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What The Animals Do and Say

Eliza Lee Follen

The elephants were taught to hurl javelins, and catch them with
their trunks, and to pretend to fight with each other, for the
amusement of their warlike masters, and were taught also to perform
a dance. Finally, these wonderful animals would do what you would
think was utterly impossible. You remember, when the circus riders
were here seeing a man walk and dance on a rope."

"Yes, Mother," said Frank; "but an elephant could not do that, I'm
sure."

"Historians of Rome, supposed to give true accounts, say that the
elephants were taught to walk along a rope forward and then
backward. One elephant is described as walking up a slanting rope to
the roof of the theatre with a man on his back."

"I should not have liked to be the man on his back," said Harry.

"It is as astonishing, perhaps more so, that a horse has been taught
to do similar things. When I was in Paris, I saw some horses dance a
quadrille very respectably, and keep excellent time. One of the
Roman historians relates, "An elephant, having been punished for
stupidity in executing some feat which he was required to learn, was
observed, at night, endeavoring to practise what he had failed to
perform in the daytime." It is mentioned that elephants have been
observed practising their lessons by moonlight, without any
directions from the keepers. Think what a good example elephants are
for school boys. I have only told you a very little about this
wonderful animal; yet enough, I hope, to make you want to read some
of the many books about him. You have, I think, read of the story of
the elephant who was wounded in his proboscis or trunk, and, in his
anger, unintentionally killed his keeper, and of what the keeper's
wife did."

"No, Mother," said Frank; "we have never read it. What did she do?"

"In her despair, not knowing what she did, she held out her son, and
said to the raging animal, "Take him too." The angry elephant became
quiet. He seemed to understand the agony of the poor woman. He
gently lifted and placed upon his back the little child, and ever
after obeyed him for a master."

"You know the story in Evenings at Home, Mother, of the Elephant and
the Cobbler, how the fellow pricked the elephant's trunk, and how
the elephant punished him by squirting muddy water all over him."

"Yes. The elephant's trunk is so susceptible that nothing enrages
him so much as any wound on it. He cannot bear patiently the
slightest scratch.

Now I will tell you a story of a lion. An English gentleman, who was
living in India, had a fancy to see what effect extreme gentleness,
and kindness, and very simple diet would have upon the character of
the lion. The gentleman had the good fortune to get a baby lion for
the experiment. He made a real pet of him. He fed him with bread and
milk and rice, and such things, and took care always to satisfy him
with food. The young lion loved his master, who was always very kind
to him, and who was really very fond of his lionship. This man
lived, as in India a gentleman often does, in a house by himself,
and could easily have his friend lion with him, without annoying any
one. The baby grew bigger and bigger, and became a good-sized, full-
grown lion. He was gentle and happy, full of play, and rather a
pleasant companion to his two-legged friend. Whether the lion ever
roared for his master's amusement, the friend who told me this story
did not say.

At last, this gentleman wished to return to England to see his old
mother. He was too much attached to his lion to leave him, and so
took him in the place of a dog. The lion was very good all the
voyage. No one had a word to say against him. His conduct and
manners were faultless. He played with the sailors, he obeyed his
master, and, in short, was a very quiet, well-behaved, human lion.
When the gentleman arrived in England, as soon as he could leave the
ship, he called for a carriage to take him to his mother. When he
got into the carriage, the lion jumped in after him. "Your honor,"
said the driver, "I'm afraid of that beast." "O, never mind," said
the gentleman; "he'll not hurt you." "But, your honor, I never in my
born days took a lion in my carriage. It's not a place for such
brutes." "There's always a first time," said the gentleman. "Here's
a crown for my lion; and now get on; I can't wait." The cabman,
thinking it wise to make the best of things, and not quarrel with a
man who had a lion for a friend, stepped up on his box, and drove
away rattlety-bang to Regent's Park, some three or four miles'
drive. The lion was much astonished, and sat bolt upright on his
hind legs, looking out of the window. He did not appreciate the
BEAUTIES of London; he was disgusted with the noise, and growled a
little. The driver heard him, and drove all the faster. Poor Lord
Lion, his temper was tried; but he bore it better than most lions
would. At last, the cab stopped at the house of the gentleman's
mother. He sprang out, and rang the bell: "Does Mrs. B. live here?"
"Yes, sir." "Is she well?" The footman turned pale as ashes, and
scampered off as if he thought the lion would devour him. The
gentleman ran up stairs, and the lion after him. In another moment,
the arms of the son were around his mother. Presently, the lady saw
the lion. She had heard of her son's pet, and saw she was in no
danger. She begged her son, however, to put him down in the yard and
keep him chained, or she should not have a servant in the house. The
lion was not happy chained. The gentleman, finding, moreover, that
he could not go into the streets with his friend without being
followed by a mob, at last placed him in the Tower, where there were
other lions, and gave many charges that the pet lion should be well
treated. Many years afterwards, the gentleman returned from another
voyage to India; and, after seeing his mother, went to the Tower to
see his friend. When he came to the large cage in which the lion was
confined, the keeper said, "This is our finest and our fiercest
lion." "Open the door," said the gentleman. The keeper, not knowing
him, objected. The gentleman insisted, and entered. The lion was
lying down, and, seeing a man in his cage, for a moment looked
angry; in another moment he rose on his hind legs, put his paws
around his old master, and showed the greatest delight at seeing
him."

