Chapter VII: Part 7

As soon as he could gather together his scattered wits he found that the animal which had given him this unceremonious ride was not a sea-lion, as he had at first supposed, but a large specimen of the common seal. Its bouncing up under his boat was an unpremeditated act on the part of the seal, who was quite as much alarmed as the boy, and quite as glad to get away.

But should he get away? This question came into Polargno’s mind. The Esquimaux boats at this season were kept prepared for whaling expeditions, and in the bow of this one there laid a harpoon with a nice long coil of rope. The boy glanced from this to the shining back of the seal that lay so temptingly just above the surface of the water. He knew all about seals. He had helped kill many a one. That was very different from fighting one entirely alone, but then the glory would be so much greater if he conquered.

A seal is a timid animal, but when brought to bay it can fight boldly and fiercely enough, and Polargno knew well that there was a chance of his coming to grief if he once began the combat. But then again the glory was so much the greater if he conquered.

He wished to wipe out the memory of his ridiculous adventure with the Arctic fox, which had brought upon him the laughter of the whole village, and was a joke against him to that very day.

These thoughts passed swiftly through his mind, and he made his determination. He cautiously paddled towards the seal, but this act alarmed the creature, and it sank into the water out of sight. Polargno knew it would come up again to breathe, and he uncoiled the harpoon line, and held the weapon all prepared to throw. Meantime the canoe drifted down to the very spot where the seal had sunk, and Polargno looked down into the deep green water, thinking he might see it coming up. But it rose in an entirely different place, on the other side of the boat, and at quite a distance. Polargno was by no means sure of his aim in making such a long throw; but, putting himself into the attitude he had seen experienced harpooners assume, he sent the harpoon whizzing through the air with a straight, steady motion that carried it with a wide sweeping curved line into the back of the seal, just above the tail.

Down into the water went the animal with a rush that made Polargno’s canoe reel and dance. If it had been a small whale, or even a sea-lion, that the boy had undertaken to capture in this fashion, it would have dragged down the canoe, harpoon, rope, and all, leaving to Polargno the pleasant task of swimming home and telling the news. But the seal was not quite strong enough for this, though it did its best; and, each time that it rose to the surface after “sounding,” Polargno wound the line tighter and tighter around the strong supports to which it was fastened. In this way he brought the seal nearer and nearer the canoe. By the time its strength was pretty well spent it had so short a line that it could dive only a few feet below the surface. And then Polargno began to wonder how he should get it to the shore when it was dead. It would be too heavy a body for him to manage alone, and there was no one in sight on the shore to whom he could call for help. He did not wish to cut the body adrift, for then he was not likely to get it again.

Suddenly there flashed into his mind a brilliant thought. The seal should take itself to the shore, and take him too! He seated himself firmly in the boat, and took up the paddle. With this he hit the seal a whack on the side, and, in darting away to the opposite direction from the blow, the animal headed for the shore. It could not dive, but it made a grand rush through the water, drawing the boat swiftly along. A few such rushes brought it to the shore. Whenever it made a turn to the right or left, the paddle reminded it to keep the straight path. Polargno had never heard of Neptune’s chariot with its dolphin steeds, and was therefore unconscious that he was working out a poetical idea, but he was very proud of the success of his stratagem, especially as it possessed an element of danger. If his charger had taken it into its head to back against the boat, and to give it a blow with its tail, it would have stove it in, and if it had given Polargno a whack at the same time it would probably have killed him. But the seal was too weak from loss of blood, or too ignorant to think of any such revenge, and rushed upon the beach at last, dragging Polargno’s boat up with such violence that he was shot out of it in a twinkling.

He fell upon the soft sand and was not hurt. When he stood upon his feet he found that his father, and one of the neighbors had come to the shore to look after the boats, and had witnessed the last part of his extraordinary journey. He was very glad of this, for he had thought his story would not be believed in the village.

The seal was soon killed, and yielded a good deal of oil and blubber.

After this, the people of the village looked upon Polargno as a very clever and brave fellow, and they laughed at him no more about the trick the fox had played him.

In due course of time, the whales came up, and, after them came the whaling ships. There were whales enough for both the Esquimaux and the whalers. The former laid in large supplies for winter use, and the latter loaded their ships with oil. But the fishing was so very good that one of the whalers staid rather late for such a very northern latitude. From time to time the captain had resolved to go, but a fresh temptation in the shape of a big whale would induce him to defer his departure; and the last of September found the ship still cruising about in that latitude.

