CHATTERBOX

STORIES OF

NATURAL HISTORY

CARLO.

NEW YORK R. WORTHINGTON 770 BROADWAY.
COPYRIGHT,
1880,
By
R. WORTHINGTON.
New York: J. J. Little & Co., Printers, 10 to 20 Astor Place.

CONTENTS

THE KING OF THE CASTLE.

A

S the lion is called the king of beasts, so the eagle is called the king of birds; but except that it is bigger, stronger, and swifter than other birds, there does not seem much reason for the name. It is a mistake to attribute noble or mean qualities to animals or birds, or to think they can do good or bad actions, when they can only do what God has created them to do, and as their instinct teaches.

The most powerful of the eagles is the Golden Eagle, so called because of the rich yellowish-brown bordering to its feathers. It makes its nest in the clefts of the rocky sides of the mountains, and seldom on a tree, unless where one has sprung up in between the clefts, and the tangled roots make a sort of platform. This the eagles cover with sticks, and here they make their house, living in it always, and not only when they lay eggs or have young ones.

If there are eaglets in the nest, the food is at once carried home to them, and the skinning and eating done at home. Eagles are very attentive to their young, and feed them with great care until they are able to take care of themselves.

ZEBRA AND YOUNG.

M

RS. ZEBRA, standing with her baby by her side, asks proudly of the lookers-on, “Did you ever see such a likeness?” and certainly mother and child are very much alike, striped all over their bodies, from head to foot, and from nose to tail, with the same regular marks of black. Strong and wild by nature, the zebra family are left very much to themselves, which is a source of great happiness to the mother and child in the picture before us. “No! no! my baby is not going to become as tame as the donkey, or to draw carts and carriages like the horse; it is to have its freedom, and go just where it likes all over these large plains;”—so says Mrs. Zebra, and she means it too, for if anybody took the trouble to go all the way to the hot country of Africa, where Mrs. Zebra is at home, and tried to carry off her baby, they would find their journey a vain one, and that she would kick severely, and perhaps break the legs of the person bold enough to take away her darling.

MRS. BRUIN AND FAMILY.

H

IS is the American black bear, who is looking so lively and seemingly inviting the young folks to have a romp, which they will be only too willing to join in. The black bear is of a timid disposition, and seldom attacks man except in self-defense. The female bear is a most affectionate mother, and many stories are related showing her care and love for her young, and her sorrow and mournful cries when any evil befalls them. On one occasion a black bear with her two cubs was pursued across the ice by some armed sailors. At first she urged her cubs to increased speed, but finding her pursuers gaining upon them, she carried, pushed, and pitched them, alternately, forward, until she effected their escape from her pursuers.

LITTLE OWLS.

W

HO has not at one time or other of his life read fairy tales and sympathized with stories of enchanted princes and princesses? I once thought of this when a country boy offered me a nest with four of the young of the Little Owl. I put them into a large cage, where they could stare at each other and at my pigeons to their hearts' content.

Let me say that this little owl is a very useful bird, for it keeps mice, bats, beetles, and other creatures in check, which might otherwise multiply too fast. On a spring or summer evening you may hear its plaintive hoot among the apple-blossoms of an orchard, or the sheaves of a cornfield. Curiously enough, this simple sound earned the little bird the name of being the harbinger of death, and peasants believed that whenever its cry was heard where sickness was in the family, the patient was sure to die.

AUROCHS.

A

N Aurochs in blind rage, charging through thick and thin, has had a fascination for me as long as I can remember. The true aurochs and this, the European Bison, ceased to exist in the British Isles, except in the Zoological Gardens; but the latter is still found wild in Lithuania, and is also carefully preserved in other parts of Russia, of which the Emperor has a herd. There is much talk about their being untamable—that they will not mix with tame cattle—that tame cows shrink from the aurochs' calves; but does not any cow shrink from any calf not her own? The American Bison, with which you are all pretty familiar, is very similar to the one just mentioned. There have been several attempts made to domesticate the American bison, and have been so far successful. The size and strength of the animal make it probable that if domesticated, it would be of great use.

