What the Animals Do and Say

by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

"No, Mother," said Frank; "we have never read it. What did she do?"

"In her despair, not knowing what she did, she held out her son, and said to the raging animal, "Take him too." The angry elephant became quiet. He seemed to understand the agony of the poor woman. He gently lifted and placed upon his back the little child, and ever after obeyed him for a master."

"You know the story in Evenings at Home, Mother, of the Elephant and the Cobbler, how the fellow pricked the elephant's trunk, and how the elephant punished him by squirting muddy water all over him."

"Yes. The elephant's trunk is so susceptible that nothing enrages him so much as any wound on it. He cannot bear patiently the slightest scratch.

Now I will tell you a story of a lion. An English gentleman, who was living in India, had a fancy to see what effect extreme gentleness, and kindness, and very simple diet would have upon the character of the lion. The gentleman had the good fortune to get a baby lion for the experiment. He made a real pet of him. He fed him with bread and milk and rice, and such things, and took care always to satisfy him with food. The young lion loved his master, who was always very kind to him, and who was really very fond of his lionship. This man lived, as in India a gentleman often does, in a house by himself, and could easily have his friend lion with him, without annoying any one. The baby grew bigger and bigger, and became a good-sized, full-grown lion. He was gentle and happy, full of play, and rather a pleasant companion to his two-legged friend. Whether the lion ever roared for his master's amusement, the friend who told me this story did not say.

At last, this gentleman wished to return to England to see his old mother. He was too much attached to his lion to leave him, and so took him in the place of a dog. The lion was very good all the voyage. No one had a word to say against him. His conduct and manners were faultless. He played with the sailors, he obeyed his master, and, in short, was a very quiet, well-behaved, human lion. When the gentleman arrived in England, as soon as he could leave the ship, he called for a carriage to take him to his mother. When he got into the carriage, the lion jumped in after him. "Your honor," said the driver, "I'm afraid of that beast." "O, never mind," said the gentleman; "he'll not hurt you." "But, your honor, I never in my born days took a lion in my carriage. It's not a place for such brutes." "There's always a first time," said the gentleman. "Here's a crown for my lion; and now get on; I can't wait." The cabman, thinking it wise to make the best of things, and not quarrel with a man who had a lion for a friend, stepped up on his box, and drove away rattlety-bang to Regent's Park, some three or four miles' drive. The lion was much astonished, and sat bolt upright on his hind legs, looking out of the window. He did not appreciate the BEAUTIES of London; he was disgusted with the noise, and growled a little. The driver heard him, and drove all the faster. Poor Lord Lion, his temper was tried; but he bore it better than most lions would. At last, the cab stopped at the house of the gentleman's mother. He sprang out, and rang the bell: "Does Mrs. B. live here?" "Yes, sir." "Is she well?" The footman turned pale as ashes, and scampered off as if he thought the lion would devour him. The gentleman ran up stairs, and the lion after him. In another moment, the arms of the son were around his mother. Presently, the lady saw the lion. She had heard of her son's pet, and saw she was in no danger. She begged her son, however, to put him down in the yard and keep him chained, or she should not have a servant in the house. The lion was not happy chained. The gentleman, finding, moreover, that he could not go into the streets with his friend without being followed by a mob, at last placed him in the Tower, where there were other lions, and gave many charges that the pet lion should be well treated. Many years afterwards, the gentleman returned from another voyage to India; and, after seeing his mother, went to the Tower to see his friend. When he came to the large cage in which the lion was confined, the keeper said, "This is our finest and our fiercest lion." "Open the door," said the gentleman. The keeper, not knowing him, objected. The gentleman insisted, and entered. The lion was lying down, and, seeing a man in his cage, for a moment looked angry; in another moment he rose on his hind legs, put his paws around his old master, and showed the greatest delight at seeing him."

"Why, he was almost as good as a dog," said Frank. "But now, Mother, please tell us the story about a bear which you said you heard on your journey last summer."

"I ought rather," said Mrs. Chilton, "to call it the story of a cow, for she was the heroine of the tale. I was travelling with a small party among the White Hills. When we stopped to dine, we saw a number of people assembled around the door of the hotel, and found that they were looking at a black bear that had been just shot. This bear had inspired the neighborhood with some fear, for he was a large one. They had tried a number of times to shoot him; but all in vain. Master Bruin was never off his guard. At last, the poor fellow foolishly left the deep wild wood, where he could easily hide himself, for a little grove. When the villagers saw his mistake, they immediately took steps to surround the grove. The number of the inhabitants was small; so they summoned all the women and children, as well as the men, and so got an unbroken line all around the little wood. As soon as the bear sought any part, in order to escape, he was saluted by the most frightful screams, as well as a shower of stones. He fled to the opposite side, but there met with the same reception. This went on for some time. At last, some one succeeded in shooting him. He measured a little over six feet from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, and his teeth were very formidable.

A gentleman who had assisted in the capture of the bear, told me the story I promised to tell you of the cow and the bear. A little girl, about twelve or thirteen years of age, was sent by her mother, one afternoon, to bring home the cows from a neighboring wood, where they were at pasture. There were many fallen trees, as is often the case in our wild woods; and the child amused herself by climbing over the trunks.

Now, one of the black-looking logs was a large bear that was lying asleep, and the little girl jumped right upon his growling majesty. The bear arose, evidently not quite pleased at being made a stepping stone, took the little girl in his great shaggy paws, and gave her an ugly hug, such as only a bear can give. Mr. Bear would have squeezed the breath out of the body of the poor little girl, had not the good old cow seen the danger. The courageous creature, instead of running away, turned back immediately, and began goring the bear with her horns in such a way as to force old Bruin, if he valued a whole hide, to turn round and defend himself. So he let go his hold on the little girl, who, though sadly frightened and bruised, was still strong enough to run towards home. Presently the bear followed her. Immediately the cow attacked him again with her horns, and drove him off. This continued till they got out of the wood, when the bear ran back to his own home. The gentleman who told us this story said he had seen the little girl, and that she had never quite recovered from the effect of the horrid squeeze of the grim old bear, but still suffered in her chest. Still she was thankful that her life was saved, and always considered the good old cow her preserver."