 25. In the winter of 1870-1871, Paris was closely besieged by the Germans, who had beaten one French army after another on the frontier and had now advanced into the very heart of the country. The cold was frightful and no wood could be got, and as if this was not enough, food began to give out, and the people inside the city soon learned to know the tortures of hunger. There was no hay or corn for the horses. After sheep and oxen, they were the first animals to be eaten. And then whispers were heard about elephants and camels and other beasts in the Jardins plant, which is the French name for the zoological gardens. Now it is quite bad enough to be taken from the forests and deserts where you never did anything but just what you chose, and to be shut up in a small cage behind bars. But it is still worse not to have enough food to eat and worst of all to be made into food for other people. Luckily the animals did not know what was being talked about in the world outside, or they would have been more uncomfortable than they were already. Any visitor to the Jardins plant about Christmas time in 1870 and for many weeks later would have seen a strange sight. Some parts of the gardens were set aside for hospitals and rows of beds occupied every sheltered building. Passing through these the visitor found himself in the kingdom of the beasts, who were often much more gentle than their jailers. After coming from the streets where nothing was the same as it had been six months before and everything was topsy turvy, it was almost soothing to watch the animals going on in their usual way. Quite regardless of what men might be doing outside, there was the white bear swinging himself from side to side and rubbing his nose against the bars just as he had done on the day that he had first taken up his abode here. There was a camel still asking for cakes and an elephant trumpeting with fury because it didn't get any. Nobody had cakes for themselves and it would have been far easier to place a gold piece in the trelling proboscis. An elephant who is badly fed is not a pretty spectacle. Its skin is so large that it seems as if it would take in at least three or four extra bodies and having only one shrunken skeleton to cover, it shivers up into huge wrinkles and looks like the earth after a dry summer. On the whole certain kinds of bears come off best for they can sleep all the winter through and when they wake up the world will seem the same as when they last shut their eyes and unless they are friend the white bear tells them in bear language all that has happened there will never be any divisor. Still it is not all the bears who are lucky enough to have the gift of sleep. Some remained broad awake and stood idly about in the corners of their dens not knowing how to get rid of the time that hung so heavily on their paws. What would they use for the big brown martin to go up to the top of his tree when there was no one to tickle his nose with a piece of bread at the end of a string? Why should his brother take the trouble to stand up on his hind legs when there was nobody to laugh and clap him? Only one very young bear indeed with bright eyes and yellow skin went on his own way regardless of spectators and he was busily engaged in looking at himself in a pail of water and putting on all sorts of little airs and graces from sheer admiration of his own beauty. Perhaps the most reputed of all were the lions for they do not know how to play and could only lie about and remember the days when towards sunset they crept towards the cool hill and waited till the antelopes came down for their evening drink and then ah then but that is only a memory. While stretched out close by is the poor lioness in the last stage of consumption and looking more like those half-starved fighting lions you see on royal courts of arms than a real beast. At such times most children would give anything to catch up the zoological gardens and carry them right away into the center of Africa and let out the beasts and make them happy and comfortable once more. But that was in the feeling of the little boy who had been taken by his mother to see the beasts as a treat for his birthday. At each cage they passed he came to a standstill and gazing at the animal with greedy eyes he said mother would you like to eat that? Every time his mother answered him no one eats these beasts my boy they are brought from countries a long way off and cost a great deal of money. The child was silent for a moment but at the sight of the zebra the elk or the little hyena his face brightened again and his voice might be heard pipping forth its old question mother would you like to eat that? It's a comfort to think that the horrid greedy boy was disappointed in his hopes whatever else he may have eaten the taste of lions and of bears is still strange to him for the siege of Paris came to an end at last and the animals were made happy as of old with their daily portions. End of section 25 recording by Sunil Goswami section 26 of the animal story book this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Susie White. Mr. Gully by Ms. Elspeth Campbell he was a herring gold and one of the largest I have ever seen he was beautiful to look at with his soft gray plumage never a feather of which was out of place of his character I will say nothing that can be best judged by reading the following truthful biography of my dove of the waters I cannot begin at the beginning of his youth which doubtless in every sense of the word was a stormy one I know nothing he had already acquired the wisdom or perhaps in his case slain us is a better word of years by the time that he came to us Gully was found one day in a field near our house in a very much exhausted condition he had probably come a long distance which he must have accomplished on foot as he was unable to fly owing to his wing having been pinioned he was very hungry and greedily bolted a small fish that we offered him and screamed for more we then turned him into the garden where he soon found a sheltered corner by our dining room window and went to sleep standing on one leg the other one he always kept tucked away so that was quite invisible next morning I came out to look for gully and feed him he had vanished I thought of the pond where I kept my goldfish 40 beautiful goldfish there sure enough was mr gully swimming about contentedly but where were the goldfish instead of the crystal clear pond was a pool of muddy water instead of 40 goldfish all that I could make out when mr gully had been chased away in the water given time to settle was one miserable little half-dead fish the only survivor of the 40 this was the first of gully's vestides to look at gully no one could believe him to be capable of hurting a fly he had the most lovely gentle brown eyes you ever saw and seemed more like a benevolent old professor than anything else he generally appeared to be half asleep or else sunning himself with a contented smile on his thoughtful countenance gully next took to killing the sparrows he was very clever at this when he had finished eating the sparrows were in the habit of appropriating the remnants of the feast this gully strongly disapproved of so when he had eaten as much as he wanted he retired behind a chair and waited till the sparrows were busy feasting then he would make a rush and seize the nearest offender he sometimes used to kill as many as from two to four sparrows a day in this manner the pigeons then took to coming to near his reach at first he was afraid of them and left them alone but the day came when a young fantail was foolish enough to take his airing on the terrace close to mr gully's nose this was too much for mr gully who pounced upon the unfortunate squeaker and slew him le petit vide de mishon and after this mr gully took the greatest delight in hunting these unfortunate birds and murdering them no pigeon was too large for him to attack i only just succeeded in saving the cock powder a giant among pigeons from an untimely death by coming up in time to drive mr gully away from his victim after this we decided to shut mr gully up we thought he would make a charming companion for the guinea pigs at that time i used to keep about 50 of various species in a hand run so to the guinea pigs gully was vanished at first the arrangement answered admirably gully behaved as nicely as possible for about a month and we were all congratulating ourselves on having found such a good way out of our difficulty when all at once his thirst for blood was roused afresh one day he murdered four guinea pigs and the next day three more of these unfortunate little beasts we then let him join the hens and ducks he had once constituted himself the leader of the latter every morning he would lead them down to a pond at the bottom of the fields a distance of about a quarter of a mile and every evening he would summon them around him and lead them home at his cry the ducks and drakes would come waddling up to him with loud quacks he used always to march in the most stately manner about two yards ahead of them of the cocks and hens gully deigned to take no notice on two occasions he made an exception to this rule of conduct on the first he and a hen had a dispute over the possession of a worm this dispute led to a fight of which gully was getting the best when the combatants were separated on the second occasion gully was accused of decapitating a hen no one saw him do it but it looked only two like his work he had a neat clean style one day he led his ducks to the pond as usual but in the evening they returned by themselves we came to the conclusion that the poor old bird must be dead we quite gave him up for lost and had mourned him for two or three weeks when what should we see one day but mr gully leading his ducks as usual to his favorite pond as if he had never been away where he had spent all the time he was absent remains a mystery to this day after this he remained with us some time during which he performed no new feet of valor with the exception of one fight which he had with a cat in this fight he had some feathers pulled out but ultimately succeeded in driving her off after giving her legs such a bite that she was lame for many a long day since then he has again disappeared will he ever return mysterious was his coming and mysterious his going end of section 26 section 27 of the animal storybook this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the animal storybook edited by Andrew Lang stories from Pliny how dogs love now there was living at Rome under the emperors Vespatian and Titus a day 69 to 81 a man called Pliny who gave up his life to the study of animals and plants he not only watched their habits for himself but he listened eagerly to all the travelers would tell him and sometimes happened to believe too much and wrote in his book things that were not true still there were a great many facts which he had found out for himself and the stories he tells about animals are of interest to everyone partly because it seems strange to think that dogs and horses and other creatures were just the same then as they are now the dogs that Pliny writes about lived in all parts of the Roman Empire and were as faithful and devoted to their masters as our dogs are to us one dog called Hercanus belonging to King Lycemicus one of the successors of Alexander the Great jumped onto the funeral pyre on which lay burning the dead body of his master and so did another dog at the burial of Hero of Syracuse but during the lifetime of