THE KANGAROO.

W

ELL,” said little Herbert Joyce, as he looked over the books of drawings which his cousin had just brought home from Australia, “I never saw anything so extraordinary before in all my life; why here is an animal with three heads, and two of them are very low down, and much smaller than the others.” “What do you mean, Herbert?” asked his cousin, who just then came into the room. “There are no three-headed animals—let me see the picture. Oh! no wonder you were puzzled; it does look like a queer creature. That is a kangaroo, and the small heads belong to her children, whom she carries about in a bag formed by a hole in her skin, until they are old enough to walk; and the little things seem very happy there; and sometimes, as their mother moves along over the grass, you may see them nibbling it.”

THE PEACOCK.

ROUD bird! I watched thee stalking by,
With stately step and slow,
As though thou fain would'st charm each eye
With glittering pomp and show:

And truly thou art brave to see,
In heaven's hues arrayed,
And plainer birds at sight of thee
Might shrink and be dismayed:
Yet, pampered bird! there still are those
I value higher far,
Albeit their garb nor glints nor glows
With many a jeweled star.
I love them for their gentle ways,
Their voices soft and sweet
In summer chorus, that repays
Right well their winter's meat.
For what is outward form at best
But accident of birth?
That form in splendid raiment drest
Is still but common earth.
And yet 'tis he whose painted plumes
Shine fairest in the sun,
Who haughtiest look of pride assumes,
As though by him 'twere done.
We smile to see yon bird strut by,
Thus proud of his array;
But human friends we may espy
As foolish every day.
Not beauty's form nor grand attire
Upon the wise will tell,
But acts of those who e'er aspire
To do their DUTY well.

FEEDING THE PET.

SWANS.

T

HIS beautiful and majestic bird was considered the bird-royal in England, owing to a law of England that when found in a partially wild state on the sea and navigable rivers it belonged to the crown; but of course it is to be found on the ponds and lakes of many a gentleman's estate, and is always prized as a great ornament to the lake. The swan is also very valuable in clearing the ponds of weeds, and makes a most effective clearance, as they eat them before they rise to the surface. The swan affords a pleasing illustration of the love of the mother-bird for its young, and has been known to vanquish a fox who made an attack on its nest—showing that the instinct of motherhood kindles boldness and bravery in the breast of the most timid animals. The nest is generally made on an islet, and composed of reeds and rushes, and when the five or seven large eggs are hatched, the mother may be seen swimming about with the young ones on her back.

THE SEA LION.

A

LTHOUGH such large and powerful creatures, these sea lions are innocent and playful. See, one of them has reared himself up on his hind legs, if legs they may be called, and is sitting on a chair with his flappers over the back of the chair. It inhabits the eastern shores of Kamtchatka, and is in some places extremely abundant, and measuring about fifteen feet in length. It is much addicted to roaring, which, as much as the mane of the old males, has obtained for it the name of the Sea Lion. The old males have a fierce appearance, yet they fly in great haste on the approach of man, but if driven to extremities they will fight desperately; but in captivity they are capable of being tamed, and become very familiar with man. The scientific name of the sea lion is Otary.

THE LION.

A—THE ASS.

FORBEAR to vex the patient Ass,
Its heaving sides to good,
And for and safe its useful back
Will carry many a load.

B—THE BITTERN.

IN reedy swamp and lonely marsh,
Where all is shade and gloom,
The Bittern stalks, and you may hear
His voice in sullen boom.

C—THE CAMEL.

THE Camel is a useful beast,
Patient, and slow, and mild;
To man a blessing and a boon
In Afric's sandy wild.

BADGERS.