By that time the whales were gone, and the vessel was full, and they were really on the point of departure, when, unfortunately, there came upon them a few days of excessively cold weather that was very unusual so early in the season. In a short time the bay was frozen, and the vessel tightly enclosed in the ice. The sailors now began seriously to fear that they would have to winter in that dreadful climate, when, to their joy, the weather moderated somewhat, and the ice broke up. They soon found, however, that this condition of things was worse than the other, for there was great danger of the ship being crushed by the huge masses of loose ice that pressed upon it on every side. The crew worked hard to save the ship, but it is doubtful whether they would have succeeded had it not been for the help of the friendly Esquimaux, who did everything in their power for their visitors.

At one time, they all gave up the ship as lost. The ice closed around them with such a crushing force, that the captain and crew fled to the shelter of the Esquimaux snow houses, where they were most hospitably received, and preparations were made to entertain them all winter.

But the vessel escaped, it seemed, almost by a miracle, and the crew returned to it very soon. Then the ice broke up into smaller pieces and drifted away towards the open sea, and the ship prepared to follow as soon as the channel should be sufficiently open. The Esquimaux bade farewell to the whalers, and went off on an expedition, partly for hunting, but chiefly to gather in their dogs and reindeer under shelter for the winter, leaving a few old men and boys to guard the settlement.

Polargno happened to be one of the boys left behind. The day after the expedition started he walked down to the shore to see if the bay was sufficiently open for the ship to start on its voyage. He found that the vessel was enclosed in thin ice which extended for quite a distance beyond in a solid sheet. But, as the weather was still moderating, this ice would probably break up in a few hours. Some sailors were packing up their things in a tent they had occupied on the shore. They evidently expected certainly to get away this time. But, before Polargno reached the place, they ran out of the tent, and down towards the beach with exclamations of horror. Polargno ran after them, and soon discovered the cause of their excitement.

Lower down could be seen the open sea, and, rising and falling on the waves were blocks of ice, some large and some small. On one of the largest floes stood a sailor, trying to ward off the attack of a polar bear. The bear had evidently just arrived upon the scene, and was walking around the man, preparatory to making a rush upon him. If he once closed with the sailor there was small chance of the latter escaping with his life. The ice floe, on which they both stood, was now almost stationary, having become wedged in a mass of light, loose pieces that were swaying back and forth on the water.

Having taken in this situation at a glance, Polargno did not hesitate an instant, but ran down the shore at his best speed to a spot opposite the ice-floe. The four sailors followed, but they could not equal the speed of the Esquimaux boy, and when they arrived he had taken off his outer suit and boots, retaining only his in-door suit, and light seal-skin boots. The sailors could not imagine what the boy was about, but their attention was absorbed in their comrade who was in such deadly peril, and they paid little heed to Polargno. Two of them had guns, but they found to their dismay, that these were of no use. The distance was too great for them to aim at any particular spot of the beast’s body, and a polar bear is very hard to kill, unless a vital part is struck. If he were only wounded he would be so infuriated that the sailor’s case would be hopeless. And, besides, the bear was now on the farther side of the block of ice, and was thus partly covered from their fire by the man’s body.

All this had passed in the space of a very few minutes; and now, while they were wondering what they could do, and watching for a chance to fire, the sailors suddenly discovered that the Esquimaux boy was far on his way to the help of their comrade. He had made no boast of what he was going to do. He had asked for no help. He knew they could not give him any. The thin cakes of ice, which dipped into the water under his light tread, would have sunk with the weight of one of the sailors. He saw that a fellow-creature was in danger of being killed by a ferocious animal; and, at once, without a care for his own personal safety, he went to the rescue. He had, in his belt, his knife and his hatchet, and, on these, and his dexterity and quickness, and knowledge of the ways of polar bears, he relied for success.

The sailors watched him, full of admiration for his courage, and for his skill in jumping the floating cakes of ice that one would scarcely expect to bear the weight of a bird. He seemed to select the largest and strongest pieces, by a sort of quick instinct, and bounded from one to another as lightly as a cat. A foot went into the water at nearly every step, but he did not sink.

Meantime the bear had advanced upon the sailor, who, it now was seen, had a knife in his hand, prepared to do his best.

The Esquimaux boy had now reached the pack of loose ice against which the ice floe had rested. This was firm, and he paused an instant, before springing on to the floe. The sailors thought his courage had failed at the last moment. But no! Polargno knew there was no time to lose, and he required only this instant to see where he could best strike the bear. There was no vital part at which he could get a good stroke. All he could do at first was to divert the bear’s attention from the sailor to himself.

He threw his hatchet straight at the side of the bear that was exposed to him. It sank through the tough skin into the flesh, but the wound was not a very severe one. The astonished animal turned, and, seeing the boy who had now sprung upon the ice floe, not a dozen yards from him, he made towards this new comer in a great rage.

