Of all of them, none is so fierce as the

"Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night,"

which is found now in only one quarter of the world--in Asia, especially India--and is so bold that he will fight with a lion.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TIGER AND CROCODILE--"THE TUG-OF-WAR."]

No beast has such a beautiful skin; but you may not know that this wonderful coat is made for use as well as for beauty. A writer who has observed very carefully says, "However lovely nature frames or fashions a plant or a bird or an animal, it is never for ornament, but for some actual purpose or use." It is a good thing to bear this in mind, and to try to find out the uses of the beautiful things which you see. The stripes of the tiger are so very like the long gra.s.s--taller than a tall man--of the jungle, is its home, that the hunters, mounted on their trained elephants, cannot see him, unless he betrays his hiding-place by some movement.

Tiger-hunting is a very dangerous sport, and many tigers are killed, not in the chase, but by being taken in pitfalls by the natives.

I am sure you know a great deal about the king of beasts, and I need not describe him, since you have probably both seen him and heard his terrible voice. Still, we can have little idea, from seeing lions in this country--very likely born in captivity--how majestic the king is in his forest home in Africa. Those who have heard his roar echoing through the forest, say that it rolls along like distant thunder, and that when he is angry his eyes flash with a gleam almost like lightning. His strength is so enormous that one blow of that soft paw, which looks so harmless, will break the back of a horse, or knock down the strongest man; and he will carry off a young cow as a cat carries off a mouse. Young lions are very pretty, and as playful as kittens. I have seen a happy family all in one cage--a great African lion called Hannibal, with a very royal look; a lioness and her four cubs, playing with a retriever pup! The cribs looked very much like big puppies, and had such innocent, gentle little faces, that you would have liked to pat and pet them.

You will not be surprised to hear that the lion was the one chosen by all the little boys, when they answered their question about animals mentioned in the Bible. They all found the story telling how David, when he was a shepherd boy, killed both a lion and a bear, when they had taken a lamb from the flock, and rescued the helpless little creature out of the very mouth of the lion--and how he said to King Saul, "The Lord hath delivered me out of the paw of the lion" [that strong paw which can knock a man down], "and out of the paw of the bear, He will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine;" and, strong in the Lord and in the power of His might, he went to meet the boastful giant of whom everyone was afraid.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE LONELY LION LEAVES HIS LONELY LAIR."]

I also had references given me to Daniel in the den of lions and to the sad story of the prophet who disobeyed the word of the Lord, and was slain by a lion. Will you see whether you can find the name of one against whom a young lion roared? "And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he rent him as he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand."

And also the name of one of King David's mighty men, who "went down ... and slew a lion in the midst of a pit, in time of snow?" There are no lions now in Palestine, but they were at one time often seen there; they made their lair in caves among the mountains, and on the reedy banks of the Jordan.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LEOPARD.]

Other wild beasts--which are really great cats--are the beautifully spotted Panthers or Leopards of Africa and Asia, the fierce and cunning Jaguar of South America, and the Puma, sometimes called, without much reason for the name, the American lion.

Wild cats were once common in England, and it has been thought that our home-cats are their descendants, only tamed; but I believe this is not true, and that our cats came from the East. It is generally thought that they are not very affectionate animals, or rather that their affections are set upon places more than upon people; but they are certainly very fond of their own kittens, and very proud of them when they first begin to "walk high," which I suppose answers to a baby's beginning to "run away."

Mr. Wood, in _The Boy's Own Book of Natural History_, tells a pretty story about a baker's cat, which was so fond of him, when he was a young man at college, that she used to come regularly morning and evening to have her breakfast and tea with him. He says, "She continued her attentions for some time, but one morning she was absent from her accustomed corner, nor did she return till nearly a week had pa.s.sed, when she came again, but always seemed uneasy unless the door were open. A few days afterwards, she came up as usual, and jumped on to my knee, at the same time putting a little kitten into my hand. She refused to take it back again, so I restored it to its brothers and sisters myself. A few hours afterwards, on going into my bedroom, I found another black kitten fast asleep on the bed." Fancy this mother being so anxious to show her kittens, and so sure that her friend would be pleased to find one in his bed!