O

NE day at the Zoological Gardens, I saw the group of Badgers as they are here given. Little do visitors to the gardens take into account how much a wild animal goes through till it has got used to a state of things so opposite to its natural habits. Their wants are attended to as much as possible, but cannot be always met; and so we have here a devoted mother, worn out by the demands of her cubs, and vainly anxious to hide herself from daylight and man's gaze. She has long given up trying to dig or scratch her way out. All she can do is to lean against the wall, ready for a last defence, should anybody come within her prison. She dares not curl up into a ball, like the one cub, and go to sleep; while this little careless imp on her back, happy and trustful, adds to her tiredness by his weight.

THE BIRD'S NEST.

“Her little nest, so soft and warm,
God teaches her to make it;
I would not dare to do her harm,
I would not dare to take it.”

H

OW curious is the structure of the nest of the Bullfinch or Chaffinch! The inside of it is lined with cotton and fine silken threads; and the outside cannot be sufficiently admired, though it is composed only of various kinds of fine moss. The color of these mosses, resembling that of the bark of the tree in which the nest is built, proves that the bird intended it should not be easily discovered. In some nests, hair, wool, and rushes are cleverly interwoven. In others, the parts are firmly fastened by a thread, which the bird makes of hemp, wool, hair, or, more commonly, of spiders' webs. Other birds—as, for instance, the blackbird and the lapwing—after they have constructed their nests, plaster the inside with mortar; they then stick upon it, while quite wet, some wool or moss to give warmth; but all alike construct their nests so as to add to their security.

THE CHAMOIS.

T

HE chamois are indeed high-born, for among the high mountain-peaks, where the eternal snow rests and the Alpine roses bloom, there they make their home! There they spring up over the snowy slopes to those heights to which man cannot climb. They rest upon the glittering ice, the snow does not blind them, neither does it cool their hot blood. Carelessly they stride across the snowed-over crevices, and when the terrible storms, at which men are so alarmed, hurl down rocks and avalanches from the summits, the Chamois do not fear them. They find their way safely through the thickest mist and darkest clouds. Agile and light-footed, gentle and peaceable, proud and courageous, they lead a happy life among the mountains, as long as man does not molest them.

JACKO WITH PUSSY'S BONE.

J

ACKO is a bird called a Macaw, and has fine feathers—scarlet and yellow and blue. Jacko can talk a little. He says, “Come along, Jacko, come along;” and when you come, as soon as he thinks you near enough, he pecks at you with his great beak. When he is in a good temper he will say, “Poor, poor!” He will sit upon the ivy all the morning and talk to himself, and he will call the gardener, and he will cough and sneeze, and crow and cackle, in a very funny manner. If Jacko sees sparrows picking up a few crumbs, he will rush up, sweeping his great wings along the ground, and take their meal for himself. If he sees poor Pussy picking a bone, he takes great delight in creeping down from his ivy, helping himself down with beak and claws, and at a sight of Jacko's approach Pussy darts away, leaving the bone in Jacko's possession. Pussy, of course, does not like this, but stands at a respectable distance, and with curved back and flashing eyes shows her indignation at Jacko. Presently Jacko retires to the ivy and Pussy resumes her feast.

MEMBERS OF THE POACHING FRATERNITY.

A

MONG the various wild animals which inhabit the earth, it is difficult to decide which are really friendly and which are really hostile to man's interests. The actual fact appears to be that there is neither hostility nor friendship. If farmers and gardeners kill off too many birds, nature revenges herself by sending a plague of insects which the small birds, if alive, would have eaten. Gamekeepers ruthlessly shoot hawks and kites, or snare stoats and polecats, with the result that their game grows up too thick for its feeding ground, sickly specimens are allowed to linger on, and a destructive murrain follows. The rook, no doubt, is fond of eggs; but nevertheless he does the farmer good service when he devours the grubs which are turned up by the plow; and as the salmon disease, which of late has proved so destructive, is attributed by the best authorities to overcrowding, that glossy-coated fisherman, the otter, is really a benefactor to the followers of Izaak Walton's gentle craft.

