mere machines, and had no sort of reason to direct them; and that when they cried or made a noise, it was only one of the wheels of the clock or machine that made it. The duke, who was of a different opinion, replied, 'I have now in my kitchen two turnspits, who take their turns regularly every other day to get into the wheel; one of them, not liking his employment, hid himself on the day that he should work, so that his companion was forced to mount the wheel in his stead, but crying and wagging his tail, he made a sign for those in attendance to follow him. He immediately conducted them to a garret, where he dislodged the idle dog, and killed him immediately.'
A French officer, more remarkable for his birth and spirit than his wealth, had served the Venetian republic for some years with great valour and fidelity, but had not met with that preferment which he merited. One day he waited on a nobleman whom he had often solicited in vain, but on whose friendship he had still some reliance. The reception he met with was cool and mortifying; the nobleman turned his back upon the necessitous veteran, and left him to find his way to the street through a suite of apartments magnificently furnished. He passed them lost in thought; till, casting his eyes on a sumptuous sideboard, where a valuable collection of Venetian glass, polished and formed in the highest degree of perfection, stood on a damask cloth as a preparation for a splendid entertainment, he took hold of a corner of the linen, and turning to a faithful English mastiff which always accompanied him, said to the animal, in a kind of absence of mind, 'Here, my poor old friend; you see how these haughty tyrants indulge themselves, and yet how we are treated!' The poor dog looked his master in the face, and gave tokens that he understood him. The master walked on, but the mastiff slackened his pace, and laying hold of the damask cloth with his teeth, at one hearty pull brought all the glass on the sideboard in shivers to the ground, thus depriving the insolent noble of his favourite exhibition of splendour.
Captain Carmichael, an active and intelligent observer, relates the following fact respecting the natural history of the swallow. Swallows are birds of passage at the southern extremities of Africa, as well as in Europe. They return to the Cape of Good Hope in the month of September, and quit it again in March or April. Captain Carmichael happening to be stationed for some time at the eastern extremity of the colony, a pair of the hirundo Capensis, soon after their arrival, built their nest on the outside of the house wherein he lodged, fixing it against the angle formed by the wall, with the board which supported the eaves. The whole of this nest was covered in, and it was furnished with a long neck or passage, through which the birds entered and came out. It resembled the longitudinal section of a Florence oil flask. This nest having fallen down after the young birds had quitted it, the same pair, as he is disposed to believe, built again on the old foundation in the month of February following: but he remarked on this occasion an improvement in the construction of it, which can hardly be referred to the dictates of mere instinct. In building the first, the birds were satisfied with a single opening, but this one was furnished with an opening on each side; and on watching their motions, he observed that they invariably entered at one side, and went out at the other. One object obtained by this improvement, was saying themselves the trouble of turning in the nest, and thus avoiding any derangement of its interior economy. But the chief object appeared to be to facilitate their escape from the attacks of serpents, which harbour in the roots of thatched houses, or crawl up along the walls, and not unfrequently devour both the mother and her young.
One of the magistrates in Harbour Grace, in Newfoundland, had an old dog of the regular web-footed species peculiar to this island, who was in the habit of carrying a lantern before his master at night, as steadily as the most attentive servant could do, stopping short when his master made a stop, and proceeding when he saw him disposed to follow. If his master was absent from home, on the lantern being fixed to his mouth, and the command given, 'Go fetch thy master,' he would immediately set off and proceed directly to the town, which lay at the distance of more than a mile from the place of his master's residence: he would then stop at the door of every house which he knew his master was in the habit of frequenting, and laying down his lantern, growl and strike the door, making all the noise in his power until it was opened; if his master was not there, he would proceed farther in the same manner, until he had found him. If he had accompanied him only once into a house, this was sufficient to induce him to take that house in his round.
A few years ago an elephant at Dekan, from some motive of revenge, killed his cornack, or conductor. The man's wife, who beheld the dreadful scene, took her two children, and threw them at the feet of the enraged animal, saying, 'Since you have slain my husband, take my life also, as well as that of my children.' The elephant instantly stopped, relented, and as if stung with remorse, took up the eldest boy with his trunk, placed him on its neck, adopted him for his cornack, and would never afterwards allow any other person to mount it.
A tame elephant, kept by a merchant at Bencoolen, was suffered to go at large. The animal used to walk about the streets in as quiet and familiar a manner as any of the inhabitants; and delighted much in visiting the shops, particularly those which sold herbs and fruit, where he was well received, except by a couple of brutal cobblers, who, without any cause, took offence at the generous creature, and once or twice attempted to wound his proboscis with their awls. The noble animal, who knew it was beneath him to crush them, did not disdain to chastise them by other means. He filled his large trunk with a considerable quantity of water, not of the cleanest quality, and advancing to them as usual, covered them at once with a dirty flood. The fools were laughed at, and the punishment applauded.
The celebrated Leibnitz relates an account of a dog who was taught to speak, and could call in an intelligible manner for tea, coffee, chocolate, &c.
The dog was of a middling size, and the property of a peasant in Saxony. A little boy, the peasant's son, imagined that he perceived in the dog's voice an indistinct resemblance to certain words, and was therefore determined to teach him to speak distinctly. For this purpose he spared neither time nor pains with his pupil, who was about three years old when his learned education commenced; and at length he made such progress in language, as to be able to articulate no less than thirty words. It appears, however, that he was somewhat of a truant, and did not very willingly exert his talents, being rather pressed into the service of literature, and it was necessary that the words should be first pronounced to him each time before he spoke. The French academicians who mention this anecdote, add, that unless they had received the testimony of so great a man as Leibnitz, they should scarcely have dared to relate the circumstance.
Various have been the opinions upon the difference of speed between a well-bred greyhound and a racehorse, if opposed to each other. Wishes had been frequently indulged by the sporting world, that some criterion could be adopted by which the superiority of speed could be fairly ascertained, when the following circumstance accidentally took place, and afforded some information upon what had been previously considered a matter of great uncertainty. In the month of December, 1800, a match was to have been run over Doncaster racecourse for one hundred guineas, but one of the horses having been drawn, a mare started alone, that by running the ground she might ensure the wager; when having run about one mile in the four, she was accompanied by a greyhound bitch, which joined her from the side of the course, and emulatively entering into the competition, continued to race with the mare for the other three miles, keeping nearly head and head, and affording an excellent treat to the field by the energetic exertions of each. At passing the distance post, five to four was betted in favour of the greyhound; when parallel with the stand, it was even betting, and any person might have taken his choice from five to ten; the mare, however, had the advantage by a head at the termination of the course.
