[Ill.u.s.tration: Cuban Lizards.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: "The rabbit bit the stoat in the most infuriated manner."]
A MOTHER RABBIT"S COURAGE.
A True Anecdote.
Not long ago a gentleman heard of a remarkable fight between a stoat and a rabbit; he gives an account of it in the _Field_ newspaper. His gardener was walking in an orchard when he heard a scuffling and squealing on the other side of a hedge. He looked over, and to his great surprise, saw a rabbit in close pursuit of a stoat. Just as they reached the hedge the rabbit caught up with its enemy, but the stoat hid in the hedge for a few seconds, and then ran along it swiftly, escaping the rabbit"s notice for a few minutes. Then it rushed out into the field again, some thirty yards from where it had entered the hedge. Its object soon became clear. "It pulled a young rabbit out of a bunch of gra.s.s,"
says the writer, "and began to drag it to the hedge. When the old rabbit turned and saw the stoat it went for it again, and jumped on it and bit it in the most infuriated manner, driving it away from the young rabbit, and running it squealing with terror into the hedge, where they both eventually disappeared." It is sad to learn that this brave attempt of the mother rabbit to save her young one was in vain; the little bunny was dead when the gardener picked it up a few minutes later.
Stoats will often pursue rabbits across country for very long distances, going steadily on and following the track by the power of scent alone; but it is very seldom that a rabbit will show such courage as to turn the tables and attack its foe.
MAGIC RODS.
The people of the olden time had great faith in the powers of magic rods and wands. Not only was this the fact amongst the Greeks and Romans, but the belief was found in our own country not so very long ago. Certain trees were famed for their magical virtues, because they were supposed to be the home of some spirit, and rods cut from them were said to have wonderful powers. The belief survives in the conjurer"s wand, which, as we all know, does marvels when waved to the sound of "Hey presto!"
To the pretended wonder-worker of the past, his rod was a most important thing, for by its help he accomplished marvels, or at least pretended to do so. There is a story told about a man who had seen a magician produce water by means of his rod. Getting hold of the rod one day, he thought he would supply his house with water by its aid. He said to it, "Bring water." Soon the wand rushed to and fro with big pails, but when the floors were getting flooded, he thought there was enough water, and told the wand to stop. He did not know the word of command, and so the wand went on just the same. In his rage, he took a chopper, and cut the wand in two, but instead of stopping it brought twice as much; a double lot of pails appeared, and at last the torrent of water washed away the house of the meddlesome man.
The magic rod or wand has had several names given to it. A common one was that of "divining rod." By the Germans it was called the "wishing rod," or "wishing thorn," which points to the fact that it was often cut from the blackthorn or sloe. It was supposed that the person who could use the magic rod most successfully was the seventh son of a seventh son, if such a person could be found. The wand, too, should not be cut from very old wood, but it must be more than a year old. Some folk said that the twig chosen to make this rod ought to be one upon which the sun shone both in the morning and afternoon. Again, the magic rod was not simply a straight piece of wood; it had to be of a particular shape--that of the letter Y. When using it, the hands grasped the two arms, so that the unforked part pointed outwards. In houses about the West of England, people will show visitors magic or divining rods, cut many years ago, and now carefully kept as memorials of the past.
These rods had various uses. They were not only supposed to show where metal was hidden, or springs of water might be found, but one brought to a person ill of fever might cure him, though he had to pay whatever was asked for it, and make no objection to the price. In some countries, men believed that a magic rod might be got to point the direction in which a lost person had gone.
The Chinese, ages before the Westerns knew them, had their magic rods, and generally cut them from fruit-trees, the peach being often chosen.
But in Europe, the hazel or cob-nut tree stands at the head of the list of the trees favoured. German farmers formerly cut a hazel rod in spring, and when the first thunder-shower came, they waved it over the corn that was stored up, believing that this would make it keep sound till it was wanted. Next to the hazel in importance was the rowan or mountain ash, a tree always a.s.sociated with the pixies and fairies; magic rods were frequently made from it, and also little crosses, which, if put over the door, were supposed to bring good fortune into a house.
Another tree furnishing such rods was the willow, and another was the apple; one carefully avoided was the elder.
J. R. S. C.
OUR PUSS.
