11.—Charade.
My first is thick and dark; my second is connected with the sea; my whole is an acid concrete salt, or some one keen and irritable.
C. J. B.
Answer to Puzzle on [Page 195].
9.—
- Wellington.
- Marlborough.
- Nelson.
- Blake.
- Shakespeare.
- Tennyson.
- Scott.
- Dickens.
- Elizabeth.
- Victoria.
Answer to 'What am I?' on [Page 214].
Dun-dee.
DECEIVING THE HORSE.
An omnibus, in the course of its journey, had to be taken up a long and toilsome hill. Frequently passengers, out of pity for the poor horse, would get out at the bottom and walk up a part of the way, so as to lighten its load. In time, the sagacious beast got to expect this, and would sometimes stop of its own accord, as if to let them descend from the vehicle.
One day, a gentleman, travelling up the hill for the first time in this conveyance, was much annoyed by the conductor frequently opening the door, even when no one wanted to get out, and banging it close again.
He inquired of the man what he meant by such conduct, when it was explained that it was done to deceive the horse, which, each time the door was banged, thought another passenger had alighted, and pulled away with more will in consequence.
THE TEETH OF HYENAS.
Hyenas have stronger jaws than any other animals in the world. They have a large tooth at each side of the upper jaw, which bites against the keen edge of a tooth like it on the lower jaw, thus forming a pair of shears sharp enough to cut paper and strong enough to crack the thigh-bone of an ox.
Hyenas live entirely on meat. A lion, on the contrary, eats a large quantity of fresh grass when it can get it, and in captivity will lap milk from a pan with as much greediness as an ordinary pussy.
THE GATE-KEEPER OF RAMBOUILLET.
It is difficult for Englishmen to realise the intense devotion which Napoleon the First inspired in the hearts of his French soldiers. Ambitious and utterly careless of human life as he undoubtedly was, these men overlooked all this in their admiration for the victorious General.
As a rule, Napoleon certainly behaved as the Father of his soldiers, and seemed to feel both with them and for them. Here is an account of the way he cheered an old 'Sapeur' whom he find lying in the ward of a military hospital.
'How now, my friend?' said the Emperor, halting at the soldier's bedside. 'You are one of my Sapeurs, I see! I thought that regiment prided itself on never being ill?'
'I am not ill, your Majesty!' said the soldier, proudly, as he saluted his chief; 'but the doctor wants me to have my leg cut off, and I do not wish it.'
'Why not?' asked Napoleon. 'Are you, who have faced death so often, afraid of an operation of a few minutes?'
'Afraid, Sire!' said the man, with a quiet smile. 'Fear is not a disease that attacks Sapeurs, as your Majesty knows; but if I change my leg of flesh for a wooden stump, I shall never be able to return to the regiment, and I would rather be buried entire than bit by bit.'
'Where were you wounded?' asked the Emperor.
'At Wagram, Sire.'
'Have you received your medal?'
'No, Sire,' said the soldier, eagerly. 'I was in the ambulance when you distributed the medals.'
'Suppose I were to give you the medal now?' said Napoleon, looking fixedly at the soldier.
'Oh, Sire!' said the man, almost leaping up in his delight. 'I should be quite well then, I know.'
'Well, then, I give it you,' said the Emperor: 'but on one condition: you must let the surgeon cut off that leg.'
'Just as you order me, Sire; if you wish my head cut off I am ready! Only I can never serve you again, if I have a leg off.'
'How do you know that, you foolish fellow?' replied the Emperor, smiling. 'Make haste and get well, and I appoint you gate-keeper of my castle of Rambouillet.'
The soldier said no more. His heart was too full of joy and gratitude, for that was indeed a post of honour.
Some months later the Castle of Rambouillet had a new gate-keeper, an old wooden-legged sergeant of Sapeurs, wearing the coveted medal on his well-brushed uniform!
X.
THE CASHMERE STAG.
