Chapter III (2)

Pluto was the king of hell, or the regions which lay beneath the earth. Here he reigned over his dark, dismal, and gloomy regions, peopled by the souls of departed men. Such was his savage character, and the horrid gloom of his dominions, that nobody would marry him. Still, as he wanted a wife, he determined to have one by hook or by crook. So one day, as he was driving along in his chariot, in the island of Sicily, he saw a beautiful goddess, named Proserpine, surrounded by her nymphs. Pluto drove up, seized the lovely deity, and carried her off. With his trident he opened a passage in the earth, down which he drove headlong, and having arrived at home, Proserpine became queen of hell.

Mercury was the messenger of the gods, especially of Jupiter. He was also the patron of travellers and shepherds, and had a kindness, I am sorry to say it, for thieves, pickpockets, and rogues of all kinds. It would seem that such a god could hardly be respectable; yet I believe that he was rather a favorite with the Greeks.

Mars was the god of war――a fierce and terrible god, indeed. Yet, strange to say, Venus, a handsome goddess, and wife of the old limping blacksmith, Vulcan, liked his company very well. Vulcan made a net of iron links, in which he caught Mars and Venus, and then called in all the gods to look at them! This seems to have made a great deal of fun.

Hercules was a famous hero, who performed wonderful exploits, by his bodily strength alone.

Neptune was the god of the sea. His father, Saturn, ate him up, when a baby――but he was afterwards brought to life, and received his empire from his brother Jupiter.

Minerva was the goddess of wisdom. She was said to be born of Jupiter’s brain. A famous temple was erected to this goddess at Athens, by Pericles, about four hundred and fifty years before Christ. The chief circumstances of her history were beautifully represented in sculpture around this temple. The edifice still remains, though in ruins, a splendid monument of the genius of the ancient Greeks.

This is a very brief sketch of some of the deities belonging to the ancient Grecian mythology. For nearly two thousand years this prevailed in Greece, and it was afterwards adopted by the Romans, who added many gods to suit themselves. It became the Roman religion, and was inculcated through that vast empire. It was not till about three hundred and twenty years after Christ, that the Christian religion was adopted, as the religion of the Roman government.

The Elephant.

The elephant, on first view, appears to be a large mass of unwieldy flesh, and on further examination, scarcely gives us any idea but of an animal of extreme stupidity, with small eyes, large pendulous ears, and an enormous trunk. He is generally about ten feet high, but does sometimes attain the astonishing height of twelve or fourteen feet. It is covered with a hide, without hair, which is hard and callous; it has heavy and misshapen legs, with round feet, and a tail with a tuft of hair at the end.

There are two species of the elephant, the Asiatic and African; they are much alike, though there is some difference in the teeth. In Africa, the people never train the elephant to any useful purposes, but in Asia this is quite common. In India, the animal is taught to carry burdens, and it performs a great deal of labor. We know that two thousand years ago elephants were used for war; this does not appear common now. They, however, carry large loads, and often, in hunting tigers, they are very expert.

Though extensively used, the elephant is not so domesticated as to breed in its state of confinement. All those that are employed by men, are taken when wild, and trained to their state of servitude. An elephant will carry three thousand pounds on his back, which is about six times as much as a horse will carry. In its natural state it is a mild and peaceable animal, and will always run away from a man. It seems to have no disposition to quarrel even with the brute creation; and as lions, tigers, and rhinoceroses, usually let the elephant alone, he lets them alone.

Though the elephant looks like a stupid creature, it is in fact very intelligent, and appears to have some faculties and sentiments almost human. It delights in music, and easily learns to beat time; it is fond of sweet odors, and often picks flowers, unites them into a nosegay, and seems delighted with the perfume; it has a delicacy of touch in its trunk, like that of the fingers, by which it can pick up a pin, tie and untie knots, lock and unlock doors, and even write with a pen; it learns to love its keeper, whom it caresses and obeys; it seems gratified with kindness, and distressed by abuse; it has even been known to die of grief, when, in some fit of madness, it has killed its conductor.

The Lion.

