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diff --git a/old/51847-0.txt b/old/51847-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3d55af1..0000000 --- a/old/51847-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3224 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Birds and Beasts, by Camille Lemonnier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Birds and Beasts - -Author: Camille Lemonnier - -Illustrator: E. J. Detmold - -Translator: A. R. Allinson - -Release Date: April 24, 2016 [EBook #51847] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS AND BEASTS *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Stephen Hutcheson, and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - Birds and Beasts - - - _Translated by_ A. R. Allinson _from the French of_ Camille Lemonnier - - _Illustrated by_ - E. J. Detmold - - London: George Allen & Company, Ltd. - _Ruskin House_, Rathbone Place. Mcmxi - - [All rights reserved] - - Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. - At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh - - - - - Contents and Illustrations - - - PAGE - Jack and Murph 1 - The Captive Goldfinch 53 - Strange Adventures of a Little White Rabbit 91 - “Monsieur Friquet” 106 - A Lost Dog 133 - Misadventures of an Owl 156 - - - - - Birds and Beasts - - -[Illustration: JACK AND MURPH] - - - - - Jack and Murph - - - I - -Jack and Murph were friends, old friends, trusty and tried. - -It was now nearly six years since the day chance had brought them -together as members of the same company. Jack had come straight from the -African forests; he had crossed the seas, and set foot on the continent -of Europe for the first time; his amazement knew no bounds. - -It is not for nothing a little fellow of his sort is torn from the -freedom of his vagabond life in the woods and surrendered to the tender -mercies of a showman of performing animals. He learned to know the cruel -tedium of captivity; shut up in a cage, he thought sadly of his merry -gambols in the tree-tops; his little face grew wan and withered, and he -came near pining to death. But time damped the keenness of his grief; by -dint of seeing around him other little creatures that, like himself, had -wearied for their native wilds, then little by little had grown -reconciled to their fate, and now seemed to get a prodigious amount of -fun out of their new life, he made the best of the bars, the tainted air -of the booth, and the clown’s grimaces, rehearsing his drolleries before -the animals’ cages. - -At the same time he could never quite share the gaiety of his companions -in misfortune. While they were enjoying everlasting games of -hide-and-seek, scuffling, squabbling, pelting each other with nuts, he -would cower timidly in a corner, too sad at heart to join in their noisy -merriment. Sometimes, when his feelings grew too much for him, he would -break out in a series of sharp, shrill outcries, or wail like a new-born -babe in his doleful despair. - -The master was very fond of him, for he was both intelligent and -teachable. In a very short time he learned to do his musket drill, to -walk the slack-rope, and use the spring-board. But these accomplishments -only earned him the ill-will of the other pupils. There was never a -prank they did not play him. No sooner had he cracked a nut, to eat the -kernel, than a hand would dart over his shoulder and snatch the morsel -just as he was putting it between his teeth. They slapped his face, -pinched his tail, scarified his head with their nails, jumped upon him, -or half strangled him in a corner, till a day came at last when his -master, noticing how he was bullied, put him in a separate cage all by -himself. But this loneliness only made him more unhappy still; he spent -his life in lamentation, sitting stock-still all day long, with his arms -hanging limp, and his eyes fixed on vacancy, refusing either to eat or -drink. This would never do; so they left him at liberty to wander at -will in the house. - - - II - -Oh! but this house was not a bit like mine or yours; yet it had doors -and windows like any other house, but so tiny these doors and windows -were, they were hardly worth mentioning. Imagine a house on four wheels, -and no higher than a man of middle size, with three little windows high -up admitting light and air from outside; you entered by a wooden -staircase that looked more like the ladder of a windmill than anything -else. - -This queer construction rolled most part of the year along the high -roads, jolting, gee-wo, gee-hup! in and out of the ruts, and carting -about in its interior men and animals, to say nothing of household -stuff—beds, cooking-stoves, chests crammed with clothes, and a whole -heap of other things. An old horse, who was little better than a bag of -bones, was in the shafts; when a halt was called, they let him crop the -grass alongside the hedgerows. - -It was the funniest thing, being hauled along like this, tossing and -tumbling in this box on wheels where the furniture seemed to be always -just on the point of starting a polka. The table would throw up its legs -in the air, and the chairs turn head over heels, while the pots and pans -knocked together in the corners, making the quaintest music, sharp or -flat in key according to the jolts. - -Jack, perched atop of a big press, held on tooth and nail to save a -tumble. More often than not he found himself under the table along with -his good friend Murph, a Stoic philosopher, who let nothing ever disturb -his equanimity, but calmly went on beating the bush of his thick woolly -coat in search of the game that lived there. All the while the caravan, -bumping and thumping with a terrific rattle, was tacking and luffing -over the rolling billows of the stony roads. - - - III - -It is high time to tell you that Jack was a dear, pretty little monkey -of the chimpanzee kind, with tiny, delicate hands, nervous and -semi-transparent, almost like a sick child’s. He was no bigger, the -whole body of him, than a pocket-handkerchief, and you could have easily -hidden him inside your hat. He was slim and slender, daintily made, with -narrow chest and sloping shoulders—a creature all nerves, with a -wonderful little pale phiz of his own, puckered and wrinkled, and long, -drooping eyelids, greyish-white, and as thin as an onion skin, that -slowly, rhythmically, opened and closed over brown eyes ringed with -yellow. He bore the solemn, serious look of those who suffer; his eyes -seemed fixed on something beyond the visible world, and now and again he -would pass his long, dry fingers across his eyes as if to wipe away a -tear. He seldom gambolled, and never indulged in the grotesque -contortions of other apes; their restless, ceaseless activity seemed -foreign to his nature, and even his grimaces had nothing in common with -theirs. - -Noise scared him; he was never angry, but habitually silent and -thoughtful. He preferred to lurk alone in dark corners, where he would -spend long hours, squatted on his tail, almost motionless, dreaming -sadly of some mysterious, unattainable future. But, for all his -unlikeness to his colleagues and their comicality, his queer little -crumpled, wrinkled face never failed to produce its effect on the -spectators. Jack was perfectly irresistible; no one _could_ look at him -for any length of time without bursting out laughing. His aspect was at -once so piteous and so ridiculous, his gaze so pathetic and so -grotesque, his deadly earnestness so side-splitting, while his eyelids -would droop suddenly ever and anon in so anxious and appealing a wink, -that the result was comic beyond belief. An old, old man’s head on a -baby’s body, a mask that was for ever changing, twitching, wrinkling, -with eyes that looked out grave, intense, solemn, from beneath a low, -flat brow crowned by what looked for all the world like a wig! - -The louder the merriment he excited, the more serious Jack became. On -show days, while the audience was convulsed with mirth, the gravity of -his mien, the careworn look in his eyes, over which the lids dropped -mechanically at regular intervals, as if weighed down with their load of -melancholy, reached the acme of fantastic absurdity. - -Alas! men cannot tell what monkeys are thinking of. If they knew, they -would not always laugh. Jack was dreaming of the sun, the vast green -forests, the friends he had left behind; he was dreaming of the delights -of swinging high in the air, cradled in the leafy hammocks of the -boughs, dreaming of the trailing lianas, of the romps and games with his -fellows throwing cocoanuts at one another’s heads, and of the endless -chivyings and chasings from tree-top to tree-top above the rolling -billows of the wind-tossed jungles, through which the wild -beasts—elephants, panthers, and lions—plough their way like ships on the -high seas, leaving in their wake a broad furrow of floating odours and -deep-toned sounds. - - - IV - -But Jack had a friend, and he never embarked on his voyages into the -far-away dreamland without calling on his old chum Murph to join him. - -Yes, Murph gambolled with him in the tropical jungles, Murph frolicked -with him in the tall grasses, Murph and he amused themselves together at -never-ending games of play; if ever it was granted him to see his native -land again, he fully hoped to take Murph along with him. - -Poor Jack! he did not understand that the worthy Murph, acrobat as he -was, would have found it hard to follow him in the lofty regions where -his congeners are wont to disport themselves, nearer to the stars than -the earth. Not a doubt of it, Murph would have had to kick his heels at -the foot of a tree, while his friend was off and away aloft; and the -smallest of his perils would have been to find himself, on looking -round, face to face with a python-snake, just uncoiling his folds to -spring, or else, on the river-banks, confronted with the gaping jaws of -a crocodile. - -Murph could play dominoes, tell fortunes, hunt for a handkerchief in a -spectator’s pocket, read the paper. Murph had many other accomplishments -besides, but it is far from certain that he would have extricated -himself successfully from a _tête-à-tête_ of this sort with beasts that -could boast neither his education nor his manners. - -The liking was reciprocal. From the very first Jack had taken a fancy to -the big woolly-coated dog, as woolly as a sheep, who never barked or -growled or grumbled or showed his teeth—so unlike the other dogs in the -menagerie; in the same way Murph, the big dog, had formed an affection -for the well-behaved, sad-faced little ape, who never pulled his tail -and never tried to scratch out his eyes. - -As it happened, the showman had made up his mind to make them perform -together. Murph was the best runner in the troupe; there was nobody like -him for a round trot or a swinging gallop, for wheeling suddenly round -and dropping to his knees just before making his exit, nobody to match -Murph, always good-tempered and imperturbable, always on the look-out, -with his bright eyes half hid under the bushy eyebrows, for a bit of -sugar and a round of applause. - -Jack, for his part, had very soon become a brilliant horseman, lissom -and fearless, an adept at leaping through the hoops and vaulting the -bars. Thus the two seemed made for each other, both in body and mind. -They bore the hardships of the life together, and they shared its -successes; by dint of standing so often back against back and muzzle -against muzzle, they found their hearts brought close together too, and -became fast friends. Murph was never to be seen without Jack; wherever -Jack was, Murph was there as well; they lived curled up on the same rug, -in the same corner, under the same table, Murph licking Jack in the -neck, and Jack stroking Murph’s nose, each bound to each in perfect -trust and amity. - - - V - -Murph was older than Jack by nearly nine years, and his years made him -nearly as serious-minded as his friend. But it was a different sort of -gravity. Murph was neither morose nor disillusioned; his was the gentle -seriousness of old age. He had seen many things since he had been in the -world, but life did not appear to have left only its dregs in him. He -still believed in springtide, in friendship, in the master’s kind heart; -then he had neither family nor native land to regret, for he had been -born in the menagerie of a father and mother broken in like himself to -circle the trapeze and leap through the hoop. - -His horizon was bounded by the four walls of the caravan in which, as a -puppy still sucking at his mother’s breast, he had been carted from fair -to fair. Day by day he had watched from behind the window-panes the long -procession of cities and countries filing past; he had visited most -parts of Europe, in company with the strange _omnium-gatherum_ of apes, -goats, parrots, and dogs that at each halting-place was the delight of -the infant population. But he had never taken it upon him to covet the -kingdom of this world; he had never craved to roam at liberty through -the streets; never, in one word, had he so much as dreamt of playing -truant. He was a very learned dog, and, like other learned people, he -lived absorbed in his own thoughts, self-centred within the circle of -his meditations, seeking nothing of things outside. - - - VI - -Murph was a poodle by breed, and you might have searched long before you -found a bigger or better-built one. Standing well on his legs, with a -good, strong, supple back of his own, he carried his head high, as a -self-respecting poodle should. I mean, of course, in the days when Murph -was still young, for since age had crept on him, it _would_ droop more -or less; but even so, there was something proud and dignified about its -carriage that always attracted attention. He walked slowly and sedately, -as if intent on the solution of an ever-insoluble problem. His thick, -curly fleece clothed his neck like a mane, while a stout pair of long -drooping moustaches gave him the look of an old cavalry officer; his -skin was smooth and polished where the coat had been cut very close; he -wore heavy ruffles round his ankles, and his tail ended in a woolly -tuft. - -Thus accoutred, Murph was a fine-looking dog; the curs of low degree -that came prowling round the van, and caught a glimpse of him through -the crack of the door, gazed at him with admiration. He had the majestic -port of beings destined to greatness; it was easy to see he might have -been a diplomatist, or a great general, if nature, in fashioning his -lot, had not chosen rather to give him the shape of a poodle; nor was -Murph slow to appreciate and enjoy the impression he produced. - -Fine fellow as he was, he was not altogether free from vanity; the -humblest animal with which Murph compared himself was the lion; he had -seen one once in a travelling menagerie, and been struck by his own -likeness to the king of beasts. Why, had he not, like the lion, a mane -about his neck, a tuft to his tail, and bracelets of hair about his -ankles? Had he not likewise his Olympian look and superb carriage? By -dint of a little imagination, Murph had come to believe the lion a -degenerated type of poodle dog. - -But let us pass lightly over his foibles; every one has his little -weaknesses. Time, moreover, that damps the foolish ardour of mankind and -dogkind, had tamed our friend’s ambitions. He was by now as -contemplative and calm as some wise philosopher satiated with the -glories of this world. More often on his back than on his feet, he would -watch the younger dogs, his juniors in the profession, capering and -giving themselves the airs of a drum-major heading his regiment, without -any other feeling towards them but one of kindly indulgence; and if any -one else was disposed to rebuke them, he would shake his head, as much -as to say, “There, there, we have all of us done the like in our day!” - - - VII - -Jack had come as a solace to his old age; he had loved him as a friend, -almost as a son, with a truly fatherly affection. - -This little suffering, delicate creature, so morbidly nervous and -excitable, had roused in him some mysterious instinct of protection, -that had grown little by little and ended by forming an unbreakable bond -of brotherhood. Ceaselessly he watched over his protégé, sheltered him, -defended him, kept for him the best of his bodily heat and his warm -heart. If a bullying animal ran after Jack, in one bound the latter was -beside Murph, who would show a determined front, that soon sent the -would-be tormentor to the right-about. One day, indeed, Murph, usually -so good-tempered, showed his teeth to the master himself, who, for some -small fault, had thought good to lift his whip at the little monkey. If -Jack was a-cold—and he was always shivering, blow the wind from what -quarter it might—quick he would slip between Murph’s paws and cuddle -against his breast in the warm, cosy place. Murph was Jack’s special -providence. - -Thus they had been living for nearly half-a-dozen years. Never a cloud -had dimmed their good accord; never an angry snap of the teeth—never a -pettish fit; mankind might have taken a lesson in the art of friendship -from them. Thus they had grown old, loving, fondling, helping each -other, making between them the prettiest happy family ever known in the -world, never weary one of the other, but realising the ideal of the most -perfect union. - -Mutual esteem further increased their affection. Murph had never seen an -ape more alert and clever, more intelligent and active than Jack; he -would gladly have stood for hours watching him performing his tricks, -clinging to the cords with his delicate, dry little hands, then hurling -himself into space to alight again on his feet, or else holding on by -his tail and swinging from earth to heaven on the trapeze. - -On his side Jack—Jack the cynic, whose lack-lustre eyes seemed incapable -of any curiosity—admired his friend Murph as a creature of extraordinary -gifts. - -And what wonderful things the good dog could do, to be sure! I have -mentioned some of them; I could tell of many others. Murph could climb a -ladder; Murph could walk along a line of bottle necks; Murph could nose -out the prettiest lady in the audience; Murph could play the -cornet-à-piston; Murph could smoke a pipe; Murph was almost a man. - - - VIII - -It did one good to see him “come on,” a big pink bow knotted in the -tufts that adorned his tail. He would enter gravely, bow politely to -right and left, then cast a questioning look at his master, quite -motionless the while, except for a slight quiver of the tail, waiting -for the conclusion of the introductory remarks which the “old man” never -failed to address to the audience. At last came the loud “Hi, -Murph!”