A gentleman who had taken an active share in the rebellion of 1715, after the battle of Preston, escaped into the West Highlands, where a lady, a near relative, afforded him an asylum. A faithful servant conducted him to the mouth of a cave, and furnished him with an abundant store of provisions. The fugitive crept in at a low aperture, dragging his stores along. When he reached a wider and loftier expanse, he found some obstacle before him. He drew his dirk but unwilling to strike, lest he might take the life of a companion in seclusion, he stooped down, and discovered a goat with her kid stretched on the ground. He soon perceived that the animal was in great pain, and, feeling her body and limbs, ascertained that her leg was fractured. He bound it up with his garter, and offered her a share of the bread beside him; but she stretched out her tongue, as if to apprize him that her mouth was parched with thirst. He gave her water, which she took readily, and then ate some bread. After midnight he ventured out of the cave: all was still. He plucked an armful of grass and cut tender twigs, which the goat accepted with manifestations of joy and thankfulness. The prisoner derived much comfort in having a living creature in this dungeon, and he caressed and fed her tenderly. The man who was entrusted to bring him supplies fell sick; and when another attempted to penetrate into the cavern, the goat furiously opposed him, presenting her horns in all directions, till the fugitive, hearing a disturbance, came forward. This new attendant giving the watchword, removed every doubt of his good intentions, and the amazon of the recess obeyed her benefactor in permitting him to advance. The gentleman was convinced, that had a band of military attacked the cavern, his grateful patient would have died in his defence.
The devices of the goat to hide her young from the fox are very remarkable. She discerns her enemy at great distance, conceals her treasure in a thicket, and boldly intercepts the formidable marauder. He seldom fails to approach the place where the kid is crouching, but the dam, with her horns, receives him at all points, and never yields till spent with fatigue and agitation. If a high crag, or stone, should be near when she descries the fox, she mounts upon it, taking her young one under her body. The fox goes round and round, to catch an opportunity for making a spring at the little trembler, and there have been instances of his seizing it; but the goat thrusts her horns into his flank, with such force as to be often unable to withdraw them, and all three have frequently been found dead at the bottom of the precipice. It is a singular fact, that the goats know their progeny to several generations, and each tribe herds together on the hills, or reposes in the cot in separate parties.
A shepherd who inhabited one of those valleys or glens which intersect the Grampian mountains, in one of his excursions to look after his flock, happened to carry along with him one of his children, an infant of three years old. This is not an unusual practice among the Highlanders, who accustom their children from their earliest infancy to endure the rigours of the climate. After traversing his pastures for some time, attended by his dog, the shepherd found himself under the necessity of ascending a summit at some distance, to have a more extensive view of his range. As the ascent was too fatiguing for the child, he left him on a small plain at the bottom, with strict injunctions not to stir from it till his return. Scarcely, however, had he gained the summit, when the horizon was darkened by one of those impenetrable mists which frequently descend so rapidly amidst these mountains, as, in the space of a few minutes, almost to turn day to night. The anxious father instantly hastened back to find his child; but owing to the unusual darkness, and his own trepidation, he unfortunately missed his way in the descent. After a fruitless search of many hours, he discovered that he had reached the bottom of the valley, and was near his own cottage. To renew the search that night was equally fruitless and dangerous; he was therefore compelled to go home, although he had lost both his child and his dog, who had attended him faithfully for many years. Next morning, by break of day, the shepherd, accompanied by a band of his neighbours, set out in search of his child; but after a day spent in fruitless fatigue, he was at last compelled by the approach of night to descend from the mountain. On returning to his cottage, he found that the dog which he had lost the day before, had been home, and on receiving a piece of cake, had instantly gone off a-gain. For several successive days the shepherd renewed the search for his child, and still, on returning home disappointed in the evening, he found that the dog had been home, and, on receiving his usual allowance of cake, had instantly disappeared. Struck with this singular circumstance, he remained at home one day; and when the dog, as usual, departed with his piece of cake, he resolved to follow him, and find out the cause of this strange procedure. The dog led the way to a cataract at some distance from, the spot where the shepherd had left his child. The banks of the cataract almost joined at the top, yet separated by an abyss of immense depth, presented that appearance which so often astonishes and appals the travellers that frequent the Grampian mountains. Down one of those rugged, and almost perpendicular descents, the dog began without hesitation, to make his way, and at last disappeared by entering into a cave, the mouth of which was almost level with the torrent. The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the cave what were his emotions, when he beheld his infant eating with much satisfaction the cake which the dog had just brought him; while the faithful animal stood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacency! From the situation in which the child was found, it appeared that he had wandered to the brink of the precipice, and then either fallen or scrambled down till he reached the cave. The dog by means of his scent had traced him to the spot; and afterwards prevented him from starving, by giving up to him his own daily allowance. He appears never to have quitted the child by night or day, except when it was necessary to go for food; and then he was always seen running at full speed to and from the cottage.
In the commotions which took place in Holland, when the Stadtholder was reinstated by the Prussian arms, M. Quatremere d'Isjonval, a Frenchman, was arrested and imprisoned at Utrecht, where he spent upwards of seven Years, deprived of his liberty. To amuse himself during this long confinement, he courted the acquaintance of spiders, studied their constitution and temperament, and, after a long series of accurate observations, he made the important discovery, that they were the most weather-wise of all creatures. Their presentiment of approaching changes is incomparably more refined and certain than the variations indicated by the best barometers, thermometers, or hygrometers. A weather-glass points out only the probable state of the weather for the next day; but with respect to a permanent or longcontinued state of the atmosphere, this instrument cannot be relied upon. Spiders, however, have not only an obvious sensation of the approaching changes of the weather, similar to that manifested by a barometer, but they also indicate, with the greatest exactness, the more distant changes for a considerable length of time; nay, they foretell with precision, for a period of ten days or a fortnight, those states of the atmosphere which are of a settled nature. Of this M. d'Isjonval was enabled, in the end, to furnish a most striking proof.
On Wednesday, the 16th of January, 1795, the wind changed to the northward; on Thursday it began to freeze, and the frost increased to such a degree, that the French were enabled to enter Utrecht, and to release their imprisoned countryman, M. d'Isjonval: but on the 20th of January, an unexpected thaw
threatened to frustrate the design of the invaders, who had advanced with all their heavy artillery, accompanied by an army of one hundred thousand men, to pass the icy bridges which nature had apparently constructed for facilitating their hostile operations. The French generals were filled with apprehensions, and began to think of the necessity of retreating,, when M. d'lsjonval having consulted his meteorological assistants, the spiders, went and told his countrymen that they had no cause for the least alarm, for that in a day or two the frost would return with greater intensity than had been known in Holland for ages. The prediction was fully verified. The very next day the frost recommenced, with almost unequalled severity; and Holland, no longer able to avail itself of its pent-up floods, became an easy prey to the revolutionizing republicans.
The manner in which spiders carry on their operations, conformably to the impending changes of the atmosphere, is simply this: If the weather is likely to become rainy, windy, or in other respects disagreeable, they fix the terminating filaments, on which the whole web is suspended, unusually short; and in this state they await the influence of a temperature which is remarkably variable. On the contrary, if the terminating filaments are made uncommonly long, we may, in proportion to their length, conclude that the weather will be serene, and continue so at least for ten or twelve days. But if the spiders be totally indolent, rain generally succeeds; though, on the other hand, their inactivity during rain is the most certain proof that it will be only of short duration, and followed with fair, and very constant weather. According to further observations, the spiders regularly make some alteration in their webs or nets every twenty-four hours: if these changes take place between the hours of six and seven in the evening, they indicate a clear and pleasant night.
