[Illustration: A SMOKY DWELLING.]

It would probably seem to most of us, that to breathe an atmosphere
constantly filled with smoke, and to have it in our eyes and noses all
the time, would be almost as bad, if not quite, as suffering the
stings of mosquitoes.

But then we do not know anything about Senegalian mosquitoes, and the
accounts which Dr. Livingstone and other travellers give of the
insects in Africa, ought to make us feel pretty sure that these
woolly-headed folks on the platforms know what is good for them.




THE CANNON OF THE PALAIS ROYAL.

[Illustration]


In the Gardens of the Palais Royal, in Paris, there is a little cannon
which stands on a pedestal, and is surrounded by a railing. Every day
it is loaded with powder and wadding, but no one on earth is allowed
to fire it off. However, far away in the realms of space, ninety-three
millions of miles from our world, there is the great and glorious Sun,
and every day, at twelve o'clock, he fires off that little cannon,
provided there are no clouds in the way. Just before noon on bright
days, the people gather around the railing, with their watches in
their hands,--if they are so lucky as to have watches,--and precisely
at twelve o'clock, _bang!_ she goes.

The arrangement which produces this novel artillery-practice is very
simple. A burning-glass is fixed over the cannon in such a manner that
when the sun comes to the meridian--which it does every day at noon,
you know--its rays are concentrated on the touch-hole, and of course
the powder is ignited and the cannon is fired.

Most boys understand the power of a burning-glass, and know how easily
dry grass or tinder, or a piece of paper, may be set on fire by a good
glass when the sun is bright; but they would find it very difficult to
place a glass over a little cannon so that it would infallibly be
discharged at any set hour. And even if they could do it, they would
not be sure of their cannon-clock being _exactly_ right, for the sun
does not keep the very best time. He varies a little, and there is a
difference between solar time and true time. But the sun is always
near enough right for all ordinary intents and purposes.

I know boys--lazy fellows--and some girls of the same sort, for that
matter,--who, if they could, would have, just outside of their
school-doors, one of the largest cannon, which should go off every day
at the very earliest hour at which school would let out, and which
should make such a tremendous report that it would be impossible for
the teacher to overlook the time and keep them in too long.

But if these same boys and girls were putting up a cannon to go off at
the hour when school commenced, they would get such a little one that
it wouldn't frighten a mouse.




WATERS, DEEP AND SHALLOW.


With such a vast subject before us as the waters of our beautiful
world, we must be systematic. So we will at first confine ourselves to
the observation of _pleasant waters_.

[Illustration]

Let us begin at the beginning.

This pretty little spring, with its cool water running day and night
into the old barrel, and then gurgling over the staves, flowing away
among the grass and flowers, is but a trifling thing perhaps, and
might be passed with but little notice by people who have always lived
in cities. But country-folks know how to value a cool, unfailing
spring. In the hot days of summer the thirsty and tired farmer would
rather see that spring than an ice-cream saloon. Yes, even if he has
nothing to drink from but a gourd, which may be lying there among the
stones. He may have a tin-cup with him,--and how shocking! he may
drink out of his hands! But, let him use what he may, he certainly
gets a most delicious drink.

I once knew a little girl who said she could not bear spring-water;
she did not think it was clean, coming out of the ground in that way.
I asked her if she liked well-water; but she thought that was worse
yet, especially when it was hauled up in old buckets. River-water she
would not even consider, for that was too much exposed to all sorts of
dirty things to be fit to drink. I then wished to know what kind of
water she did like, and she answered, readily enough, "hydrant-water."
I don't know where she imagined hydrant-water came from, but she may
have thought it was manufactured, by some clean process, out at the
water-works.

But let us follow this little stream which trickles from the barrel.
We cannot walk by its banks all the time, for it winds so much and
runs through places where the walking is very bad; but let us go
across the fields and walk a mile or two into the woods, and we will
meet with it again. Here it is!

What a fine, tumbling stream it has grown to be now! It is even big
enough to have a bridge over it. It does not always rush so noisily
among the rocks; but this is early summer; there has been plenty of
rain, and the brook is full and strong. Now, then, if this is a trout
country, we ought to have our hooks and lines with us. Among the
eddies of this stream we might find many a nice trout, and if we were
only successful enough to catch some of them after we had found them,
we would be sure of a reward for our walk, even if the beauty of the
scene did not repay us.

But let us go on. This stream does not stop here.

After we have walked a mile or so more, we find that our noisy friend
has quieted down very much indeed. It is a little wider, and it may be
it is a little deeper, but it flows along very placidly between its
low banks. It is doubtful if we should find any trout in it now, but
there may be cat-fish and perch, and some sun-fish and eels.

[Illustration]

And now the stream suddenly spreads out widely. It is a little lake!
No, it is only a mill-pond.

Let us walk around and come out in front of the mill.

How the stream has diminished again!

[Illustration]

As it comes out of the mill-race and joins itself to that portion
which flows over the dam, it is a considerable creek, to be sure, but
it looks very small compared to the mill-pond. But what it wants in
size it makes up in speed, like some little Morgan horses you may have
seen, and it goes rushing along quite rapidly again. Here, now, is a
splendid chance to catch a chub.