—and the good dog began his evening’s work. - -He could have given points to the most experienced actors by his aplomb, -his punctiliousness, his patient and never-flagging attention. Nothing -ever distracted him from his part. Wags would amuse themselves sometimes -by offering him a lump of sugar, or even pitch a sausage or a cake right -between his paws; but Murph was adamant against such temptations. How -the crowd cheered and clapped hands and stamped feet when he went -bounding from hoop to hoop, so supple and nimble and self-possessed, -never losing step or missing a spring, striking the paper with his head -fair and square in the middle every time, crashing through and landing -again on his feet, gravely and yet so elegantly. - -His tricks finished, he would repeat his bows to right and left, still -quite sedate and unintoxicated by the thunders of applause. The fact is, -Murph respected both his audience and himself; he knew how to keep his -feelings to himself—how different from those ill-trained dogs that yelp -and bark and lose their heads in the hurly-burly, quite forgetting that -the finest thing on earth is to take one’s triumph modestly. - - - IX - -But Murph was particularly admirable in the tricks he went through with -Jack. Each of the two friends seemed made to help out the other, and -each vied with the other in sacrificing himself to enhance the general -effect. Now it was “Mazeppa’s ride”; you know—Mazeppa bound on the back -of his fiery charger and borne on and on in wild career over the steppes -in a whirlwind of flying stones and smothering dust. Now it was a -_powder-play_ of Bedouins, pursuing, retreating, prancing, curvetting, -rising in their stirrups and brandishing their muskets; or else a mortal -combat between two troops of horse, firing at each other, reloading and -firing again. The spectacle, whatever it was, was always thrilling. - -Murph would stand waiting in the side-scenes for his cue. Suddenly he -would give a spring, a tremendous spring, and like a bomb-shell he was -on the stage, with mane erect and flashing eyes; clearing every -obstacle, upsetting everything he encountered, animate or inanimate, he -hurled himself on to the boards; on his back, clinging to his woolly -coat, shaking and shivering, teeth hard set and mouth awry, rode a -little black figure wrapped in a voluminous burnous that flapped in the -wind. - -And bing! bang! bang! as his steed dashed by, with all the flash and -dazzle of red saddle braided with gold, scarlet bridle, and red, green, -blue spangles, shaking the boards, rattling the lustres, rustling the -curtain, to reiterated cries of “Hi! hip! hurrah, hurrah!” and the crack -of the whip going off like pistol-shots behind, Jack would fire off his -gun over and over again, till he was shrouded in a cloud of smoke, -through which he could be discerned still tireless, still indefatigable, -bestriding Murph in every possible position, now perched on the neck, -now on the crupper. He seemed made of iron, the frail little being! -Murph might prance and jib and shy, buck-jump and leap fences—nothing -could unseat Jack. The performance over, the latter would shake his -little head under its jockey-cap two or three times, by way of bow, and -so exit, as his friend the poodle gave one last tremendous bound that -carried him and his rider out of sight. - -The enthusiasm of the spectators followed him behind the scenes, and the -floor trembled and shook under the drumming of heavy boots. The applause -grew deafening, and suddenly Jack and Murph made a final whirlwind dash -across the stage, executed a last frantic _fantasia_—and retired for -good and all. - - - X - -But, alas! Murph was getting old. His exertions tired him dreadfully; -after each performance he had to be rubbed down and attended to, or he -would have lain moaning and groaning for an hour. - -His master was sorry for him, and with deep regret—for he saw no glimpse -among his troupe of any talent to take the place of the “falling -star”—he set him to do his more quiet tricks—playing dominoes, finding -handkerchiefs, walking on bottles. - -At the same time he resolved to try a young poodle to fill the hole in -the receipts his good, faithful Murph’s retirement was bound to make. He -trained the animal to run in circles, to leap through hoops, to clear -obstacles, and one fine day clapped Jack on his back. - -Banco—that was the poodle’s name—had not gone three steps before he was -bitten, beaten, garrotted, and left blinded and bleeding. The master -punished Jack severely, and presently made a fresh attempt. But, no—Jack -_would_ not obey; he tore Banco’s ear in two, and then sprang from the -saddle and hid himself in a dark corner. - -Much the same thing happened at every new trial. The whip was no sort of -use; Jack was not to be moved. At last, wearied out, the showman gave -in, and Jack and Murph remained inseparable, living and working together -as before. - -One night Murph came in from his performance utterly worn out, his -tongue hanging out of his mouth and his strength exhausted; his midday -meal had proved indigestible, and, to cap all, the applause to-night had -been faint and feeble. - -Ah! few of us know how actors live on that elusive thing, the favour of -the public, and what renewed force, when they are grown old and have one -foot in the grave already, what fresh vigour the smiles of a delighted -audience instil in their veins, when the blood is beginning to run -feeble! - -No, the thankless audience did not for once acknowledge Murph as their -old favourite, the veteran of the boards, the good and gallant beast -that had so often been their darling and their delight. Under his -outward show of indifference Murph hid a vast fund of sensibility, and -the coldness of his audience cut him to the quick, coming so soon after -his late successes. He thought the dark night of public neglect was -beginning for him; he realised his loss of vigour, his waning energies, -and, like other old players, he saw himself superannuated, out of date, -unknown, and misunderstood by a new public, become a mere shadow on the -scene of his former triumphs. Add to this his master’s evident -ill-humour, as he foresaw the inevitable moment when his old servant -would be a mere pensioner on his bounty. - -Murph staggered off, and fell panting on the rug that formed his bed. - -Then Jack came to help him; but, alas! even Jack could not console him -just at first. Murph rejected his friend’s ministrations, so bitter was -his rancour against mankind. But his pique was soon over, and his -wounded heart found healing under the gentle hand of his lifelong -companion. - - - XI - -But the fatal hour had struck; old age was upon him. Murph had grown -infirm; he would take a dozen steps, crawling from one corner to -another, and then sink down helplessly. His legs, once so prodigiously -strong and active, tottered and stumbled from sheer weakness. In vain -his master’s voice called him to show his tricks; he would struggle to -his feet, for an instant his head would recover its proud carriage of -old days; then suddenly, his momentary strength exhausted, his limbs -tingling with rheumatic pains that cut like whip-lashes, he would slink -away to fall back again into the lifeless attitude of an aged invalid. - -A cloud floated before his eyes, he could no longer see things clearly, -and a growing deafness filled his head with a buzz-buzzing that never -stopped. Life was slowly dying down in the old body. He would lie torpid -for hours and doze away the time in dark corners, under tables, where -nothing would wake him, neither the yapping of the other dogs nor the -chattering of the monkeys, neither the noise of footsteps coming and -going nor the shrill trumpetings of the clown’s cornet-à-piston playing -“Malbrouck s’en va-t-en guerre!” - -It was a deep, dreamless sleep. Jack did not like it, and would crouch -down beside him, watching him with sad eyes, like a friend at a sick -man’s bedside. Poor beast, he could make nothing of this new state of -affairs. Some change he could not comprehend had come over his chum and -laid him low. He seemed to be mutely questioning him, asking him why he -never nowadays trotted about behind the scenes. But it was all Murph -could do to see his little anxious, sorrowful face; he could only view -him as if through a fog, an indistinct shape of sympathy hardly -distinguishable from surrounding objects. - -Nevertheless, he still tried hard to make out in the dusk of his -blindness his kindly comrade of yore; he would raise his palsied head, -and from the depths of his dim eyes, veiled by a milky film, dart a pale -look of infinite gentleness. - -Sometimes the two bushy tufts on his forehead dropped right over his -eyes and further confused his vision. But Jack would put them back -lightly with the tips of his delicate fingers. Indeed he never left his -side, tickling his ears to amuse him, tapping and stroking him, ever on -the watch, a tender-hearted nurse of inexhaustible care and foresight. - -This lowly being had learnt to love like a mother; his little dim soul -had emerged from its darkness to answer his dying comrade’s need, and -now, shining bright in the light of day, was working deeds of charity. - - - XII - -One evening the show pitched on the outskirts of a big town. The booth -was raised, the trestles fixed, the boards laid, and the costume-chests -emptied of their miscellaneous finery. - -Murph lay curled up by himself behind the stove; all round him reigned a -deafening uproar, a rush and scurry of feet, a perfect hurricane of -noise. The master was shouting and scolding; the Jack-pudding with his -hoarse voice was yelping like a dog, mewing like a cat, crowing like a -cock, getting into trim for the patter-speech with which to tickle the -ears of the groundlings, while the general hands were bustling about, -nailing and hammering, stimulated by copious libations of wine. - -The monkeys, too, bore their part; hearing all this uproar, they joined -in with a will. Their shrill scolding rose above the hammering, and they -chattered incessantly and shook the bars of their cages. The dogs -barked, a solemn-faced parrot repeated a bad word over and over again, -while the musicians hired for the evening performance drew lugubrious -notes from their instruments by way of keeping their hand in. - -Hurrah! the stage was set up at last. - -Then the dogs were dressed, the seats given a last wipe-down—and -suddenly boom! boom! the big drum, furiously beaten, rolled out its -deep-toned summons. Instantly a perfect hurricane of discordant, -ear-splitting noises was let loose in front of the show-tent. Answering -the deafening rumble of the big drum, the fifes and ophicleide awoke, -the kettledrum began its rub-a-dub, the cymbals clashed, and the whole -booth shivered and shook from floor to roof-tree. - -Shouts, yells, bursts of ribald laughter, combined in one deep-toned, -incessant roar to form the bass, while cat-calls, cries of vituperation -and repartee, the trampling of many feet marking time before the doors, -the clown’s voice rising and falling amid a tempest of scuffling and -kicking, all met and mingled in the air above the red glow of the -pitch-pine torches flaring in the wind, and punctuating the general din -one never-ceasing refrain— - -“First seats one franc; second seats half a franc; third places twenty -centimes—_only_ twenty centimes. Walk up, ladies and gentlemen; just -about to begin! Citizens and soldiers, walk up, walk up!” - - - XIII - -A torrent of humanity surged up the steps, pushing, shoving, shouting; -then, suddenly released, poured tumultuously over the seats of the -auditorium. Then the big drum redoubled its efforts, the fife blew its -shrillest, the ophicleide lost all control of its keys, tom-toms and -hand-bells, frantically beaten, added their quota to the din, the -kettledrums made a terrific rub-a-dub, and the whole force of the -company, a mad whirl of startling colours and flashing spangles, danced -a fandango on the platform. - -“Walk up, gentlemen, walk up!” the master-showman kept yelling; “here -you shall see what you _shall_ see—marvels and miracles you’ve never -seen the like of before! Look at me! I am the world-famous Brinzipoff, -director-in-chief to the Royal Theatre of St. Petersburg and to all the -crowned heads of Europe! Hi! ho! hup! _only_ twenty centimes the back -seats! Halloa! ha! hurrah! here you are, here you are, ladies and -gentlemen, _this_ way for the front seats!” - -A pause of comparative calm succeeded this grand chorus of ear-splitting -noises. - -The close-packed audience was waiting, stamping with impatience, for the -curtain to rise. Then Jack-pudding came on, pulled his funny faces, and -let off his jokes amidst a dropping fire of jeers and bravos, and -presently made way for Esmeralda, the performing goat, “the unique, the -incomparable Esmeralda, the very same identical animal described by the -immortal _Alexandre_ Hugo!” The musicians struck up an appropriate air, -mostly made up of the vigorous thumping of drumsticks on drumheads. - - - XIV - -Murph had never budged from his corner; he was quite insensible as yet -to the din that had once had such power to excite him. His head resting -on his outstretched paws, he lay asleep, stolid and stupid, callous to -all external things. Round his neck, buried in the dirty, matted fleece, -now long untouched by the curry-comb, were wound Jack’s arms; for Jack -never left his side. - -Esmeralda made her exit, and then suddenly bombarding the audience with -a tornado of sound, the big drum rolled again, as if to announce some -special and extraordinary turn. - -Murph knew this furious, frantic prelude well; this was always the way -Mazeppa’s headlong ride began. Yes, next moment, fifes, drums, bells, -tom-toms struck up together in a mad concert of all the instruments -combined, whereby the bandsmen strove to depict poor Mazeppa’s terrors -as his galloping steed bore him off to be the prey of all the fiends of -hell! - - - XV - -Then something stirred in the old dog’s brain. Did he recall his former -triumphs, the shouts of excited audiences, the encores, all the -intoxicating successes of his life on the boards? Did some vision of an -applauding multitude, of arms outstretched, and voices raised in -gratitude, amid the crash of trumpet and drum, in the hot air thick with -men’s breath and the fumes of powder—did some vision of all this pass -before the poodle’s dying eyes? - -It was a strange awakening, at any rate. Murph sprang suddenly to his -feet, took a leap, and bounded on the stage, tail proudly swinging, and -head erect, Jack hanging on to his woolly coat. Delighted, entranced, -amazed, the poor little beast kept craning over to peer into his -comrade’s face, to see if it was really true, and watch the light of -life dawning and brightening in his deep-set eyes. - -So his friend was himself again at last! So they were to begin the old -merry life again, to gallop and leap, and risk their necks as in the -dear, daredevil days of yore! Jack danced and pranced on the poodle’s -back, as if drunk with the delight of this miraculous transformation. - -At sight of this great, hollow-flanked, unkempt beast, with his dirty, -greasy, tangled fleece, standing there stark and stiff, his legs -tottering under him, his body shaken from head to foot by a nervous -tremor, paws sprawling, back bending, a few scanty hairs bristling in -his tail—when the crowd beheld this pitiful ruin, to which Jack, alert -and debonair, Jack and his grimaces and contortions, Jack and his -caresses, the tender eyes he made, and the close, loving embrace he cast -about his comrade’s neck, all added a touch of comedy, at once sad and -irresistibly ludicrous, a mighty shout of laughter arose. - -It burst like a rocket, then spread from row to row of the spectators, -till it ended in a tempest of merriment that from the audience extended -to the stage, and burst on the dying comedian who stood there. - -Suddenly the dog’s legs gave way beneath him, and Murph fell over on his -side. His supreme effort had killed him; he had succumbed, as great men -sometimes will, at the very moment of their greatness. - -He lay there, the death-rattle in his throat, the death-agony shaking -his poor body in a last, dreadful spasm. He opened his eyes wide, -unnaturally wide, in a stony, sightless stare, as empty as the heads of -the thoughtless crowd in front. - -Then they came and dragged him off the scene. - - - XVI - -Jack was farther from understanding things than ever; his wonder had -only increased. - -Why had his friend stopped short when so well under way? He could not -tell; he could only gaze at him with questioning eyes, his eyelids -winking very fast in a startled way. - -He pressed closer and closer to Murph, and felt a shock as of something -snapping, a shudder, the quiver of a breaking chain. A deeper darkness -still crept over poor Murph’s senses; he was dying! - -Jack crouched over him, gazing down at his friend. - -Just then Murph made a supreme effort, half turned his head and peered -up in his friend’s face, while a look of tender affection passed over -his glazing eyeballs, mingled with the reflection of the objects he had -known all his life. - -The tip of a white, dry tongue came out between his teeth, and -lengthening out like a slender riband, licked Jack’s paw. It was not -drawn back again; Murph was dead. - -Close by in the slips the fifes were shrilling, the drums beating, the -audience in front clapping hands and stamping. - -Jack watched beside his friend all night. At first he had crept in -between his paws, as he had always done; but the chill of the cold, -rigid limbs had