India is rich in animals of the deer kind. To name only a few, there are the Sambur, the beautiful Axis Deer, the small, but fierce, Hog Deer, the Rusa Deer, the Bahrainga Deer, and the noble Cashmere Deer. The habits of these animals are exceedingly varied. Some live upon the hills, while others frequent the low lands and the jungles, and are never seen upon the higher ground. Several of the species are nocturnal, and are so rarely seen in the daytime that any one might think they were scarce animals, although they are really very common.
The Cashmere Stag or Deer is one of those which live on the high lands, upon the slopes of the mountains of Cashmere, Nepal, and the countries to the north-west of India. It prefers forests and well-wooded country, in which it finds shelter and seclusion. It rarely descends to the lower and more open country, and it is in fact so retiring and alert that it is seldom met with. By day it hides itself in the woods, but in the early morning it is tempted forth to drink at the lakes and pools which lie upon the skirts of the forest. It changes its pasture-grounds with the seasons, climbing the mountains in summer, probably to enjoy the cool, fresh air of the upper regions, and returning to lower ground in winter in search of food.
The male is a fine animal, with large branching horns, somewhat like those of our own stag or red deer, but not quite so large. In a fine and well-developed specimen the horns will often display sixteen branching points. The general colour of the stag is a rather dark grey or brown, with patches of yellowish white upon the haunches, and for some little distance along the back. The neck of the male is covered with longer hair somewhat resembling a mane. The female is very similar in colour to the male, but she is smaller, and has neither horns nor mane.
The Cashmere stag is sometimes called the Nepal stag, and it has also other names, mostly derived from the localities where it is found. Many of these are native names conferred upon it by the inhabitants of various parts of the north of India, and when they are taken up and repeated by sportsmen and travellers they prove very confusing to naturalists, who cannot always be sure that they all refer to one animal.
All stags are very attentive to their mates, and the least cry of the female will draw her companion to her side. A hunter once saw a fine male come running up at the cry of his mate, which had just been shot. The poor thing was dead, but the stag stayed by her body, and would not be frightened away until he was quite sure there was no life left in it.
"The stag stayed by his mate's body."
THE BLACK LEOPARD.
There are few animals more beautiful than the leopard, which inhabits India and Africa. Looking at its handsome fur, we cannot fail to be struck with the regular way in which the black spots or rings are arranged upon the reddish-yellow ground, and how regularly they vary in shape and size in different parts of the body.
Besides the ordinary spotted leopard there is, however, a black leopard. It is found in India and some other countries of southern Asia where the ordinary leopard lives, and seems most common upon the high lands. It is very much scarcer than the ordinary leopard, and is, indeed, very rare. The natives of India have a great dread of it, for they think it is more cunning, more ferocious and stronger than the spotted leopard, which is one of the fiercest and most active of the flesh-eating animals. It climbs trees and sports among the branches with all the agility of a cat. It is as ferocious as the tiger, and though not so large, its activity and strength make it a very dangerous foe.
Though the black leopard is different in colour from the ordinary leopard, it is in other respects very similar, and naturalists now regard it as only a variety of the spotted leopard. After getting together all the information which they can about the colours of the leopard and similar animals, they have come to the conclusion that the leopard family has a tendency to turn to black. This does not mean that full-grown spotted leopards sometimes turn black quickly, but that the cubs are occasionally born black, or grow dark soon after they are born.
The leopard is also known to show other variations of colour, but examples of these are very much rarer than black ones. All animals are liable to occasional variations of colour, which cannot be satisfactorily explained. In the leopard these variations occur more frequently than in most other animals, and the colour is nearly always black.
THE POET CRABBE'S FIRST SCHOOL.
Crabbe, the poet, whose Village Tales were the delight of a past generation, was sent to a boarding school whilst still so young that he had not even learnt to dress himself.
When he awoke in the morning after his first night away from home, he saw the other boys dressing, and was much disturbed. He whispered to his bedfellow (for all schoolboys slept at least two in a bed in those days), 'Master George, can you put on your shirt? for—for I'm afraid I cannot!'
