There are many large and respectable birds;—the long-legged stork, the crane, the bustard, the heron, the eagle, the vulture, the cassowary; but all these are mere dwarfs compared with the ostrich. This bird is often nine or ten feet in height, and is as remarkable for its great strength and swiftness, as for its size. Neither the swiftest horse nor fleetest hound can compete with the ostrich in speed; but, fleet as the whirlwind, he sweeps over the sandy wastes of Africa. And this is indeed fortunate for him, since, although a bird, he is unable to fly. He has feathers only upon his wings and tail, the rest of his body being covered with hair. The ostrich has eyelashes upon the upper lid, and can, like quadrupeds, see a thing with both eyes at once; although other birds look sideways, and use but one eye at a time. His bare, plump feet are furnished with only two toes or claws; and his stomach can digest the hardest substances,—wood, stone, leather, metals, and glass.
It was imagined that the ostrich was a very stupid bird, because, when pursued, it thrusts its head into the nearest hole, apparently imagining that when he sees nobody, he cannot himself be seen. The fact, however, is, that when quite exhausted by a long pursuit, it shields its head, because it is the most tender and weakest part, and surrenders the rest of the body to its pursuers. Had the ostrich been in any way as stupid as the goose, the race would long ago have been extirpated, as it has many enemies both among men and animals. It is, on the contrary, a very prudent bird, and in a clear field extremely difficult to catch, for it takes flight the moment its quick sight threatens it with the slightest danger; and as it lives in the deserts of Arabia and Africa a few minutes is sufficient to carry it beyond the sight of its pursuers.
As the ostrich belongs to the same species as fowls, it leads, as they do, a domestic life. Every ostrich family consists of one male bird and five females, who keep constantly together. These birds have a common nest, which consists merely of a hole in the sand, protected by a wall of sand. Every egg stands upon its pointed end, in order to take as little room as possible. When there are from ten to twelve eggs in the nest, they begin to sit upon them alternately, the female by day and the male by night; as, from his superior strength, he is better able to guard the nest from the attack of the wild-cats, which are allured by the eggs; and that he understands how to protect it, is proved by the dead bodies of these animals being found in the neighbourhood of the nests. During the brooding, the female continues to lay until the nest is full; and it generally contains about thirty eggs. They also lay eggs on the outside of the nest, with which to feed the young ostriches, which, as soon as hatched, are as large as full-grown fowls; and, like fowls, immediately begin to eat greedily. The parent birds break one egg after another, until the young are strong enough to find their own food. The size of the egg is in proportion to the size of the bird; it is as large as a child’s head, and yields as much nourishment as four-and-twenty hen’s eggs. Four hungry men may make a good meal on one. The shell is so extremely hard and close, that it remains fresh for a considerable time; and in the desert countries is a real treasure.
THE VIOLET.—MODESTY.
The fragrance of the violet is noticed when the flower itself is not seen—just as benevolent persons’ actions are sometimes known and felt, while the actors remain out of sight.
Four hundred years ago, some gentlemen of rank, who were very fond of poetry, were walking at Toulouse; one of them remarking the beauty of the violet, all agreed to write some verses on it, as a sort of trial of skill. At the end of the week, the poets met, and each read the verses he had written, and the umpire decided which of the poems was the best. Wishing to extend a love of poetry, those gentlemen, with some others, drew up a circular letter in rhyme, and addressed it to all the poets of Languedoc, inviting them to come to Toulouse on the first of May, and read their verses, promising a golden violet to him who should compose the best poem. This society continued until the middle of the last century, when it became more celebrated from an incident connected with Marmontel, the French poet. He was the child of very poor parents, but being very fond of study, he gave his life up to it. After contending with great difficulties, he obtained admittance into a college, and hearing of this annual challenge, resolved to enter the list of the Toulousian writers. He was very fond of his mother, and, for her sake, more than anything else, he determined to obtain the prize of the golden violet.
The hall was filled with the gentry, and the young students of the university were present. When the successful candidate was announced, the hall resounded with the sounds of music and the shouts of the audience.