Pliny himself a dog's devotion in the heart of Rome had touched even the Roman citizens ashamed though they generally were of showing their feelings it had happened that a plot against the life of Nero had been discovered and the chief conspirator Titus Sabinus by name was put to death together with some of his servants one of these men had a dog of which he was very fond and from the moment the man was thrown into prison the dog could not be persuaded to move away from the door at last there came a day when the man suffered the cruel death common in Rome for such offenses and was thrown down a steep flight of stairs where he broke his neck a crowd of Romans had gathered around the place of execution in order to see the site and in the midst of them all the dog managed to reach his master's side and lay there howling piteously then one of the crowd moved with pity through the dog a piece of meat but he only took it and laid it across his master's mouth by and by the men came for the body in order to throw it into the river Tiber and even then the dog followed and swam after it and held it up and tried to bring it to land till the people came out in multitudes from the houses round about to see what it was to be faithful unto death and beyond it end of section 27 recording by Marisol Cui section 28 of the animal storybook this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information not to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Chad Horner Balli Claire the animal storybook edited by Andrew Lang Kenyot Menagerie-Antime in the early part of this century a little boy of three years old Villofi Gautier traveled with his parents from Tabre in the south of France to Paris he was so small that he could not speak any proper French but talked like the country people and he divided the world into those who spoke like him and were his friends and those who did not and were strangers but though he was only three and a great baby in many ways he loved his home dearly and everything about it and it nearly broke his heart to come away his parents tried to comfort him by giving him the most beautiful chocolates and little cakes and when that failed they tried what trumps and trumpets would do but trumps and trumpets succeeded no better than cakes and chocolates for the greater part of Peauville's tears were shed for the dog he had left behind him called Kenyot which his father had given away to a friend as he did not think that any dog who had been accustomed to run along the hills and valleys above Tabre could ever make himself happy in Paris. Vill however did not understand this but cried for Kenyot all day long and one morning he could bear it no longer his nurse had put out all his 10 soldiers neatly on the table with a little German village surrounded by stiff green trees just in front of them hoping the Eauville might play at a battle or a siege and she had also placed his fiddle which was painted bright scarlet quite handy so that he might play the triumphal march of the victor. Nothing was of any use as soon as Josephine's back was turned the Eauville three soldiers and village and fiddle out of the window and then prepare to jump after them so that he might take the shortest way back to Tabre and Kenyot. Luckily just as his foot was on the cell Josephine came back from the next room and saw what he was about. She rushed after him and caught him by the jacket and then took him on her knee and asked him why he was going to do anything so naughty and dangerous. When the Eauville explained that it was Kenyot whom he wanted and must have and that nobody else mattered at all Josephine was so afraid he would try to run away again that she told him that he would only have patience and wait a little Kenyot would come to him. All day long the Eauville gave Josephine no peace. Every few minutes he came running to his nurse to know if Kenyot had arrived and he was only quieted when Josephine went out and returned carrying a little dog which in some ways was very like his beloved Kenyot. The Eauville was not quite satisfied at first till he remembered that Kenyot had travelled a long long way and it was not to be expected that he should look the same dog as when he started. So he put aside his doubts and knelt down to give Kenyot a great hug of welcome. The new Kenyot like the old was a lovely black puddle and had excellent manners besides being full of fun. He licked the Eauville on both cheeks and was altogether so friendly that he was ready to eat bread and butter off the same plate as his little master. The two got on beautifully and were perfectly happy for some time and then gradually Kenyot began to lose his spirits and instead of jumping and running about the world he moved slowly as if he was in pain. He breathed slowly and heavily and refused to eat anything and even the Eauville could see he was feeling ill. One day Kenyot was lying stretched out on his master's lap and the Eauville was softly stroking his skin when suddenly his hand caught in what seemed to be string or strong thread. In great surprise Josephine was at once called to explain the strange matter. She stooped down and peered closely at the dog's skin then took her scissors and cut the thread. Kenyot stretched herself gave a shake and jumped down from the Eauville's lap leaving a sort of black sheepskin behind him. Some wicked men had sewn him up in this coat so that they might get more money for him and without it he was not a puddle at all but just an ugly little street dog without beauty of any kind. After helping to eat the Eauville's bread and butter and soup for some weeks Kenyot began to grow fatter and his outside skin became too tight for him and he was nearly suffocated. Once delivered from it he shook his ears for joy and danced a waltz of his own round the room not caring a straw how ugly he might be as long as he was comfortable. A very few weeks spent in the society of Kenyot made the memory of Tobre and its mountains go dim in the mind of the Eauville. He learned French and forgot the way the country people talked and soon he had become thanks to Kenyot such a thorough little Parisian that he would not have understood what his old friends said if one of them had spoken to him. End of section 28 recording by Chad Horner, Ballet Claire. Section 29 of the Animal Story Book. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Paula Messina. The Animal Story Book edited by Andrew Lang. Still Waters Run Deep or The Dancing Dog by Theo Phil Gotier. Menagerie and Team. When little Theo Phil became big Theo Phil he was as fond as ever of dogs and cats and he knew more about them than anybody else. After the death of a large white spaniel called Luther he felt a vacant place on his rug by another of the same breed to whom he gave the name of Zamor. Zamor was a little dog as black as ink except for two yellow patches over his eyes and a stray patch on his chest. He was not in the least handsome and no stranger would ever have given him a second thought. But when you came to know him you found Zamor was not a common dog at all. He despised all women and absolutely refused to obey them or to follow them and neither Theo Phil's mother nor his sisters could get the smallest sign of friendship from him. If they offered him cakes or sugar he would accept them in a dignified manner but never dreamed of saying thank you. Still less of wagging his tail on the floor or giving little yaps of delight and gratitude as well brought up dogs should do. Even to Theo Phil's father whom he liked better than anyone else he was cold and respectful though he followed him everywhere and never left his master's heels when they took a walk and when they were fishing together Zamor would sit silent on the bank for hours together and only allowed himself one bark when the fish was safely cooked. Now no one could possibly have guessed that a dog of such very quiet and reserved manners was at heart as gay and cheerful as the silliest kitten that ever was born but so he was and this was how his family found it out. One day he was walking as seriously as usual through a broad square in the outskirts of Paris. When he was surprised at meeting a large gray donkey with two panniers on its back and in the panniers a troop of dogs some dressed as Swiss shepherdesses some as turks some in full court costume the owner of the animals stopped the donkey close to where Zamor was standing and bade the dogs jump down then he cracked his whip the fife and drum struck up a merry tune the dogs steady themselves on their hind legs and the dance began Zamor looked on as if he had been turned into stone the sight of these dogs dressed in bright colors this one with his head covered by a feathered hat and that one by a turban but all moving about in time to the music and making pirouettes and little bows were they really dogs he was watching or some new kind of men anyway he had never seen anything so enchanting or so beautiful and if it was true that they were only dogs well he was a dog too with that thought all that had lain hidden in Zamor's soul burst forth and when the dancers filed gracefully before him he raised himself on his hind legs and in spite of staggering a little prepared to join the ring to the great amusement of the spectators the dog owner however whose name was Monchure Corey did not see matters in the same light he raised his whip a second time and brought it down with a crack on the sides of Zamor who ran out of the ring and with his tail between his legs and an air of deep thought he returned home all that day Zamor was more serious and more gloomy than ever nothing would tempt him out hardly even his favorite dinner and it was quite plain that he was turning over something in his mind but during the night his two young mistresses were awakened by a strange noise that seemed to come from an empty room next theirs whereas Zamor usually slept they both lay awake and listened and thought it was like a measured stamping and that the mice might be giving a ball but could little mice feet tread so heavily as that supposing a thief had got in so the bravest of the two girls got up and stealing to the door softly opened it and looked into the room and what do you think she saw why Zamor on his hind legs his paws in the air practicing carefully the steps that he had been watching that morning this was not as one might have expected a mere fancy of the moment which would be quite forgotten the next day Zamor was too serious a dog for that and by dint of hard study he became in time a beautiful dancer as often as the fife and drum were heard in the streets Zamor rushed out of the house glided softly between the spectators and watched with absorbed attention the dancing dogs who were doing their steps but remembering the blow he had had from the whip he took care not to join them he noted their positions the figures the way they held their bodies and in the night he copied them though by day he was just as solemn as ever soon he was not contented with merely copying what he saw he invented for himself and it is only just to say that in statelyness of step few dogs could come up to him often his dancers were witnessed unknown to himself by the off field and his sisters who watched him through the crack of the door and so earnest was he that at length worn out by dancing he would drink up the whole of a large basin of water which stood in the corner of the room when Zamor felt himself the equal of the best of the dancing dogs he began to wish that like them he might