If we had some little minnows for bait, and could stand on the bank
there to the left, and throw our lines down into the race, we ought to
be able to hook a chub, if there are any there, and I think it is very
likely that there are. A chub, if he is a good-sized fellow, is a fish
worth catching, even for people who have been fishing for trout. One
big chub will make a meal for a small family.

But let us follow the creek and see what new developments we shall
discover. To be sure, you may say that following up a stream from its
very source involves a great deal of walking; but I can answer with
certainty that a great deal of walking is a very easy thing--in books!

So on we go, and it is not long before we find that our watery friend
has ceased to be a creek, and is quite worthy of being called a fine
young river. But still it is scarcely fit yet for navigation. There
are rocks in the very middle of the stream, and every now and then we
come to a waterfall. But how beautiful some of those cascades are!

What a delightful thing it would be, on a warm summer evening, to
bathe in that deliciously cool water. It is deep enough for a good
swim, and, if any of us want a shower-bath, it would be a splendid
thing to sit on the rocks and let the spray from the fall dash over
us! And there are fish here, I am sure. It is possible that, if we
were to sit quietly on the bank and fish, we might soon get a string
of very nice perch, and there is no knowing what else. This stream is
now just about big enough and little enough to make the character of
its fish doubtful. I have known pike--fellows two feet long--caught in
such streams as this; and then again, in other small rivers, very much
like it, you can catch nothing but cat-fish, roach, and eels.

If we were to follow up our river, we would soon find that it grew
larger and larger, until row-boats and sloops, and then schooners and
perhaps large ships, sailed upon its surface. And at last we might
follow it down to its mouth, and, if it happened to flow into the sea,
we would probably behold a grand scene. Some rivers widen so greatly
near their mouths that it is difficult to believe that they are rivers
at all.

[Illustration]

On the next page we see a river which, at its junction with the ocean,
seems almost like a little sea itself.

[Illustration]

We can hardly credit the fact that such a great river as the Amazon
arose from a little spring, where you might span the body of the
stream with your hand. But, at its source, there is no doubt just such
a little spring. The great trouble, however, with these long rivers,
is to find out where their source really is. There are so many brooks
and smaller rivers flowing into them that it is difficult to determine
the main line. You know that we have never settled that matter in
regard to the Mississippi and Missouri. There are many who maintain
that the source of the Mississippi is to be found at the head of the
Missouri, and that the latter is the main river. But we shall not try
to decide any questions of that sort. We are in quest of pleasant
waters, not difficult questions.

[Illustration: FALLS OF GAVARNI.]

There is no form which water assumes more grand and beautiful than the
cascade or waterfall. And these are of very varied shapes and sizes.
Some of the most beautiful waterfalls depend for their celebrity, not
upon their height, but upon their graceful forms and the scenery by
which they are surrounded, while others, like the cascade of Gavarni,
are renowned principally for their great height.

There we see a comparatively narrow stream, precipitating itself down
the side of an enormous precipice in the Pyrenees. Although it appears
so small to us, it is really a considerable stream, and as it strikes
upon the jutting rocks and dashes off into showers of spray, it is
truly a beautiful sight.

There are other cascades which are noted for a vast volume of water.
Some of these are well known, but there is one, perhaps, of which you
have never heard.

When Dr. Livingstone was travelling in Africa he was asked by some of
the natives if in his country there was any "smoke which sounds." They
assured him that such a thing existed in their neighborhood, although
some of them did not seem to comprehend the nature of it. The Doctor
soon understood that their remarks referred to a waterfall, and so he
took a journey to it. When he came within five or six miles of the
cataract, he saw five columns of smoke arising in the air; but when he
reached the place he found that this was not smoke, but the vapor from
a great fall in the river Zambesi.

These falls are very peculiar, because they plunge into a great abyss,
not more than eighty feet wide, and over three hundred feet deep. Then
the river turns and flows, for many miles, at the bottom of this vast
crack in the earth. Dr. Livingstone thinks these falls are one of the
wonders of the world.

There is no doubt, however, about the king of cataracts. That is
Niagara. If you have seen it you can understand its grandeur, but
you can never appreciate it from a written description. A picture
will give you some idea of it, but not a perfect one, by any means.

[Illustration: FALLS OF ZAMBESI.]

The Indians called these falls "thundering water," and it was an
admirable title. The waters thunder over the great precipice, as they
have done for thousands of years before we were born, and will
continue to do thousands of years after we are dead.

The Falls of Niagara are divided by an island into two portions,
called the Canadian and the American Falls. This island lies nearer to
the United States shore than to that of Canada. Therefore the American
Falls are the smallest. This island is named Goat Island, and you have
a good view of it in the picture.

[Illustration]

It seems as if the resistless torrent would some day tear away this
lonely promontory, as it rushes upon and around it. It is not unlikely
that in the course of ages the island may be carried away.

Even now, portions of it are occasionally torn off by the rush of the
waters.

You can cross over to Goat Island by means of a bridge, and when there
you can go down _under the falls_. Standing in what is called the
"Cave of the Winds," you can look out at a thick curtain of water,
from eighteen to thirty feet thick, pouring down from the rocks above.
This curtain, dark and glittering, is a portion of the great falls.

