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Cornell University Library 
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 ime useful animals and what they do for 
 3 1924 003 399 601 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003399601 
 
SOME USEFUL ANIMALS 
 
 WHAT THEY DO FOR US 
 
 BY 
 JOHN MONTEITH, M.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "FAMILIAR ANIMALS," "LIVING CREATURES," ETC. 
 AND 
 
 CAROLINE MONTEITH 
 
 PRIMARY AND ART TEACHER 
 
 
 i i 
 
 oX^o 
 
 I 
 
 
 NEW YORK ■:• CINCINNATI ■:■ CHICAGO 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
Copyright, 1903, by 
 JOHN MONTEITH. 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London. 
 
 USEFUL ANIMALS. 
 W. P. I 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The subjects treated in this little book are pri- 
 marily adapted to the use of children in the second 
 and third years of progress in reading, and have in 
 view a twofold object : to assist in nature study and 
 to give aid in the natural and rational method of 
 learning to read. The form of treatment was sug;- 
 gested by actual experience in the schoolroom and 
 in the home circle. 
 
 In the progress of information one of the first 
 steps is to introduce the child to nature and to 
 human society; in other words, to the child's en- 
 vironment. The story of animals that are emphati- 
 cally useful necessarily involves both nature and 
 human nature, inasmuch as it requires the coopera- 
 tion of animals and men to produce useful results. 
 The point of view is taken in the city, where animal 
 products are more in evidence, and where the larger 
 number of readers is found. The road leading 
 from the products to the sources of production 
 always ends in the fields, forests, and waters. To 
 trace this path from either end is nothing less than 
 a revelation to children both of the city and of the 
 country. Not one child in a thousand realizes 
 where the articles of individual and community use 
 come from, or what industry and sacrifice of life 
 and power are involved in producing them. 
 
 5 
 
As a means of conveying moral impressions, the 
 useful relations of animals furnish a resource espe- 
 cially rich and effectual. The dependence of ani- 
 mals upon human care and their submission and 
 service to a higher power and intelligence impose 
 moral responsibility, and call for the exercise of 
 justice and humanity on the part of their masters 
 and beneficiaries. Moral lessons derived from the 
 actions of animals are to children more vivid and 
 eno-ao-intr because animals are more inoenuous and 
 dramatic than men in their ways of acting. 
 
 As an aid to the young reader in mastering 
 words and sentences, the principle is here recog- 
 nized that facility in learning to read is best pro- 
 moted by making interesting knowledge the primary 
 object, and words subsidiary to thought. Historical 
 and geographical allusions passing beyond the ex- 
 perience of the child furnish his teacher or parent 
 opportunities to introduce episodes of story, history, 
 and earth study, which will serve to enhance in- 
 terest in the subject in hand, and to create a relish 
 for those regular studies yet to come with which 
 animal subjects are correlated. 
 
 While the text is fully illustrated by cuts, it is 
 always well to examine the objects themselves when 
 they are attainable. 
 
 Acknowledgment is due Messrs. Small, Maynard 
 & Co. for permission to use the poem from "The 
 Wayfarers," entitled "Caravans," by Josephine Pres- 
 ton Peabody. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 A Hunt in the House 
 A Witty Game 
 A Famous Lamb 
 Mary's Lamb (poem) 
 Everybody's Friend 
 Little Boy Blue (poem) 
 What the Sheep give Us 
 Billy and Nanny — the Goats 
 
 Our Cow 
 
 A Little Professor of Cattle 
 Tony finds Cattle in the City 
 The Red Man's Little Deer Cow 
 How Skins are Tanned . 
 The Red Man's Big Buffalo Cow 
 The Arctic Man's Deer Cow 
 The Arab's Camel Cow . 
 Caravans (poem) 
 Our Horse 
 
 Our Pig .... 
 Whose Pig is the Elephant? 
 The Bonny Club's Elephant Hunt 
 Wild Dogs .... 
 Why Jack was a Dull Boy . 
 
 Our Dog 
 
 Dog Workers and Heroes . 
 
 7 
 
 TAGE 
 
 9 
 
 13 
 15 
 18 
 
 19 
 24 
 
 24 
 
 29 
 
 34 
 41 
 
 46 
 
 53 
 59 
 63 
 69 
 
 75 
 79 
 
 81 
 
 87 
 
 94 
 
 101 
 
 109 
 
 116 
 
 121 
 128 
 
Bears 
 
 A Bear Farm .... 
 
 Something about Fur 
 
 A Detective in Fur — the Ferret 
 
 A Talk with a Furrier 
 
 Squirrels and Children 
 
 Hunting the Chinchilla 
 
 Rats and Mice 
 
 Mice as Pets .... 
 
 Our Cat and Other Cats 
 
 Clothes Moth and Silk Moth 
 
 An Hour with the Bees 
 
 Useful Singing Birds 
 
 House Sparrow and Canary 
 
 Fowls of the Farm 
 
 Ostrich Farms 
 
 Are any Animals Useless ? . 
 
 The Pearl Makers 
 
 Oyster and Sponge 
 
 Diving for Sponges 
 
 The Despised Earthworm 
 
 TAGE 
 
 133 
 138 
 
 142 
 
 '45 
 
 149 
 
 154 
 158 
 
 161 
 
 165 
 
 167 
 
 173 
 179 
 
 184 
 
 190 
 196 
 
 203 
 
 207 
 
 215 
 
 219 
 
 22 % 
 
SOME USEFUL ANIMALS 
 
 A HUNT IN THE HOUSE 
 i 
 
 Are there any animals in the house ? Let us 
 see if there are. 
 
 The kitten is playing with a ball. She is an 
 
 animal. She is all alive, 
 
 and she moves when she 
 
 wants to. 
 
 Our dog, Toots, 
 is sitting on the 
 window sill, look- 
 ing at other little 
 dogs in the street. He is alive and he can move, 
 for just now he jumped up to the window. 
 Are these two living, jumping things 
 
 useful ? Mary says they are, fc ^j] 
 
 because they please every- 
 body with their pretty ways. 
 They love and are loved. 
 It is useful to love and to 
 be loved. 
 
 9 
 
IO 
 
 ^;'i -v. 
 
 A plant is growing in a pot. Is the plant alive ? 
 Yes, indeed. How could it grow if it were not 
 alive ? Is the plant an animal ? No ; it cannot 
 move from its place, as the kitten and Toots can. 
 It is a vegetable. 
 
 Is the flower pot animal or vegetable ? Why, 
 no ; it is neither. It never 
 was alive. It cannot move 
 itself, and it does not grow. 
 The pot is made of clay, 
 which the miner dug from 
 the ground, and the potter 
 molded and then baked in a 
 hot oven. The pot is mineral, 
 like a stone. 
 
 ii 
 There are many other things 
 in the house besides the kitten, 
 the clog, the plant, and the pot. 
 All are dead ; but some are 
 mineral, and others were once 
 parts of living animals and plants. 
 
 What are the chairs made of ? They are made 
 mostly of wood that came from trees. The wood 
 in the chairs is vegetable ; the nails, screws, and 
 springs in the seat are mineral. The covers of 
 the backs and the cushions may be animal. 
 
 
1 II 
 
 One kind of chair cover is made of wool. This 
 grows on the sheep's body. Another cover is made 
 of silk. This is woven from fine thread spun by 
 silkworms. Still another cover is leather, made 
 from the cow's skin. 
 
 The pillows on the couch may have silk or 
 woolen covers ; but the covers are filled with soft 
 feathers taken from ducks and geese. 
 
 in 
 
 Animals have done a great deal for the furniture 
 of the house. Let us keep on with the hunt. 
 
 Turn to the bookcase. The shelves, of course, 
 are vegetable, because 
 they are wooden. The 
 books, too, are vege- 
 table. The paper in 
 them is made from 
 wood. The cloth covers are from cotton and flax 
 plants. The books appear to be all vegetable 
 matter. 
 
 Wait a minute ! Some of the books are covered 
 witb leather. This is animal, too, and is from 
 sheepskin, calfskin, or goatskin. Find a book with 
 the cover nearly off. 
 
 Something sticky held the leaves and the cover 
 together. This is animal again ; it is glue, and is 
 
12 
 
 made from the skins, bones, and feet of sheep, 
 cows, and dogs. 
 
 Open the piano. The black keys are of wood. 
 And the white keys, what are they ? They are 
 ivory from the elephant's tusks. Look within, at 
 the wire strings. Are they animal ? Notice the 
 soft leather on the hammers that strike the strings. 
 It is sheepskin. 
 
 Here is the sheep again, helping the elephant, 
 and the living fingers of another animal, to make 
 music in the house. 
 
 IV 
 
 What are the carpets and rugs on the floor ? 
 Sheep and wool again — all animal. Feel of your 
 outside clothes. Thank the sheep for them. And 
 your shoes ? Thank the ox, the calf, the sheep, 
 and the goat for them. 
 
 Now, clown into the pockets ! A purse ! You 
 can tell whether the money in it (if you find any) is 
 animal, vegetable, or mineral. But the purse itself 
 is animal. Can you tell why ? 
 
 Has the pig done anything to furnish the house ? 
 On the table there may be a fine book, covered 
 with pigskin. But go to the bedroom, the bath- 
 room, and the kitchen. The tooth brushes, the 
 hand brushes, the scrub brushes, and the shoe 
 brushes are all made of pigs' hair. 
 
13 
 
 The pig is called a dirty animal, but it has done 
 more than any other animal to keep the house 
 clean. 
 
 The dining table will make you think of many 
 animals that help the household. These you may 
 hunt for yourself. Then take a pen and write 
 
 down the names of all the animals that help to 
 make the household comfortable and happy. 
 
 Now ask the ink you are writing with where it 
 comes from. With the help of a pen and three 
 fingers the ink will write : " I come from a gallnut 
 that grows where a little fly stings an oak tree." 
 
 A WITTY GAME 
 
 Here is a simple game, sometimes played by 
 children, which not only pleases them but helps to 
 
sharpen their wits. The name of the game is 
 " Comey-comey," but nobody knows how it came by 
 this name. 
 
 The children are seated in a row or circle. They 
 choose a leader, whom they strangely call " It." 
 Then It thinks of some one thing in the room or 
 out of doors, and the rest of the company are to 
 guess what the thing is. 
 
 Each child, in turn, can ask three or more ques- 
 tions, or make as many guesses as the company 
 may order. The one who guesses right is to be 
 the next It. The first letter of the thing to be 
 guessed is spoken by It ; and one of the first ques- 
 tions asked is whether the thing is animal, vegetable, 
 or mineral. 
 
 The game may go on in this way : — 
 
 It (calls out). — Comey-comey ! 
 
 No. i. — What do you come by? 
 
 It. — I come by P. 
 
 No. 2.— Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral ? 
 
 It. — It is animal. 
 
 No. 3. — Is it the paper (newspaper) on the table ? 
 
 It. — No. The paper is made of wood, which is 
 vegetable. 
 
 No. 4. — Is it the plant in the flower pot? 
 
 It. — No, that is vegetable. 
 
 No. 5. — O! I know what it is. It's the pot! 
 
15 
 
 *&«:■*; 
 
 It. — Wrong again. The pot is mineral. 
 
 No. 6. (clapping hands) — I've got it ! Is it the 
 pen ? 
 
 It. — Why, no. The pen is mineral. 
 
 No. 7. — Dear me ! I never can guess the thing. 
 
 No. 8. — Is it on the 
 table ? 
 
 It — Yes. 
 
 No. 9. — Is it that picture ? 
 
 It. — No. The picture is 
 paper, and is vegetable. 
 
 No. 10. — Is it the pen- 
 wiper ? Penwiper of Wool 
 
 It. — Yes. The penwiper is made of wool, and 
 wool grows on the body of the sheep, which is 
 animal. 
 
 A FAMOUS LAMB 
 
 Almost a hundred years ago there lived in 
 Massachusetts a little girl whose name was Mary. 
 Her home was on a farm, and her father kept 
 sheep. When Mary was old enough she attended 
 the village school. The schoolhouse was almost as 
 plain and rude as a barn. 
 
 At home, Mary had a pet lamb. She fed it and 
 loved it, and the lamb followed her about like a pet 
 
i6 
 
 dot 
 
 One day, as she was starting; for school, 
 
 her brother Nate got her to take the lamb along. 
 When the two reached the schoolhouse, Mary put 
 
 the lamb under her desk. There, the little woolly 
 
 visitor quietly slept 
 until Mary was called 
 out to recite. Then 
 the lamb trotted after 
 its mistress ; and so 
 strange and sudden 
 was the sight that the 
 whole school was in 
 an uproar. 
 
 The teacher, Miss 
 Polly Kimball, was 
 amused, and smiled. 
 How could she help 
 it ? The children 
 giggled, and laughed 
 out loud. How could 
 
 they help it ? Mary was the only serious one, for 
 
 she felt very sad. She felt she had done something 
 
 that was not right. 
 
 ii 
 
 After Mary grew to be a woman, she told how 
 the school got out of this merry trouble over a 
 harmless bit of a sheep. 
 
i7 
 
 " It was rare sport for the children," she said, 
 "but I couldn't see anything funny in it. I was 
 too much ashamed to laugh or even to smile at 
 my sheep out on the floor. So I took the lamb 
 out and put it in a shed until I was ready to go 
 home ; and I thought I would go home at noon 
 that day." 
 
 On that very day when the lamb came out to 
 recite with the class there was a bright young man 
 visiting the school. He was as much pleased as the 
 children were. The next day he rode over to the 
 schoolhouse and put in Mary's hand a slip of paper 
 on which he had written three verses. 
 
 in 
 
 Some years afterwards a lady in Philadelphia 
 added two verses more. Then the little poem was 
 printed, and went abroad to touch the hearts of 
 thousands of people, young and old. This was long- 
 after the lamb was dead. 
 
 Yes, Mary's little schoolmate of one half day did 
 not live long. It met a cruel death. It was killed 
 by the horns of an ugly cow. But its snow-white 
 fleece was saved and was made into stockings. 
 
 Seventy years after, the stockings were raveled. 
 The yarn was made into rosettes with Mary's name 
 in her own hand attached. These were sold at a 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS- 
 
i8 
 
 church fair in Boston, and brought seven hundred 
 dollars. So this fleecy lover was useful long after 
 he was dead and gone. 
 
 And what became of Mary? She came to be a 
 school teacher, but it is certain that no lamb ever 
 entered her schoolroom. By and by she was 
 married, and then her name was Mrs. Tyler. 
 
 She was a great favorite with the children in the 
 town, who called her " Aunt Mary." Mrs. Tyler 
 lived to be eighty-three years old. 
 
 MARY'S LAMB 
 
 Mary had a little lamb. 
 
 Its fleece was white as snow ; 
 And everywhere that Mary went, 
 
 The lamb was sure to go. 
 
 He followed her to school one day — 
 Which was against the rule ; 
 
 It made the children laugh and play, 
 To see a lamb at school. 
 
 So the teacher turned him out, 
 
 But still he lingered near, 
 And waited patiently about 
 
 Till Mary did appear. 
 
 Then he ran to her and laid 
 His head upon her arm, 
 
19 
 
 As if he said, " I'm not afraid, — 
 You'll keep me from all harm." 
 
 " What makes the lamb love Mary so ? " 
 
 The eager children cry. 
 " Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know," 
 
 The teacher did reply. 
 
 EVERYBODY'S FRIEND 
 i 
 
 Sheep have always kept close to men, just as the 
 lamb followed Mary everywhere. They are timid 
 creatures, and cannot fight against their enemies. 
 
 A sheep is about as large as a Newfoundland 
 dog. But it has no long fighting teeth, as the aog 
 has, and no sharp claws to climb and scratch with, 
 as the cat has. It cannot run up a tree, nor into a 
 hole in the ground. 
 
 Some human friend must take care of the sheep. 
 Should a flock of sheep become frightened, all they 
 can do is to huddle together, and then run away, as 
 little girls do when they are scared. If a dog 
 chases them, they can only run, and most likely one 
 of them will be caught. 
 
 This human friend must make a pasture for the 
 sheep, where they can be safe and can eat grass. 
 When they have eaten enough grass they want to lie 
 
20 
 
 down and chew their cud as cows do. In winter, 
 they need a shed to keep off the storm, and hay, oats, 
 beans, and turnips to eat. If sheep could talk, they 
 would say to the men and boys, " Now you take care 
 of us, and drive away the wolves and mischievous 
 
 dogs that come to steal our lambs and kill us. Then 
 we will give you our wool to keep you warm." 
 
 So in the old stories the sheep and the shepherd 
 are always together. The shepherd may be the 
 Hebrew boy Davicl, who killed the lion and the 
 bear that were after his flock. Or the shepherd may 
 be an English boy, like Little Boy Blue, who grew 
 tired, while watching the sheep, and fell fast asleep. 
 
21 
 
 Cow's Hair 
 
 Men found it good for themselves to make friends 
 
 of their woolly neighbors. Long ago, men had their 
 
 eyes open, and they saw that what was good for a 
 
 sheep's coat was just as good for a man's coat. Wool 
 
 is better than cotton or 
 
 linen to make clothes 
 
 of, because it prevents 
 
 the heat of the body 
 
 from escaping. 
 
 It is easy to make 
 
 cloth of wool. Take a 
 
 pinch of dog's hair or 
 
 cow's hair and try to make the hairs stick together. 
 
 They fall, apart because they are so straight. But 
 
 the sheep's wool is full of curls, or kinks. It 
 
 holds fast together when it is pinched or rolled. 
 
 So wool is sometimes rolled into cloth, and the 
 
 cloth is made into 
 felt hats. 
 
 When Johnny's 
 grandfather was a 
 boy, it took a long 
 time and much hard 
 work to get the wool 
 from a sheep's back 
 
 and put it on a boy's back. In the month of May 
 
22 
 
 the sheep were driven to a brook or pond to have 
 
 their fleeces washed. 
 When their fleeces 
 were dry, the sheep 
 were sheared. There 
 was no fun in this for 
 the sheep. Each one 
 was held between a 
 man's knees until its 
 fleece was taken off 
 
 with a pair of shears. The fleece was then sent to 
 
 a mill where it was combed into long rolls. Each 
 
 roll was about as big 
 
 around as a man's 
 
 finger. 
 
 in 
 When the wool 
 
 came back in rolls, 
 
 Aunt Susan got out 
 
 her spinning wheel. 
 