have an audience now in France the houses are not always built in a row as they are in England but sometimes have a square courtyard in front and in the house where Zamor lived this court was shut in on one side by an iron railing which was wide enough to let dogs of a slim figure squeeze through one fine morning there met in this courtyard fifteen or twenty dogs friends of Zamor to whom the night before he had sent letters of invitation the object of the party was to see Zamor make his debut in dancing and the ballroom was to be the courtyard which Zamor had carefully swept with his tail the dance began and the spectators were so delighted that they could not wait for the end to applaud as people ought always to do but uttered loud cries of wow that reminded you of the noises you hear at a theater except one old water spaniel who was filled with envy at Zamor's talents and declared that no decent dog would ever make an exhibition of himself like that they all vowed that Zamor was the king of dancers and that nothing had ever been seen to equal his minuet jig and walls for grace and beauty it was only during his dancing moments that Zamor unbent at all other times he was as gloomy as ever and never cared to stir from the rug unless he saw his old master take up his hat and stick for a walk of course if he had chosen he might have joined monstier quarry's troop of which he would have made the brightest ornament but the love of his master proved greater than his love of his art and he remained unknown except of his family in the end he fell a victim to his passion for dancing and he died of brain fever which is supposed to have been caused by the fatigue of learning the shottish the fashionable dance of the day reader polymosina section 29 of the animal storybook this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org section 30 of the animal storybook this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Lynn Jarrow the animal story book edited by Andrew Lang Theo and his horses Jane Betsy and Blanche by Seophile Gautier from Menagerine team after Seophile grew to be a man he wrote a great many books which are all delightful to read and everybody bought them and Seophile got rich and thought he might give himself a little carriage with two horses to draw it and first he fell in love with two dear little Shetland ponies who were so shaggy and hairy that they seemed all mean and tail and whose eyes looked so affectionately at him that he felt as if he should like to bring them into the drawing room instead of sending them to the stable they were charming little creatures not a bit shy and they would come and poke their noses into Seophile's pockets in search for sugar which was always there indeed their only fault was that they were so very very small and that after all was not their fault still they looked more suited to an English child of eight years old or to Tom Thumb than to a French gentleman of 40 not so thin as he once was and as they all passed through the streets everybody laughed and drew pictures of them and declared that Seophile could easily have carried a pony on each arm and the carriage on his back now Seophile did not mind being laughed at but still he did not always want to be stared at all through the streets whenever he went out so he sold his ponies and began to look out for something near his own size after a short search he found two of a dappled gray color stout and strong and as like each other is two peas and he called them Jane and Betsy but although to look at no one could ever tell one from the other their characters were totally different as Jane was very bold and spirited and Betsy was terribly lazy while Jane did all the pulling Betsy was quite contented to just run by her side without troubling herself in the least and as was only natural Jane did not think this at all fair and took a great dislike to Betsy which Betsy heartily returned at last matters became so bad that in their efforts to get at each other they have kicked the stable to pieces and would even rear themselves upon their hind legs in order to bite each other's faces. Seophile did all he could to make them friends but nothing was of any use and at last he was forced to sell Betsy the horse he found to replace her was a shade lighter in color and therefore not quite so good a match but luckily Jane took to her at once and lost no time in doing the honors of the stable. Every day the affection between the two became greater. Jane would lay her head on Blanche's shoulder. She had been called Blanche because of her fair skin and when they were turned out into the stable yard after being rubbed down they played together like two kittens. If one was taken out alone the other became sad and gloomy till the well-known tread of its friends hoofs was heard from afar when it would give a joyful nay which was instantly answered. Never once was it necessary for the coachmen to complain of any difficulty in harnessing them. They walked themselves into their proper places and behaved in all ways as if they were well brought up and ready to be friendly with everybody. They had all kinds of pretty little ways and if they thought there was a chance of getting bread or sugar or melon rind which they both loved they would make themselves as caressing as a dog. Jane is surrounded by imaginary ghosts and monsters. Blanche telling ghost stories to Jane in the stable. Nobody who has lived much with animals can doubt that they talked together in a language that man is too stupid to understand or if anyone had doubted they would soon have been convinced of the fact by the conduct of Jane and Blanche when in harness. When Jane first made Blanche's acquaintance she was afraid of nothing. But after they had been together a few months her character gradually changed and she had sudden panics and nervous fits which puzzled her master greatly. The reason of this was that Blanche, who was very timid and easily frightened, passed most of the night in telling Jane ghost stories till poor Jane learnt to tremble at every sound. Often when they were driving in the lonely alleys of Duwad Boulogne after dark, Blanche would come to a dead stop or shy to one side as if a ghost which no one else could see stood before her. She breathed loudly, trembled all over with fear and broke out into a cold perspiration. No efforts of Jane strong though she was could drag her along. The only way to move her was for the coachman to dismount and to lead her with his hand over her eyes for a few steps till the vision seemed to have melted into air. In the end these terrors affected Jane just as if Blanche on reaching the stable had told her some terrible story of what she had seen and even her master had been known to confess that when driving by moonlight down some dark road where the trees cast strange shadows, Blanche would suddenly come to a dead halt and begin to tremble. He did not half like it himself. With this one drawback, never were animals so charming to drive. If Seophile held the reins, it was really only for the look of the thing and not in the least because it was necessary. The smallest click of the tongue was enough to direct them, to quicken them, to make them go to the right or to the left or even to stop them. They were so clever that in a very short time they had learned all their master's habits and knew his daily haunts as well as he did himself. They would go of their own accord to the newspaper office, to the printing office, to the publishers, to the Bois de Boulogne, to certain houses where he dined on certain days in the week, so very punctually that it was quite provoking. And if it ever happened that Seophile spent longer than usual at any particular place, they never failed to call his attention by loud nays or by pying the ground, sounds of which he quite well knew the meaning. But alas, the time came when a revolution broke out in Paris. People had no time to buy books or to read them. They were far too busy in building barricades across the streets or in tearing up the paving stones, to throw at each other the newspaper in which Seophile wrote and which paid him enough money to keep his horses did not appear any more. And sad though he was at parting, the poor man thought he was lucky to find someone to buy horses, carriage, and harness for a fourth part of their worth. Tears stood in his eyes as they were led away to their new table, but he never forgot them. And they never forgot him. Sometimes, as he sat writing at his table, he would hear from afar a light quick step, and then a sudden stop under the windows. And their old master would look up and sigh and say to himself, poor Jane, poor Blanche, I hope they are happy. End of chapter 30, recording by Lynn Jarrow. Section 31 of the Animal Storybook. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Tanya Kaye. The Animal Storybook edited by Andrew Lang. Madame Teophile and the parrot. After the death of Kanyot, whose story you may have read, Teophile was so unhappy that he would not have another dog, but instead determined to fill the empty place in his heart with cats. One of those that he loved the best was a big yellowy red puss with a white chest, a pink nose, and blue eyes that went by the name of Madame Teophile, because when he was in the house it never left his side for a single instant. It slept on his bed, dreamed while sitting on the arm of Teophile's chair while he was writing, for Teophile was by this time almost a grown-up man, walked after him when he went into the garden, sat by his side while he had his dinner, and sometimes took gently and politely the food he was conveying to his own mouth. One day a friend of Teophile's, who was leaving Paris for a few days, brought a parrot, which he begged Teophile to take care of while he was away. The bird not feeling at home in the strange place, climbed up to the cup of his cage, and looked around him with his funny eyes that reminded you of the nails in the sofa. Now Madame Teophile had never seen a parrot, and it was plain that this curious creature gave her a shock. She sat quite still, staring quietly at the parrot, and trying to think if she had ever seen anything like it among the gardens and roofs of the houses where she got all her ideas of the world. At last she seemed to make up her mind. Of course it must be a kind of green chicken. Having sat the question at rest, Madame Teophile jumped down from the table where she had been seated while she made her observations, and walked quickly to the corner of the room, where she laid herself flat down with her head bent and her paws stretched out, like a panther watching his prey. The parrot followed all her movements with his round eyes, and felt that they meant no good to him. He ruffled his feathers, pulled at his chain, lifted one of his paws in a nervous way, and rubbed his beak up and down his food tin. All the while the cat's blue eyes were talking in a language the parrot clearly understood. And they said, although it is green, that fowl would make a nice dinner. But Madame Teophile had not lain still all this while. Slowly, without even appearing to move, she had drawn closer and closer. Her pink nostrils trembled, her eyes were half shut, her claws were pushed out and pulled into their sheets, and little shivers ran down her back. Suddenly her back rounded itself like a bow, and with one bound she leapt on the cage. The parrot knew his danger and was too frightened to move. Then, calling up all his courage, he looked his enemy fool in the face, and