It is necessary to spend days at Niagara before its grandeur can be
fully appreciated. But we must pass on to other waters, and not tarry
at this glorious cataract until we are carried away by our subject.

We will now look at, for a short time, what may be called _Profitable
Waters_. The waters of the earth are profitable in so many ways that
it would be impossible for us to consider them all. But we will simply
glance at a few scenes, where we can easily perceive what advantages
man derives from the waters, deep or shallow. In our own country there
is no more common method of making a living out of the water than by
fishing with a net.

The men in the picture, when they have hauled their seine to shore,
will probably find as good a reward for their labor as if they had
been working on the land instead of in the river; and if it is shad
for which they are fishing, their profits will probably be greater.

You know that our shad fisheries are very important sources of income
to a great many people. And the oyster fisheries are still more
valuable.

When we mention the subject, of making a living out of the water, we
naturally think first of nets, and hooks and lines. It is true that
mills, and steamships, and packet-lines, and manufactories, are far
more important; but they require capital as well as water. Men fish
all over the world, but on some waters vessels or saw-mills are never
seen.

[Illustration]

The styles of fishing, however, are very various. Here is a company of
Africans, fishing with javelins or spears.

They build a sort of platform or pier out into the river, and on this
they stand, with their spears in their hands, and when a fish is seen
swimming in the water, down comes the sharp-pointed javelin, which
seldom misses him. Then he is drawn upon the platform by means of the
cord which is fastened to the spear. A whole family will go out
fishing in this way, and spend the day on the platform. Some will
spear the fish, while others will clean them, and prepare them for
use. One advantage that this party possesses is, that if any of them
should tumble into the water, they would not get their clothes wet.

[Illustration]

But sometimes it will not do for the fisherman to endeavor to draw up
the treasures of the deep while he remains at the surface of the
water; very often he must go down after them. In this way a great many
of the most valuable fisheries are conducted. For instance, the
sponge-fishers are obliged to dive down to the very bottom of the
water, and tear off the sponges from the rocks to which they fasten
themselves. Some of the most valuable sponge-fisheries are on the
coast of Syria, and you may here see how they carry on their
operations.

[Illustration]

This is a very difficult and distressing business to the divers They
have to remain under the water as long as they can possibly hold their
breath, and very often they are seriously injured by their exertions
in this way. But when we use the sponges we never think of this. And
if we did, what good would it do? All over the world men are to be
found who are perfectly willing to injure their health, provided they
are paid for it.

The pearl-fisheries are quite as disastrous in their effects upon the
divers as those of which we have just been speaking.

The pearl-diver descends by the help of a long rope, to the end of
which is attached a heavy stone. He stands on the stone, holds the
rope with one hand and his nose with the other, and quickly sinks to
the bottom. Then he goes to work, as fast as he can, to fill a net
which hangs from his neck, with the pearl-oysters. When he can stay
down no longer, the net and stone are drawn up by the cord, and he
rises to the surface, often with blood running from his nose and ears.
But then, those who employ them sometimes get an oyster with as fine
pearls as this one contains.

[Illustration]

It is perfectly possible, however, to dive to the bottom of the sea
with very valuable results, without undergoing all this terrible
injury and suffering. In this country and Europe there are men who,
clad in what is called submarine armor, will go to the bottom of a
river, or bay, or the sea,--where it is not very deep--and there walk
about almost as comfortably as if they were on land. Air is supplied
to them by long pipes, which reach to the surface, and these divers
have been made very useful in discovering and removing wrecks,
recovering sunken treasure, and in many other ways.

[Illustration]

For instance, you have a picture of some divers at the bottom of the
port of Marseilles. A box of gold had fallen from a steamship, and the
next day these two men went down after it. They found it, and it was
hauled safely to the surface by means of the ropes which they attached
to it.

You see how strangely they are dressed. An iron helmet, like a great
iron pot, is over each of their heads, and a reservoir, into which the
air is pumped, is on their backs. They can see through little windows
in their masks or helmets, and all they have to do is to walk about
and attend to their business, for men above supply them with a
sufficiency of air for all breathing purposes, by means of an air-pump
and a long flexible tube.

We have not even alluded to many profitable waters; we have said
nothing about those vast seas where the great whale is found, or of
the waters where men catch the valuable little sardine.

We have not mentioned corals, nor said anything about those
cod-fisheries, which are considered of sufficient importance,
sometimes, to go to war about. But these, with many other subjects of
the kind, we must leave unnoticed, while we cast our eyes upon some
_Dangerous Waters_.

We all know that almost any water, if it be a few feet deep, is
dangerous at certain times and under certain conditions.

The creek, which in its deepest parts is not up to your chin, may be
the death of you if you venture upon it in winter, when the ice is
thin, and you break through. Without help, you may be able neither to
swim out or climb out.

But oceans and seas are the waters where danger may nearly always be
expected. The sea may be as smooth as glass, the skies bright, and not
a breath of wind be stirring; or a gentle breeze, just enough to
ripple the water, may send our vessel slowly before it, and in a few
hours the winds may be roaring, the waves dashing into the air, and
the skies dark with storm-clouds.