forced him to abandon his position. - -His little brain was sorely exercised, you may take my word for that. -What was this icy chill, like the coldest winter’s frost, that drove him -from his dear comrade’s bosom, generally so warm a refuge? He lay there -by Murph’s side, dozing with one eye open; then, suddenly starting wide -awake in a panic, he would touch his friend with exploring fingers to -see if he was still asleep. - -Finally, he lost all patience at the other’s prolonged slumbers; he -shook him, he plucked at the tufts of his woolly coat, he tickled his -nose—gently at first, then more roughly. But it was all no use. - -Then he took Murph’s head in his little arms; it was as heavy as lead -and dragged him down all sideways. But he would not let it go, holding -it hard against his breast, examining it all the while with surprise and -consternation. Presently, recalling what he had seen his master’s wife -do, he began to rock it to and fro, cradling it softly and swaying it -slowly, unceasingly from side to side, his queer little head swaying in -time, like an old man’s crooning over an infant. - -The dawn filtered in through the shutters of the van, and a sunbeam -trembled for an instant in the dead poodle’s eyes. - - - XVII - -Jack absolutely refused to be parted from Murph. He fell into a fury, -and bit the men who tried to separate them on face and hands. He had to -be dragged away and shut up in a cage. There he lived for three days, -whimpering like an old man fallen into the imbecility of dotage, his -haggard eyes looking out despairingly from between his wrinkled temples, -his little face all shrivelled like a medlar, his lips as pale as wax, -and an expression of utter life-weariness in every feature. - -He would eat nothing, leaving untasted the carrots he was once so fond -of, and refusing to touch either sugar or milk. All day long he cowered -motionless in a corner, moaning, his eyes fixed on something invisible -to others, outside the cage, far away. - - - XVIII - -On the morning of the third day they found him stark and cold, his -angular little skeleton almost piercing through the skin. His long, dry -hands were closed convulsively; the lips were drawn back and showed the -small, white teeth; two deep, moist furrows were visible on either side -his nose, as if, before he died, the ape had been weeping for his -friend. - -[Illustration: THE CAPTIVE GOLDFINCH] - - - - - The Captive Goldfinch - - - I - -Once upon a time, far away in the depths of a great orchard, there lived -a goldfinch. He was born in the spring, amid the fragrance of the fresh -leaves, and there was not a prettier, sweeter little fellow to be found -in any of the nests round about. His mother longed to keep him near her -always, she loved him so dearly; but then, there is nothing so tempting -as a pair of wings, and once July was come, the month of daring flights -and dashing enterprises, light and agile as only young birds are, he -left the maternal nest in search of distant adventures. - -Oh! but it is enough to turn any goldfinch’s head, this flying free over -the blue expanse of the skies! Hardly had he passed the limits of the -orchard where he was born ere he clean forgot all about his fond mother, -her warm breast, and her dark eye so full of tender solicitude. - -A sort of frenzy seized him. Thinking the leaves were as eternal as the -springtide, he boldly took his flight, and away across the sky; soaring -ever higher and higher, he rose into the heat and glory of the sun, into -the regions where the larks sing and the swallows dart, where all the -wild wings make a sound as of a mighty fan opening and shutting. - -Wonder of wonders! now the earth below him looked round and shining like -a ball of flowers floating in an enveloping cloud of gold-dust; and -bathed in splendour, he saw the sun rise and set in the glory of -limitless horizons. - -Oh! what glorious flights he had in the blue depths of the clouds! what -games of hide-and-seek among the flickering leaves, what cries and songs -and dartings after gnats, and all the delights known only to the little -winged souls we call birds! - -The nightingales lulled him to sleep with the melody of their concerts, -the cock woke him with the shrill clarion-call of his crowing; all the -day long he flitted and flew amid the endless twittering and warbling of -linnets, tomtits, bullfinches, sparrows, and chaffinches, taking _his_ -part too in the orchestra, and near bursting his little throat to -produce his finest notes, with that vanity that makes us one, and -believe Nature has implanted in us the soul of an artist—a great, -mysterious, unappreciated artist. - - - II - -But the summer passed into autumn, and drenching rains succeeded the -sunny days; the poor goldfinch had to perch of nights in rain-soaked -trees, where he had to sit cold and shivering, feeling his feathers -getting wet and draggled one by one. Furious winds tore away the leaves, -and lo! one morning when he opened his eyes, he saw a new and strange -world—the ground was covered with snow, and far as sight could reach -were only white roofs, white hedges, and white trees. Winter was come! - -Then oh! how bitterly he regretted his mother’s warm breast! How gladly -would he have given the joys of the past summer to find himself once -more pressed close to her side and feel her heart beating against his in -the cosy nest! But all summer the wind had been busy confusing the -pathways of the air, so that it was now impossible to discover the one -that should have led him back to the nest; nay, a more blighting wind -than all the rest blew out of the skies; the wind of forgetfulness had -breathed upon his spirit, carrying away the memory of that happy -road—the first that young folks forget. And now winter grew fierce and -fell, devastating the orchards, bombarding the cottages with hailstones, -driving hope from all breasts and killing the little birds in the -nests—the young birds that are the hope of the verdant springtide and -happy days to come. - -The little goldfinch was quite sure this horror would never end, that -the trees would never grow green again, that never more would the -harvest clothe the fields in green, that gaiety, sunshine, and youth -were vanished away for good and all. - -Cowering in the hollow of an old branch, he watched the days go by like -a procession of white phantoms, each uglier than the other, and his -little feet all stiff with cold, his feathers frozen together with -hoar-frost, sad and shivering, he thought many and many a time his last -hour was come. - -In vain the old birds told him of a re-birth; he could not believe in -the resurrection of things when this dreary time of mourning should be -over. - - - III - -Little by little, however, the snowstorms grew rarer, stray sunbeams -pierced the murkiness of the heavens, and a verdant down, at first light -as a vapour, but which presently grew denser and soon took on the -solidity and sheen of satin, hemmed round the sombre garment of the -fields. A mildness filled the air—something restful, calm, and kindly, -that was like a benediction, something the winds distilled, the sun -diffused, the growing grass and humming insects and fragrant violets -spread abroad, something which, like a river fed by a myriad rippling -rills, gushed forth along the torrent-bed of creation. - -A door seemed to open in the sooty firmament of winter, and this portal, -rolling back on golden hinges, suddenly revealed the sun in his -splendour, like a king stepping forth to bring peace to the peoples. -Then sounded the first chord in the plain-song of the woods; waters, -sky, and earth joined in the harmony with a deep, long-drawn note that -rose and swelled, sobbed and sighed, grew louder and louder, assumed the -majestic breadth of an orchestral symphony, and waxing gradually, ended -by filling the depths and heights of air with a mighty diapason, as if -all mouths, all voices, all breaths were raised together in one vast -unison. - -I leave you to guess if the goldfinch lifted up _his_ voice in this -universal hymn of praise! - -So it was true, then! The sun had indeed returned! A fine lacework of -filmy greenery began to clothe the tree boles, and the water-springs to -sparkle in the shy recesses of the forest; the air was free; once more -he and his comrades could laugh and sing, flit idly to and fro, pilfer -and steal, plunder the orchards, peck the flowers, drink in from a drop -of dew intoxication to last the livelong day, and revel in that -twice-blessed existence that is full of a fine frenzy of delight to make -the thrushes envious. - -Good-bye to the winter covert, the crevice in the protecting bough, the -moss that still keeps the impress of his little body! Nothing will -satisfy him now but the wild fields of space; and with a bold sweep of -wing the masterful goldfinch has left his dolorous refuge, never to -return. A second piece of ingratitude, another act of forgetfulness! -Yes, it must be allowed a little bird’s head has small room in it for -remembrance. - - - IV - -Good times began again. White and pink, the orchards blossomed like -bridal bouquets. It snowed butterflies’ wings and flower stamens in the -tall grass; lilacs hung in clusters over the walls; like a good priest -saying mass, the earth donned a golden cope, and all Nature trembled and -loved. - -Then was the time for our pretty bird to abandon himself to endless idle -wanderings and loiterings, hopping hither and thither, always on one -leg, barely lighting and then off again, shaking the leaves with an -incessant flutter of wings, twittering and chirping, flirting with the -daisies, ruffling the hawthorn, hooting the holly. At peep of dawn he -never failed, when the harebells rang their morning summons, to come -down to attend the good God’s church whither the flies and sparrows -assemble, still half asleep and blundering against the pillars; next the -beetles get under way along the roads, teased and tormented by the -butterflies and ladybirds; then the linnet leaves her bough and flies -off to where the bells tinkle, but of a sudden darts back again, finding -she has left something behind, lost something—more often than not her -head—for the poor lady generally wears it wrong side before! Thither fly -the chaffinches too, and the grave-faced oriole, the pretty bullfinch, -and the chattering cock-sparrow. Then the cockchafers come, too, too -often, alas! trailing after them the thread of captivity clinging to -them—the burly cockchafers that, with the bumble-bee, are the bass -voices of the underwoods. Plain and woodland are all alive, for there is -never a creature at this fair hour of daybreak, while the skies are -brightening, but is eager to come and make its orison to God in His -temple. - -So the little goldfinch followed their example; he preened his feathers, -looking at himself admiringly in a dewdrop the while. Then, his toilet -done, like all the rest of the world, he bustled off to his business and -his pleasures. - - - V - -Goldfinches’ hearts are made much the same as men’s; the spring awakes -both to thoughts of love. - -Our hero had remarked in his neighbourhood a sweet little hen-goldfinch. -She lived with her parents in the tall branches of an apple-tree; more -than once, coming home at evening, he had admired the fascinating smile -of her beak at the window, embowered in foliage, where she sat watching -for his going-by. - -Was it his fancy? Was it really and truly a modest blush, or only the -rosy reflection cast by the setting sun? Yes, sure—he had seen her -redden. It needed no more to decide him to ask her hand in marriage. - -One morning he made his bravest toilet, scented himself with lavender -and thyme, polished up his little claws, and in this gallant array he -set out, with a shining face but an anxious heart, to see the parents. -They received him politely, but could not make up their minds, and -begged him to come again. - -He came again and again, and the more he saw of his little sweetheart, -the deeper he fell in love. She was as pretty as seven in her little -brown mantle with yellow facings, and her dainty head in its red hood -was poised on her neck with an incomparable grace. Saucy and alert, she -was as slight and slim as a flower waving in the breeze, as bright as a -sunbeam piercing through the leaves, as agile as the wind. Dewdrops -seemed to sparkle in the depths of her little round pupils. She was a -vision of the spring-tide made into a bird! - -True, our hero was no less brave to see. Gallant and gay, he cocked his -beak boldly and carried the colours of his race with becoming pride. - -At last the wedding-day was fixed; but the bride’s trousseau was still -to seek. No doubt birds are able to start housekeeping at small cost, -neither needing tables and chairs nor pots and pans; still, there must -be some little fitting-out to be done. - -And so thought the bride’s parents, who were prudent people, and loved -their daughter. - -A fine to-do there was, to be sure, on the bough where the old couple -had their home; a stir that never ceased all day long kept the green -hangings of the house shaking, and the doors banging; everlasting -comings and goings turned the stairways upside down. Pale and -eager-eyed, the little hen-goldfinch awaited the happy hour when she -could fly away with her mate. - - - VI - -Soon the news of the betrothal spread amongst the neighbours. The -nearest trees were all agog; nothing was to be heard but twitterings and -whisperings, not to mention backbitings, for envy is to be found -everywhere in this world. The tomtits above all took a delight in saying -evil of the bride, calling her a silly, insipid little thing; they -chirped and chattered, whistled and whispered, pecking and pulling to -pieces the poor innocent child’s good name. In vain the bullfinches, -good, decent bodies, tried to interfere: the tomtits’ cackle quite -drowned their grave remonstrances. The critics had enlisted a naughty -grisette, a chaffinch, a minx who had kicked over the traces in her day, -and was renowned for her spiteful tongue; a blackbird too had joined the -conspiracy, and now, perched all together on a high branch, from which -they could spy upon the comings and goings of the goldfinch household, -they kept up a famous uproar. - -The Master of Ceremonies of the birds’ parish arrived in the afternoon; -he had come to inquire the hour at which the young folks were to be -married, and if they wanted choristers to attend. It was agreed to -engage a lark and a chaffinch; nightingales were too expensive. A pretty -carpet of green would be laid down, as green as on the finest summer’s -day; the porch was to be decorated with anemones, and the chancel with -daisies; the sun would be ordered for five o’clock, to make a grand show -of purple and gold. Of course the drones would be at the organ, and they -would ask the wind to give them a helping hand by roaring in the pipes. -The harebells would strike up a merry peal at peep of day, and ring till -the bridal pair arrived. The holy-water stoup would be filled with dew. -As for incense, the violets would see the censers were well filled, and -the bees would keep them swinging all through the ceremony. - -I forgot to tell you that a wedding breakfast had been ordered, at -which, besides flies and worms galore, they were to regale themselves on -a cricket and a locust—a magnificent spread indeed. The nearest spring -would supply the wine; they were to have corn-berries for dessert, and -the table would be laid in the thickest of an apple-tree in full -blossom, where a cloud of gnats was always buzzing and making beautiful -music. A yellowhammer was invited; he was a rollicking blade, and there -was nobody to match him at singing a comic song. - -All was going as well as could be; yet how long seemed the hours of -waiting to the little bridegroom! To and fro he flitted, up and down the -roads he sauntered, trying to cheat his impatience by incessant -movement; presently he would light on a bough and fall a-dreaming, while -his little heart beat fast and furiously. - -Every minute he kept glancing up at the great dial God has set in the -sky, and which only the birds can read; but the sunbeam which is the -hand of this aerial clock would _not_ move fast enough for his -impatience. He could only bewail his lot, and force himself to drop -asleep to kill the lagging time. He even went to see the village -clockmaker, an old cuckoo, a greybeard bird with a nid-nodding head, who -all day long used to strike the hours with exasperating punctuality, and -besought him to quicken up the evening a bit. - -But the cuckoo shook his head. - -“Little madcap,” he told him, “am I to put out all the folk of the -countryside for you? Don’t you know everything goes on by rule and -regulation among your neighbours, and that each hour brings its own -tasks? Why, whatever would they think if I rang vespers before the great -timepiece of the heavens had indicated the time of twilight? What would -the mole say if I brought him out of his underground house, looking -black as a collier, before nightfall, and if suddenly the sun dazzled -him with its light—poor purblind fellow who had never in his life dared -look at anything but the moon?” - -So, the cuckoo having shown him the door, he wandered off again, -flitting from hedgerow to hedgerow, burning with impatience. - - - VII - -A heap of little white grubs lay under the hedge of an orchard. More for -lack of anything else to do than because he was hungry, the goldfinch -flew up and fell upon it. - -Ah! have a care, pretty birdie. A man was busy thereabouts just now. - -But, alas, it is too late; a whole life of happiness is ruined by a -moment’s curiosity. Hardly had the poor fellow plunged his beak in the -mass when a string pulled the catch; down comes the trap, and he is a -prisoner. Then the shape crouching behind a tree comes out from its -hiding-place; it approaches, looms larger and larger, turns into a big -bearded man, who opens enormous great hands, seizes the poor bird, and -claps it in a cage, grinning a broad grin of satisfaction. Good-bye, -little bride! Good-bye, marriage-feast and wedding-march! Good-bye, -woods and orchards, gardens and flowers! Good-bye, twittering nests! -Good-bye, life and love! - -Consternation nailed our little hero to the spot; something had befallen -him he could make nothing of; he gazed at the cage with haggard eyes, -too scared to think. - -Ah! if only he had lost his memory! But this consolation was denied him. -He shook himself, dashed at the bars, pecked and bit at them, thinking -maybe they would open and leave him free as air again. - -But no; the bars would _not_ give way. - -Then he shuddered from head to foot. Anger and terror frenzied his -little brain. He flew wildly at the bars; but all in vain—the cage was -solid and strong. - -Suddenly he realised his calamity, and, filled with a perfect frenzy of -despair, with panting breath and trembling, shuddering limbs, he hurled -himself at the bars, beat his head against the wires, tearing and -lacerating beak and claws, flew madly up and down, breaking his wings, -till, battered and bruised, his feathers all dripping with blood, -exhausted and out of breath, he rolled half-dead into a corner. - -It was all over! - -While joy was paramount yonder in his bride’s home, while song and -laughter were the order of the day, while preparations for the -wedding—bitter mockery!