Chapter IV: Part 4

You have, no doubt, in the summer, watched the brilliantly-colored humming-birds flying around the flowers, and dipping their long bills into the blossoms to find the insects that may be there. They want these insects for their dinner, and they run their bills so deftly into the blossoms, and touch them so daintily that they do not injure them in the least. On the contrary they help them by eating the insects that would otherwise feed upon the flowers.

While doing this you will observe they make a little buzzing noise with their wings. From this they get their name.

When hovering over a flower they move with such rapidity that you can scarcely see any motion at all, and the birds look as if they were painted on the air.

You think these humming-birds very small; but in South America, the home of the condor, they have some humming-birds no larger than bumble-bees! It would be a curious sight to see one of these by the side of the condor! But, while the latter lives on the snowy mountain tops, the humming-birds stay in the warm valleys, where there are plenty of flowers and insects.

It is generally supposed that these birds live on the honey of the flowers. They do often eat the honey, but they prefer insects.

There are a great many species of these tiny birds, and nearly all are brilliantly colored. The most gorgeous specimens are found in tropical countries. They are differently marked. Some have such bright spots on their tails that they are called “sparkling-tailed.”

Humming-birds build their diminutive nests on vines and low trees. Their eggs are the size of little peas, and white in color. The species I mentioned as being no larger than bees build the dearest little nests, no bigger than a walnut; and they put into them the cunningest little eggs, and hatch out their very small young ones, just as grandly as if they were great condors.

And they do not like confinement any better than the condors do. Shut up in cages they generally pine, and die. They are made for sunshine and flowers, free, out-door life and happiness.

A SNOW-STORM IN THE TROPICS.

“Father,” said George Moore, one stormy winter’s night, “won’t you please tell me of some one of your adventures?”

“You seem never to tire of my adventures,” said his father, smiling. “Did I ever tell you how nearly I was lost once, in a snow-storm, in the tropics?”

“A snow-storm in the tropics! How could that be?”

“It happened when I was quite a young man, that, for several months, in the course of business, I had to stay at a lonely place on the coast of Peru. I was in a town, but it was a dull one, and only showed signs of life when some trading vessel would lie there for a day or two. My only amusement was seal fishing; but I soon tired of that, for I was not very successful. It was a sport that required more practice than I was able to give it. The boats are nothing but two bags of skin, connected by a narrow deck, and I did not consider them altogether safe, for me, at least.

“At last I thought I would vary the monotony of my life by a little trip up the Andes mountains. I could not go alone, of course, but a small sum was sufficient to hire a guide, and two men besides, and four mules. There were no hostile Indians to fear, and the guide was all that I needed, but I knew he would be better contented with some companions, and I felt, myself, that it would be a lonely sort of journey for two.

“It was my intention to make an early start, but it was quite late in the morning before I could get the lazy natives on the road. The first part of our march was across a sandy, stony desert, with the rays of a hot sun beating on our heads. My broad-brimmed Panama did not prevent my face from blistering, and the white cotton cape I wore did not seem to be much of a protection.

“We halted twice to take some refreshments, and short rests; and, before sunset, we arrived at a miserable sort of inn, where we remained for three hours, and rested ourselves and the mules; and both men and beasts ate hearty suppers. Then we continued our journey, for it was more pleasant to travel at night than in the day. It was evident that we were reaching higher ground, though the ascent was so easy as scarcely to be perceptible. But the air gradually became fresher and cooler, and, at last, a woolen cloak was comfortable.

“When day came we found ourselves in a region almost as barren as the desert we had left the day before. We were on a rocky plain, high up on the hills, or, more properly, small mountains. No plants grew on this plain except a few species of cactus, which flourish in the poorest soils: there were no signs of life, but flocks of turtle-doves.”

“That must have been a pretty sight, though, father! I should like to see a great many turtle-doves together.”

“You would not, if you were a Peruvian farmer, for these poetical birds are the very mischief in the grain-fields. They only troubled us by their melancholy wail. Their sad notes made this dreary solitude still more awful.

“But I had a consolation. Before me rose grandly up the high peaks of the Andes. Their white tops seemed to touch the sky.

“After a time, to my surprise, we began to descend. In a few hours more we were in a lovely valley, filled with villages, and farms, and trees, and flowers. I staid there two days enjoying the valley, and inspecting its curiosities, which I will tell you about some time.”

“Was it warm in the valley?”

“Yes, but not oppressively hot. It was high up on the hills; and then it was the month of August, and the winter season.”

“Winter season in August?”

“Of course. I was south of the equator, where the seasons, you know, are just the reverse of ours. We commenced the ascent of the mountains in high spirits. The wind was cool and bracing; and the vegetation all around us was of great interest to me. But it began to change rapidly; and, before night, we were among huge stones, and jagged rocks, where only evergreens were seen.”