In the year 1765, one Carr, a waterman, having laid a wager that he and his dog would both leap from the centre arch of Westminster bridge, and land at Lambeth within a minute of each other; he jumped off first and the dog immediately followed; but not being in the secret, and fearing his master should be drowned, he laid hold of him by the neck and dragged him on shore, to the no small diversion of the spectators.
The abbot of Baigne, a man of wit, and skilled in the construction of new musical instruments, was ordered by Louis XI., King of France, more in jest than in earnest, to procure him a concert of swines' voices. The abbot said that the thing could doubtless be done, but that it would take a good deal of money. The king ordered that he should have whatever he required for the purpose. The abbot, says Bayle, then 'wrought a thing as singular as ever was seen. For out of a great number of hogs of several ages which he got together, and placed under a tent, or pavilion, covered with velvet, before which he had a table of wood painted, with a certain number of keys, he made an organical instrument, and as he played upon the said keys with little spikes, which pricked the hogs, he made them cry in such order and consonance, he highly delighted the king and all his company.'
The French Encyclopedia, article chant, concisely narrates the history of a whimsical procession which was displayed at Brussels in 1549. A part of the show consisted of a car, in which was an organ played on by a bear. Instead of pipes, this instrument contained a collection of cats, each confined separately in a kind of narrow case, so that they could not move, but their tails were held upright, and attached to the jacks in such a manner, that when the bear touched the keys, he pulled the tails of the parties enclosed, and produced a most mellifluous mewing and wailing, in the C clef we suppose, treble, counter-tenor, and tenor; the organist himself, perhaps, being invited by the same machinery, utters a base accompaniment.
Some years ago there was exhibited at Paris, an instrument constructed on a similar principle. The number of performers was about a dozen; and by means of keys well touched, their powers were exerted con spirito, et furiosa, for the delight of their auditory. The happy arrangement of their tones had the most fascinating effect on the ear; and a crescendo was delightful! All the world - or what is exactly the same thing - all Paris, went to hear this wonderful multivocal organ; this uncommon combination of pipes. All Paris was enchantee hors de raison: and every beau and belle thought, talked, and dreamed of nothing but - of cat-harmony. Unhappily, a favourite singer at the opera was taken ill, and while labouring under a complaint in the lungs, a subscription for his support was proposed and countenanced by 'the fashion.' The cat-organist taking the hint, at the close of his concert, passing his hat round among his audience, announced with great sorrow that one of his most eminent performers was sorely afflicted with a catarrh, and stood in great need of an additional supply of meat to save his life.' The joke was reported to the police; the police as 'they manage these things better in France,' - thought no joke could equal a true joke; so the wit was sent to prison, to ruminate on his witticism, and the current of Parisianism being turned ere he obtained his release, he found that the attractions of his vocal and instrumental organization had ceased, and that his cats could produce him no more than the value of their skins.
An innkeeper at Astley Chapel once sent, as a present by the carrier, to a friend at Warrington, a dog and cat tied up in a bag, who had been companions more than ten months. A short time after, the dog and cat took their departure from Warrington together, and returned to their old habitation, a distance of thirteen miles. They jogged along the road side by side, and on one occasion, the dog gallantly defended his fellow-traveller from the attack of another dog they met.
In the summer of 1766, an officer of the army having gone from Newcastle for Derby, on a recruiting party, took his dog with him; and on leaving Derby, on the 16th of August, the dog was left behind. The creature missing his master, set out for Newcastle, where he arrived on the 18th, being less than forty six hours in travelling an unknown way of one hundred and eighty miles!
M. d'Obsonville had a dog which he had brought up in India from two months old; and having to go with a friend from Pondicherry to Benglour, a distance of more than three hundred leagues, he took the animal along with him. 'Our journey,' says M. d'O., 'occupied nearly three weeks, and we had to traverse plains and mountains, and to ford rivers and go along bye-paths. The animal, which had certainly never been in that country before, lost us at Benglour, and immediately returned to Pondicherry. He went directly to the house of M. Beglier, then commandant of artillery, my friend, and with whom I had generally lived. Now the difficulty is not so much to know how the dog subsisted on the road (for he was very strong, and able to procure himself food), but how he should so well have found his way, after an interval of more than a month! This was an effort of memory greatly superior to that which the human race is capable of exerting.'
A thief, who had broken into the shop of Cellini, the Florentine artist, and was breaking open the caskets, in order to come at some jewels, was arrested in his progress by a dog, against whom he found it a difficult matter to defend himself with a sword. The faithful animal ran to the room where the journeymen slept, but as they did not seem to hear him barking, he drew away the bedclothes, and pulling them alternately by the arms, forcibly awaked them; then barking very loud, he showed the way to the thieves, and went on before, but the men would not follow him, and at last locked their door. The dog having lost all hopes of the assistance of these men, undertook the task alone, and ran downstairs; he could not find the villain in the shop, but immediately rushing into the street, came up with him, and tearing off his cloak, would have treated him according to his deserts, if the fellow had not called to some tailors in the neighbourhood, and begged they would assist him against a mad dog; the tailors believing him, came to his assistance, and compelled the poor animal to retire.
A lady had a tame bird which she was in the habit of letting out of its cage every day. One morning as it was picking crumbs of bread off the carpet, her cat, who always before showed great kindness for the bird, seized it on a sudden, and jumped with it in her mouth upon a table. The lady was much alarmed for the fate of her favourite, but on turning about instantly discerned the cause. The door had been left open, and a strange cat had just come into the room! After turning it out, her own cat came down from her place of safety, and dropped the bird without having done it the smallest injury.
When Charles V. failed in his attempt on Algiers in 1541, his fleet, and the troops which were embarked on board the ships, suffered the most dreadful hardships. The officers were obliged to throw overboard all their clothes, baggage, and valuables; but nothing distressed them so much as the parting with their horses, which were in general fine Spanish and Neapolitan genets and coursers, 'so well chosen,' says Brantome, 'so gallant spirited, and so high prized, that there was not a heart which could defend itself from feeling anguish and the deepest pity at seeing these fine horses struggling in vain to save themselves by swimming through the raging ocean. And the more distressful was the sight, as the poor animals despairing to reach the land, it being so far off, followed with their utmost powers, as long as their strength lasted, the ship and their masters, who stood on the decks, piteously lamenting the fate of these noble creatures, whom they saw perish before their eyes.'
A female elephant belonging to a gentleman at Calcutta, being ordered from the upper country to Chotygone, broke loose from her keeper, and was lost in the woods. The excuses which the keeper made were not admitted. It was supposed that he had sold the elephant; his wife and family therefore were sold for slaves, and he was himself condemned to work upon the roads. About twelve years after, this man was ordered into the country to assist in catching wild elephants. The keeper fancied he saw his long-lost elephant in a group that was before them. He was determined to go up to it; nor could the strongest representations of the danger disuade him from his purpose. When he approached the creature, she knew him, and giving him three salutes, by waving her trunk in the air, knelt down and received him on her back. She afterwards assisted in securing the other elephants, and likewise brought with her three young ones, which she had produced during her absence. The keeper recovered his character; and, as a recompense for his sufferings and intrepidity, had an annuity settled on him for life. This elephant was afterwards in the possession of Governor Hastings.