—were completing, and all things, leaves and -butterflies and nests, were a-flutter, the poor bridegroom lay in his -agony amid the silence of a prison. - - - VIII - -Evening lit up the sky with its gleaming tints of copper; little by -little the chattering family groups fell silent, and the darkling trees -assumed the look of long-drawn, solemn colonnades. Alas! it was not -under this familiar aspect that night fell for our captive goldfinch. A -dirty whitewashed wall, on which hung strangely shaped objects, replaced -the sable curtain spangled with stars that twilight spreads over the -countryside. A guttering, flaring candle smoked on the table, bearing -how faint a resemblance to the silver moon! and by its sordid light the -hard-hearted wretch who had robbed him of his liberty was moving to and -fro. - -Ah! what right had he, this miserable birdcatcher, this highway robber, -to tear him from the free air, the hedgerows and the green fields? Tiny -though he be, is the bird therefore of no import to the leaves, the -winds, the trees, which without him would be voiceless? Has the blue sky -no need of his outspread wings, his echoing song, the flutter of his -plumage? - -What use the pool glittering in the woodland, if he was not there to dip -his beak in it and absorb in a drop of water the red of dawn, the gold -of noon, the deep shadow of the quivering leaves? Is not a little bird -the less a disaster in the forests and orchard-closes, a voice silenced -in the symphony of nature, a furrow left barren in the fields of space, -a bright point vanished from the azure sky? Is not the universe -disturbed for the loss of a little creature wherein all nature is summed -up and glorified? - -The man blew out the taper, and a moonbeam shot in at the garret-window -and fell on the poor captive. - -It formed, as it were, a luminous rail on which his thoughts glided; and -they always travelled in one direction—to his little _fiancée_, who at -that moment, softly cradled by the night wind, was fast asleep and -dreaming of the great to-morrow. - -The moon paled and daylight appeared. - -Yonder no doubt all was ready; the harebells were ringing their peal, -the drones were organing their deep music, while the trembling bride, -white as the lilies, was asking herself why her bridegroom did not come. - -The cuckoo clanged out the hour of dawn. One and all were ready for the -fête; only _his_ arrival was waited for. - -The hours slipped by without his appearing, and little by little the -murmuring and muttering, low at first, grew louder and louder, and rose -into a perfect tempest of cries and jeers and gibes. The chaffinches -were jubilant, the parents disconsolate. And what of her, the poor, -despairing bride? Her pretty innocent eyes could not bear the light of -day; stricken to the heart by this unaccountable desertion, she was -borne away fainting, half dead with shame and sorrow. - - - IX - -Dark days followed. At first only a prisoner, his cruel master now made -him into a galley-slave. He put a chain round his foot, and condemned -him to the servitude of the car and cord. So drag your weight, work your -pulley, haul in your little car, poor outcast! Who has not seen the -monstrous spectacle—one of God’s creatures, created to fly free in the -realms of air, coming and going on a toy platform, a ring about its leg? -Who has not seen the unhappy captive, to win meat and drink, drawing up -by little laborious jerks the water-jar and car, its eye gleaming with -pitiful longing, gaining its subsistence by a never-ending useless -martyrdom? Only he who has seen the cruel sight knows to what lengths -the cruelty of bad men can go. - -This was the fate of the poor goldfinch. - -The man had given him a cage to imitate a Swiss châlet, in front of -which was a little terrace. On the terrace was fixed a post, with a -pulley attached worked by a thread. This thread the captive had to pull -in with his beak, little by little, till the little drinking-bucket -hooked to the other end rose to the level of the platform; then putting -his foot on the cord, he had to hold it in place and so drink a drop, -bitter as a tear, hurriedly and fearfully, lest the thread should slip -from under his claw and suddenly let the bucket run down again. - -More often than not the bucket upset in its descent, and then he had to -go without water for the rest of the day. - -A second thread made it possible for him to haul to the edge of the -platform a miniature car running on an inclined plane outside the cage; -this held his bird-seed. What a struggle it was to drag it up! At each -snap of the beak the car would ascend, but oh! so slowly. By successive -jerks, never tiring, never stopping, with straining neck, working with -the adroitness of a galley-slave, and clapping his foot on the cord -after each pull, he had to drag up the accursed car, which would -sometimes elude him and dash down the incline again, spilling the seed -and mocking all his laborious efforts! - -A hundred times a day he was forced to begin the horrid task again. - -Many a time the goldfinch resolved to give in and die of hunger; but -hunger is a terrible thing, and no sooner did its pangs begin to pinch -his little stomach than he would seize the cord afresh and pull for dear -life. - - - X - -So passed the hours for the once happy bridegroom. Never a chirp now, -never a flirt of the tail! Disconsolate and draggled, every feather of -his little body betraying the misery of his broken life, he seemed an -embodiment of the bitter protest of the winged creation against the -cruelty of man. - -A feeble ray of sunshine used to flicker on the garret walls towards -midday; he would watch for it, and when it came at last, shooting a -slender pencil of gold, in which the dust-motes danced athwart the gloom -of his prison-house, it was like a brief instant of recovered freedom; -for a moment he forgot his chain, his car, his slavery, and away he flew -in fancy to the great orchards that showed their black masses of shadow -on the horizon. Alas! the sunbeam slid along the wall and disappeared, -and the appalling reality came home to him again. - -What had he done to deserve this cruel fate? To filch a grain of corn -here and there, to forage in the kitchen-gardens, to play the truant, to -make the most of life, all day long to fly hither and thither, the free -denizen of air—was this a crime? He never reflected how he had forgotten -his mother, and that this crime alone deserved the sternest expiation. - -His master was one of those good-for-nothing workmen who make the whole -week a series of Sundays. One night he forgot to come home at all; next -morning the ill-starred captive found bucket and car both empty. No use -hauling them up to him and pecking about in every corner; never a grain -of seed was to be found, never a drop of water! Then indeed he knew the -torments of hunger and thirst. In vain he toiled at his cruel, slavish -task; the car ascended, the bucket rose, but without bringing solace to -his famished cravings. His tools refused their office; with pale eyes of -consternation the poor prisoner gazed at them, and could not understand. - -As if by the irony of fate, the window had been left wide open, and he -could plainly see the green of the nearest trees, in which the birds, -his more fortunate brethren, were squabbling. He saw the sun slowly sink -and the shadows of the house-roofs lengthen. Then a frenzy of madness -seized him; with quick, frantic pecks he tore at the chain riveted round -his leg, and by sheer fury burst its rings. - -To dart to the window, to sail away for the paling blue of the sky, was -the work of an instant; but next minute he fell to earth again, so weak -was he with hunger. Luckily, not far from the foot of the tree where he -had dropped, a flock of pigeons was enjoying a feast of oats at the door -of a stable. He joined the band, and in a very short while had plumped -his crop to such good purpose that he felt his full strength come back -to him. - -A long time had passed since he had quitted his bonny bride, and he -trembled to think what changes the days might have brought with them in -her life. Still the longing to see her again grew so irresistible after -he had been free an hour that, even if she had forgotten him, he was -fain to bid her farewell. - -And pr-r-r-rt! he was off like the wind. - -All the world was asleep when he arrived—even the tomtits, those -inveterate gossips, who love to loiter at their doors long after dark, -talking scandal of their neighbours. - -“Little bride! little bride!” he breathed softly. - -A yellowhammer answered him in a cross voice— - -“Third tree to the left in the next orchard!” - -Why, actually the goldfinches had removed! He hurried to the tree -indicated, and once again, “Little bride!” he whispered. - -A faint cry answered, and next moment his sweetheart appeared. - -“I was waiting for you,” she cried. - -Ah! these were happy moments that made up for all their sufferings. He -told her all his adventures; she told him how her faith in him had never -faltered. They woke the parents, who warmly welcomed the returned -prodigal. - -“Just think,” said the mother, “those odious chaffinches positively -forced us to leave the neighbourhood. Life was become unbearable; -morning, noon, and night it was nothing but insulting remarks. But now -you are come back again! So these spiteful folks will be finely -confounded.” - -Another old hen-goldfinch was there, who was gazing at him with wet eyes -and wings all a-tremble. - -“Ah!” cried our hero, “why, it is mamma, my poor mother I had forgotten -so long!” - -Yes, it was his mother indeed: his little bride, after his -disappearance, had never wearied till she found her, telling herself -that, with her for company, there would be two of them to wait for his -return. - -Their happiness was complete. - -Two days after, but soberly this time, without drum or trumpet, the -wedding was solemnised. - -The story has its moral, as every story should. It was the goldfinch’s -father-in-law who undertook to draw it for his young friend’s benefit. - -“Son-in-law,” he said, “I hope you will teach your little ones two -lessons. The first is—never forget your mother; the second—beware of -traps in the hedgerows.” - -[Illustration: STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A LITTLE WHITE RABBIT] - - - - - Strange Adventures of a Little White Rabbit - - -Four little rabbits had seen the light in a hutch snugly stuffed with -straw, where they lived cosy and warm by their mother’s side. - -They were pretty, plump little things, all four as fat as butter, and -just as well-liking one as the other; but while three of them had white -bellies and dappled backs, one was white all over from head to foot, and -his mother was mighty proud of his beauty, you may be sure. - -You could not have found so exquisite a rabbit, no, not for three -leagues round, and every day he grew handsomer and handsomer, like a -king’s son. Two great rubies glittered in his fine eyes, and his teeth -were just like the edge of a saw; yes, and he had a moustache—three -hairs, which made him, oh! so conceited. - -Mother Rabbit loved them all tenderly; but she loved Jannot, her -firstborn, best of all. - -To begin with, he was the eldest; then she had had more trouble to rear -him, and ill-health always draws a closer bond between mother and child; -besides, she was inordinately proud of his white coat, and dreamt he was -destined for greatness. What form would it take? This she could not -tell. Perhaps he would take first prize at a show—perhaps he would found -a breed of white rabbits like himself. She lavished every delicacy upon -her darling, and his prospective honours consoled her for the triviality -of everyday existence. - -They would soon be two months old, and that is the age when young -bunnies are taken from their mothers. She dreaded the moment of parting; -Jannot would have to go with the rest. - -In fact, all four were weaned by this time; they were beginning to gnaw -at carrots now, and would often try to get out through any gaps they -could find, for they longed to see the great world. The hutch had open -bars, and they could look out into a kitchen-garden with lettuce-beds, -and beyond that see a flock of ducks paddling about beside a brook. -There was an apple-tree to the right, with a cloud of sparrows always -squabbling round it. To the left an outhouse door gave a glimpse of cows -and horses, dimly outlined in the gloom of the interior. There were -cats, too, stretching themselves in the sun or stalking sedately up and -down. - -At peep of day the whole farmyard woke up; noon brought a momentary -silence; then, as the sun grew hotter, sparrows chirped, ducks quacked, -cows lowed, and the din went on uninterruptedly till dusk. - -The little bunnies would fain have joined the other animals; they would -gaze wistfully at the birds flying high in the air, and the sight of the -cattle marching off cheerfully for the pastures gave them a craving for -the green fields. - -How big the farmyard seemed, to be sure! and how amazed they were when -Mother Rabbit told them there were other places bigger still which they -could not see. She described the woods and ravines and burrows, for she -knew these well enough from hearsay; why, they could not have travelled -round the world in a whole day, so enormous it was! Squatted round their -mother, the youngsters listened to all this, and their hearts almost -failed them. - -But not so Jannot; _his_ imagination was stimulated by what he heard. - -“Ah!” he would cry, “will they never let me out, that I may have _my_ -chance of seeing all these wonderful things?” - -Then his mother was alarmed; but he would kiss her and promise he would -come back again directly, once he had seen the world. But she only shook -her head, and could not make up her mind to let him go. - -“The world is full of cruel beasts; you will never, never escape its -dangers.” - -“I have teeth and claws.” - -“So have they, child; but their teeth are longer and their claws sharper -than yours. Restrain your eagerness; time enough yet to go forth into -the wide, wide world.” - -He would shake his head impatiently and fall to gnawing at the woodwork -of the hutch; in fact his mind was full of guilty thoughts of escape. At -last, one fine morning, when his mother was tidying the litter, he made -a bolt for it. - -Scarcely had he gone a hundred steps when he was arrested by a startling -sight. He beheld half-a-dozen hairy brown skins nailed up in a row. They -still retained the shape of the bodies they had once clothed, and little -trickles of blood ran down the wall where they hung. There was no -mistaking; they had belonged to rabbits like himself. - -“Oh, dear!” he thought, “so they kill rabbits, do they?” - -But this sinister sight was quickly forgotten in the variety of new -wonders he encountered. A pig was grunting on a dunghill, with a young -foal kicking at him and destroying his peace of mind, and a goat -gambolling near by; one after the other he saw a rat, a dog, a calf, and -a flock of pigeons that suddenly took wing. - -They rose in the warm morning air, glittering in the sun, flying so high -he soon lost sight of them altogether. Looking down again, he noticed a -cat watching him, and remembered he had seen her in the garden, prowling -among the lettuces. - -The width of the yard was between them, and he had a barn behind him. -The cat lay crouched on the kitchen steps; she never moved, but her eyes -were wide open and glittered cruelly. Then she got up slowly. - -Jannot believed his last hour was come; he thought of his mother, and -shut his eyes. A furious barking made him open them again. The cat was -gone; with one bound Jannot sprang into a cart round which a bull-dog -was racing with his mouth wide open, and leapt from there into the barn. - -Inside the straw was piled up mountains high, so close to the wall he -had some difficulty in forcing a passage; still, it was only betwixt the -wall and the straw he could hope to find a safe refuge. He durst not -come out again, and stayed there in hiding till nightfall. - -Then he plucked up spirit, took a step or two in the dark, and came upon -a hole close down to the floor through which he could slip. - -What a sight met him outside! The country lay white in the moonlight, -house-roofs, pools, watercourses glittering in the beams. The leaves -quivered restlessly in the night wind, and the distant clumps of -brushwood stood out in clear-cut outline. It was very beautiful; but -look! suddenly, close to him, two long, black, moving shadows scared him -out of his seven senses. - -The cat! - -Jannot never stopped till he reached the woods, after darting across the -garden, leaping a brook, scurrying over the fields, breathless and -exhausted. Vague shadows loomed around him; flying footsteps sounded -about his path; suddenly, by the startled cry that escaped a little -creature which halted right before his nose, he knew he was in presence -of another rabbit. - -“I am Jannot,” he said, in a low voice; “perhaps we are relations.” - -From the first moment the rabbit saw him, he loaded him with polite -attentions, declared he loved him already, and offered him the -hospitality of his house; so the two of them jogged off in company. But -after a moment or two Goodman Rabbit stopped dead, saying— - -“You’d best go by the clearing, and I through the scrub; it will never -do to let the polecat see us. We will meet at the foot of a great oak -you can’t help seeing.” - -Jannot followed his companion’s advice; but no sooner were they together -again than the rabbit, after fifty yards or so, cried out once more— - -“The place we’re in now is just as dangerous as the other. A wild-cat -lurks hereabouts, and slaughters whatever comes under his claws. You go -that way; I’ll go this. A rock you will see will serve as rendezvous.” - -They reached the rock at the same moment, and then trotted off again. -They were just coming to a coppice of young trees with narrow winding -paths through it when his experienced friend called a halt for the third -time, crying— - -“Well, we did well not to travel side by side. My advice is that we go -each his own way again, without bothering about one another, till we -come to the crossroads you’ll find down yonder. Ah! d’ye see those -snares? Mind you don’t get into them, for if the polecat and the -wild-cat are lords of the lands we have just been through, the poacher -rules here as monarch paramount.” - -The advice was good, but its giver had no time to finish it; he was -caught by the foot in one of the gins, and the more he struggled to get -free, the tighter the dreadful noose was drawn. - -“Help! help!” he clamoured. - -But already Jannot was off and away, panic-stricken; he ran on and on, -never once stopping till he won back as quick as ever he could to the -edge of the woodland where he and Master Rabbit had first met. - -“If the world is so strewn with dangers,” he thought to himself, “better -to live in peace and quietness in a hutch. What use in roaming the -woods, when death is at the journey’s end?” - -Then in his mind’s eye he saw his mother again and his brothers; and the -safe shelter where they awaited his return seemed a far-off, happy -refuge he could hardly hope to reach. - -Field-mice and weasels and martens were stirring in the dark underwood -and shaking the leaves. Suddenly a new terror, more appalling than all -the rest, gripped him; he thought he was being pursued. Then he dashed -out into the plain that lay clear in the moonlight, and, with ears -pricked, thinking all the while he could hear at his heels the -unwearying, unflagging trot, trot of the fell creatures that were on his -track, he pushed through hedges, leapt ditches, climbed banks. - -He had his back to the moon, and two black shadows, the same he had seen -at the outset of his escapade, stretched out before him; this time they -went in front, never leaving him, and sometimes lengthening out to -portentous proportions. - -No doubt about it, a whole host of enemies was after him! - -At last his breath failed him and he sank down in despair, waiting for -death; but as it was a long time coming, he began to recover a little -courage, and, turning round, stared hard into the night. - -Not a thing was visible amid the loneliness of the fields, and the moon -seemed to be grinning down at him from the sky. - -Then he discovered that the two shadows that had terrified him so were -only the shadows of his own two ears. This was mortifying! - -Day dawned by slow degrees; and presently he found himself back by the -brook, the ducks, the cow-shed and the kitchen-garden. - -“Mind this,” his mother told him, “there’s no adventures so fine as to -match the pleasure of being safe at home, among the folks who love you.” - - - - - “Monsieur Friquet” - - -Nature had not been generous to the poor thing; Claire was born a -hunchback, and a hunchback she had grown up—if indeed she can be said -ever to have grown up—an undersized, sickly, suffering creature, who at -thirty was not as high, from head to heels, as a little girl of nine. - -She had been left an orphan when quite a child; first her mother died, -and her father had not survived her long. So Claire had had to face the -world alone, with her own ten fingers for all her fortune. Her parents -had never spoilt her with overmuch indulgence. They were poor, -hardworking folks, who hardly knew what it was to smile. Even when they -were alive, she had led a lonely enough existence. Still, after their -death, she missed the life lived in common, the destitution shared with -others, the bustle of the hugger-mugger household, where scolding and -grumbling were by no means unknown. Her parents were her parents after -all; with them life had its happy moments, now and then. - -[Illustration: “MONSIEUR FRIQUET”] - -They were hard times now for Claire. Shut up all day long in the -unhealthy air of workrooms, she seemed to grow more and more emaciated, -and smaller and smaller every day. Nobody ever thought of pitying the -poor, uncouth being who sat sewing apart from the rest, who, with a -gentle humility, always sought the shade, where her deformity was less -noticeable; nobody ever dreamed of asking if there was a soul within -that misshapen body, and her great eyes—light blue, sickly-looking eyes, -which she would raise slowly and languidly, as if afraid of the -light—encountered only mockery and indifference from all about her. - -The tall, handsome girls who sat round the sewing-table had nothing but -hard words for her; scarcely knowing why, yielding to a cruel impulse -which a little thought, if nothing better, would have checked, they -treated her vilely. - -Little by little she had become the general butt of the workroom; one -dismal day in December a last outrage was added to all the rest. - -An ill-conditioned cripple, a girl who had borne Claire a grudge from -the first day of her coming, because of their sisterhood in misfortune, -which caused twice as many gibes to be levelled at her own club-foot, -contrived to secrete a piece of silk, in order to accuse Claire of the -theft. She declared stoutly she had taken the piece and hidden it inside -her dress. In vain the poor girl, bursting into tears, swore she was -innocent. The head of the shop ordered her to strip. She begged -piteously for mercy, clasping her hands in supplication; but the cripple -moved heaven and earth to set the others against her. Rough hands were -laid on her; she was bruised and shaken and hurt; all she could do was -to stammer out appeals to their compassion; she was nearly fainting, and -the tears were streaming down her cheeks. No use; the poor back was -bared, and while the mistress was searching her, the pretty, -rosy-cheeked workgirls were feeling the deformity curiously, examining -what like a hump exactly was. - -Claire had buried her face in her hands; her hair had fallen about her -ears, and there she stood, quite still and helpless, terrified at the -angry faces about her; her throat was dry and her whole body quivering -with overmastering agitation. She wished she was dead. - -The mistress’s hard voice dismissing her roused her at last; she got to -her feet amidst the jeers of the workroom, buttoned her frock, collected -her needles and scissors, and, shuddering and shaking, catching her feet -in her skirts, she hurried to the door; there was a loud buzzing in her -ears, and she seemed to see everything through a sort of mist. - -She dashed downstairs two steps at a time and reached the riverside -quays, looking in her despair for an unfrequented bridge from which an -unhappy hunchback might throw herself into the water and not be noticed. -But everywhere she seemed to see mocking eyes pursuing her. - -By degrees she began to think of the dreadful publicity of such a death; -she saw herself dragged from the river, laid on the crowded bank, under -the eyes of a throng of curious onlookers, in the glaring light of day. - -No, what she craved was a quiet death in some dark corner, where she -would be sheltered from prying looks. - -She retraced her steps, bought a supply of charcoal, which she hid in a -fold of her gown, and made her way home. Her poor worn hands had helped -her—how hardly!—to live, now they should help her to die. - -Possessed by these ideas, she pushed open the door of the room—and -suddenly stopped.... - -How, when, by what way had he got in, the little sparrow she saw beating -his wings against the walls, looking so scared and frightened, trying in -vain to find a way out of the garret he had invaded so impudently, like -the little good-for-nothing scamp he was? - -Yes, she remembered; that morning, before leaving, she had left the -window ajar; but no doubt the wind had blown it to, and after coming in -unhindered, like a conquering hero taking possession of a new kingdom, -the bird was now a prisoner. - -A prisoner? But why a prisoner? What had she and he in common? He only -asked to live, to fly, to soar in the free air, while she, she was fain -to die. Begone, little madcap! you shall have your freedom again. - -She went to the window; but as her hand touched the latch, she paused. -The sparrow had stopped fluttering about the room; cowering in the -corner of a cupboard, his little breast heaving with terror and -breathlessness, he was looking at her with his frightened eyes. - -To see him shivering and shaking and ruffling his feathers in terror, -she seemed to recognise a fellow-sufferer. _Her life_, from first to -last, had it not been one long quaking agony of fear, exposed to -never-ending uncertainties and disappointments? The similarity made a -sort of common bond between them, and her heart stirred with a longing -for a last touch of love and sympathy with the living creatures of this -earth she was about to quit. - -She left the window, advanced a step, and held out her finger to beckon -and encourage him. But the movement, gentle as it was, was misunderstood -by the bird; he spread his wings and darted up to the ceiling. Then she -spoke to him, and very humbly—she found it very easy to be -humble—besought him— - -“Poor birdie, why should you be afraid of me? Do you think I want to -hurt you? I only ask you one favour—to kiss you once, just once, -before.... There, come, light there on my hand; let me just hold you; -you shall fly away again directly after. Come, dear birdie, I know I am -ugly to look at, but I am not cruel.” - -And stepping softly, silently, she followed him about the room, with -outstretched fingers and smiling lips, almost like a mother, as if she -were talking to a little child. Then, as he would not come— - -“Come, now.... Does my back shock you—like the others? Why should you -care if I _am_ hunchbacked, when you are so pretty? Come, pretty -birdie—if only to give me the strength I need so badly.” - -She crumbled some bread on the table. This made the bird hesitate; he -did not come down at once, but, still perching aloft, gazed down at the -white crumbs, craning his neck, his eyes glittering with greediness. - -Finally appetite overcame prudence. He darted down on to the table and -began to peck—_tock, tock!_ at the food, stopping every now and then to -shake out his feathers and cocking up his head to look about him. - -Presently she scattered more crumbs, first on the floor and then on the -window-sill, and he soon came hopping up to them on his little pink -toes, flirting his tail and looking as happy as a king, the glutton! - -What a darling he was, to be sure! She forgot all thoughts of death, to -see him so alive and so handsome, coming and going, marching up and down -with his mettlesome air, his rolling eye, his tossing head, his -everlasting pickings and peckings and his fine look of swagger and -impudence. He had a way of peeping at her askance, winking one eye with -a merry, mocking glint in it, that seemed to say unmistakably: “I don’t -mind eating your bread, because it’s downright good; but never you think -I’m going to give up my freedom for you. I shall be off and away again -just whenever I choose.” - -Other times he would fix his little black beads of eyes meditatively -upon her face, scrutinising her features as if bent on reading her -inmost thoughts, but never missing a peck at the food for all that, or -one crumb of this long, luxurious repast. - -When he had eaten up every scrap, she got some more and offered it him, -this time in her palm. - -Up he fluttered, took his stand in front of her hand, examined it from -every side, from above and from below, wishing but not daring; then -suddenly caution carried the day, and he hopped away. - -“Pst! pst!” she chirped to him, but never stirred. Her stillness -reassured him; with a determined air, feeling a sinking again in his -insatiable little stomach—it was not every day he had such a chance of -filling it—he hopped forward, then drew back again; finally, making up -his mind once for all, he began to peck warily at the contents of the -well-stored hand. - -She watched him with delight and admiration. The sight of him and his -pretty ways stirred deep, unsuspected feelings within her. The blue sky -seemed to have entered at her humble window, as if the bird had brought -in along with him a fragment of space. Under his wing he hid, Claire -thought, all the gaiety and brightness of the spring. - -Memories awoke in her heart; she dreamed of the woodlands, the fields of -golden grain, the water-springs, all the glories of kindly Mother -Nature. Three or four times in her colourless life she had been taken -into the country; she had heard the birds sing, the great trees swaying -and rustling in the breeze and the prattling of the brooks. One day—it -was fifteen years ago at least—she had actually dropped asleep on the -moss in the warm shadow of the woods, and when she awoke the old oaks -seemed to be smiling down on her. - -Her black thoughts fled before this memory of rosy hours. - -Besides, after days of gloom do not happier days follow? Had not he, -too, her little friend, had not he known the hardships of winter? -Shivering with cold, he had endured frost and bitter wind; his nest -battered by the hail, his plumage soaked by the rain, his wings stiff -with pain—was not all this far harder to bear than the gibes and insults -of a few silly girls, giddy-pated perhaps rather than really -ill-natured? Twenty times, a hundred times over, death had hovered near, -when the storms scattered the leaves and tore down the nests all round -him; but he had kept a good heart, and when spring-time came back again, -had he not been rewarded for his bravery by happy, happy days? As she -thought of the stubborn courage of the little sparrow, she was ashamed -of her own weakness. - -Who knows?—perhaps the bird had been sent to call her back to duty, to -encourage her never to despair, to bring her a lesson straight from -Mother Nature. Something of Nature’s tender care for the weak and -unprotected was in his coming to visit her garret; it was not for -nothing he had chosen out the barest and poorest of them all, driving -away with the rustle of his tiny wings those other dark, overshadowing -wings—the wings of death. She found herself calling down blessings on -him, thanking him for arriving so opportunely, weeping with joy to see -his graceful gambols; for he was not frightened now, but bright and gay, -and rather amused than otherwise at the four walls that had suddenly -replaced the boundless plains of air. - -A new life began for the two. - -Monsieur Friquet—that was the name she had given him—seemed to be quite -content to take his place as house-mate with the poor work-girl, whose -heart was so full of affection, and who, to his partial eyes, looked as -pretty as the prettiest things he had ever seen in the world outside. -Did she not always wear a kind smile on her lips whenever she came home? -And is not kindness, when all is said and done, the same thing as -beauty? - -Monsieur Friquet had forgotten all about the distractions of the -streets. Like a rakish younger son who has been living for years on his -wits, he thoroughly enjoyed this life of slippered ease in a cosy house, -where, it is true, the sun did not often penetrate, but then neither did -the wind. Its quiet was unbroken all day long while his mistress was -abroad, allowing him to doze and dream away the long hours till her -return set stove and saucepans in activity again. - -He was a lazy loon, and nothing could have suited him better than to -have a place at table laid out for him morning and evening, without his -having so much as to put his head outside the door. - -He had known so many of his comrades who had perished miserably under a -cat’s claws, at the corner of a gutter-pipe or in the treacherous shadow -of a chimney-stack; so many who, grown old and impotent, and unable to -find themselves a warm lodging, had died a lonely death on some deserted -housetop; in fact, he had witnessed so much disappointment and -disillusion and misery that he was ready—some days, at any rate—to swear -he would not exchange for all the spacious blue of heaven shining in -through the windowpane the indigo-blue paper with white bunches of -flowers that covered the garret walls. - -He had put on flesh, and his chirp had grown thick and fruity; nowadays -the graceless fellow had nothing but ill to say of the freedom he had -lost, but which, after all, was limited, in summer, to scolding and -squabbling in the tree-tops, and, in winter, to freezing on a wretched -perch. - -And _pr’t! prr’t! chirp! chirp!