Word Exercise.

LXV.—THE MONSTER OF THE NILE.

Sir Samuel Baker.

Few creatures are so sly and wary as the crocodile. I watch them continually as they attack the dense flocks of small birds that throng the bushes at the water’s edge. These birds are perfectly aware of the danger, and they fly from the attack, if possible. The crocodile then quietly and innocently lies upon the surface, as though it had appeared quite by an accident. It thus attracts the attention of the birds, and it slowly sails away to a considerable distance, exposed to their view. The birds, thus beguiled by the deceiver, believe that the danger is removed, and they again flock to the bush, and once more dip their thirsty beaks in the stream.

Thus absorbed in slaking their thirst, they do not observe that their enemy is no longer on the surface. A sudden splash, followed by a huge pair of jaws, beneath the bush, which engulf some dozens of victims, is the signal unexpectedly given of the crocodile’s return—he having slily dived, and hastened under cover of water to his victims. I have seen the crocodile repeat this manœuvre constantly: they deceive by a feigned retreat, and then attack from below.

In like manner the crocodile perceives, while it is floating on the surface in mid-stream, or from the opposite side of the river, a woman filling her girba, or an animal drinking. Sinking immediately, it swims perhaps a hundred yards nearer, and again appearing for an instant upon the surface, it assures itself of the position of its prey by a steady look. Once more it sinks, and reaches the exact spot above which the person or animal may be. Seeing distinctly through the water, it generally makes its fatal rush from beneath,—sometimes seizing with its jaws, and at other times striking the object into the water with its tail, after which it seizes it, and carries it off.

The crocodile does not attempt to swallow a large prey at once, but generally carries it away, and keeps it for a considerable time in its jaws in some deep hole beneath a rock or the root of a tree, where it eats it at leisure. The tongue of the crocodile is so unlike that of any other creature that it can hardly be called by the same name. No portion of it is detached from the flesh of the lower jaw; it is like a thickened membrane extending from the gullet to about half-way along the length of jaw.

I was one day returning from head-quarters to my station—a distance of a mile and a half along the river’s bank—when I noticed the large head of a crocodile about thirty yards from the shore. I knew every inch of the river, and I was satisfied that the water was shallow. A solitary piece of waving rush, that grew upon the bank exactly opposite the crocodile, marked its position. So, stooping down, I retreated inland from the bank, and then running forward, I crept gently towards the rush.

Stooping as low as possible, I advanced till very near the bank (upon which grew tufts of grass), when, by slowly raising my head, I could observe the head of the crocodile in the same position, not more than twenty-six or twenty-eight yards from me. At that distance my rifle could hit a half-crown; I therefore made sure of bagging. The bank was about four feet above the water; thus the angle was favorable, and I aimed just behind the eye. Almost as I touched the trigger, the crocodile gave a convulsive start, and turning slowly on its back, it stretched its four legs above the surface, straining every muscle. It then remained motionless in water about two feet deep.

My horse was always furnished with a long halter or tethering-rope. So I ordered two men to jump into the river and secure the crocodile by a rope fastened round the body behind the fore-legs. This was quickly accomplished, and the men remained knee-deep, hauling upon the rope to prevent the stream from carrying away the body. In the meantime an attendant had mounted my horse and galloped off to the camp for assistance.

Crocodiles are very tenacious of life; and although they may be shot through the brain, and be actually dead for all practical purposes, they will remain motionless at first; but they will begin instinctively to move the limbs and tail a few minutes after receiving the shot. If lying upon a sand-bank, or in deep water, they would generally disappear unless secured by a rope, as the spasmodic movements of the limbs and tail would act upon the water, and the body would be carried away.

The crocodile, which had appeared stone dead, now began to move its tail, and my two men who were holding on to the rope cried out that it was still alive. It was in vain that I assured the frightened fellows that it was dead. I was on the bank, and they were in the water within a few feet of the crocodile, which made some difference in our ideas of its vivacity. Presently the creature really began to struggle, and the united efforts of the men could hardly restrain it from getting into deeper water.

The monster now began to yawn, which so terrified the men that they would have dropped the rope and fled had they not been afraid of the consequences, as I was addressing them rather forcibly from the bank. I put another shot through the shoulder of the struggling monster, which appeared to act as a narcotic until the arrival of the soldiers with ropes. No sooner was the crocodile well secured than it began to struggle violently. But a great number of men hauled upon the rope; and when it was safely landed, I gave it a blow with a sharp ax on the back of the neck, which killed it by dividing the spine.