"Why, he was almost as good as a dog," said Frank. "But now, Mother,
please tell us the story about a bear which you said you heard on
your journey last summer."

"I ought rather," said Mrs. Chilton, "to call it the story of a cow,
for she was the heroine of the tale. I was travelling with a small
party among the White Hills. When we stopped to dine, we saw a
number of people assembled around the door of the hotel, and found
that they were looking at a black bear that had been just shot. This
bear had inspired the neighborhood with some fear, for he was a
large one. They had tried a number of times to shoot him; but all in
vain. Master Bruin was never off his guard. At last, the poor fellow
foolishly left the deep wild wood, where he could easily hide
himself, for a little grove. When the villagers saw his mistake,
they immediately took steps to surround the grove. The number of the
inhabitants was small; so they summoned all the women and children,
as well as the men, and so got an unbroken line all around the
little wood. As soon as the bear sought any part, in order to
escape, he was saluted by the most frightful screams, as well as a
shower of stones. He fled to the opposite side, but there met with
the same reception. This went on for some time. At last, some one
succeeded in shooting him. He measured a little over six feet from
the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, and his teeth were very
formidable.

A gentleman who had assisted in the capture of the bear, told me the
story I promised to tell you of the cow and the bear. A little girl,
about twelve or thirteen years of age, was sent by her mother, one
afternoon, to bring home the cows from a neighboring wood, where
they were at pasture. There were many fallen trees, as is often the
case in our wild woods; and the child amused herself by climbing
over the trunks.

Now, one of the black-looking logs was a large bear that was lying
asleep, and the little girl jumped right upon his growling majesty.
The bear arose, evidently not quite pleased at being made a stepping
stone, took the little girl in his great shaggy paws, and gave her
an ugly hug, such as only a bear can give. Mr. Bear would have
squeezed the breath out of the body of the poor little girl, had not
the good old cow seen the danger. The courageous creature, instead
of running away, turned back immediately, and began goring the bear
with her horns in such a way as to force old Bruin, if he valued a
whole hide, to turn round and defend himself. So he let go his hold
on the little girl, who, though sadly frightened and bruised, was
still strong enough to run towards home. Presently the bear followed
her. Immediately the cow attacked him again with her horns, and
drove him off. This continued till they got out of the wood, when
the bear ran back to his own home. The gentleman who told us this
story said he had seen the little girl, and that she had never quite
recovered from the effect of the horrid squeeze of the grim old
bear, but still suffered in her chest. Still she was thankful that
her life was saved, and always considered the good old cow her
preserver."

"Why, Mother," said Frank, "I did not think that a cow could be good
for any thing but to give milk."

"In Germany, they use cows for draught, and make them work pretty
hard. There you see cows every day doing the same work that our oxen
do, and giving the poor man his supper at the end of the day
besides; and it is said that the labor does not hurt them. The
Germans feed the cows well, treat them gently and kindly, but make
them, as well as the dogs, work for a living."

"Now I will tell you a story about a pike. We are apt to think fishes
very stupid; that they have no feeling. A gentleman in England,
a surgeon and a naturalist, told me of what he had himself seen. A
pike had struck its head against a tenter hook on a post in the pond
where he was swimming. His agony was so great that he darted
backward and forward with the greatest rapidity, then buried his
head in the mud, then whirled his tail round and round, and threw
himself up into the air to the height of two or three feet, and, at
last, he threw himself out of the pond upon the grass. Dr. Warwick
placed his hand on the fish, examined the injury, and observed that
the hook had entered the skull, wrenching up one side of the bone
and depressing the other, and that a small part of the brain had
escaped. With a toothpick the doctor restored the bones to their
proper places. The patient remained perfectly still during the
operation, and after-ward was returned to his native element. He
seemed restless for a little while, and then lay quiet. Dr. Warwick
then made a sort of cradle in which he placed the poor sufferer, who
seemed disposed to lie still on one side."