_ he went, in scorn of everything that -could remind him of the old bad times of his life. - -How much better to sit soft and warm over a good feed of bird-seed, to -sleep away his afternoons in slothful ease, never to soil his feathers -scratching for doles in a dungheap, but to live like a gentleman on his -means, among his own belongings, without even a thought of work or -worry! - -Monsieur Friquet, you see, was a philosopher of an accommodating temper. - -Thank God! everybody does not think alike; for what would become of the -sky and the woodland if all the race of sparrows forsook them like him -for cosy quarters and a free table? He was one of those selfish folk who -deem all is well directly all is well with them, and who only think of -being on the best terms with the world and with themselves, without ever -a care beyond. - -True, he was barely awake ere he saw his kind mistress bustling about in -her room and filling up his bowl with new milk; true, she shared her -loaf and her eggs with him, always giving him the best of everything and -cheerfully keeping the crust and the white for herself; true, all day -long the table was laid for him, and he had nothing to do but to eat and -drink to his heart’s content, like the regular glutton he was; but -Monsieur Friquet never once thought at the cost of what painful -sacrifices he enjoyed all these good things. - -Claire had resumed the cruel slavery of the workroom. - -Every morning, at seven o’clock, she set out, a meagre hunch of bread in -her basket, and along the sleeping streets where the yawning passers-by -were few and far between, half dozing herself, but brave and thinking of -Monsieur Friquet, she would make her way to the dismal room where she -was to be kept prisoner all day. Her companions never dreamed what -strength to bear unhappiness a friend affords, a good friend you are -sure to find at home on your return, who welcomes you with bright eyes -of pleasure and who fills your thoughts even when he is not there. - -How he filled her thoughts, to be sure! What endless dialogues she had -with him down in her own heart, just between the two of them. - -“Now then, Monsieur Friquet, what are we going to have for dinner? A -couple of poached eggs? I’ve just bought them, new laid, at the -green-grocer’s. Oh! you can almost see through them; just you look. And -not too dear either, thank God! There, the fire just burning up nicely. -Well, have you made up your mind? Will you have them poached or boiled? -Oh! never mind me. To begin with, I don’t care which; I like one as well -as the other. I’ve got some salad too—fine fresh salad. Ah! so you’re -laughing, Monsieur Friquet! You’ll laugh better still directly. Boiled, -then, it’s to be, eh? You see, you bad boy, we only think of pleasing -you.” - -She was hardly home before the fire was crackling, the egg-boiler -singing; in next to no time the eggs were on the table, and the two of -them, Claire and the sparrow, were pecking away, she sitting in front of -the cloth, he perched in front of her on the edge of a glass or else -clinging to her fingers. - -At every mouthful he would give his wings a shake, looking saucily now -at the food, now at Claire, with his head on one side. - -_Chirp! chirp! chirp!_ he would say in his shrill treble. It was at once -an appeal to his mistress to give him more, and a way of thanking her -for the trouble she took in feeding him. - -His impudent little beak would dive into every single thing—bread, salt, -salad, the hollow of his mistress’s hand, poking everywhere, filching -bits from her very lips, never still for an instant. Teasing, defying, -thieving, he was in perpetual motion, as his brethren are among the -leaves of the forest trees. - -They drank out of the same cup, ate off the same plate. Ah! but Monsieur -Friquet had his wilful moods too at times; _he_ was not the fellow to be -satisfied with everything; now it was the bread he refused with a little -decided peck that said as plain as words: “I won’t have it!”—now it was -the egg, or the salad, or something else. You see, he knew quite well, -did Monsieur Friquet, there was a biscuit waiting for him in the -cupboard, and he was inordinately fond of biscuit. - -Sunday was a special festival. - -Up betimes as usual, for workgirls are never lie-abeds, Claire would set -to rights the disorder of the week, tripping on tip-toe about the room, -not to wake Monsieur Friquet, who was snoring in a corner, a fat ball of -feathers, with his head under his wing. - -“Monsieur Friquet won’t be awake for another hour,” she would think to -herself. “I shall have time enough to set all straight”—and she would -set to work, dusting, sweeping, washing the floor, happy in the prospect -of the coming Sunday that would release her a while from her chain of -servitude. - -At last the bird would wake up, and there would be quick cries of: “Good -morning, Monsieur Friquet! How have you slept?” - -“Chirp! chirp!” would come the answer. - -And she would reply— - -“Oh! so have I—excellently, thank you.” - -Then breakfast would be served at once. He would come to table still -half asleep, with heavy eyes, to be scolded and fondled and chided. - -“Lazybones! why, it’s close on eight o’clock!” - -But he would hop on her shoulder, and put his little round head to her -lips as if to ask pardon. - -Then they would talk of serious matters. - -“Monsieur Friquet! I say, Monsieur Friquet!” - -“Chirp! chirp!”—which meant: “Well, what? I’m all attention!” - -“Monsieur Friquet, I want your advice. What shall we have to eat for -Sunday?” - -“Chirp!” - -“I hear you! Biscuit! biscuit! But people can’t live only on biscuit! We -must have something else _to go with it_. Suppose we bought a couple of -artichokes! Do you like artichokes, Monsieur Friquet? Yes? Ah! I knew an -artichoke would please you. Wait here for me, and I’ll run round to the -greengrocer’s.” - -So the Sunday wore away in happy play and merry nonsense between the -pair. - -What more was needed to transform the sharp thorns of pain into fragrant -roses of content? She had invested the bold little chattering fellow -with all the treasures of her tenderness; on him she lavished all her -care and devotion; he was father and mother and family to her, and where -he was, was home. - -They lived long and happily together, and their love was never -interrupted. - -[Illustration: A LOST DOG] - - - - - A Lost Dog - - - I - -Have you ever noticed the melancholy pensive look masterless dogs assume -at the hour when the press thins, and the passers-by slacken their pace -on the side-walks, like waters from a tap running dry? - -As the silence deepens they appear from every side, these poor, -friendless beasts, their meagre forms slinking through the fog and -gloom; up and down the streets they prowl, noses to the ground, and -tails drooping, like so many lost souls. Some have sound legs to run on, -others can hardly drag themselves along; but all have hollow flanks and -protruding ribs. They are out in search of food, nosing in the refuse -heaps, scratching in the mud, filching from the scavengers bones as -fleshless as themselves. - -What the world lets fall from its table is still a banquet for their -starving bellies. They are not hard to please; till the wan light of -dawn surprises them, they hunt the streets, rain-soaked and -frost-bitten; then they creep back into mysterious holes and corners, -where they curl themselves up in a round and sleep away the livelong -day. - -Most of them are wild and shy, for they have only known the blackest -side of life—cuffs and kicks, wretchedness and desertion. For them no -hope survives the shipwreck of friendships betrayed; alone they live and -alone they creep into a hole to die—creatures of the dunghill whose -obsequies will be performed by the scavenger’s cart. - -But if some are discouraged and disillusioned, there are bolder spirits -too who will sometimes, when they hear the steps of a belated wayfarer, -tear themselves from the heap they are foraging in and stand panting and -eager in the dark street, with the desperate eye of a swimmer looking -out across the raging foam in search of a port of safety. Hope is not -yet dead in _them_; they still have faith in mankind, and each shadowy -form that emerges in the light of the gas-lamps entices them as offering -promise of a home. For hours they will trot, with a humble, gentle, -deprecating gait, at the heels of a casual passer-by, a shadow among -shadows, dogging his steps to the last, hoping against hope. It is a -_friend_ they are fain to run to earth; but alas! the chase is one that -is repeated night after night—and it is almost always unsuccessful. More -often than not, the pursued has no inkling even of the dumb escort that -attends him through the night. - -How _should_ he know? Behind his back the dog treads noiselessly, with -paws of velvet and nose to earth, checking his pace when the stranger -slackens his, stopping when he stops, bit by bit learning his walk and -ways. At last, when he has journeyed far through the dark streets, when -his legs ache with pursuing under the wayfarer’s form a dream that is -never to come true, a door will interpose, a ponderous, an impassable -barrier between him and his fond hopes. Yet, who can tell? perhaps he -will still linger on, shivering, till daylight, so unconquerable is his -faith in man. - -It was one of these hopeful but unappreciated souls that encountered an -old schoolmaster one night, when the latter had tarried late in the -fields outside the fortifications, anxious to assist at the noble -spectacle the sun gives gratuitously to one and all, as he sets in the -glowing west. - -He was returning by the boulevards, his heart full of these glories no -fireworks have ever yet been invented to match; as he jogged along, he -was thinking of God’s goodness, who every night lights up these ruddy -lamps of the sky to make fine flame-coloured curtains for the slumbers -of His creatures. - -A little black dog, the ugliest little dog you ever saw, without ears -and without a tail, or as good as without, saw the solitary stranger. -Did he divine perhaps beneath the man’s easy, good-natured exterior a -fellow-sufferer, the heart of a disappointed, disillusioned being like -himself? Sometimes animals can see very far into things. - -At any rate he started off in pursuit. - -The stranger noticed nothing, but marched along, striding over gutters -and stamping across pavements, knocking sometimes against benches and -trees in his preoccupation. It had been raining for an hour past, as it -does come down in spring, in floods of warm soaking rain and sudden -showers that wetted man and dog to the skin, without either one or the -other being much disturbed. - -Absent-minded as he was, the old man presently felt something rubbing -softly against his leg, and, looking down, was surprised to see the -wretched-looking cur beside him. - -It was crawling and cringing, and with little half-stifled barks seemed -to be appealing to the generosity of this unknown friend, perhaps less -hard-hearted than the generality of mankind. - -Many people, seeing what a hideous beast it was, would have said “No, -no!” at once. But it was just the creature’s hideousness that moved the -worthy man’s pity irresistibly. Touched by its repulsive looks, he -guessed at the pitiful hardships the wretched animal must have borne in -secret. He saw its sunken flanks, its mangy coat, its sharp-ridged back, -and loved it with a sudden ardour of affection—the affection poor -suffering folks feel for one another. All very well for happy people to -test and try one another for ever so long to see if they suit each -other, but they who have nothing to lose by mutual affection make no -bones about clapping hand in hand straight away and swearing eternal -friendship. - -And so it was with these two new comrades. - -Both were poor, and they fraternised at once. The dog was enchanted to -have met a kind stranger to help him in his need, while his benefactor -thought to himself how pleasant it would be to have the faithful -creature to share his solitude. He stooped, patted the animal’s -streaming coat, tickled his ear, or as much of it as there was to -tickle, and ended by taking him home to his garret. - -It was many a day since the poor beast had known the comfort of four -walls and a roof—if indeed he ever had! For two whole days, barring meal -times, he slept like a log; on the third he roused himself from his -lethargy, trotted up and down the room, poked his nose into every -corner, and showed every sign of being wide awake at last. - -The dog must have a name, and the good schoolmaster was not long in -finding one. Azor and Faithful are names that never come amiss for poor -folk’s dogs; he chose Azor, perhaps keeping Faithful for himself—and he -well deserved it! He had only to move his lips, pronouncing the two -syllables “Az-or” below his breath, and the dog was instantly on the -alert, looking up at him with roguish eyes, wondering what he was going -to say next. No doubt of it, he was a very intelligent animal. - -It was a happy household. Not that bread was over and above plentiful; -but people who have nothing are cheaply satisfied, and if stomachs were -pinched some days, at any rate hearts were never chilled. The dog had -come into the man’s life like a special providence; henceforth his -existence had an object; he had some one to love, some one besides -himself to think of; poverty, so heavy a burden for a lonely man, seemed -almost a boon now there were two to bear it—like a load of which each -carries his half. - -He loved and indulged him like a child, and something of selfishness -entering into all ardent affections, Azor soon came to represent all -humanity in his eyes. One day, to make him look fine, he fastened in the -coarse hair of his neck a pink bow a young girl had dropped in the -street, and told himself the dog was the handsomest beast alive. Slender -greyhound, fleet-footed pointer, sturdy Newfoundland, none were a patch, -in the eye of this partial judge, on the little ragged-haired, -undersized mongrel he had introduced to his hearth and home. - -Azor had just as great an admiration for his master. Sitting up on his -haunches in front of him, he would gaze into his face for hours together -in a sort of ecstasy. - -Did he see him transmuted into something other than he was, or did the -rough face, scored with its network of heavy wrinkles, from amid which -the nose shone like a beacon-fire, embody for the wee doggie the -beau-ideal of manly beauty? For my part, I think Azor beheld in it a -beauty of a higher sort than the perishable beauty of the features; the -old man, to be sure, was goodness incarnate, and is not goodness the -highest form of beauty? - -They lived for one another. Azor yapped, and the old man talked, and -between them they had wonderful fine dialogues; beginning in the garret, -these were resumed in the street the days they took the air together. - -The pair might be seen marching side by side, the old man laughing, the -dog laughing, too, in a way he had of his own. And so they wandered -through the streets, in search of quiet, both taking little short steps. -True, Azor was young still, and would have liked to dart on ahead; but -his friend could not have kept up, and that was quite enough to make him -adopt the peaceful gait of a dog who has ceased to care for the -distractions of the roadside. - -But out in the fields you may be sure this sedateness was exchanged for -wild excitement. Intoxicated by the open air, Azor would dash away, -gambolling and wheeling and leaping like a mad creature, and performing -a hundred tricks that mightily amused his good old master. - - - II - -Azor had his little ways. Every morning he used to go down into the -street to inspect the gutters and pay a visit to the dogs of the -neighbourhood. He was always back in a quarter of an hour or so. - -But one day he did not return. - -His master waited patiently for him till midday. Animals are like men, -and love to linger; perhaps he had met friends—and the old schoolmaster -smiled indulgently at the notion. - -However, when half the afternoon was gone, and still Azor did not -appear, he began to get anxious. Had some accident befallen him? and he -thought of carriage wheels and horses’ hoofs and the rush and roar of -the main streets. - -His first impulse was to rush to the stairs; but Azor might come back at -any moment, so he stayed where he was, more dead than alive. - -The window opened on the roof; the old man took a chair, climbed on it -and craned his head over the sill till he could see down over the edge -of the rain-shoot. There he stood for ever so long watching the little -black dots darting in and out among the legs of the passers-by. But not -one of them was Azor. - -A cold sweat broke out on his forehead; he was obliged to get down off -the chair. - -At last, as dusk was falling, a paw came scratching at the door, and he -flew to open it. - -Yes, it was his old comrade—but in what a plight! dyed blue, with a -rope’s end still dangling round his neck! Some tragedy had befallen, no -doubt, of which he had been the victim—and he patted the poor beast, his -mind a prey to a hundred sinister apprehensions. Azor meantime fawned -round him, looking as contrite as a culprit who cannot hope to be -forgiven. - -The dye refused to be washed out; soap was of no avail, and they had to -resort to caustics; but for all they could do, a tinge of blue remained. -It lasted nearly a month, but at last the black reappeared. While his -master was busy over these operations, Azor would lick his hands, only -stopping to sneeze, when the strong fumes got up his nose. He seemed -cured of all wish for adventures. - -Nevertheless, when a month was over, these prolonged absences began -again. Sometimes he would stay away an hour; one Saturday he was abroad -six hours. This irregular behaviour vexed his good master exceedingly. -What could the mysterious attraction be that kept his faithful friend -like this? He determined to find out. - -He had noticed that Azor, the better to elude his vigilance, apparently -used always to loiter a bit in front of the house, not starting away -before he felt certain no one was looking; then in one bound he would be -at the end of the street and disappear. - -One day he followed the truant. Now and again the dog would stop, nose -all along the pavement, then, reassured, set off again at a trot. He -turned the corner, then down a broader street, and so eventually into a -square. The clumps of rhododendrons hid him for a moment from his -master, who came puffing up; but presently he caught sight of him in the -middle of a group of children. He was barking joyously, leaping up at -them, rolling on his back in the grass, in transports of delight. They -were five little pale-faced things, and among them one face paler still -and pinched