If we are upon a large and strong steamer, we may perhaps feel safe
enough among the raging waves; but if our vessel be a fishing-boat, or
a small pleasure-craft, we have good reason to be afraid Yet many a
little sloop like this rides bravely and safely through the storms.
But many other little vessels, as strong and as well steered, go to
the bottom of the ocean every year. If the sailor escapes severe
storms, or sails in a vessel which is so stout and ably managed as to
bid defiance to the angry waves, he has other dangers in his path. He
may, for instance, meet with icebergs. If the weather is clear and the
wind favorable, he need not fear these floating mountains of ice. But
if it be night, or foggy, and he cannot see them, or if, in spite of
all his endeavors, the wind drives him down upon them, then is his
vessel lost, and, in all probability, the lives of all upon it.
Sometimes, however, the passengers and crew may escape in boats, and
instances have been related where they have taken refuge on the
iceberg itself, remaining there until rescued by a passing ship.

[Illustration]

But, be the weather fair or foul, a ship is generally quick to leave
the company of so dangerous a neighbor as an iceberg. Sometimes great
masses of ice take a notion to topple over, and, looking at the matter
in what light you please, I think that they are not to be trusted.

Then there is the hurricane!

A large ship may bravely dare the dangers of an ordinary storm, but
nothing that floats on the surface of the water can be safe when a
whirlwind passes over the sea, driving everything straight before it
Great ships are tossed about like playthings, and strong masts are
snapped off as if they had been made of glass.

[Illustration]

If a ship is then near a coast, her crew is seldom able, if the wind
blows towards the land, to prevent her from being dashed upon the
rocks; and if she is out upon the open sea, she is often utterly
disabled and swallowed up by the waves.

I have known boys who thought that it would be perfectly delightful
to be shipwrecked. They felt certain that they would be cast (very
gently, no doubt) upon a desert island, and there they would find
everything that they needed to support life and make them comfortable;
and what they did not get there they would obtain from the wreck of
the ship, which would be lying on the rocks, at a convenient distance
from the shore. And once on that island, they would be their own
masters, and would not have to go to school or do anything which did
not please them.

[Illustration]

This is the good old Robinson Crusoe idea, which at one time or
another runs in the mind of nearly every boy, and many girls, too, I
expect; but a real shipwreck is never desired the second time by any
person who has experienced one.

Sometimes, even when the crew think that they have safely battled
through the storm, and have anchored in a secure place, the waves
dash upon the vessel with such force that the anchor drags, the masts
go by the board, and the great ship, with the hundreds of pale faces
that crowd her deck, is dashed on the great rocks which loom up in the
distance.

[Illustration]

Among other dangers of the ocean are those great tidal waves, which
often follow or accompany earthquakes, and which are almost as
disastrous to those living upon the sea-coast as to those in ships.
Towns have been nearly destroyed by them, hundreds of people drowned,
and great ships swept upon the land, and left there high and dry. In
tropical latitudes these tremendous upheavals of the ocean appear to
be most common, but they are known in all regions which are subject to
serious shocks of earthquakes.

[Illustration]

Waterspouts are other terrible enemies of the sailor. These, however
dangerous they may be when they approach a ship, are not very common,
and it is said that they may sometimes be entirely dispersed by firing
a cannon-ball into the midst of the column of water. This statement
is rather doubtful, for many instances have been related where the
ball went directly through the water-spout without any effect except
to scatter the spray in every direction. I have no doubt that sailors
always keep as far away from water-spouts as they can, and place very
little reliance on their artillery for their safety.

And now, have you had enough water?

We have seen how the waters of the earth may be enjoyed, how they may
be made profitable to us, and when we should beware of them.

[Illustration]

But before we leave them, I wish to show you, at the very end of this
article, something which is a little curious in its appearance. Let us
take a step down to the very bottom of the sea; not in those
comparatively shallow places, where the divers descend to look for
wrecks and treasure, but in deep Water, miles below the surface. Down
there, on the very bottom, you will see this strange thing. What do
you suppose it is?

It is not an animal or a fish, or a stone, or shell. But plants are
growing upon it, while little animals and fishes are sticking fast to
it, or swimming around it. It is not very thick--scarcely an inch--and
we do not see much of it here; but it stretches thousands of miles. It
reaches from America to Europe, and it is an Atlantic Cable. There is
nothing in the water more wonderful than that.




HANS, THE HERB-GATHERER.

[Illustration]


Many years ago, when people had not quite so much sense as they have
now, there was a poor widow woman who was sick. I do not know what was
the matter with her, but she had been confined to her bed for a long
time.

She had no doctor, for in those days many of the poor people, besides
having but little money, had little faith in a regular physician. They
would rather depend upon wonderful herbs and simples, which were
reported to have a sort of magical power, and they often used to
resort to charms and secret incantations when they wished to be cured
of disease.

This widow, whose name was Dame Martha, was a sensible woman, in the
main, but she knew very little about sickness, and believed that she
ought to do pretty much as her neighbors told her. And so she followed
their advice, and got no better.