She came with the evening shades, At the close of a winter day, And her manner implied, As she trotted inside, "I am here, and have come to stay."
Where she came from n.o.body knows, And no one has claimed her yet; But she made so free, It was easy to see That she had been somebody"s pet.
Now the homeless waif on our hearth Gives a homelike look to the place; With her warm grey fur, And her satisfied purr, And content in her comely face.
She has all the craft of her race, Though she does not look like a thief, For she climbed of late Up to Charlie"s plate, And calmly ate some of his beef!
But we all have our little faults, And well will it be with us If, when ruin impends, We can win new friends, Like our gentle and brave stray puss.
THE CYPHER TELEGRAM.
"What a shame it is, Hugo, that when your father is giving the whole cla.s.s this splendid treat in honour of your recovery, you yourself should be the only boy absent."
Hugo laughed somewhat sadly. "Yes, I should like to be going, but the doctor says that I must not walk much before Christmas, and no one wants to spend three days in the woods in the middle of December. I should have liked the chance of catching a swallow-tailed b.u.t.terfly for my collection."
"I will try and get one for you," answered Franz, "though they are scarce this year. But what is this? How did you get your medal back?" as he picked up a silver disc from the table.
Hugo had won this medal a year before for a Latin composition for boys under fifteen, and when Baron Rosenthal"s beautiful collection of coins and antique silver had been stolen, the medal had gone too.
"A friend of Father"s saw it in a Berlin curiosity show among a lot of coins, and he sent it back to me."
"And the coins--were they also your father"s?"
"He has gone to Berlin to look at them, and he will be back to-night.
But all coins are not easy to recognise. If it had been any of the silver boxes or cups he would have known his own at once."
"And none of these have been traced?"
"No, not one. My father thinks they have probably been sold in some foreign country--America, perhaps, or England. But see, he left this money for you, so that you can let me know what you are doing. Then you can send me a long cypher telegram every day from the station on the Observatory, and it will give me something to do to translate it," and he handed Franz some silver.
During his illness, Hugo had occupied himself in inventing a most elaborate cypher, which was the envy of the whole school. Not even the masters could read it, and it was an endless source of amus.e.m.e.nt to himself and Franz, who alone was in the secret.
"All right!" answered Franz; "I will send you three telegrams, and catch you three swallow-tails too if I can manage it."
As he went out of the room, his school-fellow looked wistfully at the pair of crutches that stood beside his invalid"s chair. He was the only son of a very rich German n.o.bleman, and six months before he had been nearly killed in a railway accident. When he began to recover, the Baron had promised to give a special treat to his son"s cla.s.s in honour of the event, and now that the time for the annual excursion had arrived, he was paying all expenses for the boys to remain three days in the forest instead of, as was usual, only one. It is the custom in German schools for each master to take his cla.s.s for a long day"s expedition into the country during the summer, in which he is supposed to open their eyes to the beauties of nature and the wonders of the botanical world; and the Baron, who was a very wealthy man, had caused this privilege to be extended that year. But now his son was unable to enjoy it, and this use of telegrams was a suggestion of his father"s to prevent his being too depressed by the thought of his disappointment.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "He looked wistfully at the pair of crutches."]
At five o"clock on the following morning there was a very cheerful party of boys waiting at the station for the little hill-climbing train that was to take them into the heart of the Black Forest. The master, Herr Groos, was also in the best of spirits, in spite of his failure to make any of the boys listen while he explained to them how the train was enabled to climb a hill. The boys, with their yellow caps, which was the distinctive colour of their cla.s.s, and their b.u.t.terfly-nets, botanical presses, and green specimen-cases, were much too excited to listen to him.
At last the train arrived, and they all filed into an open third-cla.s.s carriage, whose only other occupants were two strangers, a tall and a short one, also armed with b.u.t.terfly-nets and enormous green cases.
"Did you see Hugo yesterday?" inquired Herr Groos of Franz, who was sitting next him.
"Yes, sir; I was there a long time. He wished he was coming with us."
"Well, we all wish it too," said the master heartily. "What does he do with himself all day? Invent more cyphers?"
"No, sir, he does not mean to invent a new one," answered Franz, laughing, "till some one has solved the present one. I am to send him a long telegram in it every day."