This animal, on account of its fierceness and strength, called the king of beasts, is a native of both Asia and Africa. In countries where it lives, all other animals fly before it. Wherever man dwells, he wages war against it, and finally prevails. The lion is, therefore, not found where the country is thickly peopled. But in the vast solitudes of Africa it is common, and reigns monarch of all it surveys.

The lion is called cruel, but he only slays for the purpose of satisfying his hunger. The wolf, tiger, pole-cat, fox, will kill only for the sake of killing――even beyond what they can eat――whereas the lion, when his appetite is appeased, will lie down and let animals, upon which he usually feeds, pass by him unhurt.

There is something very noble in the aspect of a lion; his head is large, and his features have a serious and lofty expression. Though of the cat family, he has nothing of the sly, insinuating look of puss.

The strength of the lion is immense. It is said that he can break the skull of an ox by a single stroke of his paw. It is also said that a lion will carry off an ox that it has killed, dragging it over hills and ravines and across streams, and proceeding at long and rapid leaps with his burthen.

The Gnoo.

This singular animal, which seems to be between the ox and antelope, was formerly regarded as a very rare and strange beast; but of late we have become better acquainted with it. Several of these creatures have been exhibited in the caravans, and beside, many English travellers have lately been in Africa, where they are found, and they have given us many descriptions of them.

They live in herds, like the bisons or buffaloes of the west, and sometimes hundreds or thousands of them are seen scattered over the plains. They are about as large as our common cattle at the age of two years; their color is dark brown; the head and breast are covered with long shaggy hair, and the horns bend forward at the base and backwards at the middle.

They are very timid, and generally fly from the approach of men. They seem to be put in a rage by the sight of scarlet. Mr. Pringle, a traveller in Africa, tells us some very amusing tales as to this. When he and his party met with troops of these creatures, they would hoist a red handkerchief on a pole. At this the gnoos would approach, tear up the ground, lash their sides with their tails, and show signs of violent rage, and then they would suddenly bound away to a distance.

A Swedish Girl.

Gustavus III., king of Sweden, passing one morning on horseback through a village in the neighborhood of his capital, observed a young peasant girl, of interesting appearance, drawing water at a fountain by the way-side. He went up to her, and asked her for a draught. Without delay, she lifted up her pitcher, and with artless simplicity put it to the lips of the monarch. Having satisfied his thirst, and courteously thanked his benefactress, he said:――

“My girl, if you would accompany me to Stockholm, I would endeavor to fix you in a more agreeable situation.”

“Ah, sir,” replied the girl, “I cannot accept your proposal. I am not anxious to rise above the state of life in which the providence of God has placed me; but even if I were, I could not for an instant hesitate.”

“And why?” rejoined the king, somewhat surprised.

“Because,” answered the girl, “my mother is poor and sickly, and has no one but me to assist or comfort her under many afflictions; and no earthly bribe could induce me to leave her, or to neglect the duties which affection requires from me.”

“Where is your mother?” asked the monarch.

“In that little cabin,” replied the girl, pointing to a wretched hovel beside her.

The king, whose feelings were interested in his companion, went in, and beheld, stretched on a bedstead, whose only covering was a little straw, an aged female, weighed down with years, and sinking under infirmities. Moved at the sight, the monarch addressed her: “I am sorry, my poor woman, to find you in so destitute and afflicted a condition.”

“Alas! sir,” said the venerable sufferer, “I should indeed be an object of pity, had I not that kind and attentive girl, who labors to support me, and omits nothing she thinks can afford me relief. May a gracious God remember it to her for good,” she added, wiping away a tear.

Never, perhaps, was Gustavus more sensible than at that moment of the pleasure of occupying an exalted station. The gratification arising from the consciousness of having it in his power to assist a fellow-creature, almost overpowered him; and putting a purse into the hand of the young villager, he could only say, “Continue to take care of your mother; I shall soon enable you to do so more effectually. Good-bye, my amiable girl; you may depend on the promise of your king.”

On his return to Stockholm, Gustavus settled a pension for life on the mother, with the reversion to her daughter at her death.

The Story of “Gander.”

Let us understand each other at the outset, gentle reader. GANDER, as you will suppose, was not a _goose_; but you will be surprised to hear that he was a “_horse_.” Why the creature got this name, I cannot tell, unless it was that he was _white_, and was always a leader among the horses. But, however the name originated, the following is a true story of him, as told to me by a gentleman of veracity.