 With her right hand 
 
 she turned a big 
 
 wheel that turned a 
 
 little wheel. She put 
 
 the roll on the little 
 
 wheel, which spun with a buzzing noise, and soon 
 
 twisted the roll into yarn. 
 
23 
 
 When one roll was twisted, Aunt Susan pinched 
 another roll on the end of it. After a while she had 
 on the spindle a string of yarn that was hundreds 
 of feet long. This was unwound, put into skeins, 
 and sent to the weaver's, where it was woven into 
 cloth. 
 
 But the weaver left the cloth loose and dirty. 
 Then it had to go to another mill, where it was 
 pounded and washed in soap suds until it was firm 
 and clean. After that the cloth was dried and 
 pressed. It was then made into a roll and sent 
 back to the farm. 
 
 There was joy in the house when the roll of cloth 
 came from the mill. But the cloth must be made 
 into clothes. So the roll had to take another journey. 
 It went to the tailor, who with his tape measured 
 the father and the boys, and with his shears cut 
 the cloth to fit them. 
 
 When the cloth came home again, Mamma, 
 Grandma, and Aunt Susan all went to work and 
 sewed winter suits for Papa and the boys. 
 
 But some of the yarn had been left for Grandma 
 to knit into stockings. And Grandma was happy. 
 By the bright blazing fire she sat knitting and sing- 
 ing, while with her foot she rocked the baby's cradle. 
 
 Is it any wonder that the sheep and the family 
 were good friends ? 
 
2 4 
 
 LITTLE BOY BLUE 
 
 Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn ; 
 
 The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn. 
 
 Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep ? 
 
 He's under the haycock, fast asleep. 
 
 Will you wake him ? " No, not I ; 
 
 For if I do, he'll be sure to cry." 
 
 WHAT THE SHEEP GIVE US 
 
 i 
 
 Very long ago, before sheep and wool were 
 known, from what did savage people make their 
 clothes ? At first garments were formed from the 
 leaves of plants; afterward from the bark of trees. 
 People who lived in cold climates had to kill wild 
 animals for food; and from the skins of these ani- 
 mals they made cloaks to keep themselves warm. 
 
25 
 
 ftig?. 
 
 They could not shear the hair of deer, wolves, 
 or rabbits. And if they could, they were not able 
 
 to spin hair into yarn, or 
 
 ; = : weave yarn into cloth. 
 
 So they had to kill the 
 
 animals and strip off 
 
 their skins with 
 
 the hair on. 
 
 What a bless- 
 ing is the sheep ! 
 It need not be 
 killed to get its 
 fleece. The shears 
 take off the wool and 
 leave the sheep alive. It 
 will be more comfortable in the hot sun without 
 its thick coat, and when May comes again, it will 
 have another fleece. 
 
 It is hard to think how many a million is ; still 
 harder to think of fifty millions. But we have in 
 our great country more than fifty million sheep, and 
 they give us in one year as many as three pounds 
 of wool for every man, woman, and child. If all 
 these sheep had to be killed, what should we do for 
 clothes next year ? 
 
26 
 
 The female sheep is called the ewe. She has a 
 fleece to give us, and she also gives milk for her two 
 lambs. When the lambs are old enough to eat 
 grass, the ewe may go on giving milk for her keeper. 
 The male sheep, or ram, often has his head crowned 
 with horns, which roll up in graceful curls. 
 
 From its small size and very small legs, one can 
 see that the sheep cannot bear burdens or draw 
 loads. 
 
 The sheep has a very little foot with two claws of 
 horn. But its body is round and plump, and gives 
 us mutton for food. When the sheep is killed for 
 mutton, its skin is made into leather. 
 
 in 
 
 Grandma used to spend a whole week in knitting 
 a pair of stockings. In these days we have ma- 
 chines to spin, knit, and weave the sheep's wool. 
 With knitting machines one woman can make over 
 one hundred pairs of stockings in a day. Other 
 machines weave cloth and sew garments made of 
 cloth. 
 
 The wonders of wool are everywhere in the house. 
 It seems as if some fairy with her wand had touched 
 the rough, dirty coat of the sheep and changed the 
 wool into all these useful and beautiful thines. 
 
 Wool is stuffed into beds and cushions. It is 
 
27 
 
 woven into tablecloths, rugs, and carpets ; and made 
 into hats, coats, trousers, waists, skirts, underclothes, 
 stockings, and blankets. It has even been ground 
 up and sprinkled over the wall paper. 
 
 Where in the house is the sheep's milk? It is 
 in the storeroom and on the table. It has been 
 changed into the dainty Rochefort cheese. Now 
 we shall see what is done with sheep after they 
 are killed. 
 
 The skin without the wool is tanned. It then 
 becomes leather. The flesh is mutton, and mutton 
 forms a large part of the meat we eat. In the city 
 of New York thousands of sheep are used for food 
 every day. They are cut into legs, loins, and chops. 
 There is also a great deal of fat which is melted into 
 tallow. This goes to make candles and soap. 
 
 IV 
 
 Leather made of sheepskin is passed through a 
 machine which splits it and makes two skins from 
 one. These are nicely dressed and colored. Of 
 these split skins, are made the tops and linings of 
 shoes, doll skins, dog collars, ball covers, purses, 
 bags, and belts. 
 
 And what is the shammy skin with which the 
 furniture is dusted and polished ? It is thin leather 
 from the sheep. We also have trunk covers, furni- 
 
28 
 
 ture covers, book covers, and gloves — all made of 
 sheepskin. Before paper was known books were 
 written on hard, dry sheepskin, called parchment. 
 
 The horns of the ram are not thrown away. So 
 long ago as when David tended sheep, the ram's horn 
 was used for a trumpet to call an army to battle. 
 To-day the horns are turned into snuff boxes and 
 handles, or with the hoofs on the feet are made into 
 glue. 
 
 No part of the sheep is wasted. The ears are 
 boiled into glue. The bones are ground into 
 powder which is spread over the fields to make the 
 crops grow. The intestines are twisted into strings 
 for the violin and the guitar. 
 
 So the sheep gives us clothes while it is alive, 
 and helps to make music after it is dead. 
 
29 
 
 BILLY AND NANNY — THE GOATS 
 
 Goats are cousins of the sheep. This means that 
 goats are in some ways like sheep. It also means 
 that they are not wholly like sheep. 
 
 In some countries goats are raised in large com- 
 panies, or herds, and roam in the fields ; but in 
 our country they are usually animals of the town. 
 Only two or 
 three run to- 
 gether. Farm- "' " " '* '"' ''"" 
 ers do not 
 like them. So 
 the farm boy 
 knows sheep, 
 but rarely sees 
 a goat. The 
 
 town boy often knows goats, but does not often 
 see a sheep. 
 
 Sheep are timid and are seldom petted. They 
 have no pet names. But goats run about town, and 
 are led by halters, or are tied to keep them from 
 mischief. They slip through the gate into the yard. 
 They even step into the kitchen and turn things over. 
 Girls and boys play with them, hitch them to carts, 
 and call the male "Billy" and the female "Nanny." 
 
30 
 
 They are not so large as sheep. Their bodies 
 are not so round and fat. Their coat is hair, with 
 a little wool under the hair. Both Billy and Nanny 
 have horns, and they are not afraid to use them. 
 There is fun and play in goats, though a long beard 
 under the chin gives them a serious look. 
 
 Billy and Nanny have horny hoofs. With these 
 they stamp on the ground, when boys plague them, 
 as if to tell the boys to behave themselves. Having 
 learned what use is made of the sheep's horns and 
 hoofs, it is easy to tell what the goat's horns and 
 hoofs are good for after the goat is dead. 
 
 Billy and Nanny eat a little grass, which they 
 swallow without chewing. When they lie down to 
 rest, the grass comes up from the stomach in small 
 lumps. After chewing the lumps fine they swallow 
 them again. For this reason goats, like cows, deer, 
 and camels, are called cud chewers. 
 
 Our goats are careless about what they eat. They 
 nibble grass, but they would as soon eat flowers, 
 rose bushes, the clothes hanging on the line, or the 
 clothesline itself. They also relish a bit of news- 
 paper, a bill posted on the fence, an old hat, or an 
 
 old shoe. 
 
 ii 
 
 It is certain that goats can live where sheep 
 would starve. Therefore goats may be useful in 
 
3i 
 
 the town or among the mountains where there is 
 little food. Sheep are dull and stupid. Goats are 
 bright and smart. The mischief they make shows 
 that they may be trained to pleasing and useful 
 work. 
 
 While Billy is a kid, he can be trained to per- 
 form tricks. A pole is set in the ground, with a 
 bit of board nailed on the top. Billy will run up 
 some steps and stand on the top of the pole, with 
 his four feet in a bunch. Kids are trained to dance 
 to music ; to wear bit and bridle ; and, as they grow 
 larger, to draw wagons. 
 
 In Central Park, New York City, is a beautiful, 
 paved street, shaded by large trees. This street is 
 called "The Mall." Here on any pleasant day may 
 be seen little carriages — very tiny they are — drawn 
 by well-behaved goats. 
 
 Some of the carriages have two goats hitched to 
 them, and some have four. All are in harness and 
 are driven just as horses are, with bits and reins. 
 By paying a nickel each, children get a merry ride 
 behind the nimble Billies and Nannies. 
 
 There are some good things to say about Nanny. 
 She will fight for her kids and will learn to work, 
 if necessary. But the best thing she does is to 
 give milk. It costs little to feed her, and many a 
 poor family is blessed with her milk. She is a good 
 
32 
 
 friend of babies and sick people, because her milk is 
 so helpful to them. 
 
 In Europe the goats are larger than those we see 
 about us. There Nanny is often kept and fed for 
 her milk. She sometimes gives as much milk as a 
 small cow. In some cities she is a walking lunch 
 stand. A little boy draws her milk and sells it by 
 the glassful to people passing by. 
 
 In the mountains of Switzerland goats carry 
 burdens on their backs, over steep and dangerous 
 places where horses cannot go. Here the little 
 horny feet do their best work. Here the goats are 
 the only milk givers that can pick a living among 
 the rocks. Here the people have plenty of goats' 
 milk and from it make excellent cheese. 
 
 in 
 
 There is yet another use for Billy and Nanny 
 while they are living. Their coats may be taken 
 off with the shears, as sheep's wool is shorn. The 
 hair is made into ropes and cloth. The wool under 
 the hair is spun into yarn. The yarn is woven into 
 rugs, shawls, and silky lace. 
 
 These finer articles are made from the long, 
 curly fleeces of beautiful goats that live in the 
 colder part of Asia. The shawls are called Cash- 
 mere shawls, because that name is given to one 
 
 o 
 
33 
 
 kind of goats. It takes a large family more than 
 a year to make one pair of shawls. But the shawls 
 are worth three thousand dollars. The most beauti- 
 ful of the silky-haired goats is the Angora of Asia. 
 Thousands of this kind are raised in our country. 
 
 Goats, like sheep, are often killed for their flesh. 
 This is not so good as mutton ; but the flesh of 
 kids is liked, and is pleasant 
 to the taste. 
 
 Goatskin, when pre- 
 pared with the hair on, 
 is used for rugs. When 
 the skin is tanned in- 
 to leather, it is firmer 
 and finer than sheep- 
 skin. It is called morocco, 
 because very long ago goat 
 leather was made only in the state of Morocco, in 
 Africa. 
 
 Morocco is dyed different colors, and is made 
 into slippers, women's and children's shoes, and 
 book covers. Kidskin makes the finest leather and 
 the finest gloves. Two pairs of gloves are cut out 
 of a single skin. To make the leather very soft and 
 easily stretched, the kids are allowed to feed on 
 nothing but milk. 
 
 In Asia, a very different use is found for goat- 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 3 
 
34 
 
 skin. The skins are pulled off nearly whole from 
 the bodies of the dead animals. Then the holes 
 made by the legs are sewed up. 
 
 In this way bottles are made — bottles that do 
 not break. They hold water, milk, or wine. The 
 Turks and Arabs use skin bottles, while traveling, 
 and for their soldiers while on the march. 
 
 Now you may make up a report about Billy and 
 Nanny. Set down against them the mischiefs they 
 do. Then make a list of their credits: How many 
 things they do to please people, young and old ; 
 how many good things living goats do; and how 
 many useful things come from dead goats. 
 
 OUR COW 
 
 i 
 
 One morning the family had just sat down to 
 breakfast. When Mrs. Burns began to pour the 
 cream into the coffee cups, she said, " Mary, where 
 do cream and milk come from ? " 
 
 Mary looked up. She was surprised. " Why, I 
 don't know," she said. "Oh, yes, I do — it comes 
 from a bottle. I've seen Jane pour the milk out. 
 The cream is on the top, and she pours that out first." 
 
 " Why, Mary ! " cried Johnny, " you're a dunce ! 
 Don't you know that milk comes from cows ? A 
 bottle isn't a cow." 
 
35 
 
 Mary confessed that she must have known this, 
 but had never thought about it before. She blushed 
 a little as she thought how stupid was her answer 
 to her mother's question. Mrs. Burns saw this and 
 said : — 
 
 " Not too fast, Johnny; perhaps we are all dunces. 
 Neither you nor Mary knows where half the things 
 we eat and wear come from. I've been reading in 
 the newspaper that most of the children in large 
 cities do not know where milk comes from, and 
 have never seen a cow. Have you ever seen a 
 cow, Johnny ? " 
 
 " No," answered Johnny, in a mild voice, " I have 
 never seen a cow that 
 I remember, but I've 
 read about cows and 
 seen their pictures." 
 
 " So you have," said 
 his mother. " Now tell 
 me how large a cow is." 
 
 mil *«■■>*;/%■:>«««> 
 
 large as 
 
 " She is as 
 a big dog," Johnny answered, as if he knew it all. 
 
 " Oh, Johnny ! " said his mother, " where did you 
 get such an idea ? I've been buying books about 
 animals for you and Mary, and now I see I must 
 help the books." 
 
 Johnny told how he got his idea. In one of his 
 
36 
 
 books there were two pictures near together; one 
 
 was of a cow, the other of a Saint Bernard dog. 
 
 The pictures were of the same size. He had seen 
 
 dogs of this kind. So he thought a cow was as 
 
 large as a big dog. 
 
 ii 
 
 The next year after this talk about cows, the 
 Burns family went into the farming country to 
 spend the summer. Before this, the children had 
 always been taken to the seaside, where they saw 
 neither country crops nor country animals. 
 
 As soon as they reached Mr. Grant's farm, the 
 children ran to the pasture to see the cows. Tony 
 Grant had gone on an errand, and they could not 
 wait for him to return and lead them. 
 
 Johnny wanted to climb over the fence and go 
 among the animals, but Mary said, " No ; they 
 have gentle, lovely eyes, but those horns are terrible, 
 and they might hurt us." The children had seen 
 hundreds of horses, and now they found that cows 
 are as large though not so high as horses. 
 
 " There ! " cried Mary, as they looked between 
 the rails of the fence, " you're as much of a dunce 
 as I. The cow is as big as ten big does." 
 
 When Tony came home he took his visitors to 
 the yard where the cows were milked. The cows 
 were chewing their cud, and with their lone tails 
 
17 
 
 were switching the flies from their hacks. Two 
 men and two women sat down by the animals and 
 began the milking. 
 
 Before the cows were milked, their udders, now 
 very full, were washed with a sponge and cold 
 water. The milkmaids, while milking:, sang- songs 
 
 to make the cows happy; for cows, if they feel 
 uneasv, often hold back their milk. 
 
 By and by the calves were let out of their pens 
 to get a share of their mothers' milk. They wagged 
 their tails to tell how happy they were. And the 
 cows, with their long, rough tongues, licked the 
 hair of their babies to make it smooth and to 
 show their love. 
 
38 
 
 in 
 
 When the children returned to the house they 
 found Mr. Grant, wearing a large straw hat, sit- 
 ting on the porch. Mrs. Burns had told him how 
 little the children knew about animals, and he 
 was ready to talk with them, as soon as they were 
 introduced. 
 
 " You see," he said with a smile, " that a cow is 
 bigger than a big dog, don't you, Master Johnny ? " 
 " Yes, indeed," answered Johnny ; " as big as ten 
 big dogs." 
 
 " Not quite. A large sheep is about as big as a 
 Saint Bernard dog. A cow is eight times as large 
 as a sheep, and twenty-five times as large as a billy 
 eoat. You know something of goats. We don't 
 keep them, they are such little rascals on the farm. 
 But you saw that cows are in some ways like goats 
 and sheep." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Johnny; "all eat grass and chew 
 the cud, have horns and split hoofs, 
 and give milk." 
 
 " Right ! " said Mr. Grant ; " but you 
 saw that our black cow has no horns. 
 We call such a cow a ' muley.' You 
 saw, too, that a cow has four nipples 
 on her milk bag; the sheep and goat have but 
 two." 
 
39 
 
 " Do tell us all about cows, please do, Mr. Grant," 
 said Mary. " We've been trying to learn from our 
 books." 
 
 rv 
 
 " It is well to learn from books," said Mr. Grant, 
 " but it is better to learn from the cows themselves. 
 I can tell you only a few things now. The cow is 
 a wonderful machine. She eats grass and turns it 
 into milk. 
 
 " You people in the city must have milk as well 
 as we farmers. You need it for your tea and 
 coffee, and for your cakes and puddings ; and above 
 all for the babies to drink. Do you know how 
 many cows have to be milked every day for your 
 great city ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said Mary, " but I should think a great 
 many hundreds." 
 
 " Hundreds ! " said Mr. Grant. " Why, it takes 
 nearly a hundred and fifty thousand cows to give 
 your great city one day's milk. It takes a million 
 men and women to milk all the cows in the country. 
 If it rains hard, you may stay at home from school ; 
 but the cows must be milked, morning and evening, 
 rain or shine." 
 
