The merchant went home to his wife, and told her he had sold to a man with a snub nose. “Where is the money?” said she. “I have not got it yet, but I shall be sure to have it to-morrow. I am to go where I see a hurdle covered with eggs, a flag on a mast, and a little betel plantation.” The next day the wife said, “Go for your money.” He went, but could not find the house; and after long searching he came home again. “Have you the money?” said the wife. “No, I could not find the house.” “Well, I will go myself to look for it. If I am not back in an hour, you will know that I am drowned.” After an hour, as his wife did not return, the man took the sieve with which he usually sifted his rice, and set off to the river, which he began to try to empty with it. A passer-by asked him what he was doing. “I am emptying the river,” replied he; “for my wife is drowned, and she had on her best yellow bonnet.” “Nonsense!” said the other; “I just met her walking with a man who had a snub nose.”
THE DAMIER, OR CAPE PIGEON.
Procellaria Capensis.
THE CAPE PIGEON.
During a long voyage, when for months you have seen nothing but water and sky, the smallest novelty which appears and promises variety for the eye and the mind, though only for a few minutes, is joyfully welcome. Sometimes it may be a stormy petrel, flying like a swallow, skimming through the air in a hundred different directions, and seeming to play in that element; sometimes a ring-tail, which, with its piercing cry like that of a hawk, appears a messenger from the sun to bid the bold navigator welcome to the tropics, hovers for a few minutes over the ship, and then flies off with a jerk and disappears.
Sometimes are to be seen numerous blowers, who pass and repass the ship with bounds; or perhaps a whale, which almost stupefies you with the noise he makes as he displaces the water in rising to the surface to breathe: at another time it is some hungry shark, who, following in the wake of the ship, lets himself be caught by the bait thrown out to him, and which, when hoisted with great difficulty on deck, lashes it with his tail and looks formidable even after death; and this is a good take for the sailors, who divide the spoil and feast on it.
But of all the creatures dear and familiar to sailors, none rejoices him more than the faithful companion who, more than 3000 miles before he doubles the Cape of Good Hope or Cape Horn, appears to his sight, swims in the water, grazes a thousand times the hull or the rigging, pleases his eye by its parti-coloured plumage, and announces to him calm and tempest.
This bird, called by the French “Damier,” by the English the Cape Pigeon, and “Peintada” by the Portuguese, is the Cape Petrel, or Procellaria capensis of naturalists.
Gifted with great powers of flight, though less than other petrels, from morn till night, and often even a part of the latter when the moon is full, it is seen in the wake or alongside of the ship, describing in its flight, in which scarcely any movement is apparent, a thousand evolutions, sometimes touching the great waves which seem ready to overwhelm it, the moment after reappearing far above them, always wheeling about and careless of the storm.
The sight of this flight and of all these evolutions is most pleasing, and one involuntarily thinks of a graceful skater flying over the ice at his utmost speed, and seeking to attract admiration.