But Polargno was ready for him. He sprang aside, and quickly struck his knife into the side of the bear. The animal fell, but was not killed, and it tried to stagger up again; but, by this time, the sailor had recovered his senses, for he had stood apparently stupefied when the bear left him. He now came to the boy’s assistance, and, together, they soon put an end to their formidable foe.

Polargno pulled off his hood, and waved it in the air, and shouted “Hurrah!” This word and action he had learned from the sailors. By this time the whole crew had come down from the ship, and they also joyfully waved their hats, and shouted “Hurrah!”

But the two must be taken off the ice-floe before it went sailing out into the sea. The pack of ice was, even now, moving faster, and gave signs of breaking up. So a boat was got down from the ship as speedily as possible, and some of the sailors, steering in and out of the floating ice, went to their relief, and took them safely to the shore. They intended to leave the carcass of the bear, but it went to Polargno’s heart to see so much good meat wasted, and he begged so hard for it, that the sailors waited long enough to tow it to shore, though they were in a hurry to get back before the upper ice field broke up.

You may wonder how the sailor and the bear got off on this ice-floe together; as you, no doubt, feel sure they did not make an appointment to meet there. The sailor told how he came there. It happened this way: The day before, he had lost a small wallet, containing some of his valuables, among the ice hummocks near the shore. As soon as he discovered his loss he searched for the bag, and his companions aided him. It could not be found, and, this day, while the men were occupied in packing up the last of their effects, he went out on the ice to look once more among the hummocks for his wallet. He wandered some distance out, but the ice was solid and firm. Suddenly he heard a noise like a sharp thunder clap, and the next instant he was floating out into the open sea, with blocks of ice swirling and tumbling about him in all directions. The ice had broken loose, and there was no way for him to reach the shore. He called and shouted, but his cries did not reach the ship, or the men in the tent. He was afraid the floe he was on would go to pieces before he could be rescued, and he knew it would be impossible for him to swim through the masses of loose ice. His swift course was fortunately arrested by the ice-pack, and he hoped there would be time to rescue him before it was all swept away by the waves, as he was sure he must soon be missed by his companions in the tent. Just as he was comforting himself with this thought, he turned, and saw a large polar bear sitting upon its haunches very near him, and regarding him attentively.

As the polar bear is dead, and as he was not able to tell his own story, either living or dead, in any language that we could understand, I cannot inform you how he came to be sailing out to sea on a cake of ice. But there he was, and greatly alarmed was the sailor when he caught sight of him. He had the presence of mind, however, not to make any sudden motion, and hoped by keeping very still, to persuade the bear that he was only an inanimate object. But the creature knew better than that. It is probable he had been observing the sailor for some time, and the reason the man did not notice the beast was because it was so nearly the color of the ice hummocks. It soon crossed over to his ice-floe, and it was then that the men in the tent first saw what had happened to their companion.

You may be sure the sailor was deeply grateful to the Esquimaux boy. He had nothing to give his preserver, but he wanted to take him home with him to New England, and take care of him ever after. But nothing would induce Polargno to leave his beloved Greenland. The captain, and such of the crew as had anything to give, loaded Polargno and his parents with gifts. The parents took them all, but I think they were very much surprised at this munificence, and at the praise that the white men showered upon the boy for his brave deed. They were very much pleased that he should have behaved so well when called upon to do his duty; but it did not occur to them, apparently, that he could possibly have done otherwise than he did, though they admitted that it was a bold deed to go out single-handed to fight a polar bear. The Esquimaux are a very brave people. Courage is such a common quality among them that it excites no surprise. But, of all their foes, the one they dread most is the polar bear. But then here was a man in danger of being killed by a bear, and the boy went to his assistance as a matter of course. That was the way they looked at it.

They all had plenty of time to talk this over, for the ship did not get away for a week after the hunting party returned. The ice closed around it again; and again the sailors made up their minds to winter there. The Esquimaux had told them of two ships that had remained there too late the years before, and had become enclosed in icebergs. Great masses of these icy mountains, descended upon the doomed ships. The crews worked hard to get the ships free, even dragging them out from among the icebergs on one occasion with ropes. But it was all in vain. The vessels were destroyed, and the crews lost all they had. The Esquimaux took them in their sledges to a lower settlement, where they found a whaling ship that conveyed them home. The ships were probably all gone now, and if this vessel was in like manner destroyed, these sailors would be compelled to stay all the season with the Esquimaux.

But, one day, the ice broke up with a great noise, and disappeared as suddenly as it came, and the vessel sailed out of the bay in a clear channel, the sailors having promised to return next year if they could.

And, in a short time, snow and ice, and winter, and darkness enveloped the place.

But the Esquimaux did not care. They were used to it. They did what work they could. They had abundant stores for the winter. And they sat around their lamps, and told stories of the wonderful adventures they had passed through, or heard of.

