Great was everybody's astonishment, as you may imagine. There was no mistaking him,—it was Willie, and no other.
Yes, really and truly. Now, how do you suppose he found his way over all those miles of unfamiliar country, straight to that chamber window? What guided him? Did he fly high or low? Probably not high; for his wings were unused to flying at all, and consequently not strong; but they bore him over woods and fields, over streets and people, over hundreds of houses, till at last his tired eyes beheld the tower and gables of his old dwelling-place rising from among the pleasant woods, and then he knew he might rest in safety.
But how could he find the way? Supposing birds to have means of communicating with each other by speech, how would he have put his questions, wishing to ask his way? Meeting a thrush, or sparrow, or any other dainty feathered creature, he might perhaps have hailed it with,—"Good morrow, comrade;" but he couldn't have said, "Can you tell me the way to Jamaica Plains?" or, "Do you know where the little girl lives to whom I belong? Her name is May, and she has golden hair; can you tell me how to find her?" Do you think he could? Yet he did find her, and until last summer, was still living in that pretty chamber among the green trees.
Some time, perhaps, we shall understand those things; but until then, Willie's journey must remain one of the mysterious incidents in natural history.
A RUNAWAY WHALE
By Captain O.G. Fosdick
"Now, boys," said Captain Daniel, "draw your skiff up beside the Greyhound, and I'll tell you a story of how I was once run away with by a whale."
We boys did as we were bid, drawing the skiff well up clear of the tideway. We clambered on board the Greyhound and, seating ourselves or the transom, waited for Captain Daniel to begin. Taking a match from his waistcoat pocket and lighting a long clay pipe, he spoke:
Along in the fifties I was cabin-boy on the whaling-ship Nimrod, Alarson Coffin, master. We were cruising on the coast of Brazil when, one day, the lookout, stationed at the masthead, reported a large school of sperm-whales off our lee-beam.
Captain Coffin, who had taken his spy-glass and gone aloft at the first cry from the masthead, ordered the boats lowered. As the men tumbled over one another to be first to reach the monsters, my young heart danced within me, and our old black steward had to hold me back, I was so anxious to go.