NEDDY'S BREAKFAST.

A COW WORKING A PUMP.

M

Y informant writes me as follows: “We have a wonderful cow here—about ten years old, and very clever at opening gates and breaking fences. There is an Abyssinnian pump about three feet high in the center of the field, near my house, over a trough, which is, or ought to be, filled daily. It was on a hot day, when my man had omitted to pump the trough full, that the cow was first observed to help herself: the way in which she managed to pump was by pushing the handle up with her head and then forcing it down with her horns. Very little elevation of the handle is required to get water, and she would work it for five minutes together, and sometimes drank from the spout, and sometimes from the trough.”

CARRIER PIGEONS.

HE carrier pigeon is remarkable for the degree in which it possesses the instinct and power of returning from a distance to its accustomed home. In Eastern countries it is the practice to bathe the pigeon's feet in vinegar to keep them cool, and to prevent it from alighting in quest of water, by which the letter might sustain injury. Pigeons intended for this use must be brought from the place to which they are to return, within a short period, and must be kept in the dark and without food for at least eight hours before being let loose. The carrier pigeon was of great service during the siege of Paris in 1871, and conveyed many important messages. It goes through the air at the rate of thirty miles an hour, but has been known to fly even faster.

THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

THE STORK.

THE VIRGINIAN HORNED OWL.

THE CRANE.

THE WHALE.

THE ELEPHANT.

THE WHITE RHINOCEROS.

THE HIPPOPOTAMUS,
OR BEHEMOTH.

THE SIASIN, OR ANTELOPE OF INDIA.

T

HE Siasin, or Antelope of India, roams over the open and rocky plains of that immense country. It is distinguished from the rest of its family by the beauty and singular shape of its horns, which are annulated or ringed, and spirally convoluted or curved together, making two or more turns, according to the age of the animal. The fakirs and dervishes of India, who are enjoined by their religion from carrying swords, frequently wear at their girdles the polished horns of the siasin instead of the usual military arm. This antelope is one of the fleetest-footed of its family, and its leap is something wonderful. It is not uncommon for it to vault to the height of twelve or thirteen feet, passing over ten or twelve yards at a single bound. In color it is almost black on the upper part of the body, and light-colored beneath. When full grown, it is about the size of our common deer.

THE COMMON SNIPE.

T

HESE birds frequent swampy woods, marshes, morasses, and the borders of rivers. Their usual time for seeking their food is early in the morning and during the twilight of the evening. They subsist principally upon insects and worms; for these they search among the decayed leaves, and probe the mud and ooze with their lengthened bills. When alarmed, they generally lie close to the ground, or among the grass, or, suddenly starting on the wing, escape by flight, which is short but elevated, rapid, and irregular. The eggs, which are four in number, are deposited on the ground. In the snipe, and all its immediate allies, the bill is thickened, soft, and very tender at its extremity; so that this part, which is richly supplied with nerves, serves as a delicate organ of touch, and is used for searching in the soft ground for the insects and worms that constitute the food of these birds.

A VISIT TO THE MONKEYS.

[D—THE DOE]

GRACEFULL and gentle is the Doe;
Its tawny coat how sleek!
How bright yet tender are its eyes!
Its glance how softly meek!

E—THE EAGLE.

UPON the lonely mountain peak
The eagle builds her nest,
And there, when weary of the chase,
In silence takes her rest.

F—THE FOX.

THE Fox will skulk in ferny brake,
Yet loves the haunts of men;
And prowls around the farm, to pounce
On capon, goose, or hen.

MRS. BUNNY AND FAMILY.