Polargno, we are agreed, is not handsome to our American eyes; and he does not know how to read and write; and never even heard of geography and arithmetic. And yet, I wonder how many well-taught American boys would so bravely and unselfishly risk their lives to save the life of another.

TURTLES AND THEIR EGGS.

How would you like this pretty creature for a pet? He can be domesticated, and will stay with you very contentedly, if you put him in a place where he can’t get away. If you leave an open gateway, however, the chances are he will walk out of it some day, and return no more. He does not go away because he is tired of being petted, for he likes that; or because he does not like you, for perhaps, in his heart, (if he has one) he is sorry to part from you. He goes simply because he can. This restless disposition moves him to extend his travels; and, no doubt, he intends to return at some future day. But he never does.

If you have him in any place where he can do mischief you had better keep an eye on him; otherwise he will be poking his long nose into things that do not concern him in the least.

His two ends are not well balanced, his neck being so very long, and his tail so very short! The fringe-like appendage hanging from his neck gives it somewhat the appearance of a great centipede.

His small eyes have not a very intelligent expression, but our matamata has quite sense enough to take very good care of himself.

His shell is really very pretty. It looks as if it were hung loosely upon him for a canopy, and as if he might be just as well off without it, especially as it must be somewhat heavy to carry around on all occasions. But, if you consulted him upon the matter of removing it, he would, at once, object. Probably he would draw his long neck instantly within his shell, leaving not so much as the tip of his sharp nose visible; then he would whisk in his ridiculous tail; and, lastly, in would go his fat legs and feet; and there he would have as tight and snug a house as possible.

Did you ever eat any turtles’ eggs? If not, I advise you to do so on the first opportunity, for they are very good.

The turtles lay their eggs in the sand that the heat of the sun and sand combined may hatch them at the proper time. As soon as they are hatched the young turtles make their way to the water, where they know how to provide their own living, without instruction. But, in the warm countries, where turtles abound, it is a wonder that any young ones manage to get out of their eggs.

For the eggs are esteemed such a luxury, that, as soon as the laying season of the turtles is over, the natives turn out in great numbers, and search the sands for eggs, which they collect by the thousands, for sale, and for their own eating.

It is at this laying season that the South American Indians capture great numbers of turtles. The turtles come out of the water at night, in crowds, for the purpose of depositing their eggs. They dig trenches in the sand; and, having placed their eggs in these, and covered them, they all make a grand rush back to the water. Then the Indians, who are on the watch, run after them, seize as many as they can get hold of by the tails, and throw them over on their backs. In this position a turtle is helpless, and the Indians can easily kill them.

The flesh is excellent food; but what the Indians chiefly desire to possess is the fine yellow fat with which the turtles are well supplied. From this fat the Indians manufacture a superior kind of oil, for which they find a ready sale.

If these turtles were as large as some of the West Indian turtles that have been brought to this country, the Indians would not have an easy task in turning them over.

A FEW VOLCANOES.

A mountain with its great cone smoking like a chimney, or sending up into the clouds a grand sheaf of flame, must be a splendid sight, and one never to be forgotten. But when it begins to pour forth rivers of hot lava it is time to get entirely out of sight of it, if you can. For these streams of lava are sometimes very long.

A hundred years ago Etna poured forth such an immense river of fiery stones, and liquid lava, and threw it out with such violence that it rushed in cascades and whirling torrents for fifteen miles, burning up everything in its course, until it finally plunged into the sea.

This volcano has an eruption once in a while, but does not often give the world such a terrible one as this. Sometimes the lava only destroys the fields and vineyards near the mountain. It is a small volcano, but it has done a good deal of damage. Two hundred years ago it entirely destroyed the town of Catania.

At a short distance from it stands another small volcano, which is famous for the ruin it has caused. You have no doubt read of the destruction of the city of Pompeii; and how it was entirely buried under the ashes thrown from Vesuvius during an eruption. Nearly everybody in the place at that time perished, and now people have to dig many feet under the ground to find the houses of the buried city. A smaller city in the neighborhood, Herculaneum, was buried at the same time, by the shower of ashes.

This happened eighteen hundred years ago. But Vesuvius has not been quiet ever since that time. There have been several eruptions. In 1794 it hurled out torrents of fire from its top which rolled over a town, a few miles distant, and burned it into ruins. Strange to say, the town was rebuilt; and, a few years ago, Vesuvius visited it again with a fiery flood, which, however, only destroyed part of the town.

A very much larger volcano, Cotopaxi, has, at different times, had most frightful eruptions, but on account of its situation, has not done so much damage as Etna and Vesuvius.