“How could you find the way?”

“There was a rough kind of road over the mountains. In many places I should never have been able to find it at all, but the guide knew all the landmarks.

“The first night we spent in an Indian cabin; and the next morning continued our journey, but we were not so gay as on the preceding day. It was bitter cold, and we needed all the wraps we had with us. I do not know how our two companions managed to wander away from the road, as they afterwards insisted that they did. I think the cold was too much for their courage, and they grew tired of their bargain, and made up their minds to fall back of us, and watch a chance to turn around and go home. The guide and I soon missed them, and we rode about in various directions, calling them, and searching for them. But it was easy enough for them to conceal themselves behind a rock, or in a ravine, and we could not find them. We gave them up at last, hoping they would find their way back again.

“But we soon discovered that, in looking for them, we had lost _our_ way. For hours we wandered about, and my guide could not find a trace of the road. This was serious, for we had but a small stock of provisions, as there were Indian huts scattered all along the regular route, on which we had relied for supplies. We could not travel over this rough country at night; and a night’s exposure to the cold was not to be thought of without a shudder. And besides, we might never find our way out of this frightful solitude."

“Was there nothing anywhere about to show that any kind of people lived there?”

“No. It seemed to me we were the first human beings who had ever set foot there. In the midst of our perplexities my guide pointed silently to the sky. There were several small, thick, white clouds floating there. They did not look very terrible, but the guide said we would soon have a storm, and we must try to find shelter. Soon more white clouds floated into sight, and they increased until they hid the sun from us. We were now on smoother ground, and pressed forward as fast as we could, but there was no place of shelter to be seen, not even an overhanging rock.

“Soon the wind came with a rush; and then the thunder and lightning. Our mules broke into a gallop. We enveloped ourselves in the folds of our great woolen wrappers, called _tapacaras_, lifting our heads once in a while to see where we were going. Next we were treated to a shower of hail-stones. Fortunately they were not very large, but we were rather severely thumped with them. The poor mules fared the worst.

“And then came the snow. The arctic regions could not furnish a better example of a snow-storm than this tropical place! It fell so thick and fast we could not see twenty steps in advance. My heart failed me then. I thought we were lost, and would be buried in snow drifts.

“But just then a dark object loomed up before us. ‘An Indian lodge!’ I cried in joy.

“The guide said nothing, but rode on before me, and called to me to dismount. I was glad enough to do this, and he pointed to the open doorway of the building. It was so low I had to crawl through it, but I was thankful to get in, in any fashion.”

“I wonder, father, that you were not afraid of finding something dreadful in there!”

“I did not stop to think about the matter. And then I knew there was something dreadful _outside_. So, in I went, and found the place entirely empty. The guide followed me as soon as he had covered the mules, and made them as comfortable as he could.”

“It was a deserted house, I suppose.”

“No, it was a tomb.”

“A tomb! Out in that lonely place!”

“Yes, but then the place had not always been lonely. I found out afterwards that that region was once inhabited by a tribe of Indians. They all perished before their country was discovered by Europeans, but some of their dwellings, and many of their tombs remained. These tombs were large stone buildings, with one room, lighted by a single window. This room was capable of holding ten or twelve dead bodies, placed in a sitting posture. These bodies were first embalmed—made into what we call mummies. When the tomb was full the door was sealed up. The Europeans opened these sepulchres that had been sealed up for centuries; and carried the mummies away to put into museums.

“The tomb in which we had taken refuge had been despoiled of its mummies long before. The room inside was about ten feet square. It was built of very large stones, and had sloping walls. It was a cheerless place enough, but seemed sumptuous to us, after what we had passed through.

“In half an hour the storm ceased, and we proceeded on our journey, hoping to recover the road. But we could not, and night was approaching, with no prospect of a shelter. So we retraced our steps to the sepulchre once more, lighted a fire within, consumed the last of our provisions, gave the mules what was left of their provender and slept soundly all night.”

“Were you not afraid of wild beasts?”

“There were none in that region, or at least the guide knew of none. There were too many settlements among the mountains. And the guide still insisted upon it that we had not wandered far from the regular route. I had my doubts on the subject, but they did not prevent me from sleeping soundly, for I was very tired.

“The next morning was bright, and we set off in better spirits, and with renewed hope, though rather hungry. Our hunger became so great after a time that it quite conquered our spirits, and we stumbled about the rocks, sick and dispirited. We spared our mules all we could, for the poor beasts were nearly worn out and half starved. If they failed us we would indeed be in a bad plight.