T

HIS wild Rabbit has been startled by some noise, and the next moment she may be scampering away to her burrow, with the little bunnies, at the top of their speed, and crouch there until all is quiet again. Rabbits usually select, if possible, a sandy soil overgrown with furze, in which to make their burrows, as such a soil is easily removed, and the dense prickly furze hides their retreat, whilst it affords them a wholesome and never-failing food. These furze bushes are constantly eaten down, as far as the rabbits can reach standing on their hind legs, and consequently present the appearance of a solid mass with the surface even and rounded. These animals retire into their burrows by day to rest, and come out only in the twilight to obtain food.

THE LYNX.

T

HE body of the lynx, beautifully spotted with black and brown rings, is more solid and hardy than that of the wild cat. His ears are longer, his tail is shorter, his great eyes light up like bright flames; and since he prowls about chiefly at night, he is thought to have very keen sight. For this reason, when we wish to say that a person can see very clearly or can look beyond the outward appearance of things, we call him lynx-eyed. Like all cats, the lynx possesses in his mustache a very correct power of feeling. This, with the sense of hearing and sight, guides him in all his expeditions.

The lynx in the picture is in the act of springing upon a timid hare. Although he can measure twenty paces in a jump, I think for once he has made a misstep, and the dear little creature with one more bound will be safe. One very remarkable fact about these animals is this: if there are several together, and one starts over the snow in pursuit of booty, all the others will follow in exactly the same tracks, so that it will look as if but one lynx had passed over the snow-covered earth.

GOOD MORNING, BIRDIE!

THE SWAN AND THE DRAKE.

LOWLY, in majestic silence,
Sailed a Swan upon a lake;
Round about him, never quiet,
Swam a noisy quacking Drake.

“Swan,” exclaimed the latter, halting,
“I can scarcely comprehend
Why I never hear you talking:
Are you really dumb, my friend?”

Said the Swan, by way of answer:
“I have wondered, when you make
Such a shocking, senseless clatter,
Whether you are deaf, Sir Drake!”
Better, like the Swan, remain in
Silence grave and dignified,
Than keep, drake-like, ever prating,
While your listeners deride.

W. R. E.

THE BEAVER.

T

HIS industrious animal is generally found in Canada and the northern portions of the United States, where it makes its home on the banks of the rivers and lakes. Here they assemble in hundreds to assist each other in the construction of their dams, and in the building of their houses, which are put together with a considerable amount of engineering skill. The materials used in building the dams are wood, stones, and mud, which they collect themselves for that purpose, and after finishing the dam, or winter storehouse, they collect their stores for the winter's use, and then make a connection with their houses in the banks. Their skins are valuable in making fine hats, and their flesh is much relished by the hunters. The beaver is an interesting animal in many respects, and the expression “busy as a beaver” is borne out by its habits.

THE TURTLE-DOVE.

THE CUCKOO.

THE PEACOCK.

THE TAME, OR MUTE SWAN.

THE LIONESS AND CUBS.

THE LEOPARD.

THE SYRIAN BEAR.

THE JACKAL.

LIONESS AND CUBS.

T

HE lioness is much smaller than the lion, and her form is more slender and graceful. She is devoid of the mane of her lord and master, and has four or five cubs at a birth, which are all born blind. The young lions are at first obscurely striped and spotted. They mew like cats, and are as playful as kittens. As they get older, the uniform color is gradually assumed. The mane appears in the males at the end of ten or twelve months, and at the age of eighteen months it is very considerably developed, and they begin to roar. Both in nature and in a state of captivity the lioness is very savage as soon as she becomes a mother, and the lion himself is then most to be dreaded, as he will then brave almost any risk for the sake of his lioness and family.

A PET JACK.