Just before an eruption occurs dull roars are heard inside of the mountain, which seems to shake with the action of the lava boiling up within it. Presently columns of smoke shoot up, then sheafs of flame rise into the air with masses of cinders, and burning rocks. And then the lava-streams pour over the sides, and roll down into the plains.

Some volcanoes are always smoking when not in active eruption, but the active volcanoes usually take long rests. The people who live on, or near these burning mountains rely upon this fact for safety. But it is not a very safe reliance, for their periods of rest are very irregular; and they may break forth when least expected.

The greater number of these mountains throw out flames and lava, but some send out hot mud instead, and others boiling water.

There are volcanoes that seem to have burned themselves out, and are said to be extinct. Men can go down into the craters of these, from whence the flames, and lava formerly issued, and examine them. Some of these immense holes, or craters are now filled with forests, and in others there are lakes. Others again are nothing but rocky ravines.

Orizaba, in Mexico, is an extinct volcano, with a monstrous crater. Persons standing on the opposite sides of this crater can barely see each other, the distance between them is so great.

The small volcanoes are more active than the large ones. Little Stromboli is nearly always sending up flames, while the lofty Cotopaxi is quiet sometimes for a century.

THE ABSENT-MINDED BOTANIST.

The learned Mr. Nathaniel P. Reed, a native of New Jersey, and a man well known to all the botanical and agricultural societies of the civilized world, had, in the course of some thirty years spent in patient and careful investigation into the structure and habits of plants, acquired the power of completely abstracting his mind from all its surroundings while engaged in his favorite pursuit. This was often a very fortunate thing for him. But then, again, sometimes it was very unfortunate.

He traveled everywhere, searching for specimens of plants. He never seemed to get tired of this study. Over hot, sandy deserts, and through savage forests he went undaunted; and, if he found a new flower, or tree, he felt he was fully rewarded.

At last, he reached Cape Town in Southern Africa, a region he had never before visited. A party of European hunters was just on the point of starting on an expedition into the woods and jungles, and, in an evil hour for them, asked Mr. Reed to join them. He at once accepted the invitation, for it was a fine opportunity to hunt up new plants.

I say it was in an evil hour that the hunters asked him because he gave them so much trouble through his absent-mindedness. He was a very entertaining traveling companion when not engaged in his botanical studies, and so good-humored, and obliging that his comrades did not grumble very much at the trouble he gave them. But, nevertheless, he did cause them great anxiety, for they found out that when he was searching for plants, or had a flower in his hand analyzing it, he would put himself into situations of great peril without knowing anything about it. And so, at least one of their number always had to be on the lookout for Mr. Reed, to keep him out of mischief.

For one thing, he _would_ stray away from the main body. This was against the rules of the expedition, for, in a forest full of wild beasts it was necessary to keep together. Generally, when he wandered off this way, he would be missed, and brought back before he had got entirely out of sight. But, on three occasions, he managed to get lost, without intending anything of the kind, and each time, he met with a remarkable adventure.

The party had been out but a few days when he was lost for the first time. He must have been absent two hours, when his companions first missed him. At least no one could remember having seen him for that length of time. What might not have happened to him in those two hours, everywhere surrounded by dangers? They immediately commenced the search for him.

They went back over the route they had traveled, and, at last, found the place where Mr. Reed had left the caravan. They knew it by the trampled bushes, and by the twigs broken off here and there, and plants pulled up by the roots. Following these marks of his progress they suddenly came out upon the banks of a river. And there they saw the botanist. And, at the same time, all were struck with horror at his situation. He, alone, was happily serene, unconscious that any danger was near him.

Seated on a mossy bank, in the midst of tall reeds, on a peninsula that extended pretty far out into the river, was their botanist. He had an umbrella over his head to shield him from the sun, and was busily engaged, arranging some “specimens” in his book of plants, which he called an Herbarium. His back was towards the river, and so absorbed was he in his occupation that he had not discovered that a whole colony of crocodiles had come to pay him a visit. Neither did he hear or see his companions although his face was turned directly towards them.

The crocodiles had arranged themselves in a long row, with their heads above the water, watching the botanist with great interest, and evidently, meditating an attack upon him. How long they had been there could not, of course, be known, but, in a few moments after the hunters appeared upon the scene, the nearest crocodile seemed to have made up his mind that a botanist was good to eat, and made straight towards the land, followed by another huge beast.

Mr. Reed continued calmly to arrange his specimens.

Two men from the hunting party at once rushed forward upon the peninsula, and fired upon the crocodiles. It was quite time, for two of the foremost ones had reached the land. They rolled over into the water, and all of the great beasts at once disappeared under the surface of the river.

The shots did arouse Mr. Reed’s attention, or else he had finished his work; for he looked up, and said to his companions, who now surrounded him:

“I have found one of the rarest of plants—the _Iscodextiana_—and it has twelve stamens, just as I have always maintained.”