In the year 1825, on a summer’s day, my friend left the vicinity of the Dunderberg mountain, in Rockland county, in the state of New York, with this and another horse, for a town on the Connecticut river. The other horse was _bay_, small, old, lean, and of a submissive aspect; while Gander, as I said before, was _white_, and, although somewhat advanced in years, was large, well-built, and quite proud in his bearing. These horses, together with a wagon, my friend had taken of a doubtful debtor, and at the above time left the vicinity of the Dunderberg, as I said, for his home, some hundred miles to the east.

For two reasons “Bay” was doomed to be the drudge on the journey. One was, that Gander and the wagon did not agree; the other was, that my friend chose to give him an easy journey, for the purpose of more readily converting him into cash on his reaching home. Gander, therefore, was tied behind.

“Matters being thus arranged,” my friend proceeded, “we commenced our journey; but we were destined not long thus to be linked together; for although Gander appeared to recognise his new master, he liked not the compulsory method I had taken to assure myself of his company. A single toss of his head was sufficient to break his halter, and he seemed to understand this snapping process to perfection; but, then, instead of running away, and thus securing for a time his freedom, he would stand still, quietly waiting for me to dismount and again attach him to his post.

“His late master had been abundant in commendation of his sagacity and other notable qualities, but assured me he would not be led. Not being inclined, however, to yield my belief without a trial, I had tied him, as above noticed. We had not proceeded far, however, before Gander gave intimation that _indeed_ ‘he would not be led.’ Snap went the halter, again. With much good nature, I again tied it, but with precisely the same result. At length, it was quite plain the animal was willing to acknowledge his allegiance to his new master, although he had not been consulted in the transfer; but his submission must be _voluntary_――he would not be led like a criminal, especially with a halter about his neck.

“The rope was soon useless; and now necessity became the mother of invention. I slipped the remnant of the halter from his head, jumped into my wagon, and drove on. This movement seemed quite satisfactory to the hitherto disobliged animal; and from his future conduct, it was evident he had obtained his wishes. Immediately he came to the side of the vehicle;――afterwards he chose ‘Bay,’ for a time, as his companion; and thus, side by side, and cheek-by-jowl, with either drudge or master, he jogged on for an hour or two. Finally, however, he fell back to the rear of the wagon, and, singular as it may appear, he kept this spot to the end of his journey, with, perhaps, a single exception, which I shall by-and-by mention; excepting, also, that occasionally he turned upon the road-side, while ascending a hill, to crop a tuft of green grass. At such times, if for a moment he forgot his master till he had disappeared, in a few minutes more his shrill voice was heard, and he recovered his post behind, with all expedition.

“On the morning of the second day, we left Newburgh, and crossing the Hudson at Poughkeepsie, directed our course to Litchfield, in Connecticut. I had not travelled fast, however, and it was quite dusk, when I arrived at the foot of Mount Tom, within eight or ten miles of the end of my journey for the day. I had observed a few heavy clouds in the west, and now these were approaching and increasing with so great rapidity, that I had scarce a hope of escaping the impending storm. I was entirely unacquainted with the road over the mountain, but it was a long distance to any shelter which I had passed. I determined, therefore, to push forward.

“Had ‘Bay’ possessed my fears, I should have had some hope of escaping from the storm; but he was, of the two, the greater philosopher. The distant thunder had no terrors for him; besides, it was an up-hill journey, and this, instead of increasing his energy, seemed to be a good reason for abating his exertions. Consequently, before we had gained half the distance to the summit of the mountain, darkness was upon us; ominous drops of rain were beginning to fall, and the thunder was rolling overhead.