“Finally, utterly exhausted, we all laid down, beasts and men together, to keep warm, and to rest. I was just dropping into a doze when I heard the sound of music. The guide heard it also, and we both started up, and felt new life in our veins. So suddenly did hope spring up in our hearts, that all fatigue dropped from us as if by magic. The mules too pricked up their ears at the sound. We sprang upon their backs and were soon traveling towards the point from whence the music came. It was not long before we came upon the musician.

“A bare-legged Indian, in a gay striped cloak and broad Panama hat was running along at a rapid pace, and playing upon a mouth-organ. He led a bony horse which trotted gently after him. Across its back was a leathern bag.

“This man was a mail carrier, and was on his way from the sea-coast to some mountain town. So it turned out that the guide was right, and we had not been at any great distance from the settlements. Nevertheless, had it not been for the music of this poor little mouth-organ we might have wandered off in a contrary direction from the highway, and have lost ourselves in the forest, and perished there. Indeed we might never have awakened from the sleep into which we were falling when we heard the strain of music.”

“Did you go with the mail carrier, father?”

“No. He was not going to the place for which we were bound. But he told us that just behind the spur of the mountain we would find an Indian village. And there we rested for a day and refreshed ourselves, and filled our provision bags, and procured a guide to the road we wished to take. The rest of my journey was made in safety.”

“But, father, I don’t think that was a tropical snow-storm, when it happened in so cold a place. I always think of tropic as meaning hot.”

“It was a tropical snow-storm George, certainly, for we were in the tropics, only a few degrees south of the equator. The weather was cold because we were so high up in the air.”

HOW THREE MEN WENT TO THE MOON.

That is, how it is said that they went to the moon. That no man ever did go is very certain, and that no one ever will go, is very probable, but true as these statements are, they did not prevent a Frenchman from writing a story about a trip to the moon, undertaken by two Americans, and one Frenchman.

I cannot tell you all this story, but I can give you a few of the incidents that occurred during the journey, and although these are purely imaginary, they are very interesting and amusing. If any one ever had made this journey he would probably have gone as these three people went in the story. Everything is described as minutely and carefully as if it had really happened.

The journey was made in an immense, hollow cannon ball, or rather a cylindrical shot, which was fired out of a great cannon, nine hundred feet long!

This cannon, which was pointed directly at the spot where the moon would be by the time the ball had time to reach it, was planted in the earth in Florida, where thousands of people congregated to see it fired off.

When the great load of gun-cotton was touched off by means of an electrical battery, there was a tremendous explosion, and away went the great hollow projectile, with the three travelers inside, directly towards the moon.

This projectile was very comfortably and conveniently arranged. The walls were padded and there were springs in the floor, so that the inmates might not receive too great a shock when they started. It was furnished with plenty of provisions, with contrivances for lighting and ventilating it, and a machine for manufacturing atmospheric air, which is something that travelers do not expect to find at the moon.

There were thick plate-glass windows in the sides, and everything that could be thought of to make the trip comfortable and safe was found in this curious aerial car.

Not only were there three men in the projectile, but it contained two dogs and some chickens. The picture shows the dogs, which were handsome creatures, and it will also give you an idea of the inside arrangements, with the telescope, and the guns hanging on the wall.

The distance from the earth to the moon was to be accomplished in about four days, and after the first shock of the starting, which was quite heavy, notwithstanding the springs and the cushions, our travelers began to make themselves at home.

They talked, they ate and drank and smoked. They took observations out of their windows, and watched the earth recede until it looked like a great moon, and saw the moon approach until it seemed like a little earth.

One of them, the Frenchman, was in such high spirits that if his companions would have allowed him he would have got outside of their little house and stood in triumph on the very top, as it went whizzing through the air.

The artist has given us a picture of how he would have looked if he had stood out there where he wanted to perch himself.

His idea was that as there was as much _momentum_ in him as there was in the projectile, there was no danger of his falling off and being left behind.

But if any of you ever _do_ go to the moon in a hollow cannon-ball, I would strongly recommend you not to get outside.

After a while they passed beyond the limit of the earth’s attraction, and began to enter that of the moon. But when they were about on the line between these two attractions, a very singular thing took place. Everything in the projectile, the men, the dog, (one of the dogs died the first day and was thrown out) the telescope, the chickens and every article that was not fastened down, seemed to lose all its gravity or weight.

As there is no reason why anything without weight should stay in any particular place, unless it is fastened there by some mechanical means, these people and things began to float about in the air.

The men rose up and were wafted here and there by a touch. Hats floated away and chickens and telescopes hung suspended between the floor and the roof, as thistledown, on a still summer’s day floats in the air.

Even the dog, who thought that he was sitting on the floor, was sitting in the air, several feet from the floor.

This was a most remarkable state of things, and it is no wonder that the travelers could not very soon get used to it.

