CHAPTER IX.

Uncle Thomas concludes Stories about Instinct with several Interesting Ill.u.s.trations of the Affections of Animals, particularly of the Instinct of Maternal Affection, in the course of which he narrates the Story of the Cat and the Black-Bird; the Squirrel's Nest; the Equestrian Friends; and points out the Beneficent Care of Providence in implanting in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of each of his Creatures the Instinct which is necessary for its Security and Protection.

"Good evening, Uncle Thomas? We were so delighted with the adventures of Kees, that we wish to know if you have any more such amusing stories to tell us."

"Oh yes, Boys, plenty such, but it is now time to bring these STORIES ABOUT INSTINCT to a close. I am therefore going to conclude by narrating one or two stories about the affections of animals. I wish to impress your minds with feelings of kindness towards them, and I think that the best way to do so is to exhibit them to you in their gentleness and love; to show you that they too partake of the kindlier emotions by which the heart of man is moved, and that the feelings of maternal affection, and of friendship, and of fidelity, are as much the prerogatives of the lower animals as they are of man himself. Perhaps one of the most amiable lights in which the affections of animals are exhibited is their love and attachment to their offspring. You have all seen how regardless of danger a domestic hen, one of the most timid and defenceless of animals, becomes when she has charge of a brood of chickens. At other times she is alarmed by the slightest noise--the sudden rustle of a leaf makes her shrink with fear and apprehension.

Yet, no sooner do her little helpless offspring escape from the sh.e.l.l, than she becomes armed with a determination of which even birds of prey stand in awe."

"Oh yes, Uncle Thomas, I have often seen a hen attack a large dog and drive it away from her chickens."

"It marks the wisdom of the omnipotent and all-wise Creator, Boys, that he has implanted in the hearts of each of his creatures the particular instincts which were necessary for their safety and protection. Thus, in the case I have just spoken of, the instinctive courage with which the mother is endowed, you will find to be the best security which could have been devised. In some other birds this instinct exhibits itself in a different way. If you happen to approach the nest of the lapwing, for instance, the old birds try every means to attract your attention, and lure you away from the sacred spot. They will fly close by you, and in an irregular manner, as if wounded; but no sooner do they find that their stratagem has been successful, and that you have pa.s.sed the nest un.o.bserved, than they at once take a longer flight, and soon leave you behind."

"How very singular, Uncle Thomas! Does the lapwing defend its young with as much courage as the hen?"

"I am not aware that it does, Frank, though I think it is not at all unlikely. As its instinct teaches it to finesse in the way which I have told you, however, I should not expect to find that it does so with equal spirit. Even the pigeon, the very emblem of gentleness and love, boldly pecks at the rude hand which is extended towards its young, during the earlier stages of their existence. If you come by chance on the brood of a partridge, the mother flutters along, as if she were so much wounded that it was impossible to escape, and the young ones squat themselves close by the earth. When by her cunning wiles she has led you to a little distance, and you discover that her illness was feigned, you return to the spot to seek for the young, and you find that they too are gone: no sooner is your back turned than they run and hide themselves in some more secret place, where they remain till the well-known call of the mother again collects them under her wing.

"I lately heard a most interesting story of the boldness of a pair of blackbirds in defence of their young. A cat was one day observed mounted on the top of a railing, endeavouring to get at a nest which was near it, containing a brood of young birds. On the cat's approach the mother left the nest, and flew to meet it in a state of great alarm, placing herself almost within its reach, and uttering the most piteous screams of wildness and despair. Alarmed by his partner's screams, the male bird soon discovered the cause of her distress, and in a state of equal trepidation flew to the place, uttering loud screams and outcries, sometimes settling on the fence just before the cat, which was unable to make a spring in consequence of the narrowness of its footing. After a little time, seeing that their distress made no impression on their a.s.sailant, the male bird flew at the cat, settled on its back, and pecked at its head with so much violence that it fell to the ground, followed by the blackbird, which at length succeeded in driving it away.

Foiled in this attempt, the cat a short time after again returned to the charge, and was a second time vanquished, which so intimidated her that she relinquished all attempts to get at the young birds. For several days, whenever she made her appearance in the garden, she was set upon by the blackbirds, and at length became so much afraid of them, that she scampered to a place of security whenever she saw them approach."

"That was very bold indeed, Uncle Thomas. Birds seem to be all very much attached to their young."