 Turning to Mary, Mr. Grant said, " I suppose you 
 could get along without sheep for a year, couldn't 
 you ? You could wear your old clothes." 
 
40 
 
 "I don't see how we could," answered Mary; "it 
 would be dreadful ! " 
 
 " Yes, you could, if you had to," said the farmer. 
 " But the people could not get along without the 
 cow's milk for even one day. Not only would the 
 babies cry, but the old folks would cry too. 
 
 " In the whole United States there is by count 
 one cow for every four people. This animal is not 
 mine alone, but everybody's — the rich man's cow, 
 the poor man's cow, the old man's cow, and the 
 baby's cow. 
 
 " I haven't told you of the butter and cheese made 
 from the cow's milk. Trainloads of these are sent 
 every clay to the cities. Shiploads of them go 
 abroad to other countries. Anthony (Tony, we call 
 him) will take you to the creamery where butter is 
 made, and to the factory where cheese is made. 
 
 " When I was a boy each farmer made his own 
 cheese. It took all the fresh milk of one farm to 
 make one cheese, which was pressed under a heavy 
 stone. Now, the milk of many farms is taken every 
 day to a factor}', where the cheese is made by 
 machinery." 
 
 The children had many more lively talks with 
 this clever farmer. Even Tony learned much that 
 he did not know before. And for all the children 
 there were many things vet to learn. 
 
4i 
 
 A LITTLE PROFESSOR OF CATTLE 
 
 i 
 
 One bright morning in October Mary Burns 
 was looking- out at the window when she saw, com- 
 ing up the steps, a boy about ten years old. " Why, 
 if there isn't Tony Grant!" she cried. "Johnny, 
 Johnny! here is Tony!" 
 
 Her brother left his bicycle, which he was fixing, 
 and the two rushed to the door. They shook both 
 of Tony's hands and told him how well he looked. 
 Tony smiled and blushed as he said, " I thought I 
 never would get here." 
 
 Then Tony, who had never been in the city 
 before, described the hard time he had trying to get 
 uptown. A friend had put him on a street car and 
 told him to get off at One Hundred and Fifteenth 
 Street. He counted the streets crossed, but counted 
 wrong, and stopped at One Hundredth Street. Then 
 he took another car and went ten blocks too far. 
 
 " I was frightened when I got off the car," said 
 Tony, "for I thought the wagons and bicycles 
 would run over me. I don't like cities much. They 
 are so noisy and close. I don't see how you can 
 breathe or sleep." 
 
 The children laughed, and then Mary almost 
 cried. " You poor boy ! " she said, " they ought 
 
42 
 
 never to have let you come alone. Come right in, 
 and we will make you happy. We had such a 
 lovely time at your home last summer." 
 
 Mrs. Burns soon came downstairs and made the 
 little country boy feel at home. She had invited 
 Tony to visit Johnny and Mary before the pleasant 
 October was gone. The children, she said, would 
 take him to the parks and museums, and show him 
 the ocean steamships. 
 
 "And then," she added, " we have been learning 
 and reading about cows and cattle since we came 
 back from your father's farm, and you can help us. 
 You know so much about these things." 
 
 " Yes," said Tony, " I know all about cows, but 
 I don't know anything about street cars and cities. 
 I counted a hundred and fourteen streets, and that 
 didn't get me here." 
 
 The children laughed again ; but Mrs. Burns told 
 Tony that grown people make as great mistakes, and 
 then Tony felt better. 
 
 II! 
 
 At the dinner table, when the soup was served, 
 Mrs. Burns said : " Here, Tony, is something to 
 make you think of cattle. This is ox-tail soup." 
 
 " O.x-tail soup ! " cried Tony ; " I never heard of 
 
43 
 
 such a thing. We don't make soup of cattle tails. 
 The tails always go along with the hides." 
 
 "Not always," said 'Mrs. Burns; "the butchers 
 get some of them. But here comes the roast beef. 
 This is from the cow, isn't it ? " 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
 -■■■■ '■ : ■ ■ 1 
 
 ■■- - --",.-■ = - - - -::-:-. — -■■■--■: -"^J" ■ :■ . - ■ _1T V- .. 
 
 mm 
 
 " No, ma'am, I think not," said Tony ; " I guess 
 the beef is steer's meat. If the cows were killed 
 for beef, where would we get milk ? " 
 
 Tony had started a new idea, for his young 
 friends thought both milk and beef came from 
 
44 
 
 cows. Finally Johnny asked, " What is a steer ? 
 You never said anything about steers when we 
 were at your farm." 
 
 " No, because we haven't any. Why, a steer," 
 said Ton)', laughing at Johnny's ignorance, " a 
 steer is nothing but a young ox. You know what 
 an ox is, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mary ; " we've been hunting a good 
 deal after oxen." 
 
 " And you have found a piece of a young ox right 
 here on the table," said Mr. Burns. " Really, this is 
 a nice little farmers' college, and we have with us a 
 little Professor of Cattle." Tony grew red in the 
 face now, when the children called him professor. 
 
 At last, ice cream and lemon jelly were brought 
 to the table. " Surely," said Mrs. Burns, " you must 
 say that something from the cow is coming now." 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am ; ice cream is made of milk and 
 cream. My mother makes it for Fourth of July 
 and picnics." 
 
 " Is there anything else from the cow or from the 
 steer in ice cream and lemon jelly ? " Mrs. Burns 
 asked. " There's sugar and something they call 
 ' extract,' " answered Tony. " But I don't see how- 
 there can be anything from the cow in the jelly. 
 There's no milk or cream in it." 
 
 " We will let the ice cream and jell)- pass now," 
 
45 
 
 said Mrs. Burns, with a sly glance at Johnny and 
 Mary. Then all went upstairs into the sitting 
 room. Tony felt that there was still something 
 about ice cream and jelly that he did not understand. 
 
 IV 
 
 Mary played a lively tune on the piano. Then 
 her mother asked, " Now, children, what were you 
 
 . ony came r 
 
 • how they draw heavy loads, 
 
 learning about before 
 
 "It was about oxen - 
 and pull plows and 
 heavy logs," answered 
 Johnny. 
 
 " That is right," 
 said his mother; "and 
 I told you that two 
 oxen are joined to- * -- 
 gether by a wooden 
 yoke resting on their necks, 
 reaches from the yoke to the wagon or plow. Tony, 
 does your father use oxen ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am ; he did work oxen several years ago, 
 but now he uses only horses for w r ork." 
 
 " Do you ever use cows for work on the farm ? " 
 asked Mrs. Burns. 
 
 " Why, no," answered Tony, in surprise ; " I never 
 heard of such a funny thing as making cows work." 
 
 A long, heavy chain 
 
4 6 
 
 " Then you have something yet to learn about 
 cows," said Mrs. Burns. " Here are some pictures 
 that will show you how oxen and cows are made to 
 work in Germany and Austria. 
 
 " Heavy straps of leather are fastened around 
 their foreheads. The animals pull with their heads. 
 Our oxen pull with their shoulders. Sometimes a 
 single ox is fastened to a wagon. And a cow is 
 often made to work in the same way. She fre- 
 quently draws a wagon that is loaded partly with 
 her own milk." 
 
 The little professor found that he did not know 
 all about cows, though he lived on a farm. But 
 Tony was tired. He had been to see the sights all 
 day long, and was quite ready to go to bed and 
 dream of the cattle at his quiet country home. 
 
 TONY FINDS CATTLE IN THE CITY 
 i 
 
 Tony Grant found the big city a real school. 
 Every minute while he was awake he was learning 
 something. Just now, while waiting for dinner, he 
 is standing on the curbstone looking at everything 
 going on in the street. 
 
 While Mary is watching Tony, she says softly to 
 her mother, " Mamma, I've been thinking that 
 
47 
 
 country children don't know any more about 
 country things than city children know about city 
 things." 
 
 " You are right, my dear," said her mother ; 
 " most people know little of the things that are just 
 around them, and we shall soon see how many 
 uses of cattle are new to Tony." 
 
 After dinner and a little music from Mary's fin- 
 gers, all went to the library where Mr. Burns was 
 reading his newspaper. " We are now to learn 
 about cattle after they are killed," said Mrs. Burns. 
 " What is the first thing to be done after a cow or 
 steer is killed ? " 
 
 " Take his hide off," said Tony, quickly. 
 
 " You call a large skin a hide," said Mrs. Burns. 
 " Now what is done with the hide ? " 
 
 " It is rolled up and sold to a man who takes it to 
 a tanner, and the tanner makes it into leather," said 
 Tony. The little professor was now getting near 
 the end of his knowledge. 
 
 " What is done with the hair on the skin, Tony ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I never thought of that," an- 
 swered the farm boy. " I suppose they scrape it off 
 and throw it away." 
 
 Mary clapped her hands and laughed. " Now, 
 Tony," she said, " we've got the start of you. Look 
 right over there on the corner where that new 
 
4 8 
 
 building is going up. The other day we saw the 
 men there mixing cattle hair with the mortar which 
 they were going to plaster the wall with. The hair 
 makes the mortar stick together." 
 
 " And what is done with the leather ? " asked 
 Mrs. Burns. 
 
 " Oh, the leather is made into boots 
 and shoes for men," said Tony. 
 
 " What are your shoes made of, 
 Tony ? " Mrs. Burns then asked. 
 " Mine are made of calfskin. Cow- 
 hide is too stiff for boys' shoes." 
 
 Just then Mr. Burns laid down his newspaper 
 and, looking very pleasant, said : " I shall have to 
 take a hand in this leather business, for I have 
 a large shoe factory which the children will show 
 you, Tony. I use a great deal of leather. Let 
 me see your shoe." 
 
 Mr. Burns felt of Tony's shoe. " When you 
 bought those shoes you were perhaps told that they 
 were calfskin, but they are not, though the leather 
 is thin. They are of cowhide or steerhide." 
 
 " How can that be, papa," asked Johnny, "when 
 those hides are so thick ? They are used for the 
 soles of shoes." 
 
49 
 
 " That is true, Johnny," said Mr. Burns ; " but 
 after the cowhides or steerhides are tanned for 
 leather, they are put into a machine that splits 
 them, as I am splitting this pasteboard with my 
 knife. In this way one thick hide is split into four 
 or five thin sheets of leather." 
 
 " Why, papa ! " cried Mary, " why did you never 
 tell us this before ? " 
 
 " Because I never thought you would care to 
 know. Some of the split sheets are 
 made smooth and black on one side 
 for shoes. Some are made rough, %J P , g 
 or pebbled, and are used for car- 
 riage tops. Others are covered with a hard, shiny 
 surface, for patent-leather shoes, and for harness 
 and carriage trimmings." 
 
 " Now, Johnny," said Mrs. Burns, " tell Tony 
 some articles that are made of leather." 
 
 " Well," Johnny said, "the chair Tony is sitting 
 on is covered with it, and his shoes are made of it. 
 The harness on the horses, and the belts men wear 
 are also made of leather. I think Mary's belt is 
 cowhide." 
 
 " No, indeed ! Some belts are, but mine is not. 
 It is morocco," said Mary. " And you forgot, 
 Johnny, to speak of the blacksmith's apron which 
 we saw when we were visiting Tony." 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS 4 
 
5o 
 
 in 
 
 " Yes, Mary," said her mother, smiling, " and you, 
 perhaps, have forgotten some things too. Leather 
 does a great deal to move the machinery in 
 mills. You know what the chain on your bicycle 
 does. In the same way, in the mills, leather belts 
 help big wheels to turn little wheels. And you, 
 Mary, forgot to speak of Uncle Sam's mail bags." 
 
 " So you see, Tony," said Mrs. Burns, " that cow- 
 hide in the city is tramping about on a half million 
 feet ; trotting on the backs of horses ; riding with 
 the carriages, and moving the machines. Leather 
 is almost as lively as the living skin on your cows' 
 backs." 
 
 Tony opened his eyes wide, but was silent. He 
 was thinking. 
 
 "Now, Mary," said Mrs. Burns, "it is your turn. 
 Can you tell what is done with the steer's body after 
 the skin is taken off ? Some clay you may have 
 charge of a kitchen of your own, and you will need 
 to know these things." 
 
 Mary began to count on her fingers : " The body 
 is cut up into roasts, and steaks, and pieces for 
 corned beef and for soup. Beef's liver, kidneys, and 
 heart are good food. The calves, after their skins 
 are taken for fine leather, give us veal, calf'sdiead 
 mold, and calf's-foot jelly." 
 
5i 
 
 " How about ice cream and lemon jelly? " Johnny- 
 asked with a laugh. 
 
 "Be still, Johnny! you spoil my counting," said 
 Mary, bluntly. " The nice fat, or suet, is used for 
 cooking. The rough fat is melted into tallow, and 
 all the scraps go for soap. Mamma's grandmother 
 used to make tallow candles. The skins of 
 the bowels are nicely prepared and are used 
 for covering Bologna sausages." 
 
 IV 
 
 "And now, Master John," said Mrs. Burns, "I will 
 explain your lemon jelly. Calf's-foot jelly thickens 
 itself. But the feet, the skin on the head, and other 
 pieces of skin are soaked and pounded into a paste. 
 When this is dry it becomes gelatin. 
 
 This gelatin is mixed with fruit juice, and turns 
 the juice to jelly. A little is put into ice cream to 
 make it smooth and to hold it together. Are there 
 any other useful things that come from cattle?" 
 Mrs. Burns asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes, many, many things," said Mr. Burns. 
 " I will leave you to find out all the useful and nice 
 articles that are made of the horns and bones. I see 
 one of them fastening Mary's collar. In South 
 America the cowboys use the cattle's skulls with the 
 horns on for chairs." 
 
"There's the glue in the chairs and furniture," 
 cried Johnny. 
 
 " The hair in the plaster and paper of the walls," 
 added Mary. "And look at that horn paper cutter; 
 at that leather music roll on the piano ; and at the 
 beautiful cover on this book. Oh, yes, and we for- 
 got the ends of the cows' tails that are used to fill 
 mattresses with." 
 
 Johnny was looking out at the window. "Come 
 quick ! " he cried. " Look at those men going to 
 their work. Each man has a leather box to carry 
 his dinner in." 
 
 " I think I can beat that," said Mr. Burns. 
 " Mary, bring me that box of pills on the mantel. 
 There ! " said he, after the box was placed in his 
 hand, " don't you see ? Each pill is a box made of 
 gelatin, so that, in swallowing the pill, you don't 
 taste the bitter medicine. Why, the cow even helps 
 us to take our medicine ! " 
 
 " Tony, you are getting sleepy," said Mrs. Burns. 
 " I hope our cows have not tired you out. I am sorry 
 you must go to-morrow; but you'll come again." 
 
 Tony's eyes brightened as he said : " Good night! 
 I never had such a good time in my life. I shall think 
 a great deal more of the cows when I get home." 
 
 " And give my kind regards to the cows," said 
 Johnny, with a laugh. 
 
53 
 
 THE RED MAN'S LITTLE DEER COW 
 
 Once this country in which we live was 
 the Red Man's country. Almost 
 three hundred years ago the first 
 white people came over from Eng- 
 
 jp\ land in their little ships. When 
 
 wl the white people landed they found 
 1 £%i. , . * .. . 
 
 they were in a wild country among 
 
 wild people. These wild people we 
 
 now call Indians. They had red 
 
 skins and long, black hair. The 
 
 land was covered with forests. In 
 
 these woods lived many kinds of wild animals, such 
 
 as deer, bears, wolves, wild ducks and geese, and 
 
 turkeys. 
 
 The Red Men could not cut down the trees, for 
 
 they had no sharp axes. And besides, they did not 
 
 wish to clear away the forest ; for if the trees were 
 
 gone, the animals would go. These animals gave 
 
 the Red Men meat and clothes. They had no 
 
 sheep, no cats, no chickens. 
 
 Did the Red Men have any cows? No, they had 
 
 no cows such as we have. Cattle were first brought 
 
 to America by the white people. The Indians had 
 
 no cow's milk for their babies to drink. They had 
 
54 
 
 no butter, no cheese, no ice cream. The women, 
 or squaws, raised little patches of corn. They 
 pounded the grain with stones, and of the meal 
 they made cakes which they baked at the fire. 
 
 The deer was the Red Man's cow. It did for 
 him almost everything that our cow does for us — 
 everything except to give him milk. The deer was 
 a wild, timid, frisky, jumping little 
 cow. The deer 
 must be called a 
 little cow, for we 
 shall see by and 
 by that the In- 
 dian had a very 
 big cow. 
 The deer's body 
 is not nearly so large as the body of our cow. The 
 common red deer weighs a little more than a large 
 sheep, and is about five feet long and three feet 
 high. Its legs are long and very slender. 
 
 The deer's feet are like the feet of our cow, sheep, 
 and goat. It chews the cud, and all cud chewers are 
 useful animals. The female deer — the doe — o-ives 
 milk for its little one — the fawn — but there is no 
 milk to spare for the Red Man. 
 
 
55 
 
 Look at the deer's horns. They are like the 
 branches of a dead tree. The cow's horns are hol- 
 low, so that they have been used for boxes and for 
 King Alfred's lantern. The deer's horns are solid, 
 like a piece of hard wood or a stone. The male, or 
 buck, alone has horns. The horns drop off every 
 year, and new ones grow. 
 
 The Red Man had great need of this small cow, 
 though it was not easy to kill it with a bow and 
 arrow. While alive, the deer did nothing for the 
 Red Man. It could not be made to carry burdens 
 or to draw loads. But when the dead deer was 
 brought home, it was like a store full of goods and 
 made the whole family happy. 
 
 Let us see how many comforts the little deer 
 brought to the wigwam in which the family lived. 
 
 in 
 
 The wigwam itself was partly covered with deer 
 skins sewed together. A hole was left in the top of 
 the wigwam to let the smoke out. Under the hole, 
 on the ground, the fire was built. Around the 
 fire deerskin rugs were spread to sit on. 
 
 Bedsteads, a little like our cots, were made of 
 poles. Between the poles fresh skins were stretched. 
 As the skins grew dry the beds became tight. The 
 bed covers also were of hairy skins. 
 