A gentleman returning to town from Newington Green, where he had been on a visit to a friend, was stopped by a footpad armed with a thick bludgeon, who demanded his money, saying he was in great distress. The gentleman gave him a shilling; but this did not satisfy the fellow, who immediately attempted to strike him with his bludgeon; when, to the surprise of the gentleman, the villain's arm was suddenly arrested by a spaniel dog, who seized him fast. The fellow with some difficulty extricated himself from his enemy, and made his escape. The dog belonged to the gentleman's friend where he had dined, and had followed him unperceived; the faithful creature guarded him home, and then made the best of its way back to its master.
As a gentleman of the name of Irvine was walking across the Dee when it was frozen, the ice gave way in the middle of the river, and down he sunk, but kept himself from being carried away in the current by grasping his gun, which had fallen across the opening. A dog who attended him, after many fruitless attempts to rescue his master, ran to a neighbouring village, and took hold of the coat of the first person he met. The man was alarmed, and would have disengaged himself; but the dog regarded him with a look so kind and significant, and endeavoured to pull him along with so gentle a violence, that he began to think there might be something extraordinary in the case, and suffered himself to be conducted by the animal, who brought him to his master just in time to save his life.
Mr. Wildman, of Plymouth, who rendered himself famous in the West of England for his command over bees, being in London in 1766, visited Dr. Templeman, Secretary to the Society of Arts, in his bee dress. He went in a chair with his head and face covered with bees, and a most venerable beard of them hanging from his chin. The gentlemen and ladies assembled were soon convinced that they had no occasion to be afraid of the bees, and therefore went up familiarly to Mr. Wildman, and conversed with him. After having remained some time, he gave orders to the bees to retire to their hive, and this they did instantly.
Captain D. Carmichael, in a description of the Island of Tristan d'Acunha, communicated to the Linnaean Society, states that the animals found on this solitary spot were so tame, that it was necessary to clear a path through the birds which were reposing on the rocks, by kicking them aside. One species of seal did not move at all when struck or pelted, and at length some of the company amused themselves by mounting them, and riding them into the sea!
Mr. Purdew, surgeon's mate on board the Lancaster, in 1757, relates that while lying one evening awake he saw a rat come into his berth, and after well surveying the place, retreat with the greatest caution and silence. Soon after it returned, leading by the ear another rat, which it left at a small distance from the hole which they entered. A third rat joined this kind conductor; they then foraged about, and picked up all the small scraps of biscuit; these they carried to the second rat, which seemed blind, and remained in the spot where they had left it, nibbling such fare as its dutiful providers, whom Mr. Purdew supposes were its offspring, brought to it from the more remote parts of the floor.
At a fox chase in Galloway, in the autumn of 1819, a very strong fox was closely pressed by the hounds; perceiving his danger, he made for a high wall at a short distance, and springing over, crept close under it on the other side; the hounds followed him, but no sooner had they leaped the wall, than Reynard sprang back again over it; and having thus ingeniously given his pursuers the slip, got safely away.
An American gentleman, a Mr. Hawkins, of Pittsfield, was in pursuit of foxes, accompanied by two bloodhounds; the dogs were soon in scent, and pursued a fox nearly two hours, when suddenly they appeared at fault. Mr. H. came up with them near a large log lying upon the ground, and felt much surprised to find them taking a circuit of a few rods without an object, every trace of the game seeming to have been lost, while they kept still yelping. On looking about him, he discovered sly Reynard stretched upon the log, apparently lifeless. Mr. H. made several efforts to direct the attention of his dogs towards the fox, but failed; at length he approached so near the artful object of his pursuit as to see him breathe. Even then no alarm was exhibited; and Mr. H. seizing a club, aimed a blow at him, which Reynard evaded by a leap from his singular lurking place having thus for a time effectually eluded his rapacious pursuers.
All authors before Buffon assert that the 'fretful porcupine,' when irritated, darts its quills to a considerable distance against the enemy, and that he will thus kill very large animals. This Buffon thinks a mistake, as he had repeatedly irritated the porcupine, without producing any other effect than that of some loose quills being shaken off. But Buffon's experiments were made on the Italian porcupine, an inferior species, with small and short bristles; and the evidence of subsequent writers completely establishes that with respect to the Indian porcupine, the statement of the old naturalist is quite correct. A British officer who had served in India, in an account of the climate and diversions in the Northern parts of British India C Philosophical Magazine,' vol. 42, P. 285), gives us the following account of an instance of the kind, of which he was an eye-witness:- 'Being one moonlight night with a party in search of porcupines with dogs, we had not been long out ere we discovered a hole inhabited by those quadrupeds. A dog was immediately put to it. The animal had not gone in many paces when he howled and retreated with several quills in his body. One in particular was driven an inch into his right leg. The porcupine, on the approach of the dog, drew itself into the shape of a ball, like a hedge-hog, and darting forward with all its strength, threw its quills into the dog.'
One of the strongest instances of affection in dogs is related in the 'Memoires du Marquis Langallery.' 'The marquis had been two years in the army; when returning home, a favourite dog which he had left came to meet him in the court-yard, and recognising him as if he had only been absent two days, leaped upon his neck, and died of joy at having found him again.'
Some years ago a sparrow had early in spring taken possession of an old swallow's nest in a village in Fifeshire, and had laid some eggs in it, when the original builder and owner of the castle made her appearance, and claimed possession. The sparrow, firmly seated, resisted the claim of the swallow; a smart battle ensued, in which the swallow was joined by its mate, and during the conflict by several of their comrades. All the efforts of the assembled swallows to dislodge the usurper were, however, unsuccessful. Finding themselves completely foiled in this object, it would seem that they had held a council of war to consult on ulterior measures; and the resolution they came to shows that with no ordinary degree of ingenuity some very lofty considerations of right and justice were combined in their deliberations. Since the sparrow could not be dispossessed of the nest, the next question with them appears to have been, how he could be otherwise punished for his unlawful usurpation of a property unquestionably the legitimate right of its original constructor. The council were unanimous in thinking that nothing short of the death of the intruder could adequately atone for so heinous an offence; and having so decided, they proceeded to put their sentence into execution in the following extraordinary manner. Quitting the scene of the contest for a time, they returned with accumulated numbers, each bearing a beak full of building materials; and without any further attempt to beat out the sparrow, they instantly set to work and built up the entrance into the nest, enclosing the sparrow within the clay tenement, and leaving her to perish in the garrison she had so bravely defended.
The truth of this almost incredible story is vouched for by a gentleman of unquestionable veracity, and a most ingenious observer of nature, Mr. Gavin Inglis, of Strathendry, Bleachfield, in Fifeshire. Linnaeas had prepared us to expect as much from the ingenuity of the swallow, but he states nothing of the kind as of his own knowledge.