with illness. - -The shock nailed the old man to the spot. Was it possible? Was Azor a -traitor to his friend? And he gazed first at the dog and then at the -children with the look a man wears who sees an edifice he has long been -labouring at crumbling into ruin. He had put his trust in the animal; he -esteemed him as well as loved him—and, lo! the ingrate was sharing his -caresses with others. He hated duplicity, and his gorge rose at the -thought. - -“Come here!” he shouted. - -Azor knew his voice instantly, and, crawling along the ground like a -serpent, he crept up to his benefactor, his tail dragging in the dust. -But the latter never so much as thought of punishing him, and patted him -on the back gently. Their eyes met; the man’s were full of sadness, the -dog’s besought forgiveness. Then, still in the same humble attitude, he -tried to draw his master towards the little group of pale faces. - -The children had come forward—all except the little invalid, who stayed -where he was; and all with one accord, their hands behind their backs, -were staring at the new arrival. - -Was he going to take their dog from them? Their brows were puckered with -anxiety, and as he watched them, he was amazed to think his anger had -been so easily roused. - -What harm had Azor done after all? Ah! the blow would have been harder -to bear if he had betrayed him for another man; but children! The -piteous air of the little one who had remained behind touched him so -that he took his hands with a smile and asked him if he loved Azor too. - -“Oh! yes,” cried the child. - -His eyes moved languidly under drooping lids, and he wore the careworn -look of an invalid. Azor laid his head on the child’s knees, and he -caressed him with his thin fingers long and lovingly. - -The others soon found their tongues. Azor, they said, used to come every -morning, and they romped together. They had known him for a long time in -fact; but he had been a month once without appearing, and they had -believed he was dead. A dyer’s apprentice, after tying a cord round his -neck, had dragged him off, and as they never saw him any more, they had -laid his death at the bad boy’s door. - -“So that’s the explanation!” the old man muttered, and remembered the -long day of agonised suspense when he waited for him at the garret -window, and then how he had come back dyed blue. It was a relief to know -the truth. - -He went again at the same time next day, the dog careering gaily ahead -as if he quite understood. Presently all found themselves in the square -again, and all faces lit up with a common pleasure. - -They became fast friends; he learned their names, and that two of them -were brothers of the pale-faced little fellow; their mother always sent -them to look after him in the garden; they lived only a few steps away. -His heart was filled with compassion for the frail-looking little lad. -As Pierre could not walk, he got into the way by degrees of carrying him -home in his arms as far as the door, Azor galloping after them, wagging -his tail. - -One day the child’s mother came down to thank the “kind gentleman,” and -they fell into talk. The boy’s father was a workman on the railway, -while she worked at fine sewing; the little one was a sore trouble to -them; he had to be taken out for fresh air, and constantly looked after; -and all hope of cure had had to be abandoned long ago. - -“And yet he’s no fool either, sir; of the three he’s the cleverest.” - -He only nodded, his head full of a notion that still occupied him after -he got home; Azor lay at his feet and watched him thinking, thinking all -day long. At nightfall he took the dog’s head between his hands. - -“There!” he cried merrily, “you’ll be pleased with your old master this -time.” - -Three days later he bought a go-cart, in which he installed Pierre, and -every morning they used to set out for the country, Azor scouting ahead -and his master following with the child in tow. - -The old schoolmaster would explain all they saw to him—animals and -things; he had made him a present of an alphabet with coloured pictures -where a yacht stood for Y and a zebra for Z. And Pierre soon learnt to -read. - -On Sundays, instead of three, they were seven; the whole family would -join the expedition, and they would linger on till dark in the starlit -fields. - -They were very happy, and their happiness lasted many long years. - - - - - Misadventures of an Owl - - -His plumage was glossy and abundant, his eye alert, his claws long and -strong; in all points he was everything a handsome young owl should be. -For two years he had slept snug under his mother’s wing, the fond object -of her jealous care; but when spring came round again, his father, who -was a very sententious bird, addressed him in these terms— - -[Illustration: MISADVENTURES OF AN OWL] - -“You are grown up now, and the time is come when we must part. The nest -would be too small to hold both you and those who will come after you. -Moreover, no owl is ever happy save as head of a household. All sorts of -trials and tribulations await us; men feel nothing but anger and -contempt for our race. No matter for the watch and ward we keep over the -orchards, the war of extermination we wage on the prolific broods that -devastate the wheat, for all our well-meant efforts to aid the harvests -to grow and the fruit-trees to bloom, our only guerdon is to be shot at -with guns. Alas! the most of us end by being nailed up to a barn-door, -with spread-eagled wings. A wife and family will console you under all -this cruel injustice. Year by year your heart will grow green again amid -the joys of domesticity, and you will attach a higher value to life when -you no longer stand alone to bear its burden. So quit the nest, as I did -before you; choose a good helpmeet of your own age, and may you be happy -together, as we are, your mother and I.” - -Accordingly the youngster took his departure. Gravity comes early to -owls, and though only two years old, he already wore the severe air of -an old philosopher. But the young lady owls, likewise brought up to -scorn worldly pleasures, prefer this serious deportment to the gay -exterior the other birds find so fascinating. - -He went methodically round the village, and was well received by the -parents, while more than one young thing turned her head to look after -him. But there was not one of them, he thought, like his mother, and as -she was the paragon of all merit in his eyes, he had sworn only to -choose a mate who should resemble her in mind if not in face. He was in -despair, and on the point of returning to the paternal roof when, one -evening, as he was hovering about an old church-steeple, he caught sight -of a charming little head peeping out between the luffer-boards. - -Was he weary of the search perhaps, or did the little face really remind -him of the adored image of his parent? He lingered long in admiration, -never tired of watching her dainty ways, and little by little something -began to thump inside him, something he had never felt before. She was -busy crunching a mouse, pecking and worrying at it with her sharp beak, -and had very soon left nothing but the bare bones. Then she wiped her -beak and preened her feathers prettily, as every well-bred young lady -owl should. - -Just as she was finished, she saw him sitting in the next tree, and, -startled at being caught at her toilet, she hid her head under her wing; -nor was he a whit less embarrassed, and each of them gazed at the other -in equal confusion, without saying one word. At last he made up his mind -and spoke to the parents, who both thought him a very charming fellow. - -It was a quiet wedding, as weddings always are among the owls. There was -no music or nonsense; they were married at night, in the old steeple, -and the moon lent her illumination. When all was over, the parents gave -their blessing, and the young couple set out on their honeymoon. - -But it was not the sort of jaunt the sparrows indulge in, sailing away -into the blue, so high, so high they seem as if they would never come -back again; _they_ lighted sedately on the bough of an old oak, and, -finding it a good place, stopped there for good. Besides, the oak, being -decrepit with years, had not, as a younger tree would, a whole host of -impudent little cock-sparrows for its denizens; a blackbird lodged on -the first floor, and a magpie had selected the trunk as his residence, -and though both were great chatterers, the owls did not find their -company disagreeable. - -But it was not so with Father Blackbird and Mother Magpie; they were -fond of gaiety, and the newcomers struck them as dismal neighbours to -have. So they went off to see the tomtits, who are naturally very daring -fellows, and told them about the hum-drum life the happy pair led; and -between them they planned a fine _charivari_ for the benefit of their -new neighbours in the early hours of the morning. - -Our friends were still fast asleep, snugly ensconced in the depths of a -hollow bole, when the hostile band appeared. Suddenly an appalling -uproar woke them with a start; screwing up their eyes, they tried to -discover what was the matter, but they could not see a thing. Meantime -dawn had broken, the sun was already shooting his beams like fireworks -through the boughs, and great dragonflies were darting to and fro, -glittering like emeralds. At last they made out a whirl of wings, -looming like a black shadow in the clear morning air. Their assailants -swept down and crowded every branch of the old oak, which hummed like a -gigantic harp with the twittering of a thousand throats. - -The poor owls could make nothing of it; owls are simple-minded folk, and -all they could think of was that another newly-married couple were -celebrating their nuptials, and that the discordant noises they heard -were the cries of transport to be expected under the circumstances. They -shrunk away still deeper in their hole, not wishing to interrupt other -people’s enjoyment. But the tomtits were not satisfied—not they; it was -nothing merely to have startled them in their slumbers; they meant to -expel them from the old oak altogether. Prompted by the magpie, who sat -screaming defiance from the foot of the tree, some of the bolder spirits -poked in their heads at the entrance of the cavern. Inside it was dark -as night, and from the depths four eyes blazed out like balls of fire. -The champions took fright, and fell back hurriedly on the main body. - -“Cowards!” screeched their amiable ally, raising her harsh voice to its -shrillest pitch; “d’ye mean to leave the villains in peace in their den? -Think of the horrid carnage there will be in the woods every night! Not -one of you will be safe in his nest any more. From time immemorial the -owl tribe has been the scourge of the whole bird nation. Their heads are -full of nothing but wile and wickedness, and the better to shed blood, -they go to work like murderers in the dark! Worse still, they are all -heretics. The witches use them in their incantations. They are birds of -hell. Slay, slay the foes of Holy Church!” - -This speech rallied the waverers, and all together they forced a way -into the dark, yawning cavern. - -In a moment a hundred beaks were pecking savagely at the two victims, -who, blinded by the light, struck out wildly in self-defence. Two of the -tomtits were left on the field, while the rest flew away in a panic, -screaming in chorus—“Vengeance! vengeance on the rascally owls!” - -What had they done? What crime had they committed? Astounded as they -were, and amazed to think what motive should have prompted the attack, -they could no longer doubt that open war was declared upon them. - -So they went in search of another home, and as night was falling, found -a safe retreat under the eaves of a lonely presbytery. “Here, at any -rate,” they thought, “no one will come to molest us. Alas! it is only -too true—we are not made for the society of our fellow-creatures, and -this deserted roof will hide us better than a prison.” - -They had happy times; they reared a family of little ones, and lived a -patriarchal life in the hollow under the roof. Everybody has his own way -of being happy in this world of ours, and for all it was different from -the general fashion, this was good enough for them. To begin with, -dwelling by themselves, they knew nothing of envy, and no thought of -ambition vexed them; their only wish was to live as long as possible, -pariahs and outcasts as they were, and grow old together. - -Let others go in search of adventures; their desires were limited by the -modest horizon they had before their eyes, and a secure abode, poor and -bare though it might be, seemed to them preferable to all the treasures -of Golconda. You see what reasonable, respectable people they were! - -Certainly their dun-coloured plumage was not of the sort to let them -flaunt in the sunlight like other birds; after spending a luxurious -morning dozing side by side, they would wake just when the linnets, -goldfinches, and chaffinches were going to bed. A great silence brooded -over nature; for the giddy-pates who had been playing truant all the -day, and had left a feather or two of their plumage to dance in every -sunbeam, it would have seemed as dull as death; but they thought -otherwise, and for them the night was filled with infinite music. Did -not the breeze blow soft in the leaves with a murmur as of running -waters and prattling brooks? A wide peace fell upon the woodlands which -from noon to twilight had throbbed under the golden beams of the sun, -while the moon, the owl’s sun, spread her white beams over the landscape -like a river of milk. - -Then their keen ear, an instrument of extraordinary delicacy, being very -large, and forming, as every bird-lover knows, a double spiral of -enormous dimensions, and admirably adapted to catch the faintest sounds, -noted from afar light rustlings and soft sighs, and a confused murmur of -music, wherein the wind seemed, turn and turn about, to pipe through -clarinet and oboe. Silent and awe-struck, the two outcasts felt the -kindly beneficence of nature moving on the face of the world. At times -louder sounds would mingle with the whisperings of the night, telling -them of the fawns pushing through the matted undergrowth, of companies -of woodland creatures sallying out to feed, lovers like themselves of -the darkness—badgers, polecats, wild-cats, weasels, and rabbits, of a -vast stir of life and activity down in the dim, intricate forest tracks. -Cats were prowling, their yellow eyes flaming along the darkling ways, -while from the homesteads rose rhythmically, pledge of security for all -the host of fur and feathers, the heavy snoring of the sleepers within. - -Then they would come out and stand at the edge of the eaves, and gaze -forth, as from a balcony, on all the moving spectacle of the kindly -night. Sparkling gleams would flash along the ground like diamonds, and -the slates glitter like so many mirrors on the house-roofs. They could -see the stars reflected in the brook; mysterious eyes looked out from -under the trees, vague shapes went gliding along the road, while high in -the heavens, with a round face that seemed to laugh good-humouredly, -sailed the lady moon. - -As long as they had no children, they enjoyed these hours of -contemplation like true artists who grudge to miss one note of harmony -or one gleam of beauty; they would never stir till dawn, hardly -troubling themselves even to go in search of food. But when the brood of -youngsters arrived, they had perforce to forgo these ecstasies. The -little beaks were for ever crying for more, and Goodman Owl, who was the -best of parents, became a mighty hunter. - -Scarce was evening fallen ere he had taken post on the roof, heedless -now of the mysterious splendours of the night, the furtive comings and -goings of his prey occupying all his thoughts; the music of the spheres -was henceforth confined for him to the rustling of the field-mice -climbing the espaliers and the house-mice scuttling along the walls; -still as a statue he stood there watching and picking out the fattest -victim. Before the little creature had time to turn its head, he held it -in his terrible jaws, and was flying off with his prey, panting in -mortal terror, to his young ones, who instantly made a meal of it. - -The poor little mouse saw nothing, heard nothing. A soft, fanning sound -from the night-bird’s velvety pinions was the only warning that anything -untoward was near; but already the ravisher had seized his prey; there -was a stifled squeal, and all was over! - -Every ten minutes—the same regular interval has been observed in all -owls questing for food—he would bring fresh provender to the nest. The -darkest night was no hindrance; his shining eyes, with their widely -dilated pupils, pierced the blackest shadows as if they were -transparent, and there was no hole or corner where the little night -prowlers did not go in terror of their lives. - -Meanwhile the mother-bird was feeding her brood, sometimes when the -mouse was particularly tough, tearing it piecemeal for her little ones -to devour more easily. - -At other times father and mother together would guide the little family -along the roofs, patiently teaching the inexperienced wings to fly, and -giving a helping touch with beak or wing when they stumbled and tumbled -in their attempts. At full moon they carried the youngsters to a -neighbouring tree, he taking one, she another, and it was pretty to see -their amazement when, craning their little necks, they watched the dim -outlines of moving objects against the blue distance. - -But they were getting big now, and the old owl lectured them sagely, as -his father had lectured him; he would tell them of the joys and sorrows -of life, and advise them to marry. No, it was not callousness—far from -it; he loved them tenderly, for by reason and instinct he was a pattern -of all the domestic virtues. But he was a wise and far-seeing parent, -who dreaded what their fate would be, should he and his mate one day -meet the doom all owls are liable to. Perhaps one morning a yokel would -climb to their hiding-hole and carry them off to kill them. True, the -good Curé, whose house sheltered them, had forbidden their being -molested; but he was an old man now, and nobody cared much what he said; -then, with a ladder, it was so easy to reach the nest! The old owl -always spoke like a philosopher; the future did not terrify him, and he -seemed quite resigned to the cruel lot men mete out to his species. His -words were without gall or bitterness; but a deep-seated melancholy gave -them the gravity that ever marks creatures born to suffer. - -In younger days he had known rebellious thoughts, and the sense of human -injustice had oppressed his spirit; he had even dreamt of flying his -country for the lands the swallows in September told him of, and far -away from cruel men, living in peace and quietness with the mate who had -joined her life to his. But time had softened these resentments; he had -bowed his head, recognising a higher power above him, and content to -live on, harmless and obscure, asking only to repay good for evil. - -One morning the young birds deserted the nest. - -Then, alone once more, they resumed their former existence in the dark -hollow of the old oak, so solitary and silent now; they bore their -children’s departure as only another of nature’s inevitable necessities. -They seldom stirred from home now, seeing hardly a soul except a couple -of old friends sometimes on Sabbath days; as of old, they held long, -long talks of nights with the moon. Perched side by side on the eaves, -their dark shapes threw long black shadows across the roof; there they -sat stiff and still, save when, from time to time, they spread their -wings, swooped down on their prey, then resumed the same rigid attitude. -These murderous assassins were at heart the most peaceable of good -citizens. It was never their way, coming home at night, to wake the -other birds asleep among the foliage; no one ever heard them quarrelling -or shifting the furniture or pecking at the wall, as the cuckoos, -linnets, and chaffinches are so fond of doing; only, six or eight times -in the night, to advertise the country folk, they would cry _To-hoo! -to-hoo!