There was an old man in the neighborhood named Hans, who made it a
regular business to gather herbs and roots for moral and medical
purposes. He was very particular as to time and place when he went out
to collect his remedies, and some things he would not touch unless he
found them growing in the corner of a churchyard--or perhaps under a
gallows--and other plants he never gathered unless the moon was in its
first quarter, and there was a yellow streak in the northwest, about a
half-hour after sunset. He had some herbs which he said were good for
chills and fever; others which made children obedient; others which
caused an old man's gray hair to turn black and his teeth to grow
again--if he only took it long enough; and he had, besides, remedies
which would cure chickens that had the pip, horses that kicked, old
women with the rheumatism, dogs that howled at the moon, boys who
played truant, and cats that stole milk.

Now, to our enlightened minds it is very evident that this Hans was
nothing more than an old simpleton; but it is very doubtful if he
thought so himself, and it is certain that his neighbors did not. They
resorted to him on all occasions when things went wrong with them,
whether it was the butter that would not come in their churns, or
their little babies who had fevers.

Therefore, you may be sure that Dame Martha sent for Hans as soon as
she was taken ill, and for about a year or so she had been using his
herbs, making plasters of his roots, putting little shells that he
brought under her pillow, and powwowing three times a day over bunches
of dried weeds ornamented with feathers from the tails of yellow hens
that had died of old age. But all that Hans, could do for her was of
no manner of use. In vain he went out at night with his lantern, and
gathered leaves and roots in the most particular way. Whether the moon
was full or on the wane; whether the tail of the Great Dipper was
above the steeple of the old church, or whether it had not yet risen
as high as the roof; whether the bats flew to the east or the west
when he first saw them; or whether the Jack o'lanterns sailed near the
ground (when they were carried by a little Jack), or whether they were
high (when a tall Jack bore them), it made no difference. His herbs
were powerless, and Dame Martha did not get well.

About half a mile from the widow's cottage there lived a young girl
named Patsey Moore. She was the daughter of the village Squire, and a
prettier girl or a better one than Patsey is not often met with. When
she heard of Dame Martha's illness she sometimes used to stop at the
cottage on her way to school, and leave with her some nice little
thing that a sick person might like to eat.

One day in spring, when the fields were full of blossoms and the air
full of sunshine and delicious odors, Patsey stopped on her way from
school to gather a bunch of wild-flowers.

They grew so thickly and there were so many different kinds, that she
soon had a bouquet that was quite fit for a parlor. On her way home
she stopped at Dame Martha's cottage.

"I am sorry, Dame Martha," said she, "that I have nothing nice for
you to-day, but I thought perhaps you would like to have some flowers,
as it's Spring-time and you can't go out."

[Illustration]

"Indeed, Miss Patsey," said the sick woman, "you could'nt have brought
me anything that would do my heart more good. It's like hearing the
birds sing and sittin' under the hedges in the blossoms, to hear you
talk and to see them flowers."

Patsey was very much pleased, of course, at this, and after that she
brought Dame Martha a bouquet every day.

And soon the good woman looked for Patsey and her beautiful flowers as
longingly and eagerly as she looked for the rising of the sun.

Old Hans very seldom came to see her now, and she took no more of his
medicines. It was of no use, and she had paid him every penny that she
had to spare, besides a great many other things in the way of little
odds and ends that lay about the house. But when Patsey stopped in,
one afternoon, a month or two after she had brought the first bunch of
flowers, she said to the widow:

"Dame Martha, I believe you are a great deal better."

"Better!" said the good woman, "I'll tell you what it is, Miss Patsey,
I've been a thinking over the matter a deal for the last week, and
I've been a-trying my appetite, and a-trying my eyes, and a-trying how
I could walk about, and work, and sew, and I just tell you what it is,
Miss Patsey, I'm well!"

And so it was. The widow was well, and nobody could see any reason for
it, except good Dame Martha herself. She always persisted that it was
those beautiful bunches of flowers that Patsey had brought her every
day.

"Oh, Miss Patsey!" she said, "If you'd been a-coming to me with them
violets and buttercups, instead of old Hans with his nasty bitter
yarbs, I'd a been off that bed many a day ago. There was nothing but
darkness, and the shadows of tomb-stones, and the damp smells of the
lonely bogs about his roots and his leaves. But there was the heavenly
sunshine in your flowers, Miss Patsey, and I could smell the sweet
fields, when I looked at them, and hear the hum of the bees!"

It may be that Dame Martha gave a little too much credit to Patsey's
flowers, but I am not at all sure about it. Certain it is, that the
daily visits of a bright young girl, with her heart full of kindness
and sympathy, and her hands full of flowers from the fragrant fields,
would be far more welcome and of far more advantage to many sick
chambers than all the old herb-gatherers in the world, with their
bitter, grave-yard roots, and their rank, evil-smelling plants that
grow down in the swamps among the frogs and snakes.

Perhaps you know some sick person. Try Patsey's treatment.




SOME CUNNING INSECTS.

[Illustration]


We hear such wonderful stories about the sense and ingenuity displayed
by insects, that we are almost led to the belief that some of them
must have a little reason--at least as much as a few men and women
that we know.