Next to the Cat family comes that of the Dog, and in this family Wolves, Jackals, and Foxes are placed, as well as Dogs. I had some texts about wolves given me by the boys, but I do not think we shall have time to speak of them now. Wolves and jackals and foxes are very much like dogs run wild, while dogs in many respects are like these wild animals become tame; so much so, that it is believed that the "friend of man" has altered a good deal in the thousands of years during which he has been his constant companion; he has become less fierce, but has also lost some of the independence which once belonged to him, and is very much behind foxes and jackals in knowing how to take care of himself and get his own living.

We ought to treat with great respect and kindness a creature which we have in this way made dependent upon us, and one which gives us its affection so freely, and is so glad even of a kind word or look from its master or mistress.

Dogs have a good deal of dignity, and their feelings are very easily hurt.

Perhaps you think it is saying too much for a doggie to talk of its having feelings that can be hurt, but I a.s.sure you dogs _have_ feelings, and very keen ones too.

The master of a little Skye terrier found that a reproachful word, or a look of displeasure, would make him miserable for a whole day; he never thought of such a thing as beating him; but once, when he was away from home, his brother, who did not know the dog, kindly took him out every day for a walk in the park. One day, when he wanted him to come on, he gave him a blow with his glove. The dog, who had been playing about with a friend he had met, stopped and looked up at him in surprise, as if he would have said, "If you knew whose dog I am you would never treat me so,"--then turned and ran away home. Next day he was again taken out by his master's brother, but when they had gone a little way he stopped, looked in his face as much as to say, "You remember what you did?" and then trotted home; he could never again be induced to go out with the person who had so offended his dignity. This sensitive little Skye could not bear to see anyone hurt, and when driving with his master would pull his sleeve, and try to check him every time he touched the horse with his whip.

A little white, curly dog, whom the children knew well, had a great objection to his Sat.u.r.day bath, and would get out of the way when he saw it was coming. Tippoo submitted to be washed when he found there was no escape; but a little dog belonging to a lady used to make such a fuss over his weekly bath that at last none of the servants would run the risk of being bitten and snapped at by him. His mistress tried threatening him, then beating, then keeping him without his dinner; but all was of no use until she made up her mind to see what taking no notice of him would do.

The doggie found it very hard when his dear mistress came home, and he ran out with his joyful bark to welcome her, to see her turn her head away from him just when he was longing for a pat or a kind word; and I fancy the lady found it hard too, constantly to disappoint all his little efforts to attract her attention; but she went on for more than a week, showing her pet in this way that something was wrong, and there is no doubt at all that the wise little creature knew what it was. He looked very miserable all the time, and at last crept quietly to her side, and, as she says in telling the story, "gave a look which said as plainly as any spoken words could have done, 'I can stand it no longer; I submit.' Then, after patiently bearing the washing, without snapping or fighting, he came in wagging his tail with a joyful bark, as much as to say, 'It's all right now'!"

I am sure you have read or heard accounts of the large Newfoundland dogs; of whose courage in saving children who fall into the water, many beautiful stories are told; and also of the dear, faithful Collies with their pointed noses, who know all their master's sheep, and will drive them wherever they are told to go; and even, when two flocks have got mixed, will separate them with the most wonderful patience and cleverness. A Scotch shepherd, who loved poetry, and made some verses about the skylark, which Sharley and May repeat, tells a story of one of these dogs which I am sure you will think worth remembering.

The collie's name was Sirrah, and his master prized him greatly. When the shepherd first bought him he was scarcely a year old, "and," he says, "knew so little of herding that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but as soon as he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, I can never forget with what anxiety and eagerness he learned his different evolutions. He would try every way deliberately, till he found out what I wanted him to do, and when I once made him understand a direction he never forgot or mistook it again."