“In this dilemma, although sometimes aided by a flash of lightning, my situation became almost appalling. However, when it was impossible to see the road, I left my wagon, and, after feeling and ascertaining the way a few rods, I managed to guide my horse a short distance. This plan I had repeated several times, and was at the last returning to start again, when Gander, whom before I had scarcely thought of for an hour, advanced from his post, and planted himself immediately in front of ‘Bay.’ This extraordinary movement of the animal, (for he had only once before taken precedence on our journey,) was so very singular, that it at once occurred to me he had some good motive for it. His color was _white_; did his sagacity teach him that ‘Bay’ could see _him_, if not the road? Was his sight more keen than my own, and did he discover it? Did his instinct teach him that his color might render him conspicuous, even in darkness, so that we could follow him? Can this be called instinct, or was it _reason_? Let it be called by whatever name it may, I had before heard of the sagacity of the horse, but I was now to witness it.

“I again seated myself in my wagon, by which time the rain fell in torrents. Gander was not discoverable from my seat when we started, but I drove on. ‘Bay’ now showed less reluctance, and, encouraged by his pioneer, moved forward more rapidly; we soon gained the mountain-top, and the frequent flashes of lightning showed Gander still in his new position, a foot or two in advance of Bay, and in the very centre of the road. Soon after our descent of the mountain commenced, it became so light, that I could just discern my leader; and thus we jogged on for some time, till at length a light was visible in the distance. I had scarcely discovered it, when a shrill neigh from Gander announced his pleasure at the prospect. He guided me safely to it, and to the door of an inn, as it proved, in Bradleyville. I need hardly add, that Gander received, not only the hearty caresses of his master, but an extra quantity of delicacies for his supper, good attendance, and a bundle or two of straw for his bed. He should have had a mattress, had he preferred it.”

The Dog of Montargis.

There is in France a castle by the name of Montargis. In the hall of this castle there is a sculpture which represents a dog fighting with a champion. The story connected with this sculpture is as follows:――

Aubri de Mondidier, a gentleman of family and fortune, travelling alone through the Forest of Bondi, was murdered, and buried under a tree. His dog, an English blood-hound, would not quit his master’s grave for several days; till, at length, compelled by hunger, he proceeded to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubri’s, at Paris, and by his melancholy howling, seemed desirous of expressing the loss they had both sustained. He repeated his cries, ran to the door, looked back to see if any one followed him, returned to his master’s friend, pulled him by the sleeve, and with dumb eloquence entreated him to go with him.

The singularity of all these actions of the dog, added to the circumstance of his coming there without his master, whose faithful companion he had always been, prompted the company to follow the animal, who conducted them to a tree, where he renewed his howl, scratching the earth with his feet, and significantly entreating them to search that particular spot. Accordingly, on digging, the body of the unfortunate Aubri was found.

Some time after, the dog accidentally met the assassin, who is styled, by the historians, Chevalier Macaire; when, instantly seizing him by the throat, he was with great difficulty compelled to quit his prey. In short, whenever the dog saw the Chevalier, he continued to pursue and attack him with equal fury. Such obstinate virulence in the animal, confined only to Macaire, appeared very extraordinary; especially to those who at once recollected the dog’s remarkable attachment to his master, and several instances in which Macaire’s envy and hatred to Aubri de Mondidier had been conspicuous.

Additional circumstances created suspicion; and at length the affair reached the royal ear. The king, Louis VIII., accordingly sent for the dog, who appeared extremely gentle, till he perceived Macaire in the midst of several noblemen, when he ran fiercely towards him, growling, and attacking him as usual.

The king, struck with these circumstantial evidences against Macaire, determined to refer the decision to the chance of battle; in other words, he gave orders for a combat between the Chevalier and the dog. The lists were appointed in the Isle of Notre Dame, then an unenclosed, uninhabited place, and Macaire was allowed for his weapon a great cudgel.

An empty cask was given to the dog as a place of retreat, to enable him to recover breath. Everything being prepared, the dog no sooner found himself at liberty, than he ran round his adversary, avoiding his blows, and menacing him on every side, till his strength was exhausted; then, springing forward, he griped him by the throat, threw him on the ground, and obliged him to confess his guilt, in the presence of the king and the whole court. In consequence of this, the Chevalier, after a few days, was convicted upon his own acknowledgment, and beheaded on a scaffold in the Isle of Notre Dame.

Natural Lamps.