5 6 
 
 Fine, soft leather was made from the skins. From 
 this leather were cut all sorts of bags and pouches, 
 shirts, and the moccasins worn for shoes. Shells 
 were used for money, and these were strung on a 
 leather belt. Winter cloaks were made from the 
 skins with the hair left on. 
 
 The red babies were wrapped in soft furs taken 
 from various fur animals. The cradle was a flat 
 
 piece of wood, covered 
 with hairy skin. The 
 baby was bound to the 
 cradle with a skin, and 
 looked like a young robin 
 in its nest. By a long 
 piece of skin the squaw 
 swung the cradle on her 
 back, or hung it on a 
 >W tree to be rocked by the 
 wind. 
 
 Red boys would not be boys if they did not play. 
 They played with wooden bows and arrows. The 
 strings of their bows, like those of their fathers, 
 were the cords or sinews of the deer — three sinews 
 twisted into one string. The boys played "shin- 
 ney," or "hockey," with balls of deerskin and crooked 
 bats of wood. This was their game of golf. 
 
 The Red Men needed snowshoes for walking 
 
57 
 
 on the top of deep snow. These were formed of 
 wooden frames, with strips of skin woven across. 
 Shields for turning away arrows in the fight, and 
 drums for the dance were made of hoops with bare 
 skins stretched upon them. 
 The drumsticks were rolls of 
 skin filled with little stones 
 to make them rattle. 
 
 Knives, spoons, fishhooks, 
 and needles were cut 
 from the deer's bones. Of 
 the shoulder bones the 
 squaws made hoes and 
 plows. The horns of the 
 deer were shaped into han- 
 dles for tools ; the sinews 
 were used for fishing lines ; 
 and the tails were worn for ornaments on cloaks 
 and headdresses. 
 
 IV 
 
 The deer's flesh is called venison. It is a dainty 
 and costly dish for white people in these days. But 
 venison was the Red Man's everyday meat. The 
 squaws broiled and roasted it over the fire, or boiled 
 it in an earthen pot. 
 
 Deer's feet, when boiled, formed a delicious gela- 
 tin, which the babies could eat. From the feet glue 
 
58 
 
 also was made, and this was used as a dressing for 
 the red people's hair, and for the shield, to make it 
 hard and smooth. 
 
 When the white people came, they wanted many 
 of the good things that come from the Red Man's 
 little deer cow, and the Red Man wanted many 
 things which the white man made. The white 
 people sold to the Indians blankets and guns. The 
 Indians paid for these things with the horns, skins, 
 and meat of the deer, and with moccasins which 
 the squaws made. 
 
 By and by the Red Men were driven back farther 
 and farther, and white men hunted the deer with 
 shotguns and rifles. So it has come about that we 
 find in our houses many articles to remind us of the 
 Red Mans little deer cow, once so free and so 
 abundant. 
 
 v 
 
 Handles for carving knives and forks, and for 
 pocket knives, are made of cleer horns. In Europe 
 is found a fine large deer called the stag. Stag 
 horns are there used for umbrella stands, hatstands, 
 and for hanging lamps on. The horns are also cut 
 into ornaments, pins, and bracelets. 
 
 Many Indians are still making moccasins and 
 slippers of deerskin, or buckskin, as it is called. 
 With the hair and with beads the Indians work 
 
59 
 
 pretty figures in the moccasins. Oyr hunters have 
 found nothing better than moccasins to wear while 
 hunting. These shoes are so soft that the hunter 
 can tread over the leaves as quietly as a cat. 
 
 Buckskin is not only soft, but it wears well, and is 
 easily stretched. It is made into 
 hunting trousers, tobacco bags, 
 and cases for pocket knives 
 and jewelry ; but most of all 
 it is used for making- gloves. 
 No kind of leather is so comfortable 
 for the hands that work. 
 
 There is a town in northern New York called 
 Gloversville. In this town the making of buckskin 
 gloves began nearly a hundred years ago, and is 
 still carried on. 
 
 HOW SKINS ARE TANNED 
 
 With the help of a knife, made of a sharp stone 
 or a bone, the Red Men stripped the skin from 
 an animal in the same way as they peeled the bark 
 from a tree. The fresh skin would be a heavy and 
 unpleasant thing to use, because it would soon 
 spoil and decay, or grow hard and stiff. It must 
 be prepared so that it will be dry and soft like 
 cloth. 
 
h 
 
 60 
 
 Changing fresh skins into leather is a great in- 
 dustry among civilized people. First they take off 
 the hair by sweating the skins in a close room and 
 by washing them in limewater — all this is to 
 loosen the hair. Then they use machines for 
 scraping off the hair and flesh and fat. After that 
 the skins are soaked for a time in a liquor 
 made of oak or hemlock bark. In this 
 bark, and in that of some other plants, 
 there is something called tannin. 
 
 Great use is made of the oak tan in 
 tanning leather. From its use the skin 
 becomes firm and tight and of a yellowish 
 §| color. After this treatment there are ma- 
 chines for rolling the skin, polishing it, and 
 putting on a coat of black, if desired. When 
 all this has been done, the skin is said to be 
 tanned and is called leather. 
 
 The Red Men made from skins the same 
 kind of leather, but in a simpler way, and without 
 blacking it. These people kept very close to nature. 
 When they wanted a knife, or a hatchet, or a hoe, 
 they made the tool from a stone, or a bone, with 
 very little change. They were not civilized. When 
 we want such tools, they are made from iron and 
 by machines ; and this is one reason why we are 
 called civilized. 
 
6i 
 
 The busy squaws did all the work, and they 
 seemed to like it. After a skin had been taken 
 from an animal, if they did not choose to tan it 
 immediately, they spread it on a bush to dry. The 
 early settlers in our country used to stretch the 
 fresh skin and fasten it on the outside of the log 
 cabin. 
 
 Jf the squaws wished to tan the skin at once, 
 
 they spread it. on the ground and scraped all the 
 flesh and fat off with a bone hoe. Or sometimes 
 the squaw would take a piece of wood as large 
 around as a small stovepipe, rest one end on the 
 ground, and press her breast against the other end. 
 Then the raw skin was laid over the wood, and 
 the squaw scraped it with a long bone having a 
 sharp edge. This bone was a rib or the small bone 
 
62 
 
 from the leg of a deer. The ends were wound with 
 dried skin for handles, and the tool was worked like 
 a carpenter's shave or drawknife. 
 
 After it was cleaned, the skin was rubbed all 
 over with the brains and liver of the animal, and 
 warm broth from boiled meat was poured upon it. 
 This did for the skin what the oak tan does for 
 our leather. While wet, the skin was scraped with 
 sharp stones and hoes until it was dry. A rope of 
 sinews was twisted and stretched between two trees. 
 Over this two squaws drew the skin back and forth 
 until it was soft. 
 
 If the skin was to have the hair or fur left on, 
 the work was done only on the flesh side. But for 
 covering huts, and for leggings and moccasins, the 
 hair had to be removed. So they packed away the 
 skin to sweat it, just as we white people do, and 
 left it until it began to spoil. Then the hair was 
 scraped off with the bone scraper, as the flesh and 
 fat had been cleaned away from the other side. 
 
 There was scarcely any end to the rubbing of the 
 leather between the coarse red hands of the squaws. 
 It was rubbed until it was perfectly soft and limber. 
 Leather to be used by the men in hunting and in 
 the outside weather was smoked over a fire of 
 rotten wood. After the deerskin or buffalo skin was 
 completely dressed by the squaws, it was as fine 
 
63 
 
 and nice as the white man's buckskin or bearskin 
 robe. 
 
 Do you not think the squaws were almost as 
 bright and skillful, in some ways, as white people? 
 
 THE RED MAN'S BIG BUFFALO COW 
 
 i 
 
 Johnny and Mary sometimes visited the animal 
 garden, which they called the Zoo. There they saw 
 many of the animals alive which they had read 
 about in books. 
 
 On one of these visits they hurried to the buffalo 
 yard. The name on the fence was Bison, which 
 is the right name. To the children the huge beast 
 they saw was exactly like the pictures they had seen 
 of the buffalo. They did not like the name bison. 
 
 First they looked at the male buffalo — the bull. 
 " An ugly beast," said Johnny. " I don't think so," 
 Mary said ; " he is a grand fellow." 
 
 " But see those huge shoulders," Johnny replied, 
 " with the long hair hanging down almost to the 
 ground, and that beard under his chin. Then he 
 tapers off so small behind." 
 
 But Mary thought his black eyes were bright, and 
 that the horns on the sides of his head were very 
 graceful. She would like to see him wild, galloping 
 
6 4 
 
 over the plain — he looked so sad and disappointed 
 in that narrow pen. 
 
 Now, while these youngsters are peeping between 
 the rods of the fence, and are talking about the 
 lordly bull and the meek-looking cow, let us turn 
 back to the Red Men. To them the buffaloes were 
 real cows. 
 
 n 
 
 When the first white people came here from 
 England there were no buffaloes near the seacoast. 
 The eastern part of the country was covered with 
 forest trees. 
 
 The forest is a good place for the little deer 
 cow, bounding through the bushes and eating buds 
 and nuts, but a bad place for the big buffalo 
 cow. Buffaloes are too large to dodge among 
 the trees and logs. They live in great herds, and 
 must have an open country where the wild grass 
 grows. 
 
 When the white people went west to the wild 
 pastures where Illinois now is, they found many 
 buffaloes. At the first sight of them, the white 
 men called them "humpbacked cows." In the far 
 West, beyond the Great River, these animals were 
 also too numerous to be counted. In all the grassy 
 country from what is now Montana to the Gulf of 
 Mexico there were millions of buffaloes. 
 
65 
 
 In the same land of plain and grass were large 
 tribes of Red Men. What brought them there ? It 
 was the buffaloes. The Indians could not eat the 
 grass. The little corn and the few pumpkins they 
 raised would not keep them from starving. But they 
 could eat some of these big cattle and get many 
 useful things from them. 
 
 V-.'- 
 
 1 { " l 
 
 The buffalo is more like our cow than is the 
 deer. Once every year the deer's horns fall off and 
 new ones grow. The buffalo's horns, which are 
 hollow, like our cow's horns, remain during life. 
 Buffaloes cannot be made to work, and the cows 
 among them are never milked. 
 5 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS - 
 
66 
 
 in 
 
 The buffalo bull is ten times as large as the 
 common deer. One would think him a terrible 
 foe to meet on the plain ; but he is not. He 
 never attacks a man ; yet both the bull and cow 
 will fight wolves that sneak about to steal the buf- 
 falo calves. 
 
 These wild cattle were so numerous and so useful 
 that they supplied almost all the wants of thousands 
 and thousands of Indians. 
 
 The wigwam of the western Indians was a large 
 tent, fifty feet in diameter. Several families lived 
 in one wigwam. It was covered with buffalo skins 
 sewed together. One of the skins would spread 
 over as much roof as four deer skins. The hair 
 of the deerskin is short and straight, while that of 
 the buffalo skin is long and curly, giving greater 
 comfort and beauty to the wigwam. 
 
 At night the families gathered around the bright 
 fire. The black-eyed babies played with skin rattles. 
 The men smoked long pipes and told fairy tales to 
 the children. All sat on the curly buffalo rugs. 
 They had a jolly time. 
 
 The skins were hung on the walls of the wigwam 
 to keep out the cold. The thick hide of the ani- 
 mal's neck was cut into war shields, which were 
 hardened with glue made from the feet. The long 
 
6 7 
 
 hair of the bull's neck was twisted into ropes. 
 Strings were cut from the hides, and used for tying 
 moccasins and bundles. 
 
 A large deer would weigh about two hundred 
 pounds; a middle-sized buffalo, fifteen hundred 
 pounds. Such an animal, after it was killed, made 
 a large mass of meat. It had to be cut in pieces 
 before it could be taken home. Then what was 
 done with it ? 
 
 IV 
 
 Some of the meat was given to the neighbors. 
 Pieces of it were roasted in mud ovens heated by a 
 fire above and a fire below. Chunks of the meat 
 were hung on trees to dry. When dry they were 
 wrapped in hides and buried in the ground for use 
 in winter time. 
 
 One tribe of Indians was called Stone Boilers. 
 They boiled buffalo meat in skin pots, heating the 
 water with red-hot stones. The pot of meat was 
 always boiling. It was for all. Anybody passing 
 by could step to the pot and take all he wanted. 
 The Indians had no beggars. 
 
 The dried meat was often pounded fine in a hol- 
 low stone, then mixed with tallow and packed in a 
 bladder. This was the Indian's food when making 
 a journey. Tallow was also mixed with other food, 
 and was rubbed on leather to make it soft. 
 
68 
 
 These western Reel Men had neatly carved war 
 clubs; hoes for digging; whistles, and musical 
 instruments. All these things were made of buffalo 
 bones. 
 
 The buffalo head was dried with the horns on. 
 In the buffalo dance each man wore one of these 
 hideous skulls. The marrow in the bones was 
 made into yellow butter, which was eaten with corn 
 cakes. 
 
 From the horns, spoons, ladles, and polished 
 jewels for the squaws' headdresses were carved. 
 The sinews were used for thread and bowstrings. 
 The end of the tail, with its brush of hair, was used 
 as an ornament for the warrior's head. 
 
 When the Spaniards came to America they 
 brought horses. These animals ran wild and multi- 
 plied rapidly. The Indians learned to catch them 
 with lassoes — long ropes of buffalo hide. With 
 horses to ride, the Reel Men killed more buffaloes, 
 which they sold to the white people. 
 
 The white people wanted the buffalo's hump and 
 tongue for food, and the curly-haired skins for 
 carriage robes and overcoats. So finally both the 
 Red Men and the white men killed thousands and 
 millions of these grand cattle. Now there remain 
 but a few hundreds of the once numerous buffalo 
 cattle of the happy Red Men. 
 
6 9 
 
 THE ARCTIC MAN'S DEER COW 
 
 All kinds of people must have food to eat and 
 clothes to wear. If their country is warm all 
 the year, they may eat rice, bananas, and dates. 
 
 From plants they may make such clothes as they 
 need. 
 
 In some warm countries there is no animal to 
 take the place of the cow, and in these the people 
 use the milk from cocoanuts. In other warm coun- 
 tries, like the Philippine Islands, the people tame the 
 
7° 
 
 wild buffalo and train it to do the work of an ox. 
 This animal gives milk like a cow. 
 
 In the central part of Asia, where the winter is 
 cold, there is a wild cow which has very long hair. 
 This cow is called the yak. It is tamed, and fur- 
 nishes milk, warm skins, and meat. The Hindus 
 use the tail of the yak for a fly brush, and the 
 Chinese dye it red to wear on the hat. 
 
 But there are people in the far North who live 
 in the biting, bitter cold, where grass and corn 
 and fruits will not grow. How do they get food and 
 clothes ? Some of them live in houses made of 
 snow and ice. For several months in the year the 
 sun shines but little on them. If they are near the 
 seacoast, they may catch fish and large water ani- 
 mals, which furnish them with food and with oil to 
 burn. But these people need a cow. 
 
 These short, brown-faced, half-wild people — the 
 Eskimos — live far north of the United States. 
 They have a little deer cow which they call the 
 caribou. It is a wild reindeer. It is smaller than 
 our red deer, and in winter lives on moss, in sum- 
 mer on grass and flowers. Our deer would starve 
 where this reindeer lives and thrives. 
 
 It gives the Eskimos no milk, but it furnishes 
 them all that our deer gave to the Red Men. 
 No skin in the world is warmer than the skin of 
 
7i 
 
 the caribou. A man or a baby inclosed in a bag 
 of caribou skin may be laid in a bed of snow and 
 will sleep as warm and snug as a bug in a rug. 
 
 The caribou, so much like the reindeer of Europe, 
 might have been tamed for its milk and to work 
 in harness. But the 
 Eskimos have no de- 
 sire for milk, and for 
 work they have a re- 
 markable dog. 
 
 It is in the north 
 of Europe that the 
 tame reindeer is in 
 its glory. In north- 
 ern Sweden, Norway, 
 and Russia are a 
 people called Lapps. 
 They are not wild 
 people, but they live 
 much as Indians do. Their houses are built of 
 clay or of hides. There are no other people in 
 the world who get so many necessary things from 
 one kind of animals. 
 
 The deer and the American buffalo helped our 
 Red Men only after they were killed. The rein- 
 
deer, however, is of great use to the Lapp while 
 it is alive. It is trained to work with speed, and 
 when so trained acts more like a horse, not at all 
 like an ox. 
 
 Look at the Lapp wrapped in reindeer skins 
 and seated on his sled. His reindeer is hitched 
 to the sled by a single strap of reindeer leather, 
 and away he goes, twenty miles an hour. This 
 animal can draw a load of two hundred pounds, 
 besides his master. 
 
 Our deer could not do this, even if it were tamed 
 and trained. The reindeer is formed just right for 
 such work. His legs are short and stout. His feet 
 are large, and spread wide when they strike the 
 snow and ice. 
 
 Nearly all the wealth of the Lapp is in his rein- 
 deer. The animals like to gather in herds, like 
 sheep and buffaloes. A single Lapp may have a 
 herd of five hundred; a very rich Lapp has been 
 known to have as many as forty thousand reindeer. 
 
 in 
 
 The reindeer herd gives milk for the family. Very 
 little milk is drawn from a single reindeer. But 
 there are so many to be milked ! The children have 
 all the milk they want, and there is a great deal left 
 to be made into cheese. The milk freezes in lumps, 
 
73 
 
 and is cut off in slices. Jack Frost makes ice cream 
 without any help. 
 
 Could we visit the Lapp's hut, we should find it 
 covered with reindeer skins. These skins have 
 very long, thick hair, which makes them warm for 
 both the reindeer and the people. The beds in the 
 
 house are of skins. The carpets and rugs are skins. 
 The women and children are clothed in skins, and 
 the men's clothes, boots, and caps are of reindeer 
 skin. 
 
 Both the male and the female reindeer have 
 horns. The Lapp hangs his coat and cap on the 
 horns fastened to the wall of the hut. Knives, 
 
74 
 
 forks, spoons, and handles for tools are made of 
 the horns. Reindeer meat, milk, and cheese are 
 served for breakfast, dinner, and supper. The house 
 is lighted with candles of reindeer tallow. 
 