Sirrah's master once had charge of a flock of seven hundred lambs, and one night the whole flock broke up into three divisions, and ran away in the dark, so that the shepherd could not tell where they had gone. The night was so dark that he could not even see Sirrah, much less tell him how to find the lost lambs; but the dog knew exactly what had happened, and had no doubt at all about whose duty it was to get the flock together again. All night long the shepherd sought in vain, not being able even to discover what direction either of the three flocks of truant lambs had taken; but in the morning he suddenly came upon his dog, guarding the whole flock--all the seven hundred brought back, and not one of them lost.

I have been told that while a trained sheep-dog is so valuable to his master, and can be so trusted by him, one that has been allowed to grow up without any teaching or training is of little worth. The training must begin while the collie is young, and an old hand at it says, "The first thing to learn your pup is to mind at the word." From this beginning the dog goes on until he seems almost to read his master's thoughts in his face, and to watch each movement of his hand and each glance of his eye. Of one of these dogs his master says:

"I have known him lie night and day among from ten to twenty pails full of milk, and never once break the cream of one of them with the tip of his tongue; nor would he suffer cat, rat, nor any other creature to touch it."

Sheep-dogs become very much attached to each other, as this story shows.

Two Scotch collies were fast friends, going everywhere together until one of them died, and was buried on the top of a hill. The other watched the spot, and when no one was by, actually scratched at the new-made grave, and dug up the body of his comrade. Afterwards, when it had been buried again, and heavy stones laid round the place, he still kept watch there, howling piteously and eating nothing, until he died upon the grave of the friend he had loved so well.

But while there are so many beautiful stories of the loving and faithful and tender and true ways of dogs, we must not forget that they sometimes show cruel and revengeful tempers, as well as something of that low kind of cleverness which tries to deceive, and on account of which the fox has such a bad name.

Only the other day I was told about a dog who actually killed a pretty little kitten from pure jealousy, because he could not bear to see his mistress pet and fondle it. _He_ had been the pet for a long time, and when this new favourite came, he showed his dislike in many ways. One day Flossie--the little kitten--was missing, and could nowhere be found. At last, something about the dog's guilty look made his mistress sure that he knew better than anyone else what had become of her. So she looked at him very severely, and said, "Turk, _you_ know where little Flossie is. Show me directly."

Turk walked straight to the waste-paper basket, which was under the table, and began to take the paper out, bit by bit. At the bottom of the basket lay the poor little furry pet, killed by the dog in a fit of jealousy! How sad it is to think what sin has done, how even in the animals it may be seen that they belong to a world where the man, whom G.o.d made head over them, turned away from Him, and distrusted and disobeyed Him.

But since I have told you of Turk's cruel jealousy, I must not forget a very pretty story of a dog who saved the life of a kitten which was to have been drowned. When he saw the poor little thing thrown into the pond, he swam after it and brought it back, laying it at the feet of the groom who had thrown it into the water. The man took the helpless creature up and threw it back again, and again the dog rescued it. A third time it was thrown into the water, and a third time saved from drowning; but now the dog brought it to the opposite side of the pool, carried it home in his mouth, and laid it beside the fire to dry. In this case which would you rather be like--the man or the dog?

The children often say that our Tippoo, the little white dog of which I told you, does things "just like a person"; he will contentedly eat what he does not care for, because he expects to get something he likes, as a reward. If he has been naughty, you can generally know it by his face, and he will hide away under the sofa, until brought out from his refuge, and made to show what he has been doing. He cannot bear to be laughed at; nothing hurts his feelings so sorely, unless indeed it be seeing a little child petted: this is almost more than he can bear. But he behaves better than Psyche, another little Maltese terrier of my acquaintance, who used to fly at anyone who dared to kiss her mistress. Poor little Psyche's was a sad end, for she was killed by a carriage while crossing the street to get to her mistress.