in a low and deep voice he put the question, Jackie, did you have a good breakfast? This simple phrase struck terror into the heart of the cat who made a spring backwards. If a cannon had been fired close to her ear, or a shop full of glass had been broken, she could not have been more alarmed. Never had she dreamed of anything like this. And what did you have, some of the king's roast beef? continued the parrot. It is not a chicken, it is a man that is speaking. Thought the cat with amazement, and looking at her master, was standing by, she retired under the bed. Madame Tew feel new when she was beaten. Section 32 of the Animal Story Book This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org recording by Campbell Shelp. The Animal Story Book, edited by Andrew Ling. Chapter 32 The Battle of the Mullets and the Dolphins by Mrs. Ling Many singular stories may be found in Pliny, but the most interesting is how men and dolphins combine together on the coast of France, near Narbonne, to catch the swarms of mullet that come into those waters at certain seasons of the year. In Lenguidoc, within the province of Narbonne, there is a standing pool or dead water called Flotera, wherein men and dolphins together used to fish. For at one certain time of the year an infinite number of fishes called mullets, taking the vantage of the tide when the water doth ebb, at certain narrow weirs and passages, with great force break forth the said pool into the sea. And by reason of that violence no nets can be set and pitched against them strong enough to abide and bear their huge weight in the stream of the water together. If so, be men were not cunning and crafty to wait and to spy their time and lay for them and to entrap them. And like manor, the mullets for their part immediately make speed to recover the deep, which they do very soon by reason that the channel is near at hand, and their only haste is for this, to escape and pass that narrow place which affordeth opportunities to the fishers to stretch out and spread their nets. The fishermen being where thereof and all the people besides, for the multitude knowing when fishing time is come, run thither, and the rather for to see the pleasant sport, cry as loud as ever they can to the dolphins for age and call Simo, Simo, to help to make an end of this their game and past time of fishing. The dolphins soon get the ear of their cry and know what they would have, and the better if the North winds blow and carry the sound unto them. For if it be a Southern wind, it is later ere the voice be heard, because it is against them. How be it, be the wind in what quarter soever, the dolphins resort thither flock meel, sooner than a man would think, for to assist them in their fishing, and the wondrous pleasant sight it is to behold the squadrons as it were of those dolphins, how quickly they take their places and be arranged in battle array, even against the very mouth of the said pool, where the mullets are to shoot into the sea. To see, I say, how from the sea they oppose themselves and fight against them and drive the mullets, once frightened and scared, from the deep on the shelves. Then come the fishers and beset them with net and toil, which they bear up and fortify with strong forks. How be it, for all that, the mullets are so quick and nimble that a number of them whip over, get away, and escape the nets. But the dolphins are ready to receive them, who, contenting themselves for the present to kill only, make foul work and havoc among them, and put off the time of praying and feeding upon, until they have ended the battle and achieved the victory. And now the skirmish is hot, for the dolphins, perceiving also the men at work, are the more eager and courageous in fight, taking pleasure to be enclosed within the nets, and so most valiantly charging upon the mullets. But for fear less the same should give an occasion unto the enemies and provoke them to retire and fly back between the boats, the nets, and the men they're swimming. They glide by so gently and easily that it cannot be seen where they get out. And albeit they take great delight in leaping, and have the cast of it, yet none essayeth to get forth but where the nets lie under them. But no sooner are they out, but presently a man shall see brave past time between them as they scuffle and skirmish as it were under the ramparts. And so the conflict being ended and all the fishing sport done, the dolphins fall to spoil and eat those which they killed in the first shock and encounter. But after this service performed, the dolphins retire not presently into the deep again, from once they were called, but stay until tomorrow, as if they knew very well they had so carried themselves as that they deserved a better reward than one day's refection and victuals, and therefore contented they are not and satisfied unless to their fish they have some sops and crumbs of bread given them soaked in wine, and had their bellies full. End of Section 32. Section 33 of the Animal Storybook. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Marilyn Rakes. The Animal Storybook. Edited by Andrew Lang. Chapter 33. Monkey Stories. By Mrs. Lang. Monkey Stories. Before telling you more stories about monkeys, we must tell you some dry facts about them, in order that you may understand the stories. There are three different kinds of monkeys, apes, baboons, and monkeys proper. The difference is principally in their tails, so that when you see them at the zoo, for there are none wild in Europe except at Gibraltar, you will know them by the apes having no tails and walking upright, baboons have short tails and go on all fours, and monkeys have tails some time larger than their whole bodies, by which they can swing themselves from tree to tree. Apes and monkeys are so ready to imitate everything which men do, that the Negroes believe that they are a lazy race of men, who will not be at the trouble to work. Baboons, on the contrary, can be taught almost nothing. There are two kinds of apes, called Oran otans and chimpanzees. They are both very wild and fierce and difficult to catch, but when caught become not only tame, but very affectionate, and can be taught anything. Nearly two hundred years ago, in 1698, one was brought to London that had been caught in Angola. On board ship he became very fond of the people who took care of him, and was very gentle and affectionate, but would have nothing to do with some monkeys who were on the same ship. He had had a suit of clothes made for him, probably to keep him warm. As the ship got into colder regions, he took great pleasure in dressing himself in them, and anything he could not put on for himself he used to bring in his paw to one of the sailors, and seemed to ask him to dress him. He had a bed to sleep in, and at night used to put his head on the pillow and tuck himself in like a human being. His story is unfortunately a short one, for he died soon after coming to London. He could not long survive the change from his native forest to the cage of a menagerie. 2 Oran otans Another, a female, was brought to Holland nearly a hundred years later, in 1776, but she too pined and died after seven months' captivity. She was very gentle and affectionate, and became so fond of her keeper that when they left her alone she used to throw herself on the ground screaming, and tearing in pieces anything in her reach, just like a naughty child. She could behave as well as any lady in the land when she liked. When asked out to tea, she used to bring a cup and saucer, put sugar in the cup, pour out the tea, and leave it to cool, and at dinner her manners were just as good. She used her knife and fork, table napkin, and even toothpick, as if she had been accustomed to them all her life, which, of course, in her native forest was far from being the case. She learned all her nice habits either from watching people at table or from her keeper's orders. She was fond of strawberries, which she ate very datally on a fork, holding the plate in the other hand. She was particularly fond of wine and drank it like a human being, holding the glass in her hand. She was better behaved than two other Oran otans, who, though they could behave as well at table as any lady, and could use their knives and forks and glasses, and could make the cabin boy, for it was on port ship, understand what they wanted, yet, if he did not attend to them at once, they used to throw him down, seize him by the arm, and bite him. A French priest had an Oran otan that he had brought up from a baby, and who was so fond of his master that he used to follow him about like a dog. When the priest went to church, he used to lock the Oran otan up in a room, but one day he got out, and as sometimes happens with dogs who cannot get reconciled to Sunday, he followed his master to church. He managed, without the priest seeing him, to climb on the sounding board above the pulpit, where he lay quite still till the sermon began. He then crept forward till he could see his master in the pulpit below, and imitated every one of his movements, till the congregation could not keep from laughing. The priest thought they were making fun of him, and was naturally very angry. The more angry he became, the more gestures he used, every one of which the ape overhead repeated. At last a friend of the priest stood up in the congregation and pointed out the real culprit. When the priest looked up and saw the imitation of himself, he could not keep from laughing either, and the service could not go on till the disturber had been taken down and locked up again at home. Another kind is called the Barbary ape, because they are found in such numbers in Barbary that the trees in places seem nearly covered with them, though there are quantities as well in India and Arabia. They are very mischievous and great fighters. In India the natives sometimes amuse themselves by getting up a fight among them. They put down, at a little distance from each other, baskets of rice, with stout sticks by each basket, and then they go off and hide themselves among the trees to watch the fun. The apes come down from the trees in great numbers, and make as though they were going to attack the baskets, but lose courage and draw back, grinning at each other. The females are generally the boldest, and the first to seize on the food. But as soon as they put their heads down to eat, some of the males set to to drive them off. Others attack them in their turn. They all seize on the sticks, and soon a free fight begins, which ends in the weakest being driven off into the woods, and the conquerors enjoying the spoil. They are not only fierce, but revengeful, and will punish severely any person who kills one of them. Some English people, who were driving through a country full of these apes in the East Indies, wished, out of sheer wantonness, to have one shot. The native servants, knowing what the consequences would be, were afraid, but as their masters insisted, they had to obey, and shot a female whose little ones were clinging to her neck. She fell dead from the branches, and the little ones, falling with her, were killed too. Immediately all the other apes, to the number of about sixty, came down and attacked the carriage. They would certainly have killed the travelers if the servants, of whom there was, fortunately, a number, had not driven the apes off, and though the carriage set off as fast as the horses could lay legs to the ground, the apes followed for three miles. The baboons, who stole the poor man's