Of all, these wise insects, there is none with more intelligence and
cunning than the ant. How many astonishing accounts have we had of
these little creatures, who in some countries build great houses,
almost large enough for a man to live in; who have a regular form of
government, and classes of society--soldiers, workers, gentlemen and
ladies; and who, as some naturalists have declared, even have handsome
funerals on the occasion of the death of a queen! It is certain that
they build, and work, and pursue their various occupations according
to systems that are wisely conceived and most carefully carried out.

[Illustration]

Dr. Ebrard, who wrote a book about ants and their habits, tells a
story of a little black ant who was building an arch at the foundation
of a new ant-hill. It was necessary to have some means of supporting
this arch, which was made of wet mud, until the key-stone should be
put in and all made secure. The ant might have put up a couple of
props, but this is not their habit in building. Their laws say nothing
about props. But the arch must be supported, and so Mr. Ant thought
that it would be a good idea to bend down a tall stalk of wheat which
grew near the hill, and make it support the arch until it was
finished. This he did by carrying bits of wet mud up to the end of the
stalk until he had piled and stuck so much upon it that the heavy top
bent over. But, as this was not yet low enough, and more mud could not
be put on the slender stem without danger of breaking it, the ant
crammed mud in between the stalk at its root and the other stalks, so
that it was forced over still more. Then he used the lowered end to
support his arch!

[Illustration]

Some other ants once found a cockchafer's wing, which they thought
would be a capital thing to dry for winter, and they endeavored to get
it into the entrance of their hill. But it was too big. So they drew
it out and made the hole larger. Then they tried again, but the wing
was still too wide. They turned it and made several efforts to get it
in sideways, and upside down, but it was impossible; so they lifted it
away, and again enlarged the hole. But the wing would not yet go in.
Without losing patience, they once more went to work, and, after
having labored for three hours and a half, they at last had the
pleasure of seeing their dried wing safely pulled into their
store-room.

[Illustration]

Then, there are spiders. They frequently show the greatest skill and
cunning in the construction of their webs and the capture of their
prey, and naturalists say that the spider has a very well developed
brain. They must certainly have a geometrical talent, or they could
not arrange their webs with such regularity and scientific accuracy.
Some spiders will throw their webs across streams that are quite wide.

Now, to do this, they must show themselves to be engineers of no small
ability. Sometimes they fasten one end of a thread to a twig on one
side of the stream, and, hanging on the other end, swing over until
they can land on the other side. But this is not always possible, for
they cannot, in some places, get a chance for a fair swing. In such a
case, they often wait until the wind is blowing across the stream
from the side on which they are, and, weaving a long line, they let it
out until the wind carries it over the stream, and it catches in the
bushes or grass on the other side. Of course, after one thread is
over, the spider can easily run backward and forward on it, and carry
over all the rest of his lines.

[Illustration]

Bees have so much sense that we ought almost to beg their pardon when
we speak of their instinct. Most of us have read what Huber and others
have told us of their plans, inventions, laws, and regular habits. It
is astonishing to read of a bee-supervisor, going the round of the
cells where the larvæ are lying, to see if each of them has enough
food. He never stops until he has finished his review, and then he
makes another circuit, depositing in each cell just enough food--a
little in this one, a great deal in the next, and so on.

There were once some bees who were very much disturbed by a number of
great moths who made a practice of coming into their hives and
stealing their honey. Do what they could, the bees could not drive
these strong creatures out.

But they soon hit upon a plan to save their honey. They blocked up
all the doors of the hive with wax, leaving only a little hole, just
big enough for one bee to enter at a time. Then the moths were
completely dumbfounded, and gave up the honey business in despair.

But the insect to which the epithet of cunning may be best ascribed,
is, I think, the flea. If you doubt this, try to catch one. What
double backsprings he will turn, what fancy dodges he will execute,
and how, at last, you will have to give up the game and acknowledge
yourself beaten by this little gymnast!

[Illustration]

But fleas have been taught to perform their tricks of strength and
activity in an orderly and highly proper manner. They have been
trained to go through military exercises, carrying little sticks for
guns; to work and pull about small cannon, although the accounts say
nothing about their firing them off; and, what seems the most
wonderful of all, two fleas have been harnessed to a little coach
while another one sat on the box and drove! The whole of this
wonderful exhibition was so small that a microscope had to be used in
order to properly observe it.

The last instance of the intelligence of insects which I will give is
something almost too wonderful to believe, and yet the statement is
made by a Dr. Lincecum, who studied the habits of the insect in
question for twelve years, and his investigations were published in
the _Journal of the Linnæan Society_. Dr. Lincecum says, that in Texas
there is an ant called by him the Agricultural Ant, which not only
lays up stores of grain, but prepares the soil for the crop; plants
the seed (of a certain plant called ant-rice); keeps the ground free
from weeds; and finally reaps the harvest, and separating the chaff
from the grain, packs away the latter, and throws the chaff outside of
the plantation. In "Wood's Bible Animals" you can read a full account
of this ant, and I think that after hearing of its exploits, we can
believe almost anything that we hear about the intelligence of
insects.




A FIRST SIGHT OF THE SEA.

[Illustration]


If you have ever seen the ocean, you will understand what a grand
thing it is to look for the first time upon its mighty waters,
stretching away into the distance, and losing themselves in the clouds
and sky. We know it is thousands of miles over to the other shore, but
for all that we have a pretty good idea of that shore. We know its
name, and have read about the people who live there.