 The sinews of the animal are used for cords and 
 for thread ; and when they are split, the threads are 
 almost as fine as silk. The sled standing out of 
 doors is made partly of wood and partly of reindeer 
 bones. The harness of the swift trotter is of leather 
 tanned from the skins of the herd. 
 
 IV 
 
 It is wonderful that this Arctic man gets so many 
 comforts from one kind of animal, but it is more 
 wonderful that the reindeer is able to give so much. 
 Our cow could not live a month where the reindeer 
 grows fat and is happy. 
 
 The Lapp has no pasture of grass. He has no 
 meadow and makes no hay. The reindeer does not 
 like dried food. But the hardy plants, called lichens, 
 that have no roots, grow everywhere. They spread 
 over the barren land in summer, and keep green 
 under the snow in winter. 
 
 The snow does not discourage the reindeer. He 
 likes it. He lies down in it and is warm. When 
 he is hungry, he digs away the snow with his nose 
 and feet, and there he finds the green lichens, 
 
75 
 
 which he bites off and swallows as fast as he can. 
 Then he lies down and chews his cud, like our 
 sheep and cow. 
 
 THE ARAB'S CAMEL COW 
 
 The Arab is a dark brown man with black hair 
 and beard. He lives in Arabia where there are 
 deserts ; that is, land covered with sand or stones, 
 and without water, trees, or grass. 
 
 The Arab lives in a tent, but he is not like the 
 Red Man. He 
 gets his living 
 by trading, not 
 by hunting. To 
 carry on his 
 business he must 
 transport goods 
 across the desert. 
 He has no rail- 
 road, and he can- 
 not use a wagon, 
 because wheels do not roll easily in deep sand. 
 
 The Arab needs an animal that can carry heavy 
 loads on its back. The camel is exactly such a 
 beast. Look at it — how ugly it is! Ugly things 
 are often useful, however. That hump on its 
 
76 
 
 back is not handsome, but it is soft and tough and 
 strong — just the thing to hang a large or heavy 
 load on. 
 
 Though the camel's legs are not so trim and 
 pretty as the deer's, or the cow's, they can hold up 
 the body, even with a heavy load on it. The legs 
 are long and limber, and swing easily back and 
 forth. The camel does not trot ; he walks, and in 
 walking takes long steps. 
 
 No better feet can be thought of for walking on 
 
 the hot sand. They spread 
 wide when they strike the 
 deep sand. They have 
 no hard, horny hoofs, but 
 spongy, leather-like pads, 
 that never wear out. The 
 camel kneels when he 
 receives his burden. His 
 knees are also covered with 
 pads of hard skin to keep 
 them from getting sore. 
 His neck bends upward, and carries the head 
 high. This is very odd, yet it is easier to carry the 
 head in that way. And then — don't you see? — it 
 is better to have the head so high that the nose, 
 eyes, and ears may not fill with sand. 
 
 When the wind blows the sand, the camel shuts 
 
77 
 
 tight both his eyes and his nostrils. In this way 
 he is neither injured nor annoyed by the sand 
 storm. And as he glides over the sandy sea, the 
 Arab calls the camel " the ship of the desert." 
 
 ii 
 
 So far the camel is formed just right for his 
 work. He can endure the vexations of the desert. 
 He rather likes the sand, and he likes the hot sun. 
 But how shall this ugly ship sail ? By its legs, of 
 course. The wind will not push it; neither will the 
 legs work unless the animal has food and water. 
 
 Here is a difficulty. The desert has no grass and 
 no streams of water. The camel must travel a hun- 
 dred miles over the burning sand. He may have a 
 load of eight hundred pounds on his back, and it 
 will take three days or more to make the journey. 
 Such work would kill either our horse or our ox in 
 a few hours. 
 
 The camel has a very large stomach. He likes 
 dry food better than green food. Before he starts 
 on a long tramp he packs his stomach with hay, 
 which swells and grows larger and richer as the 
 days pass. The camel is a cud chewer. When 
 he rests under the hot sun he chews over the food 
 stored away in his stomach. 
 
 But when the stomach is empty, what shall he do 
 
78 
 
 for food ? The hump on his back feeds him. 
 Long, before the journey begins the driver has fed 
 his beast abundantly, so that the hump has grown 
 large and fat. When other food is gone, the fat of 
 the hump passes into the body to keep it strong. 
 
 Before starting, also, the camel has taken a long, 
 large drink of water; and this is stored away 
 in many sacs in his wonderful stomach. From 
 these wells the animal draws water to keep his 
 mouth wet. 
 
 The Arab's camel is an ox, a baggage wagon, and 
 a railroad all in one. Now we shall see that this 
 strange animal is a real cow and also something 
 of a sheep. 
 
 in 
 
 The Arab needs a cow to yield milk — for him- 
 self and his wife, and for the little Arabs and the pet 
 colt. The female camel is his cow. Her milk is 
 good, though there is no butter in it, and it does 
 not make the babies ill. 
 
 These dark-skinned people of the desert wear 
 some clothes of woolen and linen, but they spin and 
 weave the camel's hair. This hair comes to us in 
 dress goods, shawls, and fine paint brushes. 
 
 The thick hide of the camel is used to cover the 
 Arab's tent, and, when tanned, it makes strong 
 leather. The camel also furnishes its owner with 
 
79 
 
 meat — rather tough meat, we should think. But 
 
 the flesh of the calf is tender and pleasant for food. 
 
 In Central Asia there is a camel of larger size than 
 
 the Arabian, and with two humps. It has a much 
 
 thicker coat of hair, for it lives in a colder climate. 
 The Asiatic camels are kept in the country for milk 
 and to draw loads. The Chinese use many of these 
 camels to carry burdens. 
 
 CARAVANS 
 
 What bring ye me, O camels, across the southern 
 
 desert, 
 The wan and parching desert, pale beneath the 
 
 dusk ? 
 
8o 
 
 Ye great slow-moving ones, faithful as care is faith- 
 
 ful, 
 Uncouth as dreams may be, sluggish as far-off 
 ships, — 
 What bring ye me, O camels? 
 
 " We bring thee gold like sunshine, saving that it 
 
 warms not ; 
 And rarest purple bring we, as dark as all the 
 
 garnered 
 Bloom of many grapevines ; and spices subtly 
 
 mingled 
 For a lasting savor: the precious nard and aloes; 
 The bitter-sweet of myrrh, like a sorrow having 
 
 wings ; 
 Ghostly breath of lilies bruised — how white they 
 
 were ! — 
 And the captive life of many a far rose garden. 
 Jewels bring we hither, surely stars once fallen, 
 Torn again from darkness : the sunlit frost of topaz, 
 Moon-fire pent in opals, pearls that even the sea 
 
 loves. 
 
 " Webs of marvel brine we, broideries that have 
 
 drunken 
 Deep of all life-color from a thousand lives, — 
 Each the royal cere-cloth of a century. 
 
We come ! What wouldst thou more ? " 
 
 All this dust, these ashes, have ye brought so far ? 
 
 All these days, these years, have I waited in the 
 
 sun? 
 
 I would have had the winged mirage of yonder 
 
 desert. 
 
 Josephine Preston Peabody 
 
 OUR HORSE 
 
 When we were hunting through the house for 
 everything made of animal matter, there was one 
 thing we did not think of. How were all the 
 goods brought to the house — the beds, tables, 
 bookcases, books, carpets, stoves, clothes, pictures, 
 and the piano ? 
 
 After Johnny and Mary had looked through the 
 house, they decided that the sheep has given more 
 than any other animal to furnish the house. But 
 when they asked their father, " Which animal is 
 most useful to the house ? " he said the horse. 
 When the children asked him "Why?" he said 
 that the horse had something to do with every 
 article in the house, and with every brick or piece of 
 wood that is in the building itself. " You couldn't 
 have a house to live in or any furniture in it, and 
 not much food, without the horse," said Mr. Burns. 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 6 
 
82 
 
 And he said further, pointing to a mover's van 
 across the street, which two men were unloading: 
 " A table is not useful so long as it is in the shop. 
 It must be brought to the house before it can really 
 
 be used for a 
 
 ] 
 
 
 table." 
 
 "Couldn't the 
 men bring the 
 table? " asked 
 Johnny. 
 
 " One table, 
 perhaps, but not 
 all the tables in 
 all the houses," 
 the father an- 
 swered. " Our 
 new country 
 could never 
 have been set- 
 tled without 
 horses to move the families. There are two horses 
 hitched to that van. The wagon weighs two thou- 
 sand pounds, and the goods weigh about the same. 
 " The wagon load has been drawn more than 
 three miles by two horses. Forty men could not 
 move the piano and other goods so far. One horse 
 does as much work as twenty men. Men make 
 
 
83 
 
 the tables and pianos, but horses draw them to 
 their destination. If men had to do the horse's 
 work, who would make the household furniture ? " 
 
 " Then you forget," said Mr. Burns, " how much the 
 horse does on the farm and in hauling the crops 
 away from the farm to the railroads, and from the 
 railroads to the houses. Horses plow the ground, 
 and move the planting and reaping machines. They 
 do more than the farmers to produce our food." 
 
 " And then, papa," said Mary, her eyes very 
 bright — 
 
 " Wait a minute, Mary," said her father. " Wait 
 till I finish my little lecture. Oxen are very strong, 
 but very slow. They couldn't begin to do the mov- 
 ing of all our furniture. They are not so intelli- 
 gent as horses. Horses are both strong and quick, 
 and are easily trained. Besides, they can travel on 
 the hard pavements. Oxen could not do this. Now, 
 Mary, you may go on." 
 
 " I was going to ask Johnny if the horses don't 
 bring us everything every day," said Mary. 
 
 "Not everything," said Johnny. "The horses 
 don't bring us the newspapers and letters. Neither 
 do they bring our little packages and telegrams. 
 The carriers and messenger boys bring us those." 
 
8 4 
 
 " But you don't think far enough back, Johnny," 
 said his sister. " The horses, you know, bring us 
 the baker's bread, the milkman's milk, and the gro- 
 cer's things. They draw away the garbage and the 
 ashes, and everything we want to throw away." 
 
 " And you forget," said Mary, " that letters are 
 brought to the post office and that newspapers are 
 drawn by horses to different places in the city, where 
 the carriers get them." 
 
 " And you, Mary, forget all the things the show 
 horses and trick horses do," said Johnny. 
 
 "There! Johnny, you are just like all boys; you 
 can't see any good in anything unless there's fun 
 in it." 
 
 "Well, isn't fun good? Don't the people feel 
 better after they've seen Buffalo Bill's horses and 
 the trick horses in the circus ? " 
 
 "That is true," Mary said, "and the trick horses 
 show how much horses know, and how willing and 
 patient they are. I like to see the fine horses 
 trotting in the park, but I can't help thinking how 
 they must suffer when their tails are cut off. Horses 
 suffer a great deal to please us and to work for us." 
 
 in 
 
 Just then Mrs. Burns came in. " Is the horse 
 ever a cow?" she asked. 
 
" Why, no, mamma, that cannot be," said Mary. 
 " The cow has split feet with two toes. She has no 
 upper front teeth. She chews the cud. The horse 
 has a hard round foot with only one toe. He 
 doesn't chew the cud. And the mare gives only 
 milk enough for her colt." 
 
 " That is true, generally," said Mrs. Burns. " But 
 there are some countries where the mare is used 
 as a cow. The people in Central 
 Asia use mare's milk. They use 
 it also in Russia, where they make 
 a kind of beer of the milk, and call 
 it koumiss." 
 
 " Yes, and horses make good meat, 
 too," Johnny added. " I have read 
 that there are a hundred shops in 
 Paris where they sell horse flesh. 
 A good many people think it is as 
 good as beef." 
 
 "Please don't speak of that again, Johnny. 
 I can't bear to think of eating horses," cried 
 Mary. 
 
 " But it is necessary sometimes to eat horse 
 flesh," Mrs. Burns said. " The lives of people in a 
 besieged city have sometimes been saved by horse 
 meat. And now let me gather up some things 
 about horses which you have passed by. 
 
86 
 
 IV 
 
 " For thousands of years horses have been of 
 the greatest use to people in various parts of the 
 world. They are different in different countries. 
 The Belgian horse often weighs nearly three thou- 
 sand pounds, and can draw immense loads. A 
 man can lift the Shetland pony. He is very useful, 
 
 and lives and works 
 well where the large 
 horse would die. 
 
 " The mule is half 
 brother to the horse, 
 and does the hard 
 work which the ox 
 used to do. The don- 
 key is half brother to 
 the pony, and carries 
 goods over mountains 
 where horses cannot 
 travel. We do not 
 like war, but it has been necessary. In battle, 
 horses are as brave as their riders and drivers. 
 They do not fear spears or bayonets. They like 
 the noise of cannon, which they draw from place 
 to place. 
 
 "Our horse, if well cared for, lives thirty years. 
 How much he does for the family and for business 
 
87 
 
 no one has ever told. But, in one way or another, 
 he must die. His skin is made into leather, which 
 is used for harness and saddles, and sometimes 
 for shoes. 
 
 "The long hair — the mane — on the horse's neck 
 and the longer hair on the tail, are woven into hair- 
 cloth, and are stretched on violin bows. Glue is 
 boiled from the hoofs and from bits of the hide. 
 The body of the dead horse usually goes to the soap 
 maker. Johnny's bicycle is easy to keep, it eats 
 but a few drops of oil ; but I am sure he would 
 think a great deal more of a fine, noble horse." 
 
 OUR PIG 
 
 i 
 
 " Little Betty Pringle had a little pig. 
 It was not very little, nor yet very big. 
 When it was alive, it lived in clover; 
 Now it's dead, and that's all over." 
 
 No wonder that Betty Pringle made a pet of her 
 pig. Little pigs are very clean 
 and very pretty. When they 
 have got from their mother alb 1 
 the milk they want, they frisk 
 about and nudge one another with their noses. 
 The nose is the pig's best tool. 
 
As Betty's little pig grew larger, she put it in a 
 clover field, where it could eat the green grass, and 
 the sweet red flowers from which the bumblebees 
 suck honey. When it became a big pig, or a hog, 
 it was not so pretty and interesting. It was then 
 killed for its flesh. 
 
 That is the end of all our pigs. They live 
 awhile, and are happy in clover. Then they are 
 fed on corn, grow large and fat, and are killed for 
 food. 
 
 The grown pig is about as large as a sheep, but 
 
 not so high. Its coat 
 is hair — stiff and 
 coarse, sometimes. 
 It eats grass, but 
 does not chew the 
 cud. Its feet have 
 split, horny hoofs, 
 like the sheep's feet. 
 Pigs in their wild state are called wild boars. 
 They are ugly, fierce brutes, covered with stiff hairs. 
 The head of this animal is large, the nose long, and 
 two long, sharp teeth turn up from the sides of the 
 jaw. 
 
 The wild boar is found in some forests in 
 Europe. He tears up roots with his tusks, and he 
 eats the roots and worms which he finds in the 
 
ground. Our tame pig, when it is not fed, uses its 
 nose for a plow, following the example of its wild 
 forefather. 
 
 ii 
 
 Thousands of years ago, the people of Egypt 
 used their pigs for plows, and to plant and shell out 
 their wheat after it was ripe. 
 
 Our farmer turns over the ground with a steel 
 plow drawn by horses. Then he makes the ground 
 fine with a harrow, which usually has iron teeth, 
 like the teeth of a comb. After that, he sows the 
 seed and rakes it in with the harrow. The 
 Egyptians at first had no plows or horses. They 
 used their pigs for plows and for horses. 
 
 Once every year their great muddy river over- 
 flowed its banks, as it does to this day, and covered 
 the land with mud, in which were many water 
 animals. When the river went back into its chan- 
 nel again the fields were dry. Then the Egyptian 
 called his pigs together by blowing a shell horn, 
 and turned them into the fields. 
 
 The pigs were happy, for there was a feast before 
 them. At once they put in their noses and began 
 to plow for wriggling worms and fishes. Soon a 
 large field was plowed by the noses and harrowed 
 smooth by the feet of the pigs. The pigs were 
 called off, and the seed wheat was sowed over the 
 
go 
 
 field. Then the seed had to be covered. Here was 
 a puzzle. 
 
 The Egyptian wants the feet, but he doesn't want 
 the noses this time. While the pigs could harrow 
 in the seed with their feet, they could also, if turned 
 into the field with free noses, eat up all the seed. 
 So the Egyptian caught every pig, and tied a basket, 
 or muzzle, over its nose. Then he turned the whole 
 herd into the field. 
 
 Then there was trouble. The pigs could see and 
 smell the wheat, but could not eat it. Half crazy, 
 they scampered over the whole field, and thus trod 
 in and planted the seed. 
 
 After the crop was grown and ripe, the straw 
 with heads full of wheat was spread on a clean piece 
 of ground. Again the pigs, with their noses 
 muzzled, were turned on to thresh the grain with 
 their feet. 
 
 " Why didn't the stupid fellows lie down and go 
 to sleep, when they found they couldn't get any 
 wheat to eat ? " Johnny asked. 
 
 " Because," answered Mary, " there were men 
 there to whip and poke up the poor fellows, and 
 keep them going." 
 
 in 
 
 Our pigs are not fitted for trained work. The 
 work they do is to change the corn we feed them 
 
9i 
 
 into flesh, which we eat. They have little chance 
 to root or plow with their noses, and so their noses 
 have become short for want of use. Pigs often kill 
 harmful snakes. The poison of a snake does not 
 hurt the pig. In China the female pig — the sow 
 — is made use of for her milk. 
 
 Our pigs are kept to eat and to be eaten. This 
 is the reason why there are so many. For every 
 two people in the whole country one grown pig is 
 counted. 
 
 The first useful article taken from the dead 
 pig is the stiff hair, or bristles. Watch the shoe- 
 maker as he sews his shoe. The needle at the end 
 of his thread is a pig's bristle. The best bristles 
 
9 2 
 
 for the shoemaker come from Russia, where the 
 animals run in the woods. The hair of our pigs is 
 softer and more curly, and is used for stuffing sad- 
 dles, cushions, and beds. 
 