dinner. Baboons are as ugly, revolting creatures as you could wish to see, and very fierce, so they can seldom be tamed, nor even caught. There are, of course, few stories about them. When people try to catch them, they let their pursuers come so near, that they think they have them, and then they bound away ten paces at once, and looked down defiantly from the treetop, as much as to say, Don't you wish you may get me? One baboon had so weary his pursuers by his antics, that they pointed a gun at him, though with no intention of firing. He had evidently seen a gun before, and knew its consequences, and was so frightened at the bare idea that he fell down senseless, and was easily captured. When he came to himself again he struggled so fiercely that they had to tie his paws together, and then he bit so that they had to tie his jaws up. Baboons are great thieves, and come down from the mountains in great bodies to plunder gardens. They cram as much fruit as they possibly can into their cheek-pouches, to take away and eat afterwards at their leisure. They always set a sentinel to give the alarm. When he sees anyone coming, he gives a yell that lasts a minute, and then the whole troupe sets off helter-skelter. They will rob anyone they come upon alone in the most impudent way. They come softly up behind, snatch away anything they can lay their hands on, and then run off a little way and sit down. Very often it is the poor man's dinner that they devour before his eyes. Sometimes they will hold it out in their hands and pretend they are going to give it back, in such a comic way that I would defy you not to laugh. Though it were your own dinner that had been snatched away and then offered to you. Monkeys live in the treetops of the forests of India and South Africa, where they keep up a constant chattering and gambling, all night as well as all day, playing games and swinging by their tails from tree to tree. One kind, the four-fingered monkey, can pass from one high treetop to another, too far even for a monkey to jump by making themselves into a chain joined to each other by their tails. They can even cross rivers in this way. There are any number of different kinds of monkeys, as you can see any day in the monkey house at the zoo. One kind is well named the howling monkey, because they howl in chorus every morning two hours before daylight and again at nightfall. The noise they make is so fearful that if you did not know, you would think it was a forest full of ferocious beasts quite near, thirsting for their prey, instead of harmless monkeys a mile or two away. There is always a leader of the chorus who sits on a high branch above the others. He first howls a solo and then gives a signal for the others to join in. Then they all howl together, till he gives another signal to stop. The egret monkeys are great thieves. When they set to work to rob a field of millet, they put as many stocks as they can carry in their mouths, in each paw and under each arm, and then go off home on their hind legs. If pursued and obliged for greater speed to go on all their four legs, they drop what they carry in their paws, but never let go what they have in their mouths. The Chinese monkey is also a great thief, and even cleverer about carrying away his booty. They always set a sentinel on a high tree. When he sees anyone coming, he screams, whoop, whoop, whoop. The others then seize as much as they can carry in their right arm and set off on three legs. They are called Chinese, not because they come from China, but because the way their hair grows on their heads is like a Chinese cap. It is long and parts in the middle, spreading out all around. In many parts of India, monkeys are worshipped by the natives, and temples are erected for them. But monkeys of one tribe are never allowed to come into any of these sanctuaries when another tribe is already in possession. A large, strong monkey was once seen by some travelers to steal into one of these temples. As soon as the inhabitants saw that he did not belong to their tribe, they set on him to drive him out. As he was only one against many, though bigger and stronger than the others, he saw that he had no chance, and bounded up to the top eleven stories high. As the temple ended in a little round dome, just big enough for himself, he was master of the situation, and every monkey that ventured to climb up he flung down to the bottom. When this had happened three or four times, his enemies thought it best to let him alone, and he stayed there in peace till it was dark and he could slip away unseen. Recording by April 6,090, California, United States of America. Everybody knows how fond birds are of building their nests in church, and if we come to think of it, it is a very reasonable and sensible proceeding. Churches are so quiet, and have so many dark out-of-the-way corners, or no one would dream of poking, certainly not the woman whose business it is to keep the church clean. So the birds have the satisfaction of feeling that they're younger kept safe and warm, while they are collecting food for them, and there is always some open door or window to enable the parents to fly in or out. But all birds have not the wisdom of the robins and swallows and sparrows that they have selected the church for a home. And some of them have chosen very odd places indeed, wearing to build their nests and lay their eggs. Inches of doors, turning lathes, even the body of a dead owl hung to a ring, have all been used as nurseries. But perhaps the oddest spot of all to fix upon for a nest is the outside of a railway carriage, especially when we remember how often railway stations are the abode of cats, who move safely about the big wheels and even travel by train when they think it necessary. Yet in spite of all the drawbacks, railway carriages remain a favorite place for nesting birds, and there is a curious story of a pair of water wag-tails which built a snug home underneath a third-class carriage attached to a train that ran four times daily between Cosm and Havant. The father does not seem to have cared about railway traveling, which, to be sure, must appear a rich and way of getting about to anything that has wings, for he never went with the family himself but spent the time of their absence fluttering restlessly about the platform to which the train would return. He was so plainly anxious and unhappy about them that one would have expected that he would have insisted on some quieter and safer place the following year when nesting time came round again. But the mother apparently felt that the situation had some very distinct advantages, for she deliberately passed over every other spot that her mate pointed out, and went back to her third-class carriage. Yet a railway carriage seems safety itself in comparison with a London street lamp, where a fly catcher's nest was found a few years ago. Composed as it was of moss, hair, and dried grass, it is astonishing that it never caught fire, but no doubt the great heat of the gas was an immense help in hatching the five eggs which the birds had laid. Those fly catchers had built in a hollow iron ornament on the top of the lamp, but some tom-tits are actually known to have chosen such a dangerous place as the spot close to the burner of a paraffin street lamp. And even when the paraffin was exchanged for gas the birds did not seem to mind, and would sit calmly on the nest while the lamp-lighter thrust his long stick past them to put out the light. Birds reasoned in a different way from human beings, for a letterbox would not commend itself to us as being a very good place to bring up a family, with letters and packages tumbling onto their heads every instant. A pair of scotch-tom-tits, however, thought otherwise, and they made a comfortable little nest at the back of a private letterbox, nailed on to the trunk of a tree in Dumfershire. The postman soon found out what was going on, but he took great pains not to disturb them, for he was fond of birds, and was very curious to see what the tom-tits would do. What the tom-tits did was to go peacefully on with their nest, minding their own business, and by and by ate little eggs lay in the nest. By this time the mother had got so used to the postman that she never even moved when he unlocked the door, only giving his hand a friendly peck when he put it in to take out the letters, and occasionally accepting some crumbs which he held out to it. But no sooner did the little birds break through their shells than the parents became more difficult to deal with. They did not mind knocks from letters for themselves, but they grew furiously angry if the young ones ever were touched by so much as a corner, and one day when a letter happened to fall plump on top of the nest, they tore it right to pieces. In fact it was in such a condition that when the postman came as usual to make his collection, he was obliged to take the letter back to the people who had written it, for no post office would have sent it off in such a state. End of section 34 to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Animal Story Book, edited by Andrew Leng. The Ship of the Desert from Burkart's Troubles in Nubia. Of all animals under the sun, perhaps the very ugliest is the camel. With life in the deserts of Africa and Arabia could not go on at all without the constant presence of this clumsy looking creature. Some African tribes keep camels entirely for the use of their milk and flesh, and it is noticeable that these animals are much shyer and more timid than their brothers in Syria and Arabia, who will instantly come trotting up to any fresh camel that appears on the scene, or obey the call of any Bedouin, even if he is a stranger. In general, the camel is merely employed as a beast of burden, and from this he gets his name of the ship of the desert. Like other ships, he sways from side to side, and his awkward motion is apt to make his rider feel very sick, till he gets accustomed to this way of traveling. Camels are wonderfully strong and enduring animals, and can stow up water within them for several days, besides having an extraordinary power of smelling any water or spring that is far beyond the reach of man s eyes. These qualities are naturally very valuable in the burning deserts, which stretch unbroken for hundreds of miles, where everything looks alike, and the sun, as he passes across the heaven, is the traveler s only guide. Partly from fear of warlike tribes, which wander through the deserts of Arabia and Nubia, and partly from the help and protection which a large body can give but one to the other, it is the custom for merchants and travelers to band together and travel in great caravans of men and camels. They try if possible to find some well by which they can encamp, and every man fills his own skins with water before starting afresh on his journey. More quarrels arise about water than people who live in countries with plenty of streams and rivers can have any idea of. One man will sell his skinful to another at a very high price, while if a traveler thinks he will be very prudent and lay in a large store, the rest are certain to take it from him directly their own supply runs short. Food they can do without on those burning plains, but not water. Some of these misfortunes befell a traveler of the name of Burkhardt, who left Switzerland in the opening years of this century to pass several years in Africa and the east. After going through Syria he began to make his way up the Nile, and even penetrated as far as Nubia, joining