One day, when Dumont, a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis, was walking in the Boulevard St. Antoine with a friend, he offered to lay a wager with the latter, that if he were to hide a six livre piece in the dust, his dog would discover and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money secreted, after being carefully marked. When the two had proceeded some distance from the spot, M. Dumont called to his dog that he had lost something, and ordered him to seek it. Caniche immediately turned back, and his master and his companion pursued their walk to the Rue St. Denis. Meanwhile a traveller, who happened to be just then returning in a small chaise from Vincennes, perceived the piece of money which his horse had kicked from its hiding-place; he alighted, took it up, and drove to his inn, in the Rue Pont-aux-Choux. Caniche had just reached the spot in search of the lost piece, when the stranger picked it up. He followed the chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close to the traveller. Having scented out the coin which he had been ordered to bring back in the pocket of the latter, he leaped up incessantly at and about him. The traveller supposing him to be some dog that had lost or been left behind by his master, regarded his different movements as marks of fondness: and as the animal was handsome, he determined to keep him. He gave him a good supper, and on retiring to bed, took him with him to his chamber. No sooner had he pulled off his breeches, than they were seized by the dog; the owner, conceiving that he wanted to play with them, took them away again. The animal began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, under the idea that the dog wanted to go out. Caniche snatched up the breeches and away he flew. The traveller posted after him with his nightcap on, and literally sans culottes. Anxiety for the fate of a purse full of gold Napoleons, of forty francs each, which was in one of the pockets, gave redoubled velocity to his steps. Caniche ran full speed to his master's house, where the stranger arrived a moment afterwards, breathless and enraged. He accused the dog of robbing him. 'Sir,' said the master, 'my dog is a very faithful creature; and if he has run away with your breeches, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you.' The traveller became still more exasperated. 'Compose yourself, sir,' rejoined the other, smiling, 'without doubt there is in your purse a six livre piece, with such and such marks, which you have picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine, and which I threw down there with the firm conviction that my dog would bring it back again. This is the cause of the robbery which he has committed upon you.' The stranger's rage now yielded to astonishment; he delivered the six livre piece to the owner, and could not forbear caressing the dog which had given him so much uneasiness, and such an unpleasant chase.
Seals have a very delicate sense of hearing, and are much delighted with 'Music. The fact was not unknown to the ancient poets, and is thus alluded to by Walter Scott:
'Rude Heiskar's seals, through surges dark,
Will long pursue the minstrel's bark.'
Mr. John Laing, in his account of a voyage to Spitzbergen, mentions, that the captain of the ship's son, who was fond of playing on the violin, never failed to have a numerous auditory when in the seas frequented by these animals; and Mr. L. has seen them follow the ship for miles when any person was playing on deck.
'In June, 1816, some young gentlemen disappointed in duck shooting, fired a few rounds for their amusement at a flock of swallows, and unfortunately brought some of the parent swallows to the ground, and among the rest, both parents of a young brood of five, whose nest was in the corner of one of the windows of Mr. Gavin Inglis's house, at Strathendry. Conceiving the young would perish from hunger, Mr. I. resolved to take them into the house, and try to bring them up under the care of his children, who had undertaken to catch flies for them. This humane interposition was however found unnecessary; the news of the calamity had spread over the colony, and a collection of parent-swallows had assembled. The state of the nest and the young was taken under review, and arrangements were immediately gone into for the protection and support of the helpless orphans. A supply of provisions was brought them before leaving them for the night; and next day, and every day for some time after, the benevolent office of feeding them was carried on with so much parental care by the older swallows in succession, that the orphan group were as regularly fed, and as soon fledged and on the wing, as the young of any nest in the whole colony.
A gentleman in the county of Stirling kept a greyhound and a pointer, and being fond of coursing, the pointer was accustomed to find the hares, and the greyhound to catch them. When the season was over, it was found that the dogs were in the habit of going out by themselves, and killing hares for their own amusement. To prevent this, a large iron ring was fastened to the pointer's neck by a leather collar, and hung down so as to prevent the dog from running, or jumping over dikes, &c. The animals, however, continued to stroll out to the fields together; and one day the gentleman suspecting that all was not right, resolved to watch them, and to his surprise, found that the moment when they thought that they were unobserved, the greyhound took up the iron ring in his mouth, and carrying it, they set off to the hills, and began to search for hares as usual. They were followed, and it was observed, that whenever the pointer scented the hare, the ring was dropped, and the greyhound stood ready to pounce upon poor puss the moment the other drove her from her form, but that he uniformly returned to assist his companion after he had caught his prey.
The Hottentots in Southern Africa are remarkable for their skill in observing the bees, as they fly to their nests, but they have still a much better guide than their own acuteness, on which they invariably rely. This is a small brownish bird, nothing remarkable in its appearance, of the cuckoo genus, to which naturalists have given the specific name of the Indicator, from its pointing out and discovering, by a chirping and whistling noise, the nests of bees; it is called by the farmers the honey-bird.
In the conduct of this little animal there is something that looks very like what philosophers have been pleased to deny the brute creation. Having observed a nest of honey, it flies in search of some human creature, to whom, by its fluttering, whistling, and chirping, it communicates the discovery. Every Hottentot is too well acquainted with the bird to have any doubts as to the certainty of the information. It leads the way directly to the place, flying from bush to bush, or from one ant-hill to another. When close to the nest, it remains still and silent. As soon as the person to whom the discovery is made has taken away the honey, the Indicator flies to feast on the remains. By the like conduct it is also said to indicate with equal certainty the dens of lions, tigers, and hyaenas, and other beasts of prey, and noxious animals. In the discovery of a bee's nest, self-interest is concerned; but in the latter instance its motives must proceed from a different principle.
Persons who have the management of elephants, have often observed that they know very well when any one is ridiculing them, and that they very often revenge themselves when they have an opportunity. A painter wished to draw an elephant in the menagerie at Paris in an extraordinary attitude, which was with his trunk lifted up, and his mouth open. An attendant on the painter, to make the elephant preserve the position, threw fruits in his mouth, and often pretended to throw them without doing so. The animal became irritated, and as if knowing that the painter was to blame rather than his servant, turned to him, and dashed a quantity of water from his trunk over the paper on which the painter was sketching his distorted portrait.
While the Carcass, one of the ships in Captain Phipps' voyage of discovery to the North Pole, was locked in the ice, early one morning the man at the mast-head gave notice that three bears were making their way very fast over the frozen ocean, and were directing their course towards the ship. They had no doubt been invited by the scent of some blubber of a sea-horse, which the crew had killed a few days before, which had been set on fire, and was burning on the ice at the time of their approach. They proved to be a she bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as large as the dam. They ran eagerly to the fire, and drew out from the flames part of the flesh of the sea-horse that remained unconsumed, and eat it voraciously. The crew of the ship threw great lumps of the flesh of the sea-horse which they had still left, upon the ice, which the old bear fetched away singly, laying every lump before the cubs as she brought it, and dividing it, gave each a share, reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was fetching away the last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs, and shot them both dead, and in her retreat they wounded the dam, but not mortally. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but the most unfeeling, to have marked the affectionate concern expressed by this poor animal. in the dying moments of her expiring young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had just fetched away, as she had done the others, tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them; when she saw that they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one, then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise them up, making at the same time, the most pitiable moans. Finding she could not stir them, she went off, and when she had got at some distance, looked back and moaned; and that not availing to entice them away, she returned, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time, as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow her, she returned to them anew, and with signs of inexpressible fondness went round them, pawing them successively. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and growled a curse upon the destroyers, which they returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds.