T

HE first fish I ever saw in an aquarium, twenty years ago, was a “Jack,” as he is called when young, or a “Pike,” when he grows older; and ever since then I have contrived to have a pet one, and this, drawn from life by Mr. Harrison Weir, is an accurate portrait of the one I now possess in the Crystal Palace Aquarium. There he is, just as he steals round the corner of a bit of rock. He is glaring at a minnow, at which he is taking most accurate aim; he hardly seems to move, but yet he does by a very trifling motion of the edge of his back fin—sometimes resting a little on the tips of his two foremost fins, as they touch the ground, carefully calculating his distance; and then, at the very moment when the minnow has got into a position which leaves a space of clear water in front, so that Mr. Jack shall not hurt his nose against any hard substance when he gets carried on by the violence of his rush, he darts at the minnow with the speed of Shakspeare's Puck:—

“I go, I go! look, how I go!
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.”

THE SWALLOW'S NEST.

O

FTEN in former years the twitter of the birds glittering in the morning sun was the first sound that met my ear during the wakeful hours which frequently accompany illness after the worst crisis has passed, and you are recovering by degrees. The gutters ran beneath my bedroom windows, and I could see the steel-blue backs of the swallows as they sat on the rims of the gutter, twisting their little heads, opening their yellow-lined beaks, singing to their hearts' content. Whole families would perch there together, or the young would rest in rows of four or five, according to the nest-broods of each. How delightful to see them fed by their agile parents! how tantalizing to have them almost within reach of my hands, yet not to be able to catch them or give them a kiss, as they would cower in my hollow hands if I only could have got them in there!

THE BRAVE DOG OF ST. BERNARD.

HERE the St. Bernard Pass climbs up
Amid the Alpine snows,
The far-famed Hospice crowns the heights
With shelter and repose.

Its inmates, with their faithful dogs,
Are truly friends in need
When snowdrifts block the traveler's way,
And blinding storms mislead.
Brave “Barry,” once, far down the track
That crossed a glacier steep,
Found buried deep beneath the snow
A poor boy, fast asleep.
He licked the cold, numb hands and face
To warmth and life once more,
And bore him safely on his back
Up to the Hospice door.

COME TO ME!

G—THE GIRAFFE.

FULL seventeen feet the Giraffe tall
Measures “from top to toe,”
And with his neck outstretched can reach
The branch that bendeth low.

H—THE HYENA.

IN Asia and in Africa
The fierce Hyenas prowl,
And oft at night the traveler starts
To hear their savage howl.

I—THE ICHNEUMON.

A FOE to birds and rats and mice,
See the Ichneumon glide!
Oft, too, on reptiles or their eggs
Its hungry teeth are tried.

MOTHER-DEER AND BABY.

S

OMETHING has startled them, as they fed securely enough, one would think, on the grass at the foot of the rocks; and if we could only get a little nearer, this is what we should hear the mother-deer saying to her baby: “My child, I am sure there is danger about; look out and tell me if you see the slightest movement on the hill yonder, or if I see it first, I will give you the signal, and you must follow me, and run for your very life.” And the baby, with cocked ears and glistening eyes, promises to do as it is told. But after all it will probably prove a false alarm, for this is not the time of year for deerstalking; and I dare say the noise they heard was made by a party of people coming up the valley below to see the waterfall, which is famous in the neighborhood.

WHOOPING CRANE.

T

HE Whooping Crane is much larger than the common crane, which it otherwise much resembles except in color; its plumage, in its adult state, is pure white, the tips of the wings black. He spends the winter in the southern parts of North America, and in summer migrates far northwards. The crane feeds on roots, seeds, etc., as well as on reptiles, worms, insects, and on some of the smaller quadrupeds. They journey in flocks from fifty to a hundred, and rise to an immense height in the air, uttering their loud harsh cries, and occasionally alighting to seek food in fields or marshes; and when they descend on a field they do sad havoc to the crops, several doing sentinel duty while the majority are feeding. In general it is a very peaceful bird, both in its own society and those of the forest.

THE RAVEN.

THE RING-DOVE.

THE HOOPOE.

THE COCK.

THE IBEX, OR ROCK GOAT.

DEER.

THE SYRIAN GOAT.

THE ROE.

THE ELK.