To feel oneself soaring like a balloon must certainly be a curious sensation.

But these men expected all sorts of strange experiences, and so this did not frighten them, and the nearer they came to the moon, the more effect her gravity had upon them, and as the projectile gradually turned its heaviest end towards the moon its inmates gradually recovered their weight, and sat and stood like common people.

After journeying still further they had another very strange experience.

As they gradually neared the moon they found that they were also revolving around it. This was very unfortunate. If this motion continued, the result of their journey would be that their projectile would become a lunar satellite—a moon’s moon. They would go around and around forever, and never reach the moon or be able to get back to the earth.

After a while they got around to the shadow side of the moon, so that she was between them and the earth.

Then they were in total darkness excepting when they lighted their gas-burner, and they could not keep the gas burning all the time, as their supply was getting rather low.

But the darkness was not their chief trouble. It began to be very cold. And then it got colder and still colder, until they thought they should freeze into solid lumps. Their breath congealed so that it fell in the form of snow about them, and the poor dog, shivering under a cloak, lay upon the floor as cold as if he had been dropped into a deep hole in an ice-berg.

They thought it must be still colder outside, and so they lowered a thermometer through a small trap-door in the floor, and when they drew it in the mercury stood at 218 degrees below zero!

That was a very fine thermometer, and it is a Frenchman who tells this story.

At last they passed around the moon, and again found themselves upon its sunny side. Then they were happy. Light and heat, after the dreadful darkness and cold through which they had passed were enough to make men happy, especially men so far away from home and all the comforts and conveniences of civilized society.

As they passed around the moon they had a fine opportunity of observing the lunar landscapes. They were not so far away but that with their glasses they could see the mountains and plains, and all sorts of curious caves, and wonderful formations like forts and castles, but which they knew to be nothing but great masses of the moon’s surface, thrown up in these strange shapes by volcanic action. It is probable that what is described in this story is very like what the real surface of the moon must be.

After they had revolved some time they found that they were getting farther and farther away from the moon, and this made them suppose that they were moving in an elliptical orbit. They were much discouraged by this idea, for they thought, and very justly too, that there was now no chance of the moon’s drawing them towards itself, so that they would fall upon its surface.

This they had hoped to do, and they did not expect to suffer from the fall, for the attraction of the moon is so much less than that of the earth that they thought they would descend rather gently on the moon’s surface. But now there seemed to be no chance of their getting there at all.

At last, however, they found that they were passing entirely out of the line of the moon’s attraction, and after that they perceived plainly that they were falling.

But not upon the moon. They were falling towards the earth!

This was dreadful. A fall of 240,000 miles! But they could not help it, and down they went.

Out in the Pacific ocean there was a United States steamship, taking soundings. The captain was astonished to find at the place where they were sailing, about two hundred miles from the coast of California, that the water was so deep that the longest sounding lines would scarcely reach the bottom.

As he and his officers were discussing this matter, a distant hissing sound was heard, like the escape of steam from a steam-pipe. But it sounded as if it were high up in the air. It came nearer and nearer and grew louder and louder, and as all eyes were turned upwards towards the point from which the hissing seemed to come, they saw what they thought was a great meteor, rapidly approaching them from the sky.

It seemed to be coming directly towards the ship. In a moment more they saw plainly that it was coming straight down on the ship!

Before they had time to do anything, or even to give warning to those who were below, it dashed into the sea just before the vessel, carrying away the bowsprit in its furious descent.

Fortunately that was all the damage it did. Had the vessel been a few yards farther in advance it would have been instantly sunk.

It was a most narrow escape, and everybody felt wonderfully relieved when this great object, which looked like a ball of fire as it came so rapidly through the air, sank hissing into the sea.

But the officers guessed what it was, when it had disappeared. They had heard of the wonderful trip to the moon that had been undertaken by the three adventurers, and they very sensibly supposed that this must be the projectile that had fallen back upon the earth.

When they had made up their minds about the matter, and this did not take them long, they began to think what they should do. The unfortunate men in the projectile might be yet alive, and measures should instantly be taken to rescue them, if they were living, and in any case, to raise the projectile and discover their fate.

But the vessel had no machinery by which this ponderous mass could be drawn up from the bottom of the sea, especially as the sea was at this spot about four miles deep.

So they determined to return as rapidly as possible to San Francisco and obtain the necessary machinery for the work. Fortunately they had been sounding and had a line out. So they fastened a buoy to this line to mark the place, and steamed away at the best speed of their vessel, for San Francisco.

When they reached this port the news was telegraphed to the proper authorities, and, indeed, all over the country, and of course it created a great excitement.

The officers of the Society which had been the means of sending off these three men on their hazardous journey, went immediately to work, and in a few days the steamer, supplied with diving machinery and grappling irons, set out to return to the scene of the disaster.