Many years ago, a Mr. Scot, of Benholm near Montrose, had accidentally caught a sea-gull, whose wings he cut, and put it into his garden. The bird remained in that situation for several years, and being kindly treated, became so familiar, as to come at call to be fed at the kitchen door. It was known by the name of Willie. This bird became at last so tame that no pains were taken to preserve it, and its wings having grown to full length, it flew away, joined the other gulls on the beach, and came back, from time to time, to pay a visit to the house. When its companions left the country at the usual season. Willie accompanied them, much to the regret of the family. To their great joy, however, it returned next season; and with its usual familiarity came to its old haunt, where it was welcomed and fed very liberally. In this way it went and returned for forty years, without intermission, and kept up its acquaintance in the most cordial manner; for while in the country it visited them almost daily, answered to its name like any domestic animal, and eat almost out of the hand. One year, however, very near the period of it's final disappearance, Willie did not pay his respects to the family for eight or ten days after the general flock of gulls were upon the coast, and great was the lamentation for his loss, as it was feared he was dead: but to the surprise and joy of the family, a servant one morning came running into the breakfast-room in ecstasy, announcing that Willie was returned. The whole company rose from the table to welcome Willie. Food was soon supplied in abundance, and Willie with his usual frankness eat of it heartily, and was as tame as any barn-yard fowl about the house. In a year or two afterwards this grateful bird discontinued his visits for ever.
Mr. Forbes, the author of the 'Oriental Memoirs,' when at Dazagan in Concan, kept a cameleon for several weeks. The animal was singularly affected by anything black. The skirting-board of the room was black, and the creature carefully avoided it; but if by chance he came near it, or if a black hat were placed in his way, he shrunk and became black as jet. It was evident by the care he took to avoid those objects which occasioned this change, that the effort was painful to him; the colour seemed to operate like a poison. From some antipathy of the same sort, the buffalo and the bull are enraged by scarlet, which, according to the blind man's notion, acts upon them like the sound of a trumpet; and the viper is most provoked to bite when the viper-catcher presents it with a red rag. There are other animals to whom certain colours have the effect of fascination. Daffodils, or any bright yellow flowers, will decoy perch into a draw-net. Persons who wear black hats in summer are ten times more annoyed by flies than those who wear white ones. Such facts are highly curious, and well deserving of investigation. We know as yet but little of the manner in which animals are affected by colours, and that little is only known popularly. When more observations of this kind have been made and classified, they may lead to some consequences of practical utility.
The first mention we find made of the employment of pigeons as letter carriers is by Ovid, in his 'Metamorphoses,' who tells us that Taurosthenes, by a pigeon stained with purple, gave notice of his having been victor at the Olympic games on the very same day to his father at AEgina.
Pliny informs us that during the siege of Modena by Marc Antony, pigeons were employed by Brutus to keep up a correspondence with the besieged.
When the city of Ptolemais, in Syria, was invested by the French and Venetians, and it was ready to fall into their hands, they observed a pigeon flying over them, and immediately conjectured that it was charged with letters to the garrison. On this, the whole army raising a loud shout, so confounded the poor aerial post that it fell to the ground, and on being seized, a letter was found under its wings, from the sultan, in which he assured the garrison that 'he would be with them in three days, with an army sufficient to raise the siege.' For this letter the besiegers substituted another to this purpose, 'that the garrison must see to their own safety, for the sultan had such other affairs pressing him that it was impossible for him to come to their succour; and with this false intelligence they let the pigeon free to pursue his course. The garrison, deprived by this decree of all hope of relief, immediately surrendered. The sultan appeared on the third day, as promised, with a powerful army, and was not a little mortified to find the city already in the hands of the Christians.
Carrier pigeons were again employed, but with better success, at the siege of Leyden, in 1675. The garrison were, by means of the information thus conveyed to them, induced to stand out, till the enemy, despairing of reducing the place, withdrew. On the siege being raised, the Prince of Orange ordered that the pigeons who had rendered such essential service should be maintained at the public expense, and that at their death they should be embalmed and preserved in the town house, as a perpetual token of gratitude.
In the East the employment of pigeons for the conveyance of letters is still very common; particularly in Syria, Arabia, and Egypt. Every bashaw has generally a basket full of them sent him from the grand seraglio, where they are bred, and in case of any insurrection, or other emergency, he is enabled, by letting loose two or more of these extraordinary messengers, to convey intelligence to the government long before it could be possibly obtained by other means.
In Flanders great encouragement is also still given to the training of pigeons; and at Antwerp there is an annual competition of the society of pigeon fanciers.
In the United States they have been also recently employed, with very nefarious success, by a set of lottery gamblers. The numbers of the tickets drawn at Philadelphia were known by this mode of conveyance within so inconceivably short a period at New York, or if drawn at New York, known at Philadelphia, and so with other towns, that the greatest frauds were committed on the public by those in possession of this secret means of intelligence.
In England the use of carrier pigeons is at present wholly confined to the gentlemen of the fancy, who inherited it from the heroes of Tyburn, with whom it was of old a favourite practice to let loose a number of pigeons at the moment the fatal cart was drawn away, to notify to distant friends the departure of the unhappy criminal.
The diligence and speed with which these feathered messengers wing their course is extraordinary. From the instant of their liberation their flight is directed through the clouds at an immense height to the place of their destination. They are believed to dart onwards in a straight line, and never descend except when at a loss for breath, and then are to be seen, commonly at dawn of day, lying on their backs on the ground, with their bills open, sucking in with hasty avidity the dew of the morning. Of their speed, the instances related are almost incredible.
The Consul of Alexandria daily sends despatches by this means to Aleppo in five hours, though couriers occupy the whole day in proceeding with the utmost expedition from one town to the other.
Some years ago a gentleman sent a carrier pigeon from London, by the stage coach, to his friend at Bury St. Edmund's, together with a note, desiring that the pigeon, two days after its arrival there, might be thrown up precisely when the town clock struck nine in the morning. This was done accordingly, and the pigeon arrived in London, and flew to the Bull Inn, in Bishopsgate Street, into the loft, and was there shown at half an hour past eleven o'clock, having flown seventy-two miles in two hours and a half. At the annual competition of the Antwerp pigeon fanciers, in 1819, one of thirty-two pigeons belonging to that city, who had been conveyed to London, and there let loose, made the transit back, being a distance in a direct line of one hundred and eighty miles, in six hours!
It is through the attachment of these animals to the place of their birth, and particularly to the spot where they have brought up their young, that they are thus rendered useful to mankind.
When a young one flies very hard at home, and is come to its full strength, it is carried in a basket or otherwise about half a mile from home, and there turned out; after this, it is carried a mile, then two, four, eight, ten, twenty, &c., till at length it will return from the furthermost parts of the country.
The Baya, or Grossbeak, so very common in Hindostan, is rather larger than a sparrow.