“I wonder if it would have agreed with the stomach of a crocodile!” said one of the hunters.

Mr. Reed was so alarmed at the account of the peril to which he had exposed himself, that it was a long time before he again wandered from the caravan. The party had then formed a camp on what was considered good hunting ground—that is in a forest frequented by wild beasts. The hunters were successful in killing a good many of these, and enjoyed the dangerous sport very greatly. Meanwhile Mr. Reed continued his peaceful hunting of the wild flowers, which grew all around in the most lavish profusion.

There were always some men left in the camp to guard it. One day, when the hunters had returned, and were gathering around the supper table, they missed Mr. Reed. On questioning the men who had had charge of the camp, they could not remember when they had last seen him. It was evident that he had wandered off to a distance. If he got into one of his fits of abstraction there was no knowing when he would ever find out he was lost, and try to get back again.

Hastily swallowing some supper, a party of men went out in search of the lost botanist, but were obliged to return to the camp without him, for night came on, and the darkness was intense, and they could not continue the search.

They retired to rest with heavy hearts, for they greatly feared their very troublesome but very pleasant companion would fall a prey to some wild beast. The sentinels on guard kept peering out into the black forest, hoping to see the figure of their missing companion. They kept up great fires as beacons to guide him to the camp.

In the middle of the night the whole camp was aroused by the cries of the sentinels. The forest to the south of them was on fire. The wind was high, and as there were many dead trees, and a great deal of dry wood lying on the ground, the flames spread with great rapidity. The hunters were not afraid that it would come their way, as the wind blew it in an opposite direction. So they enjoyed the grand spectacle.

In an hour the fire had extended through the woods for several miles. The howls, and shrieks, and bellowings of hyenas, jackals, lions, and tigers filled the air, as the frightened animals rushed out of the flaming forest. A huge black form would sometimes loom up against the red sky, and then seem to sink away into the darkness. This was an elephant seeking refuge from the flames.

The hunters had watched the conflagration some time, when they saw the figure of a man running towards them from the burning woods. It was Mr. Reed! He had not been able to find the camp, he said, until the fiery forest had made everything so bright that he clearly saw the huts and tents from a long distance.

It appeared that he had lost his way while botanizing, but had started on his return, confident he could follow his own trail back. But he soon saw what he considered to be a flower. If so, it was larger than any known to botanists. However he was not sure but it might be a brilliantly colored mushroom. He forgot everything while examining this, until, to his surprise, he found he could not see it. Night had come on! He collected a quantity of dry wood into a heap, and taking a match from his pocket applied it to the wood. This gave him a bright light for the further examination of the plant.

He did not know how long it was after this that he discovered he was nearly surrounded by burning wood, and that the forest was roaring and crackling in front of him. He beat a retreat with all speed.

And so it was, our absent-minded botanist who had got up this mighty conflagration, and frightened all the wild beasts out of their senses. It was lucky for him that he lighted the fire, otherwise it is more than probable some one of the wild beasts would have made short work of him in the course of the night.

His next adventure was a very serious one, and yet it was very funny too. It happened when the expedition was returning to Cape Town. By that time Mr. Reed’s herbarium was filled with specimens. It was of more value, he said, than diamonds. He expected to astonish and delight the scientific world with that book of plants. He would never trust it to any one else for more than a few moments at a time. He slept with it under his pillow.

And yet he allowed this precious book to be stolen from him.

And by whom?

By a baboon!

In one of his fits of abstraction he had again wandered out of sight of his companions. He had the herbarium open, and, as he walked along, was studying his contents. Suddenly a great, black, hairy paw was thrust right under his nose, and the book snatched out of his hand in a twinkling.

Looking up, he saw in the tree far above his head, a large baboon, grinning and chattering, and turning over the leaves of his beloved herbarium with no gentle hand. But Mr. Reed had no idea of losing his book, and immediately began to climb the tree. The baboon grasped his stolen property, firmly, and swung himself lightly to the next tree.

Seeing the folly of attempting to follow the animal, Mr. Reed returned to his companions, finding his way with some difficulty; and implored them to recover for him this lost treasure.

They laughed at him, but good-naturedly accompanied him to the place of the theft, though they did not expect to find the monkey there; much less did they suppose the book to be still entire.

But, on reaching the spot, there, on a low branch of a tree, was the baboon, busily engaged in turning the book over and over, as if anxious to make out what manner of thing he had got hold of.

He did not take any notice of the party of men, and it would have been easy to have shot him. But the botanist made this impossible, for no sooner did he get a sight of the thief, thus displaying his booty, than he rushed forward to seize his precious volume; in this way getting between the gun and the animal.