There everybody worked rapidly and manfully. Diving bells were lowered and everything that could be done was done, but although they labored day and night, for several days no trace of the great projectile could be found on the bottom of the ocean, after searching carefully for a mile or two on every side of the buoy that had been left when they returned to San Francisco.

At last they became convinced that further search was useless, and much to the disappointment of everybody, and the intense grief of the friends of the unfortunate men who had come out on the vessel when it started on its errand of rescue, the Captain ordered the steamer to return to San Francisco.

When they had been sailing homeward for an hour or so, a sailor discovered, about a mile from the vessel, what seemed to be a large buoy, floating on the surface of the sea.

In an instant every glass in the vessel was directed towards this object. It was like a buoy, but it had a flag floating from the top of it!

The steamer immediately headed for it, and when they came near enough everybody saw what it was.

It was the great projectile quietly floating on the waves!

The air which it contained had made it so buoyant that although it probably sank to the bottom of the ocean in its rapid descent, it had risen again, and was now riding on the surface of the ocean like a corked bottle.

But were the men alive? This must be settled instantly.

In a very few minutes two boats were launched and were soon speeding towards the floating projectile as fast as strong arms could pull them.

When the first boat reached the great hollow iron cannon-shot they saw that one of its windows, which was some distance above the water, was open.

Two of the boat’s crew stood up and looked in.

Our three moon-travelers were quietly sitting inside playing dominoes!

The great depth of the ocean had broken their fall, and they were all safe and uninjured. They knew some one would come for them, and they were making themselves as comfortable as they could.

Of course they were speedily taken out of their iron house, in which they had lived for nearly a month, and in which they had met with such strange adventures and such narrow escapes.

Then with our three friends on board, the steamer started back for San Francisco, where our adventurers were received with the wildest enthusiasm, which indeed attended them during all their journey to their homes in the Atlantic States.

And so ended this trip to the moon.

It was a very wonderful thing for any one to even imagine such a journey as this, and I do not believe that any one but a Frenchman would have imagined it.

TARTAR HORSES AND HORSEMEN.

The people of Toorkistan, or Independent Tartary, are splendid riders. They have fine horses, of which they take the greatest care. But their way of taking care of horses is very different from ours.

The saddles are never taken off, night or day; and many Tartars will not allow their horses to lie down at all because they say the corn settles in their legs, and makes them lame! They are walked about a great part of the time they are not on the road, sometimes for four or five hours after coming in. At the beginning of the day’s march they are allowed a full drink of water, but none during the day, while the sun is hot. On first coming in from a journey, they are walked up and down a long time, after which without being unsaddled, the bit is taken out, and they are tied up, and covered from head to tail with thick horse cloths, even in hot weather. Then they are fed with barley, and Indian corn, and a very little grass.

We would think it cruel to keep a horse saddled and tied up in this way, but the Tartar horses seem to thrive on this treatment. Their saddles are more comfortable for the horse than ours, being well raised above the back bone. These saddles are of wood, with a high peak in front; and the rich Tartars cover them with embroidered cloths, and silver mountings.

The horses are kept beautifully clean, and their coats are as smooth and glossy as satin. In order to test whether his horse has been properly groomed, the owner will wet the white sleeve of his shirt, and rub it upon the horse’s coat. If there is not the least mark on the sleeve he is satisfied.

The Tartars hunt birds on horseback, with great success. In the case of partridges they gallop after the birds until they run them down, and tire them out, when they can catch them alive.

They have several games which they play on horseback. In one of them the riders all try to get possession of each other’s turbans! This seems rather childish, but it is no child’s sport to accomplish this, and the players perform most surprising feats of horsemanship.

They also have wrestling matches on horseback, trying to dislodge one another from the saddle, while the horses are galloping furiously and jumping ditches.

I suppose it would be almost an impossibility for a horse to throw a Tartar rider.

TWO HAPPY MEN.

When we have our minds set upon some pursuit in which we are resolved to excel, we are likely to forget any little disagreeable thing that troubles us at other times, and we are happy in our work. What pleasure a boy takes in fashioning his kite! What delight is it to a girl to put together ends of silks, ribbons and laces into a pretty bonnet for her doll! There is even pleasure in learning a Latin lesson, or in working out a difficult problem when we are interested, and are determined to do it well. The reason why so many grown persons are unhappy is because they have no occupation at all, or because they are engaged in some business which they do not like.

The best cure for this is to take up some business, and make up your mind you _will_ like it, and try to do your very best.

When a man’s business is in any branch of what we call Art he is, perhaps, happier than he could be at anything else; for, besides the satisfaction of doing the work, it is a pleasure to see beautiful things grow under our hands.