It was now dragged along the turf until we reached the camp, where it was carefully measured with a tape, and showed an exact length of twelve feet three inches from snout to end of tail. The stomach contained about five pounds’ weight of pebbles, as though it had fed upon flesh resting upon a gravel bank, and had swallowed the pebbles that had adhered. Mixed with the pebbles was a greenish slimy matter that appeared woolly.

In the midst of this were three undeniable witnesses that convicted the crocodile of wilful murder. A necklace and two armlets, such as are worn by the negro girls, were taken from the stomach! This was an old malefactor that was a good riddance.

I have frequently seen crocodiles upwards of eighteen feet in length, and there can be little doubt that they sometimes exceed twenty; but a very small creature of this species may carry away a man while swimming.

LXVI.—PRAYER.

James Montgomery.

Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,

Uttered, or unexpressed;

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,

The falling of a tear,

The upward glancing of the eye,

When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech

That infant lips can try;

Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach

The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice

Returning from his ways,

While angels in their songs rejoice,

And cry, Behold, he prays!

Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,

The Christian’s native air;

His watchword at the gates of death;

He enters Heaven with prayer.

The saints, in prayer, appear as one,

In word, and deed, and mind;

While with the Father and the Son

Sweet fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made by man alone:

The Holy Spirit pleads;

And Jesus, on the eternal Throne,

For mourners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God!

The Life, the Truth, the Way!

The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:

Lord! teach us how to pray!

Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.—Psalm CIII.

LXVII.—THE THERMOMETER.

All substances produce in us, when we touch them, the sensation of heat or of cold. The degree of heat of any substance is called its temperature; and the temperature varies from time to time, according to circumstances. Boiling water, for example, contains so much heat that it scalds the skin; but, when removed from the fire, the water gradually becomes less and less warm, until at last it contains so little heat that it cools the hand instead of scalding it.

Our feelings do not always give us true information about the temperature of the bodies by which we are surrounded. A person comes into a warm room from the open air on a cold day, and exclaims, “How warm it is here!” Another person enters the same room from one still warmer, and cries, “How cold it is here!” The first person gains heat, and therefore calls the room warm; the second loses heat, and calls it cold; while, in reality, the air of the room, all the while, is at the same degree of temperature.

A nurse prepares water for a child’s bath, and measures the heat by the feeling of her hand; but she learns from the quick and sudden cry of the child, when placed in the bath, that what seemed warm to her is cold to the child.

These examples show that our sensations are not always a true test of temperature; and thus, if we wish to measure heat and cold accurately, we must have some instrument made for the purpose. Such an instrument we have: it is called a thermometer, a word which means heat-measurer.

It was long ago noticed that bodies expand, or swell out, when they are heated; and that they contract, or shrink into less bulk, when they are cooled. This observation led to the construction of the thermometer; for to measure the expansion or contraction of a substance is the same as to measure the quantity of heat that has produced this effect.

The thermometer consists of a small glass tube of very fine bore and ending in a hollow bulb. The bulb is entirely filled with a fluid metal, called mercury, or quicksilver, which rises or falls in the tube according as it is heated or cooled. The space in the tube above the mercury is empty: it does not even contain air; for in preparing the instrument, sufficient heat is applied to the bulb to make the fluid, by expansion, fill the whole tube, which is then closely sealed at the upper end by melting the glass: the mercury sinks as it cools, and leaves the space empty.

The tube is fastened to a metal or wooden plate, marked so as to measure the expansion of the mercury. This is called the scale, and the divisions upon it are called degrees. The degrees are counted upwards from the bottom, and are expressed by placing a small circle over the number. There are three different scales in use; that commonly used in this country is called Fahrenheit’s scale, from the name of the inventor.

When the tube of the thermometer is immersed in melting ice or freezing water, the upper surface of the mercury stands always at the same point, which is called the freezing point of water. On Fahrenheit’s thermometer this point is marked 32°. Again, when the bulb is held in the steam of boiling water, the mercury rises to a fixed point, which is called the boiling point of water, and is marked 212°. All bodies that are as hot as boiling water, raise the mercury to 212°; and all bodies that are as cold as freezing water, make the mercury shrink to 32°. The space between these two points is divided into 180 equal parts, each being called a degree. Similar equal divisions are carried below the point marked 32°, till 0° is reached, and this last point is called zero.

The tube of the thermometer may contain some other fluid than mercury; but, as this metal is in every respect well fitted for the purpose, it is most generally used in construction of the instrument.

The thermometer is one of the most useful inventions of science. It enables travellers to compare the climates of different countries, and to give us, who stay at home, a distinct idea of them. It is also necessary in the arts: it enables workmen to apply the exact amount of heat required in delicate operations, where a little excess might spoil the whole work.