This school, though only for small boys, seems to have been a very severe one, for Crabbe and his friends were punished for simply 'playing at soldiers.' He was condemned, with his friends, to be shut in a large dog-kennel, known by the terrible name of 'the Black Hole.' Little Crabbe was the first to be pushed in, and the rest were crowded in on top of him, till at last the kennel was so full of boys that they were all but suffocated. Crabbe in vain cried out that he could not breathe, but no notice was taken of him until, in despair, he bit the lad next to him violently in the hand.
'Crabbe is dying! Crabbe is dying!' roared the sufferer, and the sentinel outside at length opened the door, and allowed the boys to rush into the air.
Crabbe, when telling this story to his children in after years, always added, 'A minute more and I must have died!'
X.
MY PICTURE-BOOK.
h, what a pretty scene is this,
Of meadow, hill, and brook,
I wish that I was small enough
To get inside the book.
Upon this stream I'd launch my boat;
I'd pluck this willow wand;
Then round that reedy curve I'd float,
And past the mill beyond—
If I were only small enough.
Then where the meadows are so green
I'd moor my boat again,
And overtake that little boy
Who's trotting down the lane.
I'd ask him to be friends with me,
I'd take him by the hand,
And through my pretty picture we
Would go to fairy-land—
If I were only small enough.
ULRICH'S OPPORTUNITY.
The Thirty Years' War was raging, and Europe was torn by bitter party strife. All over the country men ranged themselves under their respective leaders and fought grimly to the death.
At the time of this story, the little German town of Bamburg had remained loyal to the Emperor Ferdinand, and had in consequence been closely besieged for many weeks by the troops of the Elector of Saxony. The flag still floated from the tower of the Town Hall, and a bold front was shown to the enemy; but in reality the inhabitants were in sore straits, when news reached them that if they could hold out one week longer help would come.
A council was summoned, and all who could bear arms were called to hear the glad news and to form fresh plans for the further defence of the town. Shrewd and cautious advice was sorely needed, and none was fitter to give it than stout old Karl Sneider, the keeper of the water-gate. So to-night he was not in his place in the little watch-tower that looked out over the broad river that flowed by the wall of the little town.
His watch was taken by Oscar Halbau, the clock-maker, who, although he was not a Bamburg man by birth, had lived there so long that the good people had come to regard him as one of themselves. Upstairs, in a quaint little room with sloping roofs and curious corners, lay Karl Sneider's crippled son Ulrich.
Usually bright and cheerful, to-night Ulrich was sadly depressed. To-day was his fifteenth birthday, and were not boys of fifteen allowed to take their places in the council? Caspar Shenk and Peter and Johann Hofman had run up to see him on their way to the Rathhaus, and had joined with him in begging his father to allow him to go, too, for with the help of his crutch and a friendly arm he could make his way to the Cathedral, and the Town Hall was not much further away.
'Nay, my son,' said his father firmly, 'a council is not like a service at church. Stay quietly here, and when I return I will tell thee all.'
He spoke cheerfully, but his heart ached to see the boy's disappointment, and when the other lads had gone he bent tenderly over him, saying, 'Only wait patiently, my son; thy turn will come, bringing the bit of work Providence means thee to do. There is work for every one if only we wait quietly for it.'
Long after he had gone, Ulrich thought over these words. They might be true, but it seemed as if there could never be work for him to do. His life seemed bounded by his couch and his chair by the window. Sometimes he went out, it was true, but at best it was a slow and painful business, and lately he had fancied the children laughed to themselves when he passed.
He was roused from these sad thoughts by something coming sharply against the window. He listened, and the sound was repeated again. Someone was throwing stones at the glass. Who could it be? and what could they want at that hour?
Stretching out his hand for his crutch, he moved softly across the room and peered out. There was just enough light to enable him to see a boat moored to the steps which ran up to the gate. He opened the window gently, and was about to speak when he heard the clockmaker's voice saying cautiously, 'Is that you, Captain?'