I am going to tell you about two very happy men, who both lived in the same place—a small city in Peru. One was an artist, who spent all his time painting pictures. Let me introduce you into his home, that you may see in what kind of place this happy mortal passed his days.

The room in which he painted—his studio—was below the level of the ground. To reach it from the street you went down three broken stone steps. Pretty much all the light the artist had came from the ever-open doorway. The floor was covered with straw, and scraps of vegetables, among which chickens and guinea-pigs picked up a living. His two best friends, a dog and a cat, usually shared the room with him. The cat had lost its ears and its tail, but was not the less liked by her master on that account. She was very fond of getting on his shoulder as he bent over his work, and sometimes would take a quite comfortable nap there.

Certainly it was not a beautiful home that made the artist happy.

He had the misfortune to be married to a woman who would have made most men miserable. She scolded from morning to night. The artist never could please her. No matter what he did, it was sure to be wrong in her eyes. She would stop while stirring the pot, and rail at him, shaking her greasy spoon to give emphasis to what she was saying. But the artist answered her never a word. He was so absorbed in his work that it is probable he did not hear her, half the time.

And so it was not pleasant companionship, and loving words that made him happy.

He could not even procure the proper materials for the work he loved so much. There were no shops in all that region where such things were sold. In our cities there are shops in which an artist can buy everything he needs. But our happy man could only pick up a few colors from the apothecary—the others he got himself from earths and stones he found among the mountains. From the grocer he obtained oil. The smoke of his candle furnished him with black, and his brushes he manufactured himself from the hair of the dogs killed in the city. Instead of canvas he used white cotton cloth, which he prepared in some sort of fashion; and then stretched, and tacked to a board.

With these materials, and under such disadvantages did our artist work. And he painted very good pictures too. Some of them were taken to Europe, and to the United States, and sold for twenty times more than was paid to our artist for them. But he did not know this; and the small sums he received sufficed for his simple wants.

He was always happy because his painting was to him a perpetual delight. His business was his pleasure.

The other happy man was also an artist. He was a sculptor. His statues were very singular-looking; and to our eyes, very ugly. But the people in that Peruvian town admired them greatly, and the sculptor himself thought them beautiful, and so it was all the same, as far as he was concerned, as if they really had been beautiful.

Clothed in rags and tatters, he worked faithfully in his studio, piecing together legs, and arms, and bodies, and heads, until he had an image of a man, woman, or child, that satisfied him. His room was a little better than the painter’s, but the walls were of rough stone; and, as for furniture, he would have laughed at the idea of having any.

He had such strongly marked Indian features that his face was not pleasant at first sight, but he was always in such a good humor that one soon forgot he was not handsome.

This sculptor worked in plaster. He moulded different parts of the body, and hung them up on his walls. The legs, arms, &c. were provided with wooden pegs, so that they could be properly fastened together. When he wanted to make an image he would take down the different members he required, and put them together. If they did not fit properly he would cut out blocks of plaster, and patch them up.

These statues were all colored, and the sculptor had as much difficulty in getting his colors as the painter, only he did not require so many.

One of the queer things about his statues was that they all had glass eyes! And this is the way he made them. He put fragments of window glass, cut in the shape of eyes, into a frying pan pierced with holes about an inch in diameter. As soon as the heat softened the glass sufficiently he would press the pieces down into the holes with a metal stick, and thus they would be rounded like eyes.

He procured his tools how and where he could. Old nails, old brushes, worn-out knife blades, and even sheep bones, furnished him materials.

But he took great pleasure in making these images that he thought so lovely, and which charmed his neighbors. And, occupied in this fascinating business, he had no time to think of his poverty, and troubles. He was as happy as the day is long.

THE WONDERFUL ASH TREE.

The people who used to live in the northern parts of Europe were not very pleasant people, if we are to believe all the blood-thirsty stories we have heard about them, but they had a religion, although it was rather a queer one. There is one thing, however, to be said of their gods and goddesses, which is very much in their favor. They were generally honest, and tolerably strong-minded, which is much more than we can say about some of the gods of ancient Greece and Rome. Mercury, you know, was a great thief, and even Jupiter was none too good.

The Scandinavians believed that Ymer was the very first god of all, and he made his appearance in the following manner. Before the world was created heavy mists filled all the dark space. This space must have been have been very cold, for the frosty air condensed the mists, and out of this compressed fog, the god Ymer came into existence.

But his brain does not seem to have been at all foggy; for, after a short time, becoming tired of being alone, he set his wits to work to find out how he could have the company of other beings like himself. He made a very good guess as to how he had taken shape; and, gathering the mists around him into foggy masses, he shaped them into forms like his own; and then waited to see what would happen. Soon the cold winds came and congealed the mists, and behold! a number of gigantic companions for the lonely god! He took good care, however, to make them smaller than himself; for, although they were twice the height of the tallest mountains on our earth, yet Ymer himself, when he laid down (if he ever did lie down) required about half the world for his bed.