But when, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, Vasco NuГ±ez de
Balboa stood upon the shore of the Pacific, and gazed over its
boundless waters, the sight to him was both grand and mysterious. He
saw that a vast sea lay beneath and before him--but that was all he
knew. Europeans had not visited it before, and the Indians, who had
acted as his guides, knew but little about it. If he had desired to
sail across those vast blue waters, Balboa would have had no idea upon
what shores he would land or what wonderful countries and continents
he would discover.

Now-a-days, any school-boy could tell that proud, brave soldier, what
lay beyond those billows. Supposing little Johnny Green (we all know
him, don't we?) had been there, how quickly he would have settled
matters for the Spanish chieftain.

"Ah, Mr. Balboa," Johnny would have said, "you want to know what lies
off in that direction--straight across? Well, I can tell you, sir. If
you are standing, as I think you are, on a point of the Isthmus of
Darien, where you can look directly westward, you may cast your eyes,
as far as they will go, over a body of water, which, at this point, is
about eleven thousand miles wide. No wonder you jump, sir, but such is
the fact. If you were to sail directly west upon this ocean you would
have a very long passage before you came upon any land at all, and the
first place which you would reach, if you kept straight on your
westward course, would be the Mulgrave Islands. But you would have
passed about seven or eight hundred miles to the southward of the
Sandwich Islands, which are a very important group, where there is an
enormous volcano, and where Captain Cook will be killed in about two
hundred and fifty years. If you then keep on, you will pass among the
Caroline Islands, which your countrymen will claim some day; and if
you are not eaten up by the natives, who will no doubt coax you to
land on some of their islands and will then have you for supper, you
will at last reach the Philippine Islands, and will probably land, for
a time, at Mindanao, to get water and things. Then, if you still keep
on, you will pass to the north of a big island, which is Borneo, and
will sail right up to the first land to the west, which will be part
of a continent; or else you will go down around a peninsula, which
lies directly in your course, and sail upon the other side of it, into
a great gulf, and land anywhere you please. Do you know where you will
be then, Mr. Balboa? Don't, eh? Well, sir, you would be just where
Columbus hoped he would be, when he reached the end of his great
voyage across the Atlantic--in the Indies! Yes, sir, all among the
gold, and ivory, and spices, and elephants and other things!

"If you can get any ships here and will start off and steer carefully
among the islands, you won't find anything in your way until you get
there. But, it was different with Columbus, you see, sir. He had a
whole continent blocking up his road to the Indies; but, for my part,
I'm very glad, for various reasons, that it happened so."

[Illustration]

It is probable that if Johnny Green could have delivered this little
speech, that Vasco NuГ±ez de Balboa would have been one of the most
astonished men in the world!

Whether he and his fellow-adventurers would ever have set out to sail
over those blue waters, in search of the treasures of the East, is
more than I can say, but it is certain that if he had started off on
such an expedition, he would have found things pretty much as Johnny
Green had told him.




THE LARGEST CHURCH IN THE WORLD.

[Illustration]


This is St. Peter's at Rome. Is it possible to look upon such a
magnificent edifice without acknowledging it as the grandest of all
churches? There are some others in the world more beautiful, and some
more architecturally perfect; but there is none so vast, so
impressive, so grand!

This great building was commenced in 1506, but it was a century and a
half before it was finished. Among other great architects, Michael
Angelo assisted in its construction. The building is estimated to have
cost, simply for its erection, about fifty millions of dollars, and it
has cost a great deal in addition in later years.

Its dimensions are enormous. You cannot understand what a great
building it is unless you could see it side by side with some house
or church with which you are familiar. Several of the largest churches
in this country could be stood up inside of St. Peter's without
touching walls or roof, or crowding each other in the least.

[Illustration]

There are but three works of man in the whole world which are higher
than the little knob which you see on the cupola surmounting the great
dome of St. Peter's. These more lofty buildings are the Great Pyramid
of Egypt, the Spire of Strasbourg, and the Tower of Amiens. The
highest of these, the pyramid, is, however, only forty-two feet above
St. Peter's. The great dome is supported by four pillars, each of
which is seventy feet thick!

But let us step inside of this great edifice. I think you will be
there even more impressed with its height and extent than you were
when you stood on the outside.

Is not here a vast and lofty expanse? But even from this favorable
point you cannot get a complete view of the interior. In front of you,
you see in the distance the light striking down from above. There is
the great dome, and when you walk beneath it you will be amazed at its
enormous height. There are four great halls like this one directly
before us, for the church is built in the form of a cross, with the
dome at the intersection of the arms. There are also openings in
various directions, which lead into what are called chapels, but which
are in reality as large as ordinary sized churches.

The pavement of the whole edifice is made of colored marble, and, as
you see, the interior is heavily decorated with carving and statuary.
Much of this is bronze and gold.

But if you should mount (and there are stairs by which you may make
the ascent) into the cupola at the top of the dome, and look down into
the vast church, and see the people crawling about like little insects
so far below you, you would perhaps understand better than at any
other time that it is not at all surprising that this church should be
one of the wonders of the world.