T

HIS is the largest existing species of the deer family, and is a native of the northern parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa. It grows to be six feet high and twelve hundred pounds in weight. They are very rare in Europe and this country, but at one time they extended as far south as the Ohio River. They love the woods and marshy places, and live off of the branches of trees, being unable to eat grass unless they get upon their knees. They are very timid, and not easily approached by the hunter, but should a dog come in the way, one stroke from an elk's foot will kill it. Many of the parents of our little friends in Maine and Canada are, no doubt, familiar with the elk and its habits.

TOYS FOR ANIMALS.

T

HE “Daily News” says: “Our readers have often doubtless observed appeals in the papers for toys for sick children. We hear that a naturalist who feels much for animals is struck with the cruelty of leaving the creatures at the 'Zoo' without anything to play with. This gentleman had in his possession a young otter, for whom he made a wooden ball, to the extreme delight of his pet, who used to divert his simple instinct with it for whole hours at a stretch. Following up the idea, the same gentleman presented the elephants and rhinoceroses in the Zoological Gardens with globes for diversion suited to their sizes, but it seems the elephants took to playing ball so furiously, that 'there was danger of their houses being swept down altogether; so they were forbidden to use them indoors.' The polar bear was given a toy which, we are told, 'amuses him immensely.'”

THE SUCKING-PIG.

T

HE other day our children came home delighted at having seen a little pig drinking out of a bottle, just like a baby. I went to see it, and I was introduced to its owner, who lived in a cottage, the principal room of which was painted light blue. A good-natured old woman was there with her two orphan grand-children. The red tiles of the cottage floor were enlivened by a gray-and-white cat, and a shiny-skinned little pig, of about a month old, which was fed out of a feeding-bottle. This was the hero of the place.

The little pig is grateful for good treatment, and as capable of attachment as a horse or a dog. The pig is intelligent, and it can be taught tricks. Performing pigs are often the attractions of country fairs. I have seen pigs in the poor neighborhoods of London follow their masters through noisy streets, and into busy public-houses, where they laid down at their masters' feet like a dog.

BELL-RINGERS.

W

HEN a child, my father took me to see some feats performed by some traveling cats. They were called “the bell-ringers,” and were respectively named Jet, Blanche, Tom, Mop, and Tib.

Five bells were hung at regular intervals on a round hoop erected on a sort of stage. A rope was attached to each bell after the manner of church bells. At a given signal from their master, they all sprang to their feet, and at a second signal, each advanced to the ropes, and standing on their hind feet, stuck their front claws firmly into the ropes, which were in that part covered with worsted, or something of the kind, so as to give the claws a firmer hold. There was a moment's pause—then No. 1 pulled his or her rope, and so sounded the largest bell; No. 2 followed, then No. 3, and so on, till a regular peal was rung with almost as much precision and spirit as though it were human hands instead of cats' claws that effected it.

THE GUINEA-PIG.

T

HE Guinea-pig is a native of South America, and is remarkable for the beauty and variety of its colors, and the neatness of its appearance. These little pets are very careful in keeping themselves and their offspring neat and tidy, and may be frequently seen smoothing and dressing their fur, somewhat in the manner of a cat. After having smoothed and dressed each other's fur, both turn their attention to their young, from whose coats they remove the smallest speck of dirt, at the same time trying to keep their hair smooth and unruffled. The Guinea-pig feeds on bread, grain, fruit, vegetables, tea leaves, and especially garden parsley, to which it is very partial. It generally gives birth to seven and eight young at a time, and they very soon are able to take care of themselves.

FAITHFUL FRIENDS.

J—THE JAY.

METHINKS the Jay's a noisy bird,
Yet now with crimson breast,
Silent and fond, she watches o'er
The treasures of her nest.

K—THE KANGAROO.

THE timid Kangaroo frequents
The wild Australian brakes;
With long hind-legs and fore-legs short
Tremendous leaps he takes.

L—THE LION.