The baboon, instead of retreating, as he had done before, sprang to the ground, and rushed upon the botanist. A fierce battle ensued. Sometimes the baboon was uppermost, and sometimes Mr. Reed. But the monkey had weapons in its claws, whereas the man had nothing but his fists, and great physical strength. The hunters tried to shoot the baboon, but this they found they could not do without danger to Mr. Reed.

Finally one of them, watching his chance, when the beast was uppermost, split its head with a hatchet, and ended the combat.

Early in the fight Mr. Reed had got hold of his book. It was somewhat crushed, and a few of the specimens destroyed, but, on the whole, it was in pretty good condition.

This was the last serious adventure that befell Mr. Reed. He met with some mishaps, but these he did not mind, and soon forgot them after his return to Cape Town, where he had the pleasure of showing his beloved herbarium, and of describing to his friends the plants he had found, and their characteristics.

SOMETHING TRUE ABOUT THE MOON.

In another part of this book I told you something about the moon, which did not even pretend to be true. No body can go to the moon, although very many people have traveled more miles than the distance between the earth and its lunar companion. Any one who has sailed from New York to Liverpool and back forty times has gone over a greater distance than that from here to the moon, which is less than 240,000 miles away.

Many a sea-captain has sailed more miles than these. A ship came into New York Bay very recently that had sailed, in one voyage over 110,000 miles.

But we cannot visit the moon because there is no atmospheric air between that planet and the earth. If air existed in this vast space in which a balloon might float, and which a man might breathe, I think that some of us would manage to get to the moon before any one reaches the North Pole. The journey would be longer, but there would be no ice to block up the way.

But notwithstanding the fact that we cannot go to the moon, we know a great deal about that planet, especially as it affects the earth. And with the great telescopes that have been constructed, in late years, we can see much of the general configuration of that side of the moon which is turned towards us, and it appears very like the picture at the head of this article. Here we see depressions and elevations, and plain surfaces which may be, and probably are, mountains and beds of dried up oceans and vast plains, which, in all probability, are barren and desolate.

For scientific men feel quite certain that the moon has no atmosphere, and of course if there is no air, we have no reason to suppose that there is any life there.

But our principal interest in the moon relates to its effects upon ourselves, and our own planet, and therefore we should all understand it as we see and enjoy it from our stand-point.

We all know that sometimes the moon is full and bright, flooding the earth with its lovely light, and that, at other times it is quite dim, just a curved strip of light in the sky, and at still other times it seems to be absent altogether.

Though we have noticed all this, it is very probable indeed that some of us do not entirely understand these changes, and so I shall briefly explain them.

When we cannot see the moon at all, which is the case for two or three days every month, it is because the sun is not shining on that side of the moon which is turned to us. And we might as well remember that although the moon moves around the earth once every four weeks, it always turns the same side to us. We never have seen the other side, with telescopes, or in any other way.

When the moon is between us and the sun, the side towards us must of course be dark. Then it is that we do not see the moon at all.

But as the moon moves gradually to one side we begin to see a little strip of the bright portion as you notice in Fig. 1. This represents the moon in its first phase.

I suppose you have noticed at such times, when the new moon is very small, that we can often see the whole disk of the moon, although the principal portion of it is very dim indeed. Still we can see a faint light shining upon it which makes it comparatively easy for us to discern its outlines.

This pale light is “earth-light.” The earth is then “full” to the moon-folk, (if there be any such creatures who can live without air,) and its brilliancy is partially reflected back to us from the surface of the moon.

The bright portion of the moon now grows larger and larger until, in about seven or eight days, we see it as it is shown in Figure 2. Then it is said to be in its first quarter.

At this time the spots and various markings on its surface are generally seen very distinctly.

For seven days the bright portion of the moon continues to grow larger and larger, and during a part of this time it presents the appearance shown in Figure 3.

At last, after about fifteen days of active increase of bright surface the moon reaches that point where the sun shines directly upon the side presented to the earth, and then it is “full moon.” Of course it must, at this time, be on the side of the earth farthest from the sun so that the sun can shine on it, and at the same time, we can see it.

Figure 4 is a small picture of the full moon.

But the moon does not remain full very long, as many of us who delight in moonlight rambles, and boat-rides, know to our sorrow. It soon begins to wane, and then assumes very much the same forms that it presented when on the increase, with this difference; its lighted portion is always turned the other way.

It now rises later and later. When it was full it rose at about the time that the sun set, and set about sunrise. But now it rises later and later until at last it rises just before the sun, and is of course soon invisible in his brighter rays.

Figures 5, 6 and 7 will give you an idea of the various phases assumed by the moon when in its wane, or decrease.