Ymer was so much pleased with his success that he concluded he would make some more things out of the mists. He spread some of it out in great smooth surfaces, some he collected in small piles, and some he heaped up in great masses of many curious shapes. And that is the way the valleys, mountains, and hills were created.

The foggy material that was left fell down to an immense depth, and became the ocean.

Ymer made nothing more, for he did not know how to work in anything but mists, and they were all gone.

What he and his companions did in the way of employment or amusement I cannot say. Let us hope they took comfort in striding around the world—a walk of an hour or so—and in talking with each other. They could not see anything except by occasional gleams of lightning, for there was no light anywhere.

Monstrous creatures, such as dragons, hydras, griffins, and the like, now made their appearance in the world, but there is no account of their creation, and they must have come of their own accord.

One day a marvelous thing happened. Ymer and his giants saw a pink flush spreading over the black sky. This grew brighter, and brighter, until the whole firmament was a brilliant flame color. And, while they were wondering what this could mean, whizz! came in sight a great ball of fire! This was nothing less than a new god, named Odin. Where he came from nobody knew, but there he was. He descended upon the mountains, and took possession of Ymer’s world.

He brought with him the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. He told the Sun to light up the world, and to warm up things generally, and to be sure to melt the ice that covered a great part of the earth. The Moon and the Stars were to take care of the earth during the night.

Odin brought with him also, a large number of followers; and, according to the invariable rule of all discoverers of new countries, he proceeded to kill all the original inhabitants; beginning with great Ymer himself, and ending with the land and sea monsters. That is, he intended to kill them all, and he thought he had. But one of the giants escaped, and also a wolf, named Fenris (a terrible creature that made nothing of crushing a mountain with his teeth). And the great sea-serpent Iormungandur was not slain.

The warmth of the sun soon called into life the grasses, the flowers, and the trees; springs welled up in the woods; and brooks and rivers flowed through the plains to the sea; and a great variety of animals took possession of the world, now so beautiful.

Odin was charmed with all this, but not quite satisfied. He wanted some beings on the earth that should be less than gods, and yet of a finer intelligence than the beasts. Thinking about this one day, as he walked by the sea-shore, his eyes chanced to fall upon a large branch that had blown off a tree into the water. This put a bright idea into his mind. He drew the wood towards him; and, splitting it in two, made a man and a woman out of the two parts. From this couple, according to the Scandinavian legends, all the people in the world are descended.

People increased so fast, and were so rude and savage, and quarrelled and fought so much, that Odin found he had his hands too full of business, and he thought it was about time for his lazy followers to help him. So he set them all to work.

Forseti was to make peace among men. Vali was to teach them the use of the bow, not for the purpose of killing each other, but for slaughtering game for food. Uller was to teach skating. The goddess Gefione taught men to labor, and how to break up the earth for seed, and to raise crops. I think you will agree with me that she was one of the very best of all the Scandinavian gods, and goddesses.

Egir was a very important god. He showed men how to build ships, and how to manage the sails, and the rudder. And not only did he do this, but, he very obligingly, blew the vessels along with his powerful breath, so that men were not afraid to trust themselves on the rivers in these frail-looking crafts, but even boldly launched out upon the ocean.

Widar taught people a most excellent thing—when to hold their tongues. This he did by his example, for he was dumb, and could not talk at all.

Balder was called the Bright God. He was the most beloved of them all. He put good thoughts into the hearts of men, and encouraged them to be loving and patient with each other. A beautiful silvery light always shone around him.

Now, where do you suppose all these gods lived? You would probably answer that they dwelt up in the sky, or on the tops of high mountains. No. They lived in an ash tree!

This wonderful tree bore the name of Ygdrasil. Its branches overshadowed the whole world; its top supported the sky, and its roots went so far down that no one could find the end. This tree was the home of Odin and his gods, and there they stayed, except when business called them elsewhere.

This is the way the gods found out what was going on in the world, while they were having a good time in Ygdrasil. Two ravens were always flying to and fro through the Universe, and, once a day, they would perch on Odin’s shoulders and tell him the news. A little squirrel darted swiftly up and down the tree, and picked up all the scraps of gossip it could. Near the top of the tree a great eagle kept perpetual watch, and on the very topmost branch perched a vulture; and these birds, which could see to the horizon on every side cried out, and flapped their wings when any strange thing happened.

