THE MAN WHO WAS SHAKEN BY A LION.

He was David Livingstone. He was a missionary, and a great traveller too.

He lived almost all his life in Africa. In some parts of Africa there are lions. Once he was staying at a certain village. Every night the lions broke into the yards and carried off a cow or two. So a party of natives went out to hunt for them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A LION.]

Livingstone was with them. They saw some lions, and tried to surround them in a circle. But the lions got away.

They were coming home when Livingstone saw a great lion. He was sitting on a rock not far away. He fired at him, but did not hit him.

He stopped to load his gun again.

He heard the men shout. He turned and saw the lion all ready to spring.

(A lion crouches to spring, like a cat.)

The lion sprang upon Livingstone, and seized his shoulder with his great teeth. He shook him just as a cat shakes a mouse.

Was Livingstone frightened? He was frightened when the lion seized him. But after he shook him he wasn't a bit afraid.

He said the lion shook the fear all out of him. He felt as if he was in a pleasant dream. He only wondered what the lion would do next.

He did not do anything next. He stood with his great paw on Livingstone's head till another man fired at him. Then he sprang on that man and bit him.

Then he sprang on a third man and bit him. And then--he rolled over, dead! So Livingstone escaped.

Livingstone afterwards visited England. The little English children used to ask him to tell them the story of how the lion shook him.

The lion belongs to the cat family. Does not the lion in the picture look like a big handsome cat?

THE LAUGHING JACKa.s.s.

He always begins his queer cry about an hour before sunrise.

Then he is heard again just at noon, and again at sunset. So he has another name. He is called the "Bushman's clock."

In Australia there are great tracts of land where few white people live. These tracts of land are called "The Bush;" and the settlers on these lands are called Bushmen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LAUGHING JACKa.s.sES.]

The laughing jacka.s.s is a very sociable bird. He likes to watch the Bushman at his work. He watches him as he pitches his tent, and builds his fire and cooks his supper. He is a kingfisher.

Kingfishers generally live near the water. But this great brown fisher lives in the woods. He eats crabs and insects. He relishes lizards very much, and there are plenty of lizards in Australia.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE LISTENS TO THE CRY OF THE LAUGHING JACKa.s.s.]

He hates snakes. A great many snakes are found in Australia, and many of them are very poisonous.

The laughing jacka.s.s is not a bit afraid of them. He kills them with his long, sharp bill.

When he is angry he raises the crest on his head.

His color is a fine chestnut brown mixed with white. His wings are slightly blue.

The mother-bird lays her eggs in a hole in a gum-tree. She does not build a nest. She lays her eggs on the rotten wood at the bottom of the hole. Her eggs are a lovely pearl white.

Here is one of the black men who live in Australia. He is listening to the cry of the laughing jacka.s.s.

THE TRICK THEY PLAYED ON JOCKO.

Jocko was homesick. Jocko was a forest creature. He was born to tread the ground, and climb trees, and eat sweet wild fruits.

Jocko liked to leap from tree to tree, and run about over miles of woodland. Now he found himself in a cage. He called and cried, but none of his little brown playmates answered.

He could see only blue waves, and the ropes and masts and sails of the ship. He was tossed up and down. His cage swung from side to side. The motion made him sick--seasick.

After many days, he saw the land again. But it was not forest land. It was brown land--city land. No moss, no vines, no dewy green gra.s.s, no flowers! All stone and brick! His cage was carried into a hotel dining-room where people came and sat down and talked in German, and ate things that Jocko knew were not good to eat--bread and pies and cheese and sauerkraut and meat. Oh, how Jocko wanted a fresh sweet cocoanut!

But by and by Jocko was not so homesick. The cook was kind to him, and gave him sweet bits to eat. The visitors took him up and petted him.

The little girl who lived at the hotel made him a nice bed in the little crib she used to sleep in.

So at last Jocko had a good time, and forgot about the woods.

But one day little Gretchen played a trick on him to see what he would do. She knew he was fond of white lump sugar. So she filled a bottle with lumps of sugar. Then she gave it to Jocko.

Jocko was wild with delight when he saw the sugar. He jumped up in a chair and lifted the bottle to his mouth.

But Gretchen had put in a cork. The sugar would not pour out.

It was very funny then to see what trouble Jocko was in. He would tilt the bottle up and try to drink the sugar out of the neck. Then he would try to shake it out at the bottom. Then he would sit still and look at the lumps. Then he would try to bite through the gla.s.s. Then he would jump down and run away. Then he would come back and catch the bottle again and roll the lumps about, and chatter and scold as he heard them rattle.

This went on for several days. Everybody came in to see little Gretchen's monkey and his sugar bottle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GRETCHEN.]

But one day the cook let a jar of olives fall. It broke, and the olives rolled out on the floor. Jocko gave a little scream of joy.

Like a flash, up he sprang to a high cupboard with his sugar bottle, and gave it a mighty fling. Down it came--crash!