 For coarse brushes, bristles are brought from 
 Russia and Germany. Fine white bristles come 
 from France, and are made into brushes for artists. 
 
 So the pigs do some- 
 thing to make the 
 world clean and beautiful. 
 After the hair is scraped 
 the pig's body, the skin is 
 sometimes taken off and tanned 
 tito leather, which is used for sad- 
 dles and book covers. But the body 
 is nearly always dressed with the skin 
 n. The skin, the head, the ears, and 
 ie feet are all good for food. 
 What is the fat of the steer called ? 
 The fat of the pig is called lard. It is used to fry 
 other meats, and in cooking pies, cakes, and pota- 
 toes. The cook could not get along without 
 lard. 
 
 The pig is a great blessing to our farmers, even 
 though he does squeal, and sometimes roots up the 
 grass and potatoes. The farmers raise immense 
 quantities of corn, nearly five times as much corn as 
 
93 
 
 they do wheat. The people could not eat so much 
 corn ; the railroads could not carry it. So the 
 farmers feed a large part of this grain to the pigs, 
 and in this way turn corn into pork. 
 
 IV 
 
 Fat pigs are sent to market alive. They are 
 packed in a car as close as crackers in a box. Of 
 course, they do not like the trip. They are so fat 
 that they get very hot and tired. Every pig thinks 
 the one next to him should get out of the way and 
 give him more room. But the next one cannot 
 move away. So they all grunt and squeal. 
 
 The railroad men have a tender spot in their 
 hearts for these suffering passengers. Once in a 
 while the train makes a long stop, and the water- 
 hose is turned on the miserable prisoners. Then, 
 for a time, there is some rest and quiet. 
 
 At last the travelers arrive at the great slaughter- 
 house of the pork packer. They are glad to get 
 out of the dirty cars. Little do they know what 
 is before them, and for this we are glad. The 
 end of them is like that of Little Betty Pringle's 
 
 pig : — 
 
 " Now it's dead, and that's all over." 
 
94 
 
 WHOSE PIG IS THE ELEPHANT? 
 i 
 
 Mary was startled when her mother asked, 
 " Whose pig is the elephant ? " 
 
 " Why, nobody's pig," she answered. " It isn't a 
 pig at all." 
 
 " It is in some ways like a pig, my dear. You 
 know that the reindeer is not exactly like a cow, 
 yet it is both a cow and a horse for the Lapp." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, but we eat pigs, and I am sure no 
 one eats an elephant." 
 
 " Of course, my dear, no one person eats a whole 
 elephant, for one of these creatures, when grown, 
 weighs seven thousand pounds. But we are told 
 by a wise man, who lived two thousand years ago, 
 that the black people in Africa lived almost wholly 
 on elephant's flesh." 
 
 " But the elephant doesn't look a bit like a pig, I 
 am sure," said Mary. 
 
 " Not very much like a pig, it is true," said 
 her mother. " But the nose is the main tool of 
 each; and the noses are very much alike, only the 
 elephant's is twenty times as long as the pig's. 
 
 " You did not notice that the pig has a moving 
 lip, or finger, on the upper edge of its nose. The 
 elephant's trunk ends in a much longer and more 
 
95 
 
 complete finger, so delicate in its touch and grasp 
 that it can pick up a nut or a pin." 
 
 " I never thought of that," said Mary. 
 
 " The elephant's nose is used for many more pur- 
 poses than the pig's," her mother continued. " It is 
 used as a hose with which the elephant draws up 
 water and . throws it into his mouth for a drink, 
 or over his body for a bath. He also uses this long 
 tube as a trumpet to make a noise with ; and for 
 that reason it is called a trunk." 
 
 Thus far Johnny had listened attentively to 
 what his mother and Mary were saying, without 
 putting in a word. He was thinking; and now 
 very bluntly threw out a question. 
 
 " It is all right," he said, " to say that the elephant 
 is a pig for the black people in Africa to eat, but 
 of what use are his tusks and trunk to anybody 
 but himself ? " 
 
 " A bright question," replied his mother, " and I 
 am glad you have asked it. You seem to think 
 that it is interesting to examine the tools which 
 animals have for getting their food, and the weapons 
 which they defend themselves with. There is no 
 tool in the world more curious than your hand. 
 Double it up into a fist and it may hurt somebody ; 
 train it rightly and it may button your coat, pick up 
 a pin, or write your thoughts. 
 
9 6 
 
 '■ But your hand has something to do with your 
 life, and the elephant's trunk and tusks have some- 
 thing to do with his life. This is why we find 
 the tools and weapons of animals so interesting. 
 
 ■PPg 
 
 Now I am going to tell you how they are useful to 
 men. 
 
 ii 
 
 " You can easily see that it is of great advantage 
 to some people that the elephant is so large. He 
 can carry on his back a weight of goods heavier 
 than a dozen horses can support. So, for thou- 
 sands of years he has been very serviceable to 
 
97 
 
 the people in India, the Hindus, because he is so 
 large and powerful. He has been their passenger 
 train and their freight train. Do you see the point, 
 Johnny? " 
 
 " Yes, but what have the trunk and tusks to do 
 with the elephant being so large ? It seems to me 
 that these things are good for nothing but to fight 
 with." 
 
 " Now' you will learn something, my boy. This 
 large and powerful animal would never have lived 
 to serve the Hindus, or any other people, if he had 
 not those strong tusks to help him get food, and to 
 fight his way among other big and ferocious ani- 
 mals, like the rhinoceros and the tiger. When his 
 food is provided for him, and he has no more need 
 to fight, he can use these tools for the good of 
 others. 
 
 " The elephant's trunk is not a fighting weapon ; 
 it is a feeding tool. If so huge an animal, standing 
 up so high in the air, had a neck long enough to 
 reach the ground, it could not support those great, 
 heavy tusks ; and the tusks would be badly in the 
 way if this beast had to eat grass like a buffalo. 
 
 " The long trunk, able to feel and smell, reaches 
 to the eround and to the branches of the trees — 
 opposite places, wide apart, where the elephant 
 gets his food. So with this tool, stronger than a 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 7 
 
9 8 
 
 giant's arm, as flexible as a worm, and as delicate as 
 a lady's finger, this great beast can break down the 
 branches of trees, or pick up a berry or a nut in 
 his path. 
 
 " The tusks and trunk, therefore, are necessary to 
 procure the immense quantity of food which goes to 
 
 build and to sustain the elephant's huge body. But 
 is it not wonderful, Johnny, that so mighty a beast 
 learns to obey a little dusky-faced man, called a 
 mahout, who sits like a fly on his thick neck? 
 
 " He will pick up a needle with the fingers at the 
 end of the trunk, if the mahout tells him to. Or he 
 
99 
 
 will work all day long carrying logs with his trunk 
 if he is commanded to do so. It is true that 
 he sometimes gets sulky, and loses his temper, but 
 so do men and boys when they have to work hard 
 and long. But you see that the trunk, which is 
 necessary for the elephant's life, is almost as use- 
 ful to men." 
 
 lc It is very wonderful," answered Johnny, chang- 
 ing his tone and manner ; " I never knew all these 
 things before." 
 
 " There are other things, quite as remarkable as 
 carrying logs, which this obedient animal does with 
 his trunk. I have read an account, written by 
 a military officer in India, telling how the mahout 
 chains his big servant by the hind legs to a tree, 
 and then lays the baby down under his trunk and 
 tusks to be tended. 
 
 in 
 
 " The elephant seems to enjoy being a nurse. 
 With his trunk he picks a leafy twig from the tree 
 under which he stands, and with this brushes the 
 flies from the baby's face. If the little fellow should 
 roll too far away, the long trunk reaches out and 
 lifts it back as softly and tenderly as a mother's hand. 
 
 " Elephants never showed how great they are so 
 well as they did in the grand parade of the olden 
 
IOO 
 
 times. Then they might well feel proud, dressed in 
 splendid trappings, and bearing kings and their at- 
 tendants on their backs. Long lines of them were 
 marched with armies on the battlefields. The ele- 
 phants were then made to blow their own trumpets ; 
 and the enemy, seeing such magnificent soldiers 
 and hearing the awful noise, sometimes fled with- 
 out joining in battle. 
 
 " Now I will tell you something about the elephant's 
 tusks. It was necessary for the elephant himself 
 that his tusks be made of the very strongest material. 
 Bone, like the bone in a horse's leg, would not do; 
 it would break too easily. The kind of stuff so much 
 needed in the tusks for the elephant's own use is 
 quite as valuable for our uses. So I want to show 
 you in how many ways these strong, fine, and 
 smooth weapons, when cut into various useful and 
 beautiful articles, have helped and are now helping 
 the people of the world." 
 
 "O mamma," broke in Mary, "don't tell it now. 
 We've arranged for the club to take up that sub- 
 ject at our next meeting, and it's going to meet 
 in this very room." 
 
 "No, no, mamma, please go on," said Johnny. 
 " I'm all stirred up about this business, and I want 
 to hear the whole story now." 
 
 " Not now, I think," said his mother, before Mary 
 
IOI 
 
 had time to press her desire. " I had forgotten 
 that Mary had told me her plans. It will be much 
 better for the children to tell the story themselves. 
 Then I may help them a little." 
 
 THE BONNY CLUB'S ELEPHANT HUNT 
 
 i 
 
 So it came about that the children's club met at 
 the home of Johnny and Mary Burns. A merry 
 company was this club. It was composed mostly of 
 children whose parents were neighbors or friends. 
 
 The club had been formed to help the members 
 to work well and to play well. The exercises con- 
 sisted of games, plays, music, story readings, and 
 compositions on interesting subjects, such as ani- 
 mals and plants. The object was to have a good 
 time. Hence it was called the Bonny Club. 
 
 Nearly all the members were younger than their 
 President. Mary Burns had been elected President 
 because she was older than the other members of 
 the club, and further along in her studies. She 
 knew a great deal, because her mind was hungry 
 for knowledge, and, besides, her mother had given 
 her help at home. Mary was a dignified little 
 woman, whom the children trusted. 
 
 After the meeting at Mary's home was called to 
 
102 
 
 order, the President gave notice that there would be 
 a hunt throughout the house for articles of use that 
 were made from any part of a certain animal. They 
 would first try to guess some particular thing in the 
 room by playing the game of comey-comey. Then 
 they could get the name of the animal from which 
 the article had been derived. 
 
 The first duty was to choose a leader, the It of 
 the game. The President was surprised and not a 
 little embarrassed when the members all voted that 
 she should be It. She could only return thanks, 
 and take her place in the midst of the circle. 
 
 So the game began. Mary had the secret in her 
 mind, and in answer to the first question asked, she 
 said the name of the article to be guessed began 
 with the letter p. The next question brought the 
 answer that the article was animal, not vegetable or 
 mineral. Then each member in turn made a guess, 
 but not one guessed right. All were eager to hear 
 what It would say. 
 
 " The paperknife ! " said Mary, loudly, taking the 
 thin, white thing from the table. Some exclaimed 
 that it was mineral, like any other knife, because it 
 was hard. But Mary claimed that it was made from 
 part of an animal; and fearing that her brother 
 would rashly close the door to further guessing, she 
 hastily asked, " What is the animal? " 
 
103 
 
 Just what she feared happened. Johnny could not 
 keep still, and he rather rudely cried, " I can settle 
 that question; the animal is the elephant, and the 
 paperknife is made from his tusk. It is ivory, and 
 ivory is not mineral." 
 
 The case now grew more interesting. One 
 
 An ivory market, Zanzibar 
 
 thoughtful girl said: "The name is of two words, 
 and you gave us only the first letter of one. I 
 think it should be p.-k." 
 
 ii 
 It was well that Mrs. Burns had slipped into the 
 room while the play was going on. She is now 
 looking in the dictionary, and the eyes of all the 
 children are turned toward her. 
 
104 
 
 Putting aside the book, Mrs. Burns said : "I am 
 sorry that your pretty game failed. Wiser heads 
 might have stumbled over the question whether 
 ' paperknife ' should be two words or only one, like 
 'penknife.' The dictionary says it is printed both 
 ways. This shows that in our play, as well as in 
 our work we must mind our p's and q's — or k's — 
 as the case may be. 
 
 " Is the paperknife animal or mineral ? This is a 
 more important question, and shows that you must 
 have sharp eyes, and do some sharp thinking. 
 Things are not mineral because they are hard. 
 The black keys of the piano are hard, but they are 
 of wood. Is wood mineral? The elephant's tusk 
 was once alive. Didn't it grow, as the bones, and 
 skin, and hair grew? " 
 
 The children were all satisfied now, though they 
 were to make other mistakes. They examined care- 
 fully the paperknife, and many other articles on the 
 table, — articles that appeared to be of ivory; for 
 Mrs. Burns had placed in sight every ivory thing 
 which would not be injured by handling. Then the 
 elephant hunt began with a rush. 
 
 Cuff-buttons, a box of them, were turned out on 
 the table. " Here's the elephant ! " was the cry, as 
 one and another picked up a button. From the other 
 side of the room a little girl ran her fingers along 
 
105 
 
 the keyboard of the piano, and echoed back, " Here 
 he is ! " In another place was grandpa's cane, with 
 an ivory head, and again the shout went up, " Here 
 he is ! " and still again, when an ivory-handled 
 umbrella was spied. 
 
 Sitting down at the table, Mrs. Burns said: "Now 
 let us look at the buttons. Are you sure the 
 elephant is in all of them ? Are they all of 
 ivory r 
 
 " They must be," replied some of the children, " for 
 the stuff they are made of looks just like the paper- 
 knife." 
 
 "Bring them here, please, and let me "see," Mrs. 
 Burns said. But before the buttons were returned, 
 a little boy found on the mantel a small Chinese idol", 
 and cried out, " This is the elephant, sure ! " The 
 boy brought the little ivory god to the table, and 
 there was an uproar of laughter. 
 
 Now the heads crowded as thick as they could 
 around Mrs. Burns, who compared the paperknife 
 and the idol with the various buttons. " I fear you 
 have been too hasty," she said, " and some of your 
 game is not elephant. You have not looked closely 
 and carefully. If your eyes do not do their work 
 well, your minds will go wrong. Look again and 
 see if some of the buttons are not cut and polished, 
 while others are cast in molds." 
 
io6 
 
 in 
 
 She showed them how smooth the substance 
 in the paperknife and in the idol was; how delicate 
 were the curved lines in its surface ; and how soft 
 was the color — not pure white. " Notice the differ- 
 ence," she said, " between the paperknife and this 
 bone button, which has no shaded lines and is as 
 blank as white paper. 
 
 " And here is another, a very pretty button in- 
 deed, with colors that change as you turn it to the 
 light. This button is made of pearl taken from a 
 certain kind of clam shell. Here, too, are some por- 
 celain buttons. They are mineral, like the material 
 of some dishes in the china closet. Look at this 
 button ; it is not ivory, though it looks very much 
 like it. It is hard, too, but it is made of cotton, 
 and is vegetable. The material it is made of is 
 called celluloid." 
 
 More and more of the elephant game was gathered 
 and brought to the table. There were crochet 
 needles ; there was a penholder, and a cardcase. 
 Boxes of checkers and chessmen were opened, and 
 a box of billiard balls. 
 
 " How is this ? " asked one and another of the 
 members. " Some of the balls and men are red and 
 some are black ? " 
 
107 
 
 After explaining that ivory is often dyed differ- 
 ent colors, the President, opening the door, said the 
 hunt would be taken into the dining room. The 
 children, eager to see what more of the elephant 
 could be found, followed their leader with lively 
 steps. 
 
 They gathered around the table, which seemed to 
 be loaded with something covered out of sight 
 under a cloth. Suddenly, Mrs. Burns and Mary 
 lifted the cloth away, and a picture met their eyes 
 which threw the whole company into laughter and 
 cheers. " Here is the elephant ! " they exclaimed. 
 
 And so it was. An elephant from the candy shop 
 stood up in the center of the table. It had great 
 ears, a trunk, and tusks. And around this sweet 
 elephant, solemn and dumb, waiting for orders from 
 the mahout on his neck, were cattle, sheep, goats, 
 pigs, and deer, with other elephants. 
 
 All this silent menagerie had come from the 
 baker's oven. The oven had added nothing to the 
 beauty of the figures as they were when they left 
 the baker's hands. Legs, noses, ears, and tails were 
 swollen out of all proportion. It was just as well 
 so ; for in a few minutes the whole menagerie, ex- 
 cept the candy elephant, had disappeared. 
 
 Mrs. Burns withdrew to the library while Mary 
 pointed out. on the sideboard some remains of the 
 
io8 
 
 real elephant. There were knives and forks with 
 ivory handles, mustard spoons, and medicine spoons. 
 Afterward, the door was again opened, and the com- 
 pany returned to their meeting room. 
 
 Here the table was spread with a new and more 
 costly display of ivory. In this collection were rare 
 dominoes and dice ; scarf pins, on which the forms 
 of deer and other animals were carved ; boxes for 
 jeweh")', with covers on which flowers and faces were 
 skillfully painted. These had been brought from 
 Europe, where many people get their living by 
 carving in ivory ornaments. 
 
 A book with ivory covers was taken from its case. 
 Johnny showed his uncle's flute, the first joint of 
 which was of polished elephant's tusk. His mother 
 spread open an elegant fan. The sticks of the fan 
 were of ivory, beautifully carved. 
 
 Then, to close the exercises of the Bonny Club, 
 Mary proposed a riddle to be guessed : "It takes 
 three animals to get music from the piano," she 
 said. " What are the three? " 
 
 " The elephant in the white keys," many voices 
 answered together. 
 
 " I've got another," cried the little boy who found 
 the Chinese idol ; " it's the sheep, the sheepskin 
 on the hammers." 
 
 " That makes two," said Mary. " But listen ! 
 
109 
 
 You don't hear any music. What is the third 
 animal ? " 
 
 For a few moments the children were silent. 
 They were racking their brains to think of the third 
 animal. Meanwhile Mary carelessly sat clown to the 
 piano and struck the first strain of a familiar air. 
 