So now we have seen the moon in its various phases, which is nothing more than we can see in the heavens when the sky is clear, but it is better always to understand what we see.

We should remember, then, that one half of the moon is always bright. When it is between us and the sun (not on an exact line, however, for that would make an eclipse of the sun) we cannot see it at all, and then we say “there is no moon to-night.” When it moves around so that we can see a little of the bright side, it is “new moon,” and when it gets around behind us, so to speak, so that we can see the sun shining full upon one side of it, it is “full moon.”

If one of us could live upon that part of the surface of the moon that is always turned toward us, he could see the same changes taking place upon our planet as we see on the moon.

There would be “new earth,” and “quarter earth,” and “full earth,” which last would be truly grand!

Think of a bright orb of light in the heavens fourteen times larger than the full moon, and you will have an idea of how our earth would sometimes appear to observers on the moon,—were there any one there to see.

A VOYAGE TO THE LOWER AMAZON.

In another part of this volume there is an adventure related by Mr. Moore, in which he encountered a snow storm in a tropical country.

Mr. Moore had spent the earlier part of his life in South America; and, in after years, he was very fond of talking about these youthful days with his son George, who was a delighted listener to the travels and exploits of his father.

On one occasion Mr. Moore gave George an account of the first voyage he took on the lower part of the Amazon river, and I think it will prove almost as full of interest to my readers as it was to George Moore.

So here it is.

“I had made up my mind,” said Mr. Moore, “to overhaul the boat of Miguel Espartero. He was a Spanish South American, and captain of the sloop Bella Donna, which sloop, I had been told, was to start that very day on its voyage down the river to Para, to which place it was conveying coffee and chocolate, the produce of the river farms.

“I had some acquaintance with Captain Espartero; and I knew he did not want me on his sloop, and I guessed the reason. His ideas of hospitality would compel him to offer me his state-room, and he feared I would accept the offer. That was the reason he pretended not to see me when I first came in sight of him in the gapo. He rowed with all his might and main, without turning his head in my direction. But I thought if I could overtake him, and convince him I did not want his state-room, he would be very glad of my company.

“So I bribed my Indian rower to his best speed. The captain’s boat was several lengths ahead, and was lighter than ours, but he was not as much accustomed to rowing as my Indian, and I felt pretty sure of overtaking him in the gapo.

“What is a gapo?” said George.

“At certain seasons the Amazon river overflows its banks; and the forest land, covered by the waters, is called a gapo, and Captain Espartero was rowing through one of these to get to his sloop in the open river, and I was following him. I was afraid he would hoist sail, and away before I could reach the sloop, so I made up my mind to overhaul his boat.

“We overtook him after a little rapid rowing, and I made a bargain with him to take me down the river. He was in a hurry, he said, but I was all ready; and in half an hour we were on board the Bella Donna.”

“Why!” exclaimed George, “that is the name of a medicine!”

“The sloop was not named after the medicine, but Bella Donna is Spanish for Beautiful Lady.

“For several hours we drifted with the tide, which was running pretty fast; and then we stopped at a town to take on some chocolate. Here there were farm-houses on both banks of the river—low whitewashed buildings, looking very picturesque in the midst of the pretty cacao or chocolate trees.

“After leaving here, our progress was very slow; and, before night, we came to a dead stop. Our pilot had steered us upon a sand-bank! There was nothing for it but to wait for the tide to float us off. Fortunately we could go to sleep, and we did.

“It was a warm night, and I wrapped myself in my cloak, and laid down on some cushions on the deck. After a long time I was awakened by a splashing noise, and, lying quite still in the moonlight, I listened. There seemed to be many creatures swimming around our sloop. And then I plainly smelled a musky odor. I knew by that sign who our visitors were. I got up and looked over the side of the vessel.

“Yes, there they were! I was sure of it! Their long, villainous-looking heads were thrust out of the water, as if enjoying the moonlight. These were several alligators looking for something to eat, no doubt, and I was very glad they were not going to have a chance to eat me. I was safely out of their reach on the deck of the sloop, but the idea of having so many of these disgusting and ravenous beasts so near me disturbed my rest for a long time. So that my first night on the sloop was not particularly pleasant.

“But the second was worse. We floated off the sand-bar about daybreak, and made very good progress through the day. Very early in the night I retired to my little room in the cabin, and was soon sound asleep.

“After some time I awoke. I was conscious of a disagreeable sensation. I soon found that my hammock was rocking at a furious rate. Presently it gave a tremendous lurch, and banged my head against the wall. With some difficulty I managed to get out of the hammock, and, as soon as I put my feet on the floor, I fell down. The room was pitchy dark, and the vessel was evidently very pitchy too, though in a different way. On the deck there was a great trampling of feet.