It is, says Sir William Jones, 'astonishingly sensible, faithful, and docile, never voluntarily deserting the place where its young were hatched; but not averse, like most other birds, to the society of mankind, and easily taught to perch on the hand of its master. It may be taught with ease to fetch a piece of paper, or any small thing that its master points out; and it is an attested fact that if a ring be dropped into a deep well, and a signal be instantaneously given, it will fly down with amazing celerity, catch the ring before it touches the water, and bring it up to its master with apparent exultation. It is also confidently asserted that if a house or any other place be shown to it one or twice, it will carry a note thither immediately on the proper signal being made.'
One instance of its docility, Sir William Jones was an eye-witness of. The young Hindu women, at Benares and other places, wear very thin plates of gold, called ticas, slightly fixed, by way of ornament, between their eyebrows; and when they pass through the streets, it is not uncommon for the youthful libertines, who amuse themselves with training Bayas, to give them a signal, which they understand, and send them to pluck the pieces of gold from the foreheads of their mistresses, which they bring in triumph to their lovers.
The race of swine, though generally so stupid as to have furnished an odious cant appellation for the multitude of our own species, is by no means destitute of sagacity; but the shortness of life to which we generally doom them, unfortunately precludes all improvement in this respect. In proof of their intellectual endowments, it might be sufficient to recite the numerous instances of learned pigs with which the exhibitions of every country fair are familiar; but an instance more truly surprising than these, was that of the black New Forest sow, which was broke in by Tumor, the gamekeeper to Sir H. St. John Mildmay, to find game, back, and stand nearly as well as a pointer.
This sow, which was a thin, long-legged animal (one of the ugliest of the New Forestbreed), when very young, conceived so great a partiality to some pointer puppies that Tumor was breaking, that it played, and often came to feed with them. From this circumstance it occurred to Tumor (to use his own expression) that, having broke many a dog as obstinate as a pig, he would try if he could not also succeed in breaking a pig. The little animal would often go out with the puppies to some distance from home; and he enticed it farther by a sort of pudding made of barleymeal, which he carried in one of his pockets. The other he filled with stones, which he threw at the pig whenever she misbehaved, as he was not able to catch and correct her in the same manner he did his dogs. He informed Sir Henry Mildmay, that he found the animal tractable, and that he soon taught her what he wished by this mode of reward and punishment. Sir Henry Mildmay says, that he has frequently seen her out with Tumor, when she quartered her ground as regularly as any pointer, stood when she came on game (having an excellent nose), and backed other dogs as well as he ever saw a pointer. When she came on the cold scent of game, she slackened her trot, and gradually dropped her ears and tail, till she was certain, and then fell down on her knees. So staunch was she, that she would frequently remain five minutes and upwards on her point. As soon as the game rose, she always returned to Tumor, grunting very loudly for her reward of pudding, if it was not immediately given to her.
When Tumor died, his widow sent the pig to Sir Henry Mildmay, who kept it for three years, but never used it, except for the purpose of occasionally amusing his friends. In doing this, a fowl was put into a cabbage-net, and hidden amongst the fern in some part of the park, and the extraordinary animal never failed to point it, in the manner above described.
Filial Tenderness and Address.
A cat belonging to Mr. Stevens, of the Red Lion Hotel in Truro, during the period of her gestation was conveyed to a barn, near the turnpike-gate, on the Michell road. The time of her accouchement being arrived, puss became the mother of four fine sprawling kittens! To her unspeakable grief, three of her young ones suffered a watery death the next morning, without ever opening their eyes on this sorrowful world. The authors of this melancholy catastrophe, on going to the barn on the following day, found no traces either of the mother or her remaining young one. They called, but all was silent; they searched, but tabby was invisible. Here the matter rested for several days, when at length, early in the morning, puss made her appearance in the court of her master's house in a very slender condition. Having satisfied her hunger, and loitered about the house during the day, late at night she took her leave, carrying with her all the provisions which she conveniently could. For several days she repeated the same course of operations, regularly returning to the hotel in the morning, and leaving it not empty-mouthed at night. Her proceedings having excited attention, she was followed in one of her nocturnal retreats, not to the barn from which two of her young ones had been so cruelly taken to be drowned, but to the top of a wheaten mowhay, at some distance. On beating up her quarters there, she was discovered feeding her surviving kitten, which had by this time become plump and sleek, but was as wild as a young tiger, and would not be touched by any one. The hole which the mother-cat had made in the mowhay, to afford a passage and retreat to her young one, was peculiarly curious.
A few days afterwards the mother finding, perhaps, that her own daily journeys were too fatiguing; or thinking it necessary that her young one should be introduced to the world, in order to rub off the rust of its clownish education; or what is as likely, feeling assured that the kitten had attained an age which would save it from sharing the fate of its departed relatives, she took advantage of a dark and silent night, when worrying dogs and boys were within doors, to convey it to Truro, where we need not say grimalkin and the young stranger found a hospitable welcome.
The Reading Eagle, a Pennsylvanian paper of the year 1820, relates the following extraordinary incident:- A daughter of Mr. Daniel Strohecker, near Orwigsburgh, Berks, county Pennsylvania, about three years of age, was observed for a number of days to go to a considerable distance from the house with a piece of bread which she obtained from her mother. The circumstance attracted the attention of the mother, who desired Mr. S. to follow the child, and observe what she did with it. On coming to the child, he found her engaged in feeding several snakes, called yellow heads, or bastard rattlesnakes. He immediately took it away, and proceeded to the house for his gun, and returning, killed two of them at one shot, and another a few days after. The child called these reptiles in the manner of calling chickens; and when its father observed, if it continued the practice they would bite her, she child replied, 'No, father, they wont bite me; they only eat the bread I give them.'
A large and ferocious mastiff which had broke his chain, ran along the road near Bath, to the great terror and consternation of those whom he passed; when suddenly running by a most interesting boy, the child struck him with a stick, upon which the dog turned furiously on his infant assailant. The little fellow, so far from being intimidated, ran up to him, and flung his arms round the neck of the enraged animal, which became instantly appeased, and in return, caressed the child.
A gentleman in the neighbourhood of Burnt Island, in Fifeshire, has completely succeeded in taming a seal. It appears to possess all the sagacity of the dog, lives in his master's house, and eats from his hand. He usually takes it with him in his fishing excursions, upon which occasion it affords no small entertainment. When thrown into the water, it will follow for miles the track of the boat, and although thrust back by the oars, it never relinquishes its purpose. Indeed, it struggles so hard to regain its seat, that one would imagine its fondness for its master had entirely overcome the natural predilection for its native element.
Captain Steadman in his 'Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition against the revolted Negroes of Surinam,' relates, that on waking about four o'clock one morning in his hammock, he was extremely alarmed at finding himself weltering in congealed blood, and without feeling any pain whatever. 'The mystery was,' continues Captain S. 'that I had been bitten by the Vampyre or Spectre of Guiana, which is also called the Flying Dog of New Spain, and by the Spaniards, Perro Volador. This is no other than a bat of monstrous size, that sucks the blood from men and cattle while they are fast asleep, even sometimes till they die; and as the manner in which they proceed is truly wonderful, I shall endeavour to give a distinct account of it. Knowing, by instinct, that the person they intend to attack is in a sound slumber, they generally alight near the feet, where, while the creature continues fanning with his enormous wings, which keeps one cool, he bites a piece out of the tip of the great toe, so very small indeed, that the head of a pin could scarcely be received into the wound, which is consequently not painful; yet through this orifice he continues to suck the blood, until he is obliged to disgorge. He then begins again, and thus continues sucking and disgorging until he is scarcely able to fly; and the sufferer has often been known to sleep from time to eternity. Cattle they generally bite in the ear, but always in places where the blood flows spontaneously. Having applied tobacco ashes as the best remedy, and washed the gore from myself and hammock, I observed several small heaps of congealed blood all round the place where I had lain upon the ground: on examining which, the surgeon judged that I had lost at least twelve or fourteen ounces during the night.'