Ulrich knew then that the stranger had struck his window by mistake; clearly it was the guard-room window he had aimed at, and if that were so, why had the stranger chosen the very night that his father was away, and how did Oscar know him? As quickly as he could he put out his lamp and listened breathlessly. Oscar was speaking again.
'All is going well—better than I dared to hope. The fools think I am as loyal as themselves, and they have left me to guard the gate. The council will not be over till near midnight, and in half an hour the moon will be gone. I will open the gate when it is quite dark and admit your men, and the game will then be in our own hands.'
'You are a good fellow, Oscar, and shall be remembered,' replied the stranger. 'To-morrow, when the town is ours, your name shall be on every one's lips, and your pockets shall be filled with gold.'
He then turned back to his boat, and Ulrich leant back in his chair sick with horror. To think that here, in his father's house, sat a traitor, and that unless help came soon the town would be lost!
What could he do? It was useless for him to crawl downstairs and confront Oscar. He had only to carry him back to his room and lock the door to ensure safety. It was no less useless to cry for help, for a long row of warehouses separated the guard-room from any other dwelling. Oh! if he had only been like other boys, how easily he could have stolen downstairs, and rushed to the Town Hall and given the alarm! It seemed absolutely impossible for him to do it as he was. He had never gone downstairs alone in his life; his father had always been there to help him; even if he managed to crawl down he could not take his crutch with him, and he could not walk without it. No, clearly it was impossible.
And yet, as the slow minutes dragged away, and as he thought of the shame it would be if the town were lost, he decided to make the attempt. Slowly he crawled across the room and down the narrow, twisted staircase. He was trembling from head to foot, and his breath seemed to come in great gasps. What if Oscar heard him? His door was ajar, and the lamp threw a ray of light on the landing outside; but Oscar was deep in his plans, and did not notice the black shadow that moved slowly across the lamp-lit space.
At last Ulrich was outside, and he breathed more freely in the open air. If he had only had his crutch now, things might all have gone well, but how was he to crawl along the long Breite Strasse, and round the corner and up the still longer Gast Strasse to the Town Hall? His heart failed. Still, he could only try his best. Perhaps he might meet some one....
Alas! all who were not at the council were safely in their houses, and there was no one to notice the bent figure slowly dragging itself along, or to hear the feeble knocks as he tried to reach the great brass knockers, which were just too high for him to reach.
At last he came to the Cathedral, where he sometimes attended service, but he had his father's strong arm to lean on then, while now he was alone and quite exhausted. He could never reach the Town Hall in time; but the church door was open, perhaps some one was inside who could take the message. But the church was closed; it was only the porch which was open.
With a sob of despair the boy entered and sank down on a low bench by the door. After all it was no use; he could go no further, and even now the traitor might be opening the gates.
As Ulrich raised his hand to wipe away the big tears that would fall, he struck something soft hanging above his head; in the darkness he felt it. It was a rope.
Instantly his strength came back with a rush. There was hope yet! Was not the bell of the Cathedral the loudest in the town, and was it not used as an alarm in cases of fire? He grasped the rope and pulled with all his might. It was hard work, but soon the sound came—crash! crash! crash!
That would surely rouse the town. And so it did. Soon hasty footsteps were heard, and a watchman ran in, frantically waving his lantern.
'Where is it? What is it?—a fire? Speak, boy!' but Ulrich seemed to have lost his tongue. It was not until several others had gathered round him that he managed to gasp out, 'The water-gate—quick! Oscar is letting in the soldiers!'
The words flew like wild-fire, and off the crowd rushed—men, boys, burgomaster, and watchmen, just in time to capture the traitor and to drive back the enemy.
"'What is it?—a fire? Speak, boy!'"
So his father had been right after all, and Ulrich's bit of work had been ready for him, and nearer than he thought. And he did his best, and doing his best saved the town. For help did come, and Ulrich was thanked by the Emperor himself, who put him under the care of his own doctor. The doctor, although he was not able quite to cure him, did him so much good that he was able in the course of time to walk without a crutch.