for that purpose a caravan of traders under the leadership of a Abadeh, an Arab race who from the earliest days have been acknowledged to be the best guides across the desert. Owing to the intense heat which prevails in those countries, the marches always take place in the small hours of the morning. A midnight seems to have been the usual hour for the start. Very commonly the march would continue for eleven hours, during which time the men were only allowed to drink twice, while the asses who with the camels for part of the caravan were put on half their allowance. Sometimes the detachment was sent on to wells that were known to lie along the route to get everything ready for the rest when they came up, but it often happened that the springs were so choked up by drifting sand that no amount of digging would free them. Then there was nothing for it but to go on again. It's in the month of March that Burkhard and his companions had their hardest experience of the dreadful desert thirst. The year had been drier than was common even in Nubia, and even in the little oasis or fertile spots most of the trees in Acacias were withered and dead. Hour after hour the travelers toiled on, and soon the asses gave out and their riders were forced to walk over the scorching sand. Burkhard had been a little more careful of his stock of water than the other members of the caravan, and for some days had cooked no food or eaten anything but biscuits so that he had been able to spare a draught every now and then for his own ass. It still had enough to last both of them for another day. However it was quite clear that unless water was quickly found they must all die together, and a council was held as to what was best to be done. The Abadei chief's advice was and always had been to send out a company of ten or twelve of the strongest camels to try to make their way secretly to the Nile, through the ranks of unfriendly Arab tribes encamped all along its eastern shore. This was agreed upon. In about four in the afternoon the little band set out, loaded with all the skins in the caravan. The river was a ride of five or six hours distant so that many hours of dreadful suspense must pass before the watchers left behind could know what was to be their fate. Soon after sunset a few stragglers came in who had strayed from the principal band, but they had not reached the river and could give no news of the rest. As the night wore on several of the traders came to Burkhart to beg for a taste of the water he was believed to have stored up, but he had carefully hidden what remained and only showed them his skins which were empty. Then the camp gradually grew silent and all sat and waited under the stars for the verdict of life or death. It was three in the morning when shouts were heard and the camels, refreshed by deep droughts of the Nile water, came along at their utmost speed bearing skins full enough for many days' journey. Only one man was missing, but traders are a cruel race and these cared nothing about his fate, giving themselves up to feasting and song and joy at their deliverance. Yet only a year later the fate that had almost overtaken them befell a small party of merchants who set out with their camels from Berber to Dharo. The direct road which led past the wells of Najim was known to be haunted at that date by the celebrated robber Niamh, who way-laid every caravan from Berber. So the merchants hired a body guide to take them by a longer and more easternly road where there was another well at which they could water. Luckily the guide knew nothing of the country that lay beyond and the whole party soon lost themselves in the mountains. For five days they wandered about, not seeing a creature who could give them help, or even direct them to the right path. Then their water being quite exhausted, they turned steadily westwards, hoping by this mean soon to reach the Nile. But the river at this point takes a wide bend and was, if they had known it, further from them than before. And after two days of dreadful agony, fifteen slaves and one merchant died. In desperation another merchant, who was in Abadi, an owner of ten camels, had himself lashed firmly onto the back of the strongest beast, lest in his weakness he should fall off, and then ordered the whole herd to be turned loose, thinking that perhaps the instinct of the animals would secede where the knowledge of man had failed. But neither the Abadi nor his camels were ever seen again. The merchants struggled forwards, and eight days after leaving the well of Oarek, they arrived inside of some mountains which they knew. But it was too late, and camels and merchants sank down helpless where they lay. They had just strength to gasp out orders for two of their servants to make their way on camels to the mountains where water would be found. But long before the mountains were reached, one of the men dropped off his camel and unable to speak, waved his hands and farewell to his comrade. The other mechanically rode on, but his eyes grew dim and his head dizzy, and well though he knew the road, he suffered his camel to wander from it. After stray aimlessly for some time he dismounted and lay down in the shade of a tree to rest, first tying his camel to one of the branches. But a sudden puff of wind brought the smell of water to the camel's nostrils, and with a furious bound he broke the noose and galloped violently forward, and in half an hour was sucking in deep droughts from a clear spring. The man understanding the meaning of the camel's rush rode up and staggered a few steps after him, but fell to the ground from sheer weakness. Just at that moment a wandering Bedouin from a neighboring camp happened to pass that way, and seeing that the man still breathed, dashed water in his face, and soon revived him. Then laden with skins of water, the two men set out for those left behind, and hopeless though their search seemed to be, they found they had arrived in time and were able to save them from a frightful death. End of section 35. Section 36 of the Animal Story Book This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by April 6090, California, United States of America. The Animal Story Book, edited by Andrew Lange Hame, Hame, Hame, or I Fain Wad B., by Mrs. Lange Hame, Hame, Hame, or I Fain Wad B., nothing in nature is more curious or more difficult of explanation than the stories recorded of animals conveyed to one place, finding their way back to their old home, often many hundreds of miles away, not very long ago, a lady at St. Andrew's promised to make you present to a friend who lived somewhere north of Earth, of a fine cat which she wished to part with. When the day arrived, the cat was tied safely up in a hamper, put in charge of the guard, and sent on its way. It was met at the station by its new mistress, who drove it home, and gave it an excellent supper and a comfortable bed. This was on Friday. All Saturday it poked about examining everything as cats will, but apparently quite happy and content with its quarters. About seven on Sunday morning, as the lady drew up her blind to let in the sunshine, she saw the new puss trotting down the avenue. She did not pay much attention to the fact till the day went on, and the cat, who generally had a good appetite, did not come in to its meals. When Monday came, but the puss did not, the lady wrote to her friend at St. Andrew's saying she feared that the cat had wandered away, but she would make inquiries to all the houses round, and she spoke to find it. On Tuesday evening loud news were heard outside the kitchen door of the St. Andrew's house, and when it was opened in walked the cat, rather dirty and very hungry, but otherwise not at all the worse for wear. Now, as anybody can see if he looks at the map, it is a long way from St. Andrew's to Perth, even as the crow flies. There are also two big rivers which must be crossed, the Tay and the Eden, or if the cat preferred coming by train, at least two changes have to be made. So you have to consider whether granting it an instinctive direction, which is remarkably not in itself. The animal was sufficiently strong to swim such large streams, or whether it was so clever that it managed to find out the proper trains for it to take, and the places where it must get out. Anyway, home it came, and was only two days on the journey, and there it is still in St. Andrew's, for its mistress had not the heart to give it away a second time. Trains seem to have a special fascination for cats, and they are often to be seen about stations. For a long while one was regularly to be seen traveling on the metropolitan line between St. James's Park and Charing Cross, and a whole family of half-wild kittens are at this moment making a playground of the lines and platforms at Paddington. One will curl up quite comfortably on the line right under the wheel of a carriage that is just going to start, and on being disturbed. Bolts away and hides itself in some recess underneath the platform. Occasionally you see one with part of its tail cut off, but as a rule they take wonderfully good care of themselves. The porters are very kind to them, and they somehow contrive to get along, for they all look fat and well-looking and quite happy in their strange quarters. Of course cats are not the only animals who have what is called the homing instinct. Sheep have been known to find their way back from Gorkshire to the Moors, north of the Shevoys, where they were born and bred, although sheep are not clever beasts, and they had come a roundabout journey by train. But there are many such stories of dogs, and one of the most curious is told by an English officer, who was in Paris in the year 1815. One day as the officer was walking hastily over the bridge he was annoyed by a muddy poodle dog rubbing up against him, and dirtying his beautifully polished boots. Now dirty boots were his abhorrence, so he hastily looked around for a shoe-black, and seeing one at a little distance off at once went up to him to have his boots reblacked. A few days later the officer was again crossing the bridge when he second time the poodle brushed against him and spoiled his boots. Without thinking he made for the nearest shoe-black, just as he had done before, and went on his way. But when the same thing happened a third time his suspicions were aroused, and he resolved to watch. In a few minutes he saw the dog run down to the riverside and roll himself in the mud, and then come back to the bridge and keep a sharp lookout for the first well-dressed man who would be likely to repay his trouble. The officer was so delighted with the poodle's cleverness that he went at once to the shoe-black who confessed that the dog was his and that he had taught him this trick for the good of trade. The officer then proposed to buy the dog, and offered the shoe-black such a large sum that he agreed to part with his breadwinner. So the officer, who was returning at once to England, carried the dog by coach and steamer to London, where he tied him up for some time, in order that he should forget all about his old life and be ready to make himself happy in the new one. When he was set free, however, the poodle seemed restless and ill at ease, and after two or three days he disappeared entirely. What he did then nobody knows, but a fortnight after he had left the London house he was found steadily plying his old trade on the Pont-Henry-Quatre. A Northumbrian porter showed a still more wonderful instance of the same sagacity. He was the property of