If we ever go to Europe, we must not fail to see St. Peter's Church at
Rome.




THE SOFT PLACE.


There was once a young Jaguar (he was very intimately related to the
Panther family, as you may remember), and he sat upon a bit of hard
rock, and cogitated. The subject of his reflections was very simple
indeed, for it was nothing more nor less than this--where should he
get his supper?

He would not have cared so much for his supper, if it had been that he
had had no dinner, and even this would not have made so much
difference if he had had his breakfast. But in truth he had eaten
nothing all day.

During the summer of that year the meat-markets in that section of the
country were remarkably bad. It was sometimes difficult for a panther
or a wildcat to find enough food to keep her family at all decently,
and there were cases of great destitution. In years before there had
been plenty of deer, wild turkey, raccoons, and all sorts of good
things, but they were very scarce now. This was not the first time
that our young Jaguar had gone hungry for a whole day.

While he thus sat, wondering where he should go to get something to
eat, he fell asleep, and had a dream. And this is what he dreamed.

He dreamed that he saw on the grass beneath the rock where he was
lying five fat young deer. Three of them were sisters, and the other
two were cousins. They were discussing the propriety of taking a nap
on the grass by the river-bank, and one of them had already stretched
herself out. "Now," thought the Jaguar in his dream, "shall I wait
until they all go to sleep, and then pounce down softly and kill them
all, or shall I spring on that one on the ground and make sure of a
good supper at any rate?" While he was thus deliberating in his mind
which it would be best for him to do, the oldest cousin cocked up her
ears as if she heard something, and just as the Jaguar was going to
make a big spring and get one out of the family before they took to
their heels, he woke up!

[Illustration]

What a dreadful disappointment! Not a deer, or a sign of one, to be
seen, and nothing living within a mile. But no! There is something
moving! It is--yes, it is a big Alligator, lying down there on the
rocks! After looking for a few minutes with disgust at the ugly
creature, the Jaguar said to himself, "He must have come on shore
while I was asleep. But what matters it! An Alligator! Very different
indeed from five fat young deer! Ah me! I wish he had not that great
horny skin, and I'd see if I could make a supper off of him. Let me
see! There is a soft place, as I've been told, about the alligator! If
I could but manage and get a grip of that, I think that I could settle
old Mr. Hardskin, in spite of his long teeth. I've a mind and a half
to try. Yes, I'll do it!"

[Illustration]

So saying, the Jaguar settled himself down as flat as he could and
crept a little nearer to the Alligator, and then, with a tremendous
spring, he threw himself upon him. The Alligator was asleep, but his
nap came to a very sudden close, you may be sure, and he opened his
eyes and his mouth both at the same time. But he soon found that he
would have to bestir himself in a very lively manner, for a strong
and hungry Jaguar had got hold of him. It had never before entered
into the Alligator's head that anybody would want to eat him, but he
did not stop to think about this, but immediately went to work to
defend himself with all his might. He lashed his great tail around, he
snapped his mighty jaws at his enemy, and he made the dust fly
generally. But it all seemed of little use. The Jaguar had fixed his
teeth in a certain soft place in his chest, under his fore-leg, and
there he hung on like grim death. The Alligator could not get at him
with his tail, nor could he turn his head around so as to get a good
bite.

The Alligator had been in a hard case all his life, but he really
thought that this surprising conduct of the Jaguar was something worse
than anything he had ever been called upon to bear.

"Does he really think, I wonder," said the Alligator to himself, "that
he is going to have me for his supper?"

It certainly looked very much as if Mr. Jaguar had that idea, and as
if he would be able to carry out his intention, for he was so charmed
at having discovered the soft place of which he had so often been told
that he resolved never to let go until his victim was dead; and in the
midst of the struggle he could not but regret that he had never
thought of hunting Alligators before.

As it may well be imagined, the Alligator soon began to be very tired
of this sort of thing. He could do nothing at all to damage his
antagonist, and the Jaguar hurt him, keeping his teeth jammed into the
very tenderest spot in his whole body. So he came to the conclusion
that, if he could do nothing else, he would go home. If the Jaguar
chose to follow him, he could not help it, of course. So, gradually,
he pulled himself, Jaguar and all, down to the river, and, as the
banks sloped quite suddenly at this place, he soon plunged into deep
water, with his bloodthirsty enemy still hanging fiercely to him.

As soon as he found himself in the water, the Alligator rolled himself
over and got on top. Then they both sank down, and there was nothing
seen on the surface of the water but bubbles.

The fight did not last very long after this, but the Jaguar succeeded
perfectly in his intentions. He found a soft place--in the mud at the
bottom of the river--and he stayed there.




A FEW FEATHERED FRIENDS.

[Illustration: A FEW FEATHERED FRIENDS.]


Whether dressed in broadcloth, silk, calico, home-spun, or feathers,
friends are such valuable possessions that we must pay these folks who
are now announced as much attention as possible. And if we do this and
in every way endeavor to make them feel comfortable and entirely at
home, we will soon perceive a very great difference between them and
many of our friends who dress in coats and frocks. For the more we do
for our feathered friends, the more they will do for us. Now, you
can't say that of all the men and women and boys and girls that you
know. I wish most sincerely that you could.