"The next day, very early, Dr. Warwick went to the pond. To his
astonishment, he found that the pike knew and remembered him. The
fish came to the edge of the pond, placed his jaw upon the toe of
the doctor's boot, let himself be taken hold of and caressed, and
allowed the wound to be examined. It was much better. When the
doctor walked along the side of the pond, the fish followed him.
When the doctor returned from his walk, he found his patient
watching for him. The pike then swam backward and forward while the
doctor remained there. The fish had lost one eye in consequence of
the wound from the hook, and, when his blind side was towards the
doctor, was always very restless. The poor fellow seemed anxious to
keep his surgical friend in sight. The doctor would often whistle
when he went to the pond; and the pike always came at the call, and
showed pleasure at seeing him. Dr. Warwick introduced his family to
his friend and patient, the pike. The grateful fish allowed them to
give him food, and put aside much of his native shyness. In truth,
he received their attentions very civilly, but he always showed a
decided preference for his medical friend. Dr. Warwick was the
father of my friend, Mrs. A., in Liverpool. He related all these
facts to me himself, and they are all to be perfectly relied upon."

Now I will read you a German story called Caliph Stork.

One pleasant afternoon, the Caliph of Bagdad was sitting comfortably
on his sofa: he had slept a little, (for it was a hot day,) and
looked quite bright after his nap. He was smoking a long rose-wood
pipe, and sipping coffee, which was poured out for him by a slave;
and occasionally he stroked his beard with great satisfaction. In
short, it was evident that he felt quite pleasantly.

This was the best time of day for speaking with him; for at this
hour he was always very good-natured and affable; and, on this
account, the Grand Vizier Mansor always visited him at this hour. He
came also this afternoon, but looking very thoughtful, quite against
his wont. The caliph took the pipe partly away from his mouth, and
said, "What makes you look so thoughtful, Grand Vizier?"

The grand vizier crossed his arms over his breast, bowed to his
master, and answered, "Sir! whether I look thoughtful or not is more
than I know; but certain it is, that there is a pedler down stairs
who has such beautiful things, that it vexes me not to have any
money to spare."

The caliph was very willing to do his grand vizier a favor; so he
sent the black slave to bring the pedler up stairs. The pedler came.
He was a little, dumpy man, with a dark complexion, and dressed in
ragged garments. He bore a chest in which were wares of all sorts:
pearls and rings, richly mounted pistols, drinking cups, and combs.
The caliph and his vizier rummaged over the whole chest, and the
caliph finally bought some pistols for himself and Mansor, and a
comb for the vizier's wife. As the pedler was about to close the
chest, the caliph saw a little drawer, and asked if there was any
thing more in it. The pedler pulled the drawer out, and showed in it
a box of blackish powder, and a paper with curious writing on it,
which neither the caliph nor Mansor could read. "I got these two
things from a merchant who found them at Mecca, in the street; I do
not know what they contain, but you may have them very cheap, for I
cannot do any thing with them."

The caliph, who liked to have old manuscripts in his library,
although he could not read them, bought the paper and the box, and
dismissed the pedler.

The caliph, however, thought he should like to know the contents of
the manuscript, and asked the vizier if he knew any body who could
decipher it. "Most gracious sovereign and master," answered he,
"there is a man at the great mosque, who is called Selim the
Learned; he understands all languages; send for him; perhaps he may
make out these mysterious characters."

The learned Selim was soon brought. "Selim," said the caliph to him,
"they say you are very learned; now just look into this manuscript,
and see whether you can read it; if you can, I will give you a new
dress; but if you cannot, you shall have twelve boxes on the ear,
and twenty-five blows on the soles of your feet, for having been
called, without reason, Selim the Learned."

Selim bowed and said, "Be it as you command, Sir!" He examined the
writing for a long time, and then suddenly cried out, "This is
Latin, sir, or I'll give you leave to hang me." "Let us hear what it
contains, then, if it is Latin," said the caliph.

Selim began to translate: "O man who findest this, praise Allah for
his goodness. Whoever snuffs up some of the powder in this box, and
at the same time says, 'Mutabor,' may change himself into any
animal, and will understand the language of animals. If he wishes to
return to the human shape, let him bow three times towards the East,
and pronounce the same word. But let him take care, after he is
transformed, not to laugh, otherwise the word will disappear
entirely from his memory, and he will remain a beast."

When Selim the Learned had read this, the caliph was exceedingly
delighted. He made Selim swear never to reveal any thing of the
secret to any one; then he gave him a beautiful robe, and dismissed
him.

Then he said to his grand vizier, "That is what I call a good
bargain, Mansor! How impatient I am to become a beast! Come to me
easily to-morrow morning, and we will go out into the fields, snuff
up a little of the powder, and then listen to what is said in the
air and in the water, in the woods and in the fields!"

Scarcely had the caliph breakfasted and dressed, the next morning,
when the grand vizier appeared, according to his orders, to
accompany him in his excursion. The caliph stuck the box with the
magic powder into his girdle, and having commanded his retinue to
remain behind, he set off with only the grand vizier, on his way.
They went first through the spacious gardens of the caliph, but they
could not find any living animal to try their experiment upon. At
last, the vizier proposed to go out to a pond, where he had often
seen many animals, particularly storks, which had attracted his
attention by their grave demeanor and their chattering.
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