The queen beetle is about one inch and a quarter in length, and carries by her side, just about her waist, two brilliant lamps, which she lights up at pleasure, with the solar phosphorus furnished her by nature. These little lamps do not flash and glimmer like those of the fire-fly, but give as steady a light as that produced by a gas-burner, exhibiting two perfect spheres, as large as a minute pearl. These are so powerful that they will afford a person light enough to read print by them.

On carrying this insect into a dark closet in the daytime, no light is emitted at first, but she quickly illuminates her lamps, and immediately extinguishes them, on being brought again into the light. But language cannot sufficiently express the beauty and sublimity of these lucid orbs in miniature, with which nature has endowed the queen of the insect kingdom.

* * * * *

A mind occupied becomes fortified against the ills of life and is braced for any emergency. Children amused by reading and study, are of course considerate and more easily governed.

LITTLE LEAVES FOR LITTLE READERS.

The School-Ma’am.

In one of his little books, Peter Parley has told us how Aunt Delight taught him his letters; and I believe that I have given some account of the early lessons that I, Robert Merry, received from Miss Sally St. John.

In old times, children were generally taught their a-b-c, by some good old woman, who was called the “School-ma’am.” Above is a picture of one of these dames, giving a first lesson to a child. How hard the little fellow tries to say his letters! A man laying stone wall, does not make a greater effort.

I have told my readers of some of the pranks of the friend and playmate of my early days, Bill Keeler; but there is one which I have not yet told. It was as follows:――

You should know that Sally St. John, the school-ma’am, having no husband, made a great pet of her cat. This was named Nip, and, strange to say, he used regularly to go with her to school.

Many a child had a “box with five nails in it,” for playing some trick upon Nip, but this was especially the case with Bill. He was always getting into some trouble on account of the cat.

Now Bill had a great love for gunpowder; and of all things, he delighted in what is called a _witch-quill_. This is made of a quill, filled with layers of wet and dry powder: when set on fire, the quill goes jumping about, hither and thither, all the time spouting forth a stream of fire.

On one occasion he carried one of these to school, and when Aunt Sally’s back was turned, he gave it a toss into the fire. In an instant the quill was lighted, and, starting from the fire-place, darted directly under the school mistress’s chair. Pop――fizz! pop――fizz! it went.

Now it chanced that Nip was under Aunt Sally’s chair at that very moment. He was fast asleep, when the wicked witch-quill popped in, taking its station exactly under his nose. Never was there such horror, as appeared in Nip’s countenance. He stuck up his back, drew his tail out at full length, set apart his jaws, and with glaring eyes gazed at the terrible monster.

The comet that has lately been seen in the sky, with a tail ninety millions of miles in length, never scared any poor Millerite half so much as did Bill Keeler’s witch-quill, Aunt Sally’s cat. Nip didn’t know at all what to make of it. He had seen squirrels with long tails,――rats, moles, bats, owls, and other strange things,――but never, in all his days, had he beheld anything that spouted forth fire――real fire――before.

After gazing at the witch a few seconds, Nip mustered all his courage, spit at it, and gave it a thump with his paw. Fizz――pop! went the quill! Nip’s courage was exhausted――and he ran away with all his might. Strange to say, at that moment the quill started, and shot along the floor, in the exact direction puss had taken.

It stopped, however, about the middle of the school-room floor, and then it began to whirl round, popping, spinning, and fizzing, in a most wonderful style. “What on airth is that?” said Aunt Sally. “Oh dear!” “Oh dear!” “Oh dear!” said a dozen children at once.

“Oh! it’s Bill Keeler! it’s Bill Keeler!” said the school mistress――knowing by instinct where all mischief came from. “Oh dear, I’m shot! I’m popped! I’m fizzed! I’m bewitched! Oh! Bill, Bill, you’ll be the death of me!”

All this time, the wicked witch-quill was spinning and spouting about, in the middle of the floor. The children shrieked, and Bill Keeler laughed as if his sides would split. At last, the witch-quill, with a dying effort, hissed along the floor, and went straight at Nip, who had got beneath a writing bench. With a horrid yell, the cat fled, and leaping upon Aunt Sally’s shoulder, hung on to the flesh with all her claws. The good woman shook and pulled, but Nip held the tighter for all that; and Bill, seeing that things were getting serious, took his hat and ran.

Inquisitive Jack.