Dogs have all sorts of ways of making their wants known, but I think you will admit that a little dog called b.u.t.ton was particularly clever in his way of doing it, when you hear how he managed. He used to have goat's milk for breakfast, and one morning, when he thought breakfast-time had pa.s.sed without any being brought to him, he made up his mind that he had been forgotten; so he went to the closet where the china was kept, fetched the cup in which his milk was always given him, carried it in his teeth, and laid it down at the feet of the maid who used to milk the goat for him. I think he had earned his breakfast, don't you?

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR GOAT--"NAN."]

Another dog, who has a drinking-trough of his own, draws attention to it, if it is allowed to go dry by scratching at it, till someone fills it with fresh water.

May knows a very pretty story in verse about a little dog called Music, who did all she could to save a greyhound, Dart, from drowning, when he had gone down beneath the ice while trying to cross a frozen river. It must have been a touching thing to see her standing on the broken edge, and stretching out her paw, like a hand, to save him, while she as the poem says,

"... makes efforts and complainings, nor gives o'er Until her fellow sank, and reappeared no more."

Faithful, loving little Music failed to save her friend; but a Scotch dog was the means of saving the life of his master, as he was crossing a river on the ice. When the crash came, and he sank, he had the presence of mind to support himself by means of his gun, which lay across the broken ice.

The dog, after making attempts to save his master, seemed to understand that the only thing he could do for him was to leave him, and go in search of help. So off he ran to the next village, and pulled at the coat of the first man he saw, so earnestly, that he got the man to follow him, and was in time to save the life of the drowning man.

But more remarkable still is the story of a strange dog who seems to have been sent by G.o.d to protect a poor miner's house in his absence.

In a very lonely place in Cornwall, the house of a miner is situated among the rocks. Only he and his wife lived there, and the poor woman was often left alone far into the night, as her husband's work kept him very late.

One evening a large dog came up the hill to this cottage, and began to make himself at home there, and to make friends with the miner's wife. At first she petted him, but when it began to grow dark, she thought he ought to be going to his own home, and used every effort to send him away. But the dog would not be turned out, and at last the lonely woman allowed him to stay with her. Late at night, a noise of footsteps was heard, and she ran to open the door, as she thought, to her husband. But the dog sprang past her into the darkness, and she heard the sound of a great struggle, and then the footsteps again pa.s.sing down the path. The dog presently came back to her, but after a time she began to be alarmed lest he should have attacked and frightened--perhaps injured--her husband, as he was returning home.

Lighting a lantern, she unbarred the door, and went out into the dark night, still attended by the strange dog, who seemed resolved not to leave her. They soon met the miner on his way home, and the dog, far from springing upon him, went up to him, and then--without a word, I was going to say--disappeared into the darkness. The miner's wife could never find out anything about him, but she felt quite sure that it was G.o.d who had sent this strange protector to take care of her in her loneliness.

Now this must be nearly our last Dog-story, or we shall never have done, for there is no end to the wonderful tales which are told of the sense and kindliness and courage and faithfulness of these creatures who are so rightly called the friends of man.

You remember that wolves, foxes, and jackals are placed in the Dog-family; and if you notice the wolves at the Zoological Gardens, you will see in how many respects they resemble dogs. It is when they go about in great numbers, as they do in the east of Europe and Asia, that these animals are such dreaded foes, and devour so many defenceless sheep and cattle.

Do you not think this a wonderful account of a traveller and a wolf taking shelter together in a storm and lying down side by side? It is called

"FATHER'S STORY.

"'Little one, come to my knee!

Hark! how the rain is pouring Over the roof, in the pitch-black night And the wind in the woods is roaring.

"'Hush, my darling, and listen; Then pay for the story with kisses; Father was lost in a pitch-black night, In just such a storm as this is!

"'High up on the lonely mountains, Where the wild men watched and waited; Wolves in the forest and bears in the bush, And I on my path belated.

"'The rain and the night came together Came down, and the wind came after, Bending the props of the pine-tree roof, And snapping many a rafter.