one Mr. Edward Cook, who after paying a visit to his brother, the owner of a large property in Northumberland, set sail for America, taking the dog with him. They travelled south together as far as Baltimore, where excellent shooting was to be got, but after one or two days' sport the dog disappeared, and was supposed to have lost itself in the woods. Months went by without anything being known of the dog. When one night a dog was heard howling violently outside the quiet Northumberland house. It was admitted by the owner, Mr. Cook, who to his astonishment recognized it as the pointer which his brother had taken to America. They took care of him till his master came back, and then they tried to trace out his journey. But it was of no use how the pointer made it its way through the forest, from what port it started and where it landed, remained a mystery to this day. Mrs. Lange However wonderful and beautiful nests may be, very few English people would like to eat them. Yet in China the nest of a particular variety of swallow is prized as a great delicacy. These nests are chiefly gathered from Java, Sumatra, and other islands of the Meilay archipelago, and are carried fence to China, where they fetch a large price. Although within certain limits they are very plentiful, they are very difficult and dangerous to get, for the swallows build in the depths of large and deep caverns, mostly on the seashore, and the men have to be let down from above by ropes or descend on ladders of bamboo. In Java so many men have lost their lives in nest gathering, that in some parts a regular religious ceremony is held, twice or three times a year before the expedition is undertaken. Prayers are said and a bull is sacrificed. It is not easy to know what the nests are really made of, because from the time that Europeans first noticed the trade about 200 years ago they have differed among themselves in their accounts of the jelly-like substance used by the swallows. Some naturalists have thought it is the spawn of the fish which floats thickly on the surface of these seas. Others that it is a kind of deposit of dried sea foam gathered by the birds from the beach, while others again think that the substance is formed of sea plants chewed by the birds into a jelly. But whatever it may be the Chinese infinitely prefer nests to oysters or anything else, and are willing to pay highly for them. The nests which take about two months to build are always found to be of two sorts, an oblong one just fitted to the body of the male bird, and a rounder one for the mother and her eggs. The most valuable nests are those which are whitest, and these generally belong to the male. They are very thin and finely worked. The birds are small and feed chiefly on insects, which are abundant on these islands. Their color is gray and they are wonderfully quick in their movements, like the hummingbirds, which are about their own size. They are sociable and build in swarms, but they seldom lay more than two eggs, which take about a fortnight to hatch. End of Section 37. Recording by narrator Jay Section 38 of the Animal Story Book. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by April 690, California, United States of America. The Animal Story Book, edited by Andrew Lang. Fire Eating Digijom. Some curious notes about walking unharmed through fire. In the November 1894 number of Longman's magazine, under the heading at the sign of the ship, suggested that a record might be kept of Digijom's eccentricities, especially as they differed somewhat from those of most other dogs. Anyone accustomed to animals knows, and anyone who is not can imagine, that dogs differ as much in their behavior and ways as human beings. Digijom was as unlike any dog I have ever had, seen or heard of, as could be. My wife, who is a patient and successful instructor of animals, never managed to teach him anything, any attempt to impart usual or unusual accomplishments being met with the most absolute, impenetrable idiocy, which no perseverance could conquer or diminish in the least degree. That this extreme stupidity was really assumed is now pretty clear, though at the time it was attributed to natural density. It was at Christmas Tide about two years ago that my wife and I drove over to a village some few miles away to choose one of a litter of four fox-chirrier pucks, which we heard were on sale at a livery stable. We found the mother of the lively litter almost overpowered by her boisterous progeny, who, though nearly three months old, had not yet found other homes, without any particular objection on the part of the parent we examined at the pucks, and selected and brought away one which seemed to have better points than the rest, whom we left to continue their gambles in the straw. Unconscious probably that any other means of warming themselves were possible. The journey home was accomplished with the customary pup-ish endeavors, to escape restraint. The same evening after the servants had retired to bed, Master Digijom was placed in the kitchen, out of harm's way, as it was thought. The last thing at night we went to inspect the little animal, and could not at first discover his whereabouts. When a thing is lost it is customary to hunt about in unlikely places, so he looked in the high cinder-box under the kitchen-ear, and found the object of our search comfortably curled up directly under the red-hot fire. It was fairly warm work fishing him out. For another reason, not connected with heat, he was subsequently christened Digijom, a truly oriental name, which some of our friends think may have helped to develop his original taste for fire. When Digijom was about six months old, we observed that he frequently jumped up to people who receded smoking. This induced a humorous friend one day to offer him the lighted end of a cigarette, which Digijom promptly seized in his mouth and extinguished. After that triumph Digijom usually watched for and plainly demanded the lighted fag ends of cigarettes and cigars, so that his might be the satisfaction of finishing them off. This led to lighted matches being offered to him, which he eagerly took in his mouth, and if waxed vestas swallowed as a welcome addition to his ordinary diet. From matches to lighted candles was an easy step, and these he rapidly extinguished with great gusto as often as they were presented to him. He would also attack lighted oil lamps if placed on the floor, but they puzzled him and defied his efforts to bite or breathe them out. A garden bonfire used to drive him wild with delight, and snatching brands from the fire indoors or out was a delirious joy. My wife discovered him once in the full enjoyment of a large lighted log on the dining-room carpet. Red-hot cinders he highly relished, though in obtaining them he frequently singed off his mustaches. Perhaps the oddest of his fiery tricks was performed one day when he wished the cook to hand him some dainty morsel on which she chanced to be operating. This was against the rules, as he well knew. So as she declined to accept the hint Digijom was at once provoked to anger and cast round for some way of obtaining compensation, at the same time hoping, perhaps, to retaliate. He naturally went for the kitchen fire, out of which he drew a red-hot cinder and carried it in his mouth across the kitchen, threw a small lobby into the scullery, to his box-bed, into the straw of which he must have speedily dropped the live coal, and jumped in after it. Soon after the cook smelt wood-burning, and searched the lower part of the house, lest anything were afire. Finding nothing wrong she last of all visited the scullery, and found Digijom enjoying the warmth of his smoldering straw bed and wooden box. Alas! Digijom grew snappish even to his best friends, and although it was suggested that he might be found in engagement on the variety stage of the Westminster Aquarium as a fire-eating hound, it was reluctantly decided that he should go the way of all flesh. I'm sure if he had been asked he would in some way have indicated that he preferred cremation to any other mode of disposal, but it was not to be. Yet it was a melancholy satisfaction to learn that his end was peaceful, low common place. the animal story book edited by Andrew Lang the story of the dog oscar by miss am elene in the northwest of scotland there is a very pretty look which runs far up into the land on one side great hills almost mountains slope down into the water while on the opposite side there is a little village with the road along which the houses straggle almost part of the locked shore at low tide banks of beautiful golden seaweed are left at the edges of the water and on this seaweed huge flocks of seagulls come and feed a few years ago there lived in this village a minister who had a collie dog named oscar he lived all alone in his little cottage and as gene the woman who looked after him was a very talkative person by no means congenial to him oscar was his constant companion in front he seemed to understand all that was said to him and in his long lonely walks across the hills it cheered him to have oscar trotting quietly and contentedly beside him and when he came home from visiting sick people and going to places where he could not take oscar he would look forward to seeing the soft brown head thrust out of the door peering into the darkness ready to welcome him as soon as he should come into sight one of oscar's favorite games was to go down to the shore when the tide was low and with his head thrown up and his tail straight out he would run at the flocks of gulls feeding on the seaweed and scatter them in the air making them look like a cloud of large white snowflakes in a minute or two the gulls would settle down again to their meal and again oscar would charge and route them this little maneuver of his would be repeated many times till a long clear whistle was heard from the road by the lock then the gulls might finish their supper in peace for oscar's master had called him and now he was walking quietly along by his side looking as if there were no such things in the world as gulls no oscar lad not today not today said the minister one afternoon as he put on his hat and coat and took his stick from the dog who always fetched it when he saw preparations being made for a walk i can't take you with me you must stay in the paddock no run by the lock this afternoon lad it is too long and you are not so strong as you were we're growing old together oscar the dog watched his master till he disappeared over the little bridge and up the glen and then he went and lay down by the pauling which surrounded the bit of field gene soon went out to a friend's house to have a little gossip and oscar was left alone he felt rather forlorn across the road he heard the distant splashing of the waves as they ran angrily up the beach of the lock and the whistling of the wind down the glen he watched the gray clouds scutting away overhead and he envied the children he heard playing in the street or racing after the tourist coach on its way up the pass he began to feel drowsy the gulls will be feeding on the banks now how i wish and his eyes closed and he dreamt a nice dream that he was dashing along through shallow pools of water towards the white chattering flock when what was this in front of him white feathers two gulls was he dreaming still no the gulls were real what luck he could not go to the gulls so the gulls had come to him in a moment he was wide awake and made a rush at the two birds who were gazing at him