"Very much so, Harry; but perhaps not more so than many quadrupeds. Here is a story of the squirrel's affection, which, though it does not exhibit an instance of active defence against its enemies, affords one of endurance equally admirable.

"In cutting down some trees on the estate recently purchased by the crown at Petersham, for the purpose of being annexed to Richmond park, the axe was applied to the root of a tall tree, on the top of which was a squirrel's nest. A rope was fastened to the tree for the purpose of pulling it down more expeditiously; the workmen cut at the roots; the rope was pulled; the tree swayed backwards and forwards, and at length fell. During all these operations a female squirrel never attempted to desert her new-born young, but remained with them in the nest. When the tree fell down, she was thrown out and secured unhurt, and was put into a cage with her young ones. She suckled them for a short time, but refused to eat. Her maternal affection, however, remained till the last moment of her life, and she died in the act of affording all the nourishment in her power to her offspring.

"We are too apt, Boys, to overlook the admirable lessons which such stories as these inculcate. They should teach us kindness to each other--kindness, indeed, not only to those of our own species, but kindness to all created creatures. If the lower animals love each other so warmly and affectionately, how much more ought man, to whom the Creator has been so beneficent, to love his fellow creatures. But though the attachment of animals to their offspring is an admirable mode of its developement, it is far from being the only one. After all the STORIES ABOUT DOGS--their love of their master--their fidelity--their sagacity--which I will relate to you at a future time, it is hardly necessary for me to bring forward evidence in favour of this position.

Here is an instance of friendship, as it is called, between horses, which was so strong as to terminate fatally.

"During the Peninsular war, two horses, which had long been a.s.sociated together, a.s.sisting to drag the same piece of artillery, and standing together the shock of many battles, became so much attached to each other as to be inseparable companions. At length one of them was killed.

After the battle in which this took place, the other was picquetted as usual, and his food brought to him. He refused, however, to eat, and was constantly turning round his head to look for his companion, sometimes neighing as if to call her. All the attention which was bestowed upon him was of no avail; though surrounded by horses he took no notice of them, but incessantly bewailed his absent friend. He died shortly after, having refused to taste food from the time his former companion was killed!

"Such is but one solitary instance. But there are many such scattered up and down in the ample records of nature, bearing silent but emphatic testimony to the kindness and beneficence of the Creator. Let them but be searched for in a proper and gentle spirit, and they are sure to be found.

"Not a tree, A plant, a leaf, a blossom, but contains A folio volume: we may read, and read, And read again, but still find something new-- Something to please, and something to instruct, E'en in the noisome weed."

THE END.

Mary Howitt's Story-Book.

WITH ILl.u.s.tRATIONS.

CONTENTS.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

STORY OF LITTLE CRISTAL.

MABEL ON MIDSUMMER-DAY.

THE CHRISTMAS-TREE.

A DREAM.

PICTURE OF THE VIRGIN.

BOY OF THE SOUTHERN ISLE.

BIRDS AND THE GUINEA-PIGS.

CORN-FIELDS.

THE PIGEON-HOUSE.

THE SPIRIT'S QUESTIONINGS.

THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT.

LITTLE CHILDREN.

THE YOUNG TURTLE DOVE OF CARMEL.

THE JOY OF ENGELE.

MARIEN'S PILGRIMAGE.

PAINTER'S LITTLE MODEL.

MAN IN A WILDERNESS.

BLIND BOY AND HIS SISTER.

THE CHRISTMAS DINNER.

OLD CHRISTMAS.

TWO FRIEND'S COUNSEL.

THE CHILDREN.

BEGINNING AND END OF MRS.

MUGGERIDGE'S WEDDING-DINNER.

COMING SPRING.

THE TAX-GATHERER'S VISIT.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Mary Howitt's Stories for Children are with many preferred above all the other works of that charming writer, to true and genial is the sympathy she shows for the young, and to healthy the tone of her gently insinuated moral."--Mrs. Kirkland.

C.S. FRANCIS & CO., 252 BROADWAY.

HANS ANDERSEN'S STORY BOOK.

_One thick Volume, with Ill.u.s.trations, and a Memoir of the Author by Mary Howitt._

CONTENTS.

MEMOIR OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

A PICTURE-BOOK WITHOUT PICTURES.

MY BOOTS.