 In an instant the children rose to their feet, clapped 
 their hands, and shouted, " The third animal is " 
 
 But any one can guess what the children said. 
 
 WILD DOGS 
 
 The wolf and the 
 fox are among our ear- 
 liest animal acquaint- 
 ances. The old stories, 
 like the story of Little 
 Red Riding Hood, tell 
 of them. The wolf 
 wants to eat up some- 
 body. He is cunning in his wolfish way. Read 
 the fable of the Fox and the Raven. The fox 
 is trying to steal something. He is both cunning 
 and deceitful. 
 
 There has always been trouble between wild 
 dogs and civilized people. These people have 
 
I IO 
 
 as much as said : " You dogs are rascals and rob- 
 bers. You get in our way. You steal and kill 
 our sheep and fowl. Away with you ! " 
 
 Could the wild dogs speak and plead for them- 
 selves, they would reply: "Not so. You are in 
 our way. This was our land long before you 
 came upon it. We are not robbers. We take 
 only what we claim belongs to us. We had in 
 our forest home deer, squirrels, rabbits, and ground 
 birds. You have cut down our trees. You have 
 made fields of corn in the place of our woods, 
 and pastures for sheep and yards for fowl on our 
 hunting grounds. You drive away our squirrels, 
 rabbits, and ground birds, or kill them for your- 
 selves. We are hungry, and we are flesh eaters. 
 Look at our swift legs and sharp teeth. These are 
 our only weapons, and we have the cunning to use 
 them. We cannot live on grass and grain. If 
 you take away our deer and rabbits, we must eat 
 your sheep and chickens." 
 
 Then the white people might say in reply: "You 
 speak well, Messrs. Wolf and Company. But what 
 you say for yourselves we may say with equal rea- 
 son for ourselves. We, too, are animals, and have 
 as much right to the land and its creatures as you 
 have. The earth is our mother as well as yours. 
 You have the right to kill for food and so have 
 
II I 
 
 we. You kill and drive away weaker animals that 
 are in your way, and if you are in our way we 
 must kill and drive you away. 
 
 " You need not show your sharp teeth to prove 
 your right, for we can show you our knives and 
 guns and traps. You kill because you are flesh 
 eaters. We kill also, and take the land because we 
 are both flesh eaters and plant eaters. 
 
 " The land belongs to those who make the best 
 use of it. You want the trees to shelter your 
 game ; but we want to make houses and ships for 
 animals with brains, and for these we shall keep 
 sheep and cattle and raise corn on the cleared 
 land. You are cunning, but we are wise." 
 
 ii 
 
 The wild dogs had little trouble with the Red 
 Men. Except for small patches of corn and pump- 
 kins, these people delighted in leaving the land 
 wild. They would shoot a wolf and make a coat or 
 rug of his skin, or catch a fox and wrap the baby 
 in its fur. They learned cunning from these ani- 
 mals. They saw packs of wolves working together 
 to catch deer. Part of the pack would lie in wait 
 while another part would drive the game to them. 
 The Indians learned to use the same tactics in 
 hunting and in war. 
 
I 12 
 
 These wild dogs, or flesh eaters, have done a great 
 deal in the past to improve other animals and to 
 help men. They kept the plant eaters stirred up 
 and active. In this way the deer were made 
 swift of foot, and the ancestors of horses, cattle, 
 and sheep were driven out on the plains where 
 they improved in form and size. 
 
 The small plant eaters, with chisel teeth and 
 digging claws, such as the rabbits and the mis- 
 chievous prairie dogs, followed the horses and 
 cattle. There was clanger that these small eaters 
 of grass and roots would destroy the food of larger 
 grazers, the most useful of all animals. Where a 
 single young one was born to the horse kind and 
 cattle kind, a dozen young rabbits or prairie dogs 
 were produced. 
 
 It was well for wild horses, cattle, buffaloes, and 
 deer, that the flesh eaters were always prowling 
 about their feeding grounds, waiting to catch a 
 young calf, or a disabled grazer. The sly foxes 
 picked off the rabbits near the wooded land ; the 
 coyotes, or prairie wolves, about the size of sheep 
 dogs, roamed afar on the plains ; the large, gray 
 wolves went far and near — all hunting and killing 
 off the little destroyers of the grass. So the wild 
 dogs have been of great service to both the Red 
 Man and the white man. 
 
H3 
 
 In the forests, and on the plains, thousands of 
 animals of every kind fall dead from old age or 
 accident. What becomes of the dead bodies which, 
 if left to decay, would spread disease ? Why, the 
 flesh eaters attend to that business, and they do 
 their work quickly and well. 
 
 Eagles 
 
 and buzzards, those large 
 
 flesh-eating 
 
 some 
 
 help, 
 
 though 
 
 they 
 
 leave 
 
 the 
 
 The wild does 
 
 birds, 
 bones. 
 
 clear the ground even 
 of the bones. They 
 are the cleaners, or 
 scavengers of the earth. 
 In the old world are 
 the ugly, cloglike hy- 
 enas, and the sprightly 
 jackals, which are like our prairie wolves. These 
 have remained among the crumbling ruins of old 
 cities and along the path of camel caravans. They 
 make haste to remove the bodies of camels and all 
 other animals that fall by the way. 
 
 in 
 
 Some things about their bodies help the cunning 
 work of the wild dogs ; for they risk their lives 
 when they set out to catch and kill. One of these 
 helpful things is the color of their coats. The color 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS- 
 
U4 
 
 also makes their fur more valuable to men, as we 
 shall see. 
 
 Of what use to the large wolf is his gray color? 
 It makes him look like the bark of the forest trees 
 among which he prowls ; and makes his form blend 
 with the gray rocks, and melt in the gray air, when he 
 hunts in the open. His color protects him against 
 his enemies and hides him from the deer and rabbit. 
 
 So, too, the yellowish color of the smaller wolf, 
 the coyote, and the reddish color of the red fox 
 blend with the color of the bushes and grass where 
 they hunt, and help to hide them from sight. 
 Can you tell of what advantage it is to the wolf of 
 the Eskimo that he is whitish, and to the beautiful 
 Arctic fox that he is pure white, in the land of 
 almost perpetual snow? 
 
 Quite as useful to men and women are these 
 colors when the skins and furs of the wild clogs are 
 made into garments. When the Indian hunter 
 wears a wolfskin coat, he is not so easily seen by the 
 deer or wolf he is hunting. It would not do for 
 him to wear the Eskimo wolfs skin any more than 
 it would do for the Eskimo hunter to wear the gray 
 wolf's skin. Can you tell why? 
 
 Foxes have long, soft, bushy, and attractive tails, 
 called brushes by sportsmen, which they wrap about 
 their cubs to keep them warm. When attached to 
 
"5 
 
 a boa for a lady's neck, the tails are valuable, not 
 only for warmth, but for beauty. 
 
 The body furs protect the foxes against the cold. 
 They are so thick, fine, soft, and warm, that they are 
 sought for ladies' wrappings and muffs, and for 
 robes. But the dark color of the fur which helped 
 to hide the foxes from view is desired by ladies for 
 just the opposite 
 reason, — to show 
 and reveal, not to 
 conceal. 
 
 What is so nec- 
 essary to the wolf 
 and fox as the 
 set of tools which 
 they carry in their 
 mouths? The 
 teeth are hands, knives, and daggers for them. 
 
 When the wolf falls upon the neck of a deer, it 
 is with his teeth that he wounds the deer to death, 
 and crushes the bones that are a part of the wild 
 dog's food. To do their work well, the teeth must 
 be hard and strong, like the tusks of the elephant. 
 
 Tusks and teeth are composed of fine material 
 which is easily polished. The wolf polishes his 
 teeth by using them. So they have always been 
 finished jewels ready to adorn the neck of a squaw, 
 
u6 
 
 or to make points for the Red Man's tools, and for 
 the tools of our bookbinders and workers in gold. 
 
 In parting with these destructive and cunning 
 flesh eaters, we must turn a kind and grateful eye 
 to the wolves and foxes. They were the forefathers 
 of our home dogs, big and little. If they had never 
 lived to growl and snap, to plunder and steal, we 
 might never have had the delights of Toots and Vic, 
 of Rab and Rover. 
 
 WHY JACK WAS A DULL BOY 
 i 
 
 We are apt to think that only those animals 
 which work for us, or give us things to eat or to 
 wear, are useful. But many other animals help us, 
 though in another way, and whatever helps us in 
 any way is useful. 
 
 Suppose some one asks you why children play ; 
 why people go to the theater, hang pictures on the 
 walls, or place plants and flowers in the window. 
 Can you give a good reason why ? Or do you 
 think it better to work all the time, and not to play, 
 or look at, or listen to anything that pleases ? 
 
 You may have heard it said that " all work and 
 no play makes Jack a dull boy." There is a long- 
 story in this old maxim. I think Jack was a real 
 boy who lived a long time ago in a country village. 
 
ii7 
 
 He had to work almost all the time, when he was 
 not either eating or sleeping. 
 
 He had to get up early in the morning and kindle 
 the fire. Before breakfast he had to drive the cow 
 from the pasture, feed the pigs, and pull weeds in 
 the garden. He had no time to play, and he was 
 allowed no pets to play with. After breakfast his 
 mother washed his face until it shone, and then 
 hurried him off to school. There he had to work 
 again, not so much with his hands and feet as with 
 his brains. 
 
 It was a school of the olden time. The seats 
 were rough and hard, with straight-up backs. The 
 old schoolmaster was cross, and carried a stick to 
 keep Jack and the other boys hard at work. There 
 was no recess. Poor Jack was made to feel that 
 there was nothing in life but work, work, work. 
 No wonder that Jack was 
 
 " — the whining schoolboy, with his satchel 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school. ' 
 
 Everybody knows that if a boy, or any other per- 
 son, has only one kind of things to think of, and only 
 one kind of things to do, he cannot be very bright ; 
 and if he isn't bright, he will grow dull. It is not 
 strange, therefore, that Jack was called a dull boy. 
 
n8 
 
 It was right, of course, that Jack should learn to 
 work while he was young. All play and no work 
 would have made him a silly boy, I fear. There is 
 real pleasure in knowing how to do useful things. 
 But Jack would have worked better if he had been 
 happier ; and he would have been happier if there 
 had been more variety and spice in his life, — if he 
 had been allowed time to play, or some one or 
 something to play with. 
 
 Even a mother cat knows that her young ones 
 must play well if they are to work well. So she 
 teaches them to play, and then teaches them to 
 w r ork at catching mice. She herself is too smart to 
 let them either play or work all the time. She 
 seems to know that all work and no play makes 
 dull kittens. 
 
 ii 
 
 Jack's hands and feet, also, needed play to make 
 them work well, and his mind needed play to do its 
 work well. But Jack's heart needed something to 
 rest and cheer it ; for the heart is the power that 
 moves both mind and hands. If a pet clog had 
 capered along with Jack when he went for the cow, 
 or had sat by him with ears up and face bright while 
 he was milking, work would have gone much better 
 with the boy. 
 
ii9 
 
 Then, when he came from school, it would have 
 given new heart to Jack to see his dog, wag- 
 ging his speaking tail, running to meet his little 
 master ; and to see the old cat while softly purring, 
 raise her back and rub her fur against his leg. It 
 would have given him new courage for his work to 
 hear a canary chirping or singing a cheerful song. 
 
 Pet animals are as useful in their way as work- 
 ing or food-making animals. By trusting us, and 
 by giving us their love, they open little streams of 
 love in our hearts that spread over our spirits and 
 refresh us in our work. 
 
 They teach us habits of kindness, of thoughtful- 
 ness, and of duty, too. Because if we love them, as 
 we must if they love us, we will remember to care 
 for their needs — to give them food and water 
 regularly and to give them comfortable beds. They 
 make us think less of ourselves and more of others. 
 They do the best kind of work for us, and we are 
 only too willing to make a fair return. 
 
 Pets are helpful not alone to children. Grown- 
 up people, some of them great and good people, 
 have found rest and relief from toilsome labor by 
 turning aside to enjoy their animal friends. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, who wrote a large number of 
 novels, was an uncommon worker. He kept about 
 him a jolly crowd of dogs, for play and pleasure. 
 
120 
 
 His favorite was Maicla, a deerhound, six feet lone. 
 
 o 
 
 He had a number of little dogs, too, called Pepper, 
 Ginger, Mustard, Catchup, Soy, and Spice. 
 
 Landseer, the famous artist, had many animal 
 
 pets who were 
 very fond of him. 
 His dogs would 
 sometimes look 
 over his shoulder 
 at his work, while 
 he was drawing, 
 as if they were 
 judges of art. 
 
 You will some 
 clay be interested 
 in Charles Dick- 
 ens, the author of 
 " David Copper- 
 field," " Old Cu- 
 riosity Shop," 
 and many other 
 novels. He, too, was a great worker. You may 
 wonder how he did so much in so short a time. To 
 refresh his heart and to cheer himself in his work he 
 kept a large family of pet animals. Of dogs, there 
 were Timber, Linda, Bumble, Mrs. Bounce, and 
 Sultan. 
 
 Sir Edwin Landseer 
 
121 
 
 Of birds, there were Dick, the canary, an eagle, 
 and several large black ravens, of which a famous 
 one was Grip. There was also a group of kittens. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton was a mighty thinker as well as 
 a mighty worker. His heart was bound up in a 
 little dog who was always with him. He had 
 discovered wonderful things about the earth and 
 the stars, and had labored hard to write a book to 
 tell what he had found. One day, when the writ- 
 ten pages were lying on his table, the dog upset 
 a lighted candle and the valuable papers were 
 burned. 
 
 Sir Isaac was greatly distressed. So much hard 
 work, and now all gone ! But the little dog, who 
 perhaps ought to have been punished for getting on 
 the table, had been so much to the great man that 
 he only cried out, " O Diamond, Diamond, thou 
 little knowest what thou hast done ! " 
 
 OUR DOG 
 
 r 
 Our home dog, as you know, is descended from 
 the wild wolf or fox. This is quite natural. Most 
 of our cultivated plants have come from wild 
 plants. The large, bright-colored, juicy apple of 
 pleasant flavor has come from a hard, green, sour 
 thing, like the wild crab apple. Huge strawberries, 
 
122 
 
 raised in cultivated gardens, are but improved 
 children of very small wild strawberries. 
 
 Our fine horses, cattle, sheep, and dogs are im- 
 proved children of wild horses, wild cattle, wild sheep, 
 and wild dogs. If you were to examine for your- 
 
 Mi '.< 
 
 self, you would see that the dog of our red Indian 
 is like the coyote; the clog of the Eskimo like the 
 northern wolf; the sheep clogs of Europe like the 
 wolves of that countrv 
 
 and the Asiatic clogs like 
 
123 
 
 the jackal. In many countries are sharp-nosed dogs 
 that resemble foxes. 
 
 Some old habits still cling to our dogs, which con- 
 stantly remind us of their wild ancestors. If you 
 were to watch a wolf or a fox making a bed for him- 
 self in the forest leaves, you would see him pawing 
 them into a heap, tumbling them up and rolling 
 them together-, and then whirling himself around like 
 a top to make a leafy saucer to lie down in. 
 
 Our Toots, foxlike in form, though intelligent 
 and refined in most ways, has never got over this 
 wild habit. Lay clown a blanket for him to lie on, 
 double it and smooth it as nicely as you will — he 
 comes to it like a wolf or a fox. He paws it into 
 absurd wrinkles ; then whirls round a half dozen 
 times, and, after he has worked it into the most 
 uncomfortable condition, lies down on the rough 
 pile and seems to blush because he is laughed 
 at. You cannot doubt that his forefathers were 
 foxes. 
 
 How came the wild dogs to be tamed and edu- 
 cated? This question was before the Bonny Club 
 during several meetings. With all the help the 
 children could get, many difficulties were overcome 
 and many new ideas brought to light. A few of 
 these ideas will be set down here. 
 
 Some of the children said that pet dogs are of 
 
124 
 
 no use because they do not work. Others thought 
 that the pets do good work if they please us and 
 make us happy. But older and wiser heads told the 
 children that there would never have been any work- 
 ing dogs if there had not first been pet dogs. 
 
 it 
 
 The first pet the savage man won from among 
 wild animals was his dog. The wolf became a 
 new being after he was tamed. He had no need 
 to fight for his life, or to catch game for food, or 
 to starve when he found no game. The man pro- 
 tected him and fed him. Care and kindness softened 
 his disposition, and made him trusty and faithful. 
 In return he began to guard his master's home, as 
 wolves and foxes guard their dens. 
 
 Great indeed is the change from wolf or fox to 
 pet dog. A wild dog is selfish, as he must be, 
 while a tame one takes delight in pleasing and 
 doing something for others. You know that if a 
 wild wolf were to find a litter of kittens, he would 
 eat them up in a trice ; and a fox would nab one or 
 two to carry away to her cubs. A wolf would kill 
 the sheep ; the sheep dog guards them and drives 
 them to the fold. 
 
 But a true tale of a little house dog tells of an 
 action both unselfish and cunning. This pet dog 
 
125 
 
 was fond of the cat and her kittens. One day, when 
 the cat was away hunting, a strange dog entered the 
 yard. The little dog, fearing for the kittens, carried 
 them quickly away and hid them safely. 
 
 Making a friend of the wild animal helped the 
 man who tamed him as much as it helped the dog. 
 It made him a better man. His rude and savage 
 disposition was softened when he came to be trusted 
 and obeyed, when he came to feed and caress a crea- 
 ture that had been so wild and fierce. The baby in 
 the family was the first teacher of love and sympathy 
 for others ; and the dog in the family did what the 
 baby had always been doing. 
 
 You should read the story of " Rab and His 
 Friends," written by that great lover of dogs, Dr. 
 John Brown. This friend of dogs says : " I think 
 every family should have a dog ; it is like having 
 a perpetual baby ; it is the plaything and crony 
 of the whole house. It keeps them all young." 
 