inquiringly with their heads on one side but after two or three rushes what stupid gulls these are thought oscar they can scarcely fly and indeed the birds seemed to have great difficulty in lifting themselves off the ground and appeared to grow more and more feeble after each of oscar's onslaughts at last one of them fell lazy creature you have had too much dinner up you get but the gull lay down gasping oscar made for the other why that was lying down too he went to the first one it was quite still and motionless and after one or two more gasps its companion was the same oscar felt rather frightened was it possible that he killed them what would his master say how was he to tell him it was quite a mistake that he had only been in fun he must put the gulls out of sight he dragged them to one side of the cottage where the minister used to try every year to grow a few cherished plants and there in the loose earth he dug a grave for the birds then he went back to his old place and waited for his master's return when the minister came back for the first time in his life oscar longed to be able to speak and tell him all that had happened how could he without speech explain that the death of the birds was an accident an unfortunate accident he felt that without an explanation it was no use unearthing the white forms in the border sir sir cried gene putting her head in at the door here's widow mckinnis come to see you she's in sore trouble the minister rose and went to the door stay here oscar he said for widow mckinnis was not fond of oscar in a few minutes the minister came back he patted oscar's soft head she wanted to accuse the oscar lad of killing the two white pigeons which her son sent her yesterday from the south and which escaped this afternoon from their cage as if you would touch the bernice as the poor woman calls them a lad oscar wagged his tail gratefully then in a sudden flash it came upon him that he had killed the pigeons now he saw the birds were pigeons not gulls and worse than killing them he had all unknowingly told his master a lie and he could not undo it he wind a little as if in pain and move slowly out of the room the minister sat on deep in thought and then went outside the house to see the sunset great bands of thick gray cloud wrapped the hilltops in their folds and they in long bands across the slopes while here and there in the riffs were patches of pale lemon colored sky the lock waters heave sullenly against the shore the minister looked away from the sunset and his eye fell on a little mound in the bed by the cottage what did i plant there he thought and began poking it with his stick oscar oscar oscar was bounding down the path he had just determined to unbury the pigeons and bring them to his master and even if he received a beating his master would know he had not meant to deceive but now hearing the call and the tone of the minister's voice he knew it was too late he stopped and then crept slowly towards that tall black figure standing in the twilight with the two white pigeons lying at his feet oh oscar oscar lad what have you done at that moment a boy came running to the gate yield be the minister that sandy johnston is spearing after he says fetch the minister and beat him come quick the minister gave a few directions to gene and in a moment or two was ready to go with the boy it was a long row to the head of a lock and a long walk to reach the cottage where sandy johnston lay dying the minister stayed with him for two nights until he seemed to need his help no more and then started off to come home but while he was being rolled along the lock a fierce snowstorm came on the boat made but little way and they were delayed two or three hours cold and tired the minister thought with satisfaction of his warm fireside with oscar lying down beside his cozy chair then for the first time since it had happened he thought of the pigeons and he half smiled as he recalled oscar's downcast face as he came up the path with quick steps he hurried along the street from the landing place the snow was being blown about around him and the night was fast closing in he was quite near his own gate now and he looked up expecting to see the familiar brown head peering out of the door for him but there was no sign of it he opened the gate and strode in still no oscar to welcome him gene gene he called gene appeared from the kitchen and even in the firelight he could see traces of tears on her rough face where is oscar ah sir after you were gone with the lad he wouldn't have come into the house and he wouldn't touch a morsel of food he lay quite still in the garden and last night he died and it's my belief sir he died of a broken heart because you didn't have beat him after killing the pigeons and he couldn't make it up we and the minister thought so too and when gene was gone he sat down by his lonely fireside and buried his face in his hands end of section 39 recording by narrator j section 40 of the animal story book this is a liberty box recording all liberty box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libertybox.org recording by Sunil Goswami the animal story book edited by Andrew Lang chapter 40 dolphins at play for some reason or other dolphins those queer great fish that always seem to be at play have been subjects for many stories Pliny himself told several and his old translator's words are so strange that as far as possible we will tell the tale as he tells it in the days of Augustus Caesar the emperor says Pliny there was a dolphin entered the gulf or pool Lucrinus which loved wondrous well a certain boy a poor man's son who using to go every day to school from bayanum to patioli was want also about noon tide to stay at the water side and call unto the dolphin semo semo and many times would give him fragments of bread which of purpose he ever brought with him and by this means a lord the dolphin to come ordinarily unto him at his call well in process of time at whatever so ever of the day this boy lord for him and call semo for the dolphin never so close hidden in any secret and blind corner out he would and come abroad yeah and skirt a man to this lead and taking bread and other victuals at his hand would gently offer him his back to mount upon and then down went the sharp pointed prickles of his fins which he would put up as it were within a sheath for fear of hurting the boy thus when he once had him on his back he would carry him over the broad arm of the sea as far as patioli to school and in like manner convey him back again home and thus he continued for many years together so long as the child lived but when the boy was fallen sick and dead yet the dolphin gave not over his haunt but usually came to the wanted place and missing the lads seemed to be heavy and mourn again until for very grief and sorrow he was also found dead upon the shore end of section 40 recording by sunil goswami section 41 of the animal story book this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by april amond the animal story book edited by andrew lane the starling of segeringen translated from the german of yoan peter hebel in a little german village in swabia there lived a barber who combined the business of hair cutting and shaving with that of an apothecary he also sold good brandy so that he had no lack of customers not to speak of those who merely wish to pass an hour in gossiping not the least of the attractions however was a tame starling named hansel who had been taught to speak and had learned many sayings which he overheard from either his master the barber or from the idolers who gathered about the shop his master especially had some favorite sayings or catchwords such as truly i am the barber of segeringen for this is the name of the village has heaven will by keeping bad company and the like and these were most familiar to the starling everybody for miles round had at least heard of hansel and many came on purpose to see him and hear him talk for hansel would often interpose a word into the conversation which came in very aptly but it happened one day hansel's wings which had been cut having grown again that he thought to himself i have now learned so much i may go out and see the world and when nobody was looking were away he went out of the window seeing a flock of birds he joined them thinking they know the country better than i but at last the knowledge of failed them little for all of them with hansel fell into a snare which had been laid by a feller who soon came to see what was in his net putting in his hand he drew out one prisoner after another callously ringing their necks one by one but suddenly when he was stretching out his murderous fingers to seize another victim this one cried out i am the barber of segeringen the man almost fell backwards with astonishment and fright believing he had to do with a sorcerer at least but presently recovering himself a little he remembered the starling and said hey hansel is it you how did you come into the net by keeping bag company replied hansel and shall i carry you home again as heaven will replied the starling then the fowler took him back to the barber and related the manner of his capture receiving a good reward the barber also reaped a fine harvest for more people came to his shop on purpose to see the clever bird who had saved his life by his ready tongue end of section 41 section 42 of the animal storybook this is a liber vox recording all liber vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liber vox dot org the animal storybook edited by andrew lang grateful dogs by mr bartels from das echo june 8 1895 letter to the editor signed gm mexico purporting to be an extract from a letter of his brother in nebraska i have translated and recast a farmer in nebraska one of the western states of north america possessed two dogs a big one called fanny and a small one who was named jolly one winter day the farmer went for a walk and took with him his two pets they came to a brook that ran through the farm and was now frozen up fanny crossed it without much ado but jolly who was always afraid of water distrusted the ice and refused to follow fanny paused at the other side and barked loudly to induce her companion to come but jolly pretended not to understand then fanny ran back to him and tried to explain that it was quite safe but in vain jolly only looked after his master and whimpered upon which fanny losing patience seized him by the collar and dragged him over for this kindness jolly showed himself grateful sometime afterwards fanny greedy creature was fond of fresh eggs when she heard a hen cackle she always ran to look for the nest and one day she discovered one under the fruit shed but alas she could not get the beloved dainty because she was too large to go under the shed looking very pensive and thoughtful she went away and soon returned with jolly bringing him just before the hole jolly however was stupid and did not understand fanny put her head in and then her paws without being able with all her efforts to reach the egg the smaller dog seeing that there was something in the hole went in to look but not caring for eggs came out empty handed thereupon fanny looked at him in such a sad and imploring way that her master who was watching them could scarcely suppress his laughter at last jolly seemed to understand what was wanted he went under the shed again brought out the egg and put it before fanny who ate it with great satisfaction then both dogs trotted off together end of section 42 recording by narrator j