In the park of Lord Grantley at Wonersh, near Guildford, a fawn, drinking, was suddenly pounced upon by one of the swans, which pulled the animal into the water, and held it under until quite drowned. The atrocious action was observed by the other deer in the park, and did not long go unrevenged; for shortly after this very swan, which had hitherto never been molested by the deer, was singled out when on land, and furiously attacked by a herd, which surrounded and presently killed the offender.
In the year 1783, a pair of strange rooks, after an unsuccessful attempt to effect a lodgment in a rookery at a little distance from the Exchange in Newcastle, were compelled to abandon the attempt, and to take refuge on the spire of that building; and although constantly molested by other rooks, they built their nest on the top of the vane, and there reared a brood of young ones, undisturbed by the noise of the populace below them. The nest and its inmates were of course turned about by every change of the wind. Every year they continued to build their nest in the same place, till the year 1793, soon after which the spire was taken down. A small engraving was made, of the size of a watch paper, representing the top of the spire and the rook's nest; a great many copies of it were sold, and some are still to be met with among the inhabitants of Newcastle.
In the spring Of 1791, a pair of crows made their nest in a tree, of which there were several planted round the garden of a gentleman, who, in his morning walks, was often amused by witnessing furious combats between the crows and a cat. One morning the battle raged more fiercely than usual, till at last the cat gave way, and took shelter under a hedge, as if to wait a more favourable opportunity of retreating into the house. The crows continued for a short time to make a threatening noise; but perceiving that on the ground they could do nothing more than threaten, one of them lifted a stone from the middle of the garden, and perched with it on a tree planted in the hedge, where she sat, watching the motions of the enemy of her young. As the cat crept along under the hedge, the crow accompanied her, flying from branch to branch, and from tree to tree; and when at last puss ventured to quit her hiding place, the crow, leaving the trees and hovering over her in the air. let the stone drop from on high on her back.
Another instance of the sagacity of the crow, is related by Dr. Darwin. A friend of his on the northern coast of Ireland, saw above a hundred crows at once preying upon mussels; each crow took a mussel up into the air thirty or forty yards high, and then let it fall upon the stones, and thus by breaking the shell, got possession of the animal.
A gentleman of Brenchley having shot a hen-swallow which was skimming in the air, accompanied by her mate, the enraged partner immediately flew at the fowler, and, as if to revenge the loss it had sustained, struck him in the face with its wing, and continued flying around him with every appearance of determined anger. For several weeks after the fatal shot, the bird continued to annoy the gentleman whenever it met with him, except on Sundays, when it did not recognise him, in consequence of his change of dress.
In June, 1820, a contest of rather an unusual nature took place in the house of Mr. Collins, a respectable innkeeper, at Naul in Ireland. The parties concerned were, a hen of the game species, and a rat of the middle size. The hen, in an accidental perambulation round a spacious room, accompanied by an only chicken, the sole surviving offspring of a numerous brood, was roused to madness by an unprovoked attack made by a voracious cowardly rat, on her unsuspecting chirping companion. The shrieks of the beloved captive, while dragging away by the enemy, excited every maternal feeling in the affectionate bosom of the feathered dame; she flew at the corner whence the alarm arose, seized the lurking enemy by the neck, writhed him about the room, put out one of his eyes in the engagement, and so fatigued her opponent by repeated attacks of spur and bill, that in the space of twelve minutes, during which time the conflict lasted, she put a final period to the nocturnal invader's existence; nimbly turned round, in wild but triumphant distraction, to her palpitating nestling, and hugged it in her victorious bosom.
At Dunrobin Castle, in Sutherlandshire, the seat of the Marquess of Stafford, there was, in May, 1820, to be seen, a terrier bitch nursing a brood of ducklings. She had had a litter of whelps a few weeks before, which were taken from her and drowned. The unfortunate mother was quite disconsolate, till she perceived the brood of ducklings, which she immediately seized and carried to her lair, where she retained them, following them out and in with the greatest care, and nursing them after her own fashion, with the most affectionate anxiety. When the ducklings, following their natural instinct, went into the water, their foster-mother exhibited the utmost alarm; and as soon as they returned to land, she snatched them up in her mouth, and ran home with them. What adds to the singularity of this circumstance is, that the same animal, when deprived of a litter of puppies the year preceding, seized two cock-chickens, which she reared with the like care she bestows upon her present family. When the young cocks began to try their voices, their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she now seems to be by the swimming of the ducklings - and never failed to repress their attempts at crowing.
A pigeon, twelve years old, belonging to an inn-keeper at Cheltenham, was a few years ago deserted by his partner, after having had a numerous progeny by her. He took the loss much to heart, but made no attempt to supply her place by a new alliance. Two years passed away in a state of widowed solitude, when at last the faithless fair one returned, and wished to be restored to all her conjugal rights. Her injured lord and master was for a time inexorable; he repelled all her approaches, and when she became importunate, gave her a sound beating. In the dead of night, however, Master Pigeon's curtains not being more secure than those of Priam, the lady contrived to make her quarters good. When the day dawned, matters were so far made up, that it was agreed Madam Dove should at least have shelter in his cot during the remainder of her days; but the days of the repentant guilty are seldom long, and a few short months saw her consigned to the tomb. The old pigeon, as if sensible that death, by for ever dissolving the connexion, had placed him in a state of liberty which her voluntary desertion had not, instantly took wing, and in an hour or two returned with a new partner!
A lady walking over Lansdown, near Bath, was overtaken by a large dog, which had left two men who were travelling the same road with a horse and cart, and followed by the animal for some distance, the creature endeavouring to make her sensible of something, by looking in her face, and then pointing with his nose behind. Failing in his object, he next placed himself so completely in front of the object of his solicitude, as to prevent her proceeding any farther, still looking steadfastly in her face. The lady became rather alarmed; but judging from the manner of the dog, who did not appear vicious, that there was something about her which engaged his attention, she examined her dress, and found that her lace shawl was gone. The dog, perceiving that he was at length understood, immediately turned back; the lady followed him, and he conducted her to the spot where her shawl lay, some distance back in the road. On her taking it up, and replacing it on her person, the interesting quadruped instantly ran off at full speed after his master, apparently much delighted.
The celebrated shepherd poet, to whom these ANECDOTES OF INSTINCT are inscribed, had a dog named Sirrah, who was for many years his sole companion in those mountain solitudes, where, far from the haunts of men, he nursed that imagination which has since burst forth with such splendour on the world. 'He was,' quoth the shepherd, 'beyond all comparison, the best dog I ever saw. He was of a surly, unsocial temper, disdaining all flattery, and refused to be cares