Besides all these there was the watch-god, Heimdall. His sight and hearing were marvelous. He could hear the grass grow in the fields, and hear the wool grow on the backs of the sheep. He could not only watch a fly from the one end of the world to the other, but could count the spots on its wings, and the joints in its little legs, if it was at the opposite side of the universe from himself. He could see the smallest atom that moved at the bottom of the ocean. And, what was the most astonishing of all, he could see in the darkest night as well as in the brightest day.

It is a pity this god is not living now, for he could describe to us the bottom of the ocean, and tell us if there is an open sea at the North Pole, and an icy continent at the South Pole, and a great many things we want very much to know, and have not been able to find out.

This Heimdall had golden teeth. He had also a son, named Jarl, who was a very famous god. When he was only a child he could give heavy blows with a great club, and swim like a fish, and ride on horseback as swiftly as the wind. And he understood the language of birds and beasts, and could converse with them.

There were some very queer things about these gods. We might suppose these powerful beings would be perfectly formed, but they were not. Heimdall, as we have seen, had false teeth; Tyr had but one hand; Widar was dumb; Hoder was blind; and the great Odin himself had but one eye. And it seems, too, that they did not know everything there was to be known, as the following story will show you.

There lived in the world, in those days, a very wise man, named Kvasir. He noticed how much trouble men had in expressing their thoughts in any way but speech. If one wanted to send a message to another he could only make a rude drawing on a piece of stone to represent what he wanted to say, or paint it in certain colors that stood for certain things. There was not much of this done, for not only was this process troublesome, but it was easy to misunderstand these messages; and they caused a great deal of confusion, and many quarrels, and much fighting. Kvasir wanted to remedy this; and, after a great deal of hard study, and many experiments he invented the art of writing. He also invented poetry. He called his verses _runes_, and he wrote them on beech bark, which he made into tablets.

The gods had never thought of doing anything like this.

There is no knowing how much Kvasir would have done if he had lived longer. Perhaps he would have invented printing and paper; which, as matters turned out, nobody thought of doing until many hundred years later.

But this wise and good man was killed by two wicked dwarfs. They did this in order to steal from him this treasure of poetry, and the art of writing. You may wonder how they were going to get at the treasure, for, after they had killed him, there could be no more poetry; and they could not pick it out of his brain as a thief takes a pocket-book out of the pocket. But these dwarfs were magicians, and such people, you know, have a pretty good idea what they are about. They collected his blood, and mixed it with honey in three separate proportions. These they put into three jars which they closely sealed, and buried in a cave which had never been seen either by gods or men.

These three compounds were Logic, Eloquence, and Poetry. We shall never know what the dwarfs were going to do with them, for I am happy to say that they were not allowed to keep them.

Odin’s two ravens had witnessed the whole performance of the dwarfs, and the sensible birds concluded this must be a great treasure, or it would not be worth so much trouble. So they flew straight to Odin, and told him all about it. Odin sent the squirrel up the tree Ygdrasil with an order for the eagle to leave his post, to fly to the cave, and to bring the jars to him.

This the eagle accomplished in a very short space of time, and Odin immediately opened each jar, and tasted the contents. He at once commenced reasoning eloquently in the most ravishing strains of poetry. His daughter Saga, and his son Bragi, were with their father; and, seeing how he enjoyed these new dishes, they wanted some too. Odin politely offered the first jar to Saga, but it probably did not taste pleasantly, as she declined to do more than just touch its contents to her lips. But Bragi drank up all his father had left, and immediately began to sing a magnificent chant. From that time he was called the god of poetry.

Bragi was not stingy with his treasure, but gave some of it to men, and thus the invention of the good Kvasir was used as he would have used it had he lived; and men learned to write, and to sing.

The greatest of the gods, next to Odin, was his son Thor. He was the god of tempests. He held thunderbolts shut up in his fists, and flung lightning from his fingers’ ends. He had a mighty hammer with which he reconstructed the world after Ymer had been killed. He splintered up the mountains, and made them all over again, and he knocked away at the crust of the earth, and made valleys and caves, and sometimes he amused himself by splitting open the earth, and tumbling a mountain or two into the abyss. And that was the way earthquakes came about. He made holes in some of the mountains, and let the imprisoned fire out of them.

Odin gave Thor three wonderful gifts. The first was his great hammer. It would go out of his hand to do his bidding, and then return of its own accord. The second was a pair of iron gloves. He had only to put these on, and his spear would come back into his hand after having destroyed his victim. The third was a war belt, which made him stronger than any other being while he wore it.

It is no great wonder that with all these things to help him Thor succeeded in killing off Ymer, and his race of giants, for he did most of this work.

But, you remember, in the account given of the destruction of the giants, and the land and sea monsters, that one giant escaped, and the wolf Fenris, and the great sea-serpent, Iormungandur. And, by these three, after a great number of years, Odin and his gods came to grief.