_ if next day was going to be fine, and _To-whit!_ if it was -going to rain, at regular intervals, like talking barometers. - -A pair of young turtle-doves nesting on the next roof found this habit -annoying, and went to the judge of the district to lodge a complaint. - -The judge was a very old raven, whom years had only made more sly and -artful; he was said to be a hundred, and certainly his bald pate was as -shiny as a polished stone. He lived in a crevice in the rocks, alone -with his own thoughts. But these thoughts, unlike most old men’s, were -full of mockery for all created beings. This feathered Methuselah had -seen so much in his day! and experience had only taught him to laugh at -griefs and joys and everything else. - -While appreciating his usefulness, he did not like Mr. Owl, and was not -sorry to make things unpleasant for him; he could always dismiss the -case in the end, after getting his fun out of it, if the turtles proved, -as he half suspected, to have been in the wrong after all. - -Three blackbirds he employed as constables arrived at break of day at -the owls’ front door and knocked. Three times they had to repeat the -summons, so fast asleep was the worthy couple, till, roused at last, the -latter poked out their heads in great alarm to ask what was wanted with -them. Both looked so upset, he, poor fellow, in a nightcap, and she, -good dame, in morning deshabille, that the blackbirds, who are always -fond of a joke, burst into such a peal of laughter it took them ten -minutes to recover their gravity. - -They laughed so heartily that the sparrows of the neighbourhood were -attracted by the noise, and began to turn and wheel in flocks above the -roof, while a horrid hubbub, a vile chirp! chirp! chirp! broke out, -deafening and confusing the poor owls still more. - -The blackbirds, when they had done laughing, called for silence, which, -however, it took some time to establish. Then they announced— - -“We, assistant officers of justice of this district, and by order of His -Honour the Judge, do hereby summon you to appear this day before stroke -of noon at his Court, situate, to wit, in the first crevice on the right -hand, beginning from above, of the cliff bordering the Great Meadow.” - -This order was promulgated in shrill, nasal tones amid the rustling of -the wings of all present, who, the instant the last word was uttered, -began to amuse themselves by screaming in frantic delight. On the -blackbirds departing, a number of sparrows lingered on to enjoy the -confusion of the two owls. - -These had shrunk away into the deepest recess of their lair, terrified -yet resigned, and their inquisitive tormentors heard none of the -lamentations they expected. - -What black deed had been laid to their charge? The blackbirds had given -no indication, and they began mentally to review their past, searching -in vain for any crime they could be accused of. They had not robbed -other people’s goods, nor slandered their neighbours; they had never, -no, never caused any one’s death, while they had honestly and honourably -performed the duties Nature had given them to do. What more could be -asked of them? - -The Judge was waiting—they must be off. It was a woeful pilgrimage. The -bright daylight dazzled them, and they went along blindly, running -against everything and perpetually losing their way; twenty times over -they lost their bearings and had to retrace their steps, covered with -confusion, while their dusky plumage made a dirty-looking blotch in the -fresh morning air. - -“This way!” cried some tomtits, flying ahead of them—and, taking their -word, they blundered into a nest of yellowhammers, which luckily -happened to be empty. - -“Don’t listen to them—come along with us,” the chaffinches advised them -next—and they went crash! head first into a wall. - -A cloud of small birds followed behind. They were clawed and scratched, -and half-dazed, as they wandered about like phantoms of the night -masquerading at high noon. - -When at last, after a thousand tribulations, with eyeballs starting from -their heads, battered and beaten and jeered at, they reached the Court, -another swarm of tormentors was waiting to receive them. There were at -least eight hundred, and every second others kept coming up, who, after -flying wildly about in search of places, lighted here and there and -everywhere, chattering and squabbling. The rock was soon so crowded from -top to bottom that a linnet, who had been detained at home feeding her -chicks, could not find a perch anywhere, and fluttered up and down the -tumultuous ranks, beseeching the audience in vain to sit a little -closer. The ladies especially seemed determined not to give up a single -inch of room, and all vied together in raising a hubbub, shrieking and -laughing and chattering as if they would never stop. - -“Accused,” ordered the raven suddenly, “stand up. Our Clerk of the Court -will now read the statement of misdemeanours charged against you.” - -For a little while the uproar still continued, mingled now with sharp -calls to order and appeals for silence; then, diminishing gradually, -died away into the light rustle of many wings. Then a magpie was seen to -rise briskly to his feet; his dark eye rolled roguishly, as he unfolded -with his beak a huge sheet of paper scribbled all over with writing and -read out in a dry, rasping voice— - -“We, Clerk of the Court, &c., &c., do hereby certify that the -appellants, to wit M. Narcisse Tourtereau and his consort, Mme. Virginie -Tourtereau or Colombelle, have duly appeared before us and deponed that -the said appellants, cohabiting near by the messuage whereat the Owls, -man and wife, have taken up their abode, are nightly awakened by the -clamours, complaints, moans, groans, and quarrels of the aforesaid Owls, -who, instead of sleeping in their beds during the interval of time -falling betwixt sunset and sunrise, as do all the other birds, do choose -these selfsame hours, that are customarily devoted to repose, for -robbing and murdering and maliciously and mischievously disturbing their -neighbours’ night’s rest by reason of unseemly and uncouth noises.—I -have spoken.” - -The magpie flirted his tail four times in token of satisfaction at his -own performance, snapped up a gnat to clear his throat, and, resuming -his seat, devoted himself to an endless succession of smiles directed to -the feminine portion of his audience. An approving murmur greeted the -conclusion of the statement of accusation. - -Then, after a few moments of disorder, which was promptly checked, “Caw! -caw!” went the raven, with a fine attempt at seriousness, his great -round-eyed spectacles perched on his nose; then, turning to the owl, he -lisped in an affected voice— - -“The word is with you; the Court will hear you in your own defence.” - -Never, never had the birds enjoyed so laughable a spectacle before, as -they beheld the fowl of night step forward, looking oh! so awkward and -uncouth, with such a heavy hang-dog air! His great eyes rolled in his -head, he stumbled at every step, while behind his back grimaced his -shadow, mimicking every movement of his neck as it jerked in and out, -first short, then long, like the barrels of an opera-glass. - -A wild spasm of merriment seized the vast concourse at sight of the -grotesque creature, and tomtits, linnets, birds of every sort and kind, -broke into a frantic peal of mirth. - -“Silence in the Court!” shrieked the magpie. - -But laughter is infectious. Quickly it extended to the lower ledges of -the rock, where the spectators sat half hidden from each other in the -semi-darkness, and the mighty cliff shook as if lashed by a hurricane. - -The contagion caught even the magpie, the blackbirds, the Judge himself, -who began to sneeze again and again, in the effort to recover his -dignity. By fits and starts, the laughter would die down, only to burst -out afresh with redoubled vigour, and it was long before the excitement -subsided and heads ceased to wag. When at last the audience had -recovered something like composure, even then fans could be seen here -and there waving to hide behind their shield a last dying echo of -hilarity. - -Meanwhile, the poor buffoon, the butt of all this scathing opprobrium, -stood silent and uncomplaining, humbly waiting his chance to speak. -Finally, when quiet was restored, he said— - -“I am aware, your Honour, that men and birds all hold me and mine in -detestation. There is no villainy they do not impute to us, no crime -they do not charge us with, and when we have the misfortune to show -ourselves, the howl of hate rises as high about us as a tower. But are -we criminals? Do we lurk in the woods to rob our fellow-birds by night -or day? Do we plunder the granaries? Do we go thieving in the hedges? Do -we ever interfere with the livelihood of any of God’s creatures with -whom He has bidden us live in peace? Never, your Honour, never! All the -day we lie quiet in our hole, loving our wives and children, and -troubling nobody; then, when night is fallen, we win our nourishment by -exterminating rats and mice, field-rats and field-mice. I would hurt no -one’s feelings, but it is well to make comparisons sometimes, and I ask -myself—Which fulfils the more useful function, he who from dawn to dark -scours the orchards, stealing cherries, plums, and pears, so that the -countryman, when winter comes, has but the half of the crop he hoped -for, or he who, seconding the farmer’s toils with an incessant but -unseen activity that wins no reward, secures him the proper reward of -his pains?” - -Protests were heard at these words, the goldfinches and sparrows crying -out indignantly— - -“Ah! he shifts the blame on us, the sly-boots! He knows he can say what -he likes here, but outside the Court—why, he durst not so much as look -us in the face.” - -“Oh! but, my good gentlemen,” retorted the orator quietly, “it is no -fault of mine if I cannot look at you in the way you wish; a natural -infirmity makes it impossible for us to see in daylight; such floods of -light beat into the wide pupils of our eyes as would blind us if we had -to face the sunshine long. That is the reason why you mocked at us just -now, when you saw us disabled by this excess of light, whose rays -pricked and pained our eyeballs like so many needles. Would you not feel -yourselves at the same painful disadvantage if you were obliged to fly -at night, when we owls come and go at our ease, our great pupils serving -us as lamps to see by? You would very soon break your heads against a -wall, let me tell you! - -“But let me come to the allegations that have brought me here, into the -dock. Indeed, I have touched on them already; for is not the specific -charge against us that we choose the night to come out of our holes and -find our food? Why, what else could we do, when by daylight, by dint of -seeing too much, we cease to see anything at all? Nature has given us -the night, as she has given other birds the day, unwilling, in her -kindly wisdom, to see the dark less useful than the light; she has -appointed us her guardians to watch over the storehouses and orchards -and granaries, which, above all in the night-time, become the prey of a -host of pillagers. - -“They talk of robbery; why, what robbery can they reproach us with? Is -it a malefactor’s work to purge the earth of the creatures that pick and -steal, and, like unnatural cannibals, would bring their mother to her -death, if we and some others, our colleagues in the same beneficent -task, did not put a check on their never-ending mischiefs? Just think if -we folded our arms and left them a free field; they would end by -devouring the trees, along with the bit of ground where they grow, and -the very folks who can never satiate their spite against us, finding -themselves deprived of shady leaves and luscious fruits alike, would -very soon come begging and beseeching us to return to our never-ending -task. - -“Yet the owls, as your Honour knows, win neither respect nor profit from -their irksome labours. They are not proud; you will never hear them -bragging of the services they render; but modest, as becomes good -workers to be, they roost quietly at home all the time they do not -devote to the chase. Scorned by their brethren the birds, and persecuted -by mankind, they are victims of consistent ingratitude from the very -creatures they benefit; if I say this, it is to have the fact known once -for all, not to protest against a state of things established for all -time. We are therefore compelled to find in ourselves a happiness which -society refuses us, and, living in solitude, we rear our little ones for -a lot like our own. There is the head and front of our offending. - -“There is yet another grievance against us; we disturb, so they allege, -our neighbours’ rest by our uproar. Surely the word is rather strong to -apply to us who are lovers of silence, shunning noise in others as much -as we avoid it in our own homes. If we make ourselves heard, it is not -for the pleasure of listening to our own voices! We well know we are no -sweet-voiced choristers, and when the nightingale sings, we have never -dreamt of posing as his rivals. There are, so the migrants have told us, -in the far-off cities of other lands, men who proclaim the hour from the -tall minarets in the silence of the night. We do not announce the -time—the cuckoo alone has this office to perform during daylight—but we -instruct the swallows on the point of winging away, we inform the -cricket, the bee, the ant, the ploughman, all to whom rain and sunshine -are not matters of indifference, if they may count or not on a -favourable morrow. So the kindly mother of man and beast has put two -notes in our throats, deeming we needed no more, not to make us singing -birds, but only birds of good help. - -“I have no more to say, for indeed we are no great talkers, and oratory -is an art unknown to us. I will say no more, therefore, save only -this—that if you are not satisfied with my pleas, I offer myself—and my -companion here present will do the like—I offer myself a willing victim -to your resentment, if so be the common good, which could not heretofore -exist without our aid, is now only to be secured by the sacrifice of our -lives.” - -Not a little surprised at his own eloquence, the bird of night stepped -back to his place with tottering limbs. Thereupon the jays and -yellowhammers began a hoot of derision, which was quickly drowned by the -protests of the mother birds trembling for their young; and then the old -raven, rising slowly to his feet, folded up his glasses, coughed, -croaked, and, inspired apparently by the general sense of justice, -summed up as follows— - -“You, Sir Owl, you have done wrong in crying out over loud; but you, -young Turtle-dove, you have done a far graver wrong by haling an -innocent prisoner to the bar. You therefore will pay the fine to which -you would have had your neighbours condemned, and the costs of the trial -to boot. Moreover, I will take this opportunity to do an act of justice, -and extend a hand of brotherly affection to our honoured friend the owl, -who is henceforth to be treated with proper consideration and respect, -or I will know the reason why.” - -Little by little the audience dispersed, the swarm of birds scattered -into space, and the raven’s rock was left to its former solitude. - - - Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. - Edinburgh & London - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - ---Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook - is public-domain in the country of publication. - ---Corrected a few palpable typos. - ---In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by - _underscores_. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Birds and Beasts, by Camille Lemonnier - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS AND BEASTS *** - -***** This file should be named 51847-0.txt or 51847-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/8/4/51847/ - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Stephen Hutcheson, and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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