 In a large city every family cannot keep a dog. 
 The pets would suffer if there were too many. 
 Dogs need more liberty than the city allows. 
 Hence many are lost and become little tramps, and 
 many are ill-treated. In the City of New York 
 there is a society which looks after dogs, and 
 punishes those people who are cruel to them. , It 
 also restores to their homes thousands of pets that 
 
126 
 
 have been lost. People who have no dogs are 
 thus educated to be kind to the dogs of others and 
 to their owners. 
 
 Thousands of stray clogs, however, never find their 
 owners. These must be killed, or they may become 
 mad and do great harm.- Their lives are taken 
 with as little pain as possible. Their skins are 
 turned into leather, from which excellent gloves 
 are made, and all that is left of the unfortunate 
 creatures goes to the soap factory. 
 
 in 
 
 It is because the tame dog was at first more or 
 less of a pet that many kinds of clogs have been 
 taught to do many kinds of work. The working 
 ones have all turned to good account the natures of 
 their wild ancestors. Look at the dog of the 
 Eskimo. When his master hunts the white bear, 
 this animal uses the cunning of the northern wolf 
 to help him ; and, when his master's hook catches a 
 struggling fish, the clog plunges into the water 
 and brings the fish to land. 
 
 The wolf has strong legs and powerful shoulders, 
 or it could not endure to run down the caribou 
 deer. The Eskimo, having neither horse nor ox to 
 draw his loads, has trained his wolflike dogs to put 
 their powerful bodies to profitable use. After the 
 
127 
 
 dogs are harnessed to a sled — sometimes twelve in 
 a team — they gallop away over snow and ice at 
 the rate of sixty miles a day. 
 
 In former times, before steam and electricity 
 were used for power, dogs were trained to make 
 machines go. It was once the custom in Europe 
 to roast meat before a blazing fire. The meat was 
 hung on an iron spit or axle. The spit was turned 
 by a wheel, which was itself turned by a small, 
 short-legged dog treading on the rim of the wheel. 
 For this reason he was called the turnspit. In the 
 same way larger dogs were trained to churn cream 
 into butter. 
 
 Our dog has, by the skill of man, been bred into 
 many varieties, each turning to good use some 
 special disposition of the wolf or fox. Now let 
 these different kinds help you in an interesting exer- 
 cise. Take your paper pad and pencil and write 
 briefly what you have learned. 
 
 Name and describe the different kinds of small 
 pet dogs, and tell of their smart and cunning 
 doings. Which of them have a passion for catch- 
 ing rats ? Name the large ones that guard persons 
 and property; those who love to save life — that 
 rescue from drowning, and from perishing in the 
 mountain snows ; those of swiftest foot, and those 
 European dogs that hunt deer; those whose scent 
 
128 
 
 is for ground birds ; those that swim and bring 
 ashore ducks which have fallen by the sports- 
 man's shot; and do not forget those with striking, 
 humanlike faces, who are very gentle with their 
 friends, but a terror when put on the scent of run- 
 away men. 
 
 DOG WORKERS AND HEROES 
 
 i 
 
 More interest than ever is taken in Eskimo 
 dogs now that they have become so necessary to 
 the miners who rush to the arctic regions of Alaska, 
 where gold abounds. It is there that these wolf- 
 like dogs are seen by American eyes. 
 
 These animals have their faults as well as their 
 virtues. The Eskimo seldom allows his dog to en- 
 ter his hut, or to be petted as wc pet our clogs. If 
 one is permitted to spend a part of his time indoors, 
 
129 
 
 caressed by the children, his outside companions 
 grow jealous of him, and worry him to death. This 
 is because the animals have continued so near to 
 the nature of the wolf. 
 
 You will notice that the Eskimo clog has up- 
 right ears like those of the wolf. Standing ears 
 are necessary to wild animals to enable them 4o 
 catch the sounds that float in the air. The case is 
 different with nearly all dogs that have for many 
 
 generations been fondled by human hands. Their 
 ears droop, for these animals are protected from 
 danger, and have less need to listen for the sounds 
 of danger. The Eskimo does not fondle his clogs. 
 One often wonders why our working animals are 
 so willing to labor day after day. A disposition to 
 work is born in all. animals, though some seem to 
 be idle. In the wild state they must be busy to get 
 their food ; but after they are tamed, and their food 
 is provided for them, they enjoy reasonable work 
 for their masters. The Eskimo dogs have a rough 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 9 
 
130 
 
 life as we see it. They sleep in the snow during the 
 bitterly cold nights. They sometimes draw loaded 
 sleds two thousand miles within two months. 
 
 While making a long journey they seldom get 
 more than one meal a day, a dinner of dried fish 
 or fat meat, and when not at work they are usually 
 not fed at all. Yet they like to work, and they are 
 shrewd in doing it. The leader in a team, by his 
 intelligence, often finds the right road when his 
 driver is wholly unable to do so. 
 
 " Talk about dogs," said an old Alaska miner, 
 "why, the curs of high and low degree in the East 
 are not to be compared with the Eskimo clog. Put 
 him in the harness, and a broad smile spreads over 
 his face, his tail curls grandly over his back, and 
 with head and ears erect every step he takes is a 
 poem in the arctic snows. 
 
 " From puppyhood up he takes to work like a 
 duck to water. He goes at it with the vim and 
 vigor of his wild ancestors. Rig the pup in any old 
 harness, and it's amusing to see how good-naturedly 
 he buckles clown to work, never tiring, never feeling 
 discouraged. One becomes very much attached to 
 these useful and obliging animals, and they always 
 improve on acquaintance. 
 
ni 
 
 " I am led to these remarks," said the old miner, 
 "because men and boys in this mining country try 
 to train all kinds of dogs to work in harness. 
 They can't succeed, because the poor brutes are 
 not born that way. The Newfoundland and St. 
 Bernard dogs appear to have no interest in their 
 new occupation, and they show this in their down- 
 cast tails and faces. The Eskimo dogs have shared 
 my joys and sorrows in this arctic land, and this is 
 why I have a tender heart for them." 
 
 Wisest and best of all dogs is the Scotch sheep 
 dog, the collie. He 
 likes to tend and drive 
 sheep and cattle; and 
 so faithful is he that he 
 will endure hunger, cold, 
 and wet for a long time 
 rather than neglect his 
 charge. He does his duty without being told, and 
 he is so much like human beings that he often gets 
 ideas of what is going on from listening to the 
 words of his master. 
 
 Recently a man in New Jersey brought home 
 seven fine cows, intending to exhibit them at a cattle 
 show. He shut them up in his barn, but they soon 
 grew homesick, and broke away from their confine- 
 ment one dark night. In the morning their tracks 
 
132 
 
 had been covered by a fall of snow. While the 
 owner was telling his neighbor about the lost cows 
 his two collies were listening. 
 
 Soon the clogs disappeared, the man knew not 
 where. For five days nothing was heard of either 
 the cows or the clogs. On the sixth clay, however, 
 the prize animals appeared, half frozen and half 
 starved. Behind them were the trusty collies, run- 
 ning and barking to drive the cattle to the barn. 
 The cows had been found several miles away in the 
 woods, where they were eating the twigs of trees. 
 No one knows how the dogs got anything to eat. 
 Frequently, of late, the newspapers have told of 
 
 fox terriers and other 
 little house dogs, who, 
 when fire broke out 
 in the house, ran 
 to their mistresses 
 and, by loud barking, 
 waked them from 
 sleep in time to es- 
 cape from the flames. 
 Newfoundland dogs have often been known to 
 rescue people from drowning. The following story 
 illustrates their intelligence and affection. While 
 on a wharf one day one of these clogs saw a kitten 
 struggling in the water below. Without hesitating 
 
133 
 
 a moment, he plunged from the pier, seized the 
 kitten hy the nape of its neck, swam far around to 
 a low place where he could make a landing, and 
 brought the panting little waif safely to its friends. 
 
 An old negro, called " Uncle Ike," lived in Ken- 
 tucky until, as his neighbors reckoned, he was a 
 hundred years old. During his later years he lived 
 in his shanty, with only one companion — his large 
 dog Turk. He, like his master, was old, and he had 
 grown gray about the nose. 
 
 When at last Uncle Ike died, and was borne to 
 the burial ground, old Turk followed with the mourn- 
 ers, and, after the grave was filled, lay down upon it. 
 No one could coax him away. He would neither 
 eat nor drink. He died of grief, and his bones were 
 left where he lay, to show how faithful he was. 
 
 BEARS 
 
 Think kindly and justly of the black bear. He 
 is not so ravenous as the wolf. When the nurse calls 
 to the children, " Come in quick or the bears will get 
 you ! " she speaks falsely of the bears and injures the 
 children. Bears are not hunting for children to eat 
 them up, as some stories tell. 
 
 The black bear of our country is about as large 
 
134 
 
 as a Newfoundland dog. The fur of the coat is 
 longer and finer; the legs are larger and looser; and 
 the feet end in five toes, but are not used like the 
 dog's feet. The front teeth are doglike but the back 
 
 teeth are broader 
 and better fitted 
 for grinding:. 
 
 You can get an 
 idea of the food 
 an animal eats from 
 the way its tools 
 are made, and, 
 when you know 
 the kind of food it 
 eats, you may judge 
 how it will act. 
 
 The black bear 
 
 is a flesh eater, yet 
 
 he lives much on 
 
 plant food, such as 
 
 teeth enable him to 
 
 /hich his 
 
 nuts and berries, 
 chew and grind. 
 
 Plant eaters have a milder disposition than flesh 
 eaters. Lions, tigers, and wild dogs, which live 
 wholly on meat, are not kind to other animals, 
 because they must kill to get food. But those 
 bears which live partly on plant food are not cruel, 
 
135 
 
 and it is only when the mother bear has cubs to 
 protect that she acts fiercely. Such bears are usually 
 good-natured, even droll, as they show themselves 
 after being tamed. 
 
 It is of advantage to the bear, and beneficial to 
 men who make use of him, that his body and tools 
 are made just as they are. The bear's body, though 
 heavy, and his legs, though they seem clumsy, are so 
 flexible that he can climb either a small or a large 
 tree. He can thus gather nuts, on which he fattens, 
 and plunder the hives of wild bees in dead tree tops, 
 to add honey to his diet. The flesh of the black 
 bear, produced from such fare, is excellent for 
 human food. The bear comes down from the tree 
 backward, and because of this habit he is easily 
 caught by the Red Man. 
 
 ii 
 
 A pair of black bears, when winter comes, find a 
 hollow tree in which they sleep until spring, and 
 where their cubs are born. It is during this cold 
 season that they most need their thick, heavy coats, 
 which serve so well for the Indian's bed cover, or 
 the white man's robe. This winter sleep without 
 eating is possible because the bears have already 
 grown very fat. The life of the bears and of their 
 cubs is nourished by this store of fat. From it, so 
 
136 
 
 needful to the bear, the Red Man gets oil to dress 
 his leather and his hair. The white man too has 
 found this fat useful for various purposes. 
 
 You can readily see how beneficial to men is this 
 long winter sleep of the bears. The same severe 
 weather that locks up the food of the animals 
 
 makes the Red Man's hunt for the deer more 
 uncomfortable and difficult. For him, then, it is 
 good fortune to find a pair of fat bears fast asleep 
 in their winter den. 
 
 The white polar bear of the North lives almost 
 entirely on fish. His long neck is a help in catch- 
 ing fish, and the stiff hairs on the soles of his feet 
 prevent slipping on the ice. During the extremely 
 
137 
 
 cold winter, the mother bear digs a den in the deep 
 snow, where she sleeps for months and nurses her 
 cubs. 
 
 The dark color of the black bear serves to pro- 
 tect this animal from notice by his enemies when 
 roaming in the for- 
 est, and the white 
 coat of the polar 
 bear makes him, 
 also, less notice- 
 able in the regions 
 of snow and ice. 
 
 The black fur 
 makes a showy 
 cape for the coach- 
 man in the city, 
 while the white 
 fur of the polar bear protects the Eskimo hunter 
 from being seen, and also makes a handsome robe 
 or rug for the white man. 
 
 The way in which the bear uses his feet is shown 
 in nothing better than in the tricks and dancing of 
 the showman's animal, the European brown bear. 
 In the old stories he is called Bruin. You will see 
 that he uses his feet in the dance as he used them 
 when he was wild. 
 
 When any bear walks he strikes the ground with 
 
138 
 
 his whole foot. The dog steps only on his toes. 
 When he sits up, as some dogs do, he rests on his 
 whole feet, but cannot walk on them. The wild 
 bear always walks in this way — flat-footed — and 
 thus he is able not only to sit up but to walk on his 
 hind feet, while he may hug a stolen pig or carry 
 some other bundle in his arms. 
 
 So the trained Bruin, being flat-footed, can dance 
 to music; or, joining hands with his keeper, he can 
 run through the measures of a waltz nearly as well 
 as a flat-footed boy or girl. 
 
 The grizzly bear of the western mountains is 
 four times as large as the black bear. He lives 
 mostly on animal food, and is as ferocious as a tiger. 
 He cannot be tamed, his flesh is not pleasant for 
 food, and the only important value he yields is his 
 very large robe. 
 
 A BEAR FARM 
 i 
 
 Fifty years ago there was great excitement over 
 the finding of gold in California, and thousands of 
 people rushed to that far-off country to make their 
 fortunes. 
 
 The trip across the scorching plains, and over 
 high and rugged mountains, was a difficult one, 
 beset by hardships and dangers. There was no rail- 
 
139 
 
 road to the Pacific Coast at that time, and many 
 people made the journey of more than two thousand 
 miles by ox teams, fighting hunger, cold and heat, 
 and hostile Indians. 
 
 Among those who braved the terrors of the over- 
 land trip were a young man and his wife from Mis- 
 souri, who settled near the Sacramento River and 
 opened a tavern. They had very little money but 
 plenty of pluck. For a time they prospered, and 
 often took in from their guests a hundred dollars in 
 gold dust (the only money used) before breakfast. 
 
 But fortune after some years turned against them. 
 The digging of gold was less prosperous, and the 
 hotel business suffered. Finally the father died, 
 leaving the mother with a family of nine children. 
 She sold the tavern, and removed with the family to 
 a country far north, where she bought a farm and 
 set up a new home. 
 
 Then occurred an outbreak of the Indians, who 
 burned her house and barn and drove off her cattle. 
 But the brave woman never gave up the struggle. 
 She kept her pursuers at bay with a rifle until 
 she reached a refuge for her family, five miles 
 away. After that she, with a son and daughter, 
 moved to a wild mountain ridge in the Coast 
 Range. 
 
 The prospect before them was anything but rose- 
 
140 
 
 colored. All around, as far as the eye could see, 
 were mountains, forests, and grassy hills. What 
 chance was there to make a living here ? The 
 answer to this question will show what people of 
 quick wit and courage can do when they are ener- 
 getic and are determined to make the most of their 
 circumstances. 
 
 They built a cabin, and started to raise sheep and 
 pigs on the grassy ranges. But the mountain 
 woods about them were the home of bears. There 
 were so many bears that they ate up not only the 
 sheep and pigs as fast as they were raised, but even 
 the chickens. 
 
 11 
 
 This seemed to be the worst plight of all that 
 had befallen the ill-fated family. How could they 
 make a living now ? The mother, a tall old woman 
 with white hair, was equal to the crisis. She had 
 proved her own skill with the rifle. Her son was a 
 good shot and knew nothing of fear. Her daughter 
 also had learned how to handle a rifle, and was 
 equally courageous. 
 
 So the mother determined that if she could not 
 raise sheep, pigs, and chickens, she would make 
 trouble for the bears, and compel them to pay for 
 the damage they had clone. Then the three set 
 about killing bears, and sending their meat and 
 
i4i 
 
 skins to market. Mary, the daughter, soon became 
 a " crack shot," and the skins of the animals she 
 killed went to market bearing her name. 
 
 In the early spring it was not hard to find the 
 winter dens of the 
 bears, and whenever a 
 mother bear was shot, 
 the cubs were brought 
 home to the farm. 
 This started a new 
 idea — a bear farm. 
 Why not ? One of 
 the cubs grew to be 
 a large creature, and 
 became a docile pet, whom they named Pansy. 
 
 About the only sport the family had to relieve 
 the dullness of their wild life' was when the old 
 woman with snowy hair filled her apron with 
 apples and threw them, one by one, for Pansy to 
 catch in her mouth. 
 
 The idea of a bear farm grew. More cubs were 
 captured, and the number of bears killed increased 
 to fifty, even a hundred, each year. The farm 
 came to be a paying business. The skins sold 
 brought from ten to thirty dollars each. The oil 
 from a single bear brought from thirty to forty 
 dollars. 
 
142 
 
 Bear steak was also in demand after the animals 
 had grown fat on the falling acorns. When the 
 bear meat was cut into pieces and dried in the sun, 
 it was called jerked meat. This, too, was enjoyed as 
 food, and found a ready market. Added to all this, 
 an occasional sale of a live cub brought twenty-five 
 or even a hundred dollars. 
 
 Surely, very few families ever make more out of 
 discouraging circumstances than did this one. 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT FUR 
 
 i 
 There is quite a difference between hair and fur 
 — see if there is not. Hair is straight; fur is wavy 
 or curly. Hairs will not stick together; they fall 
 apart. Pinch a few threads or fibers of fur and 
 they will cleave to one another. Why is this so ? 
 
 Put a fiber of fur under a 
 magnifying glass. You will 
 see what your eyes could never 
 discover without the glass. The 
 fiber is covered with the small- 
 est possible hooks, or barbs. 
 It is by these barbs that the 
 fibers hold together. Examine 
 a single fiber of hair and you will find that it has 
 no barbs. 
 
143 
 
 Even in the finest furs there are some lonsr hairs. 
 These together are called the overhair. They keep 
 the fibers of the fur from packing too close, and 
 thus make the covering of the animal warmer and 
 more pleasing to the eye. 
 
 On a very cold day, put a lady's muff to your half- 
 frozen ear. How delightfully warm it feels ! Watch 
 the boas and muffs, capes and jackets of fur, as they 
 pass along the street. They are attractive ; some 
 of them are beautiful. 
 
 Can you think of a better covering than fur for 
 an animal in the terrible cold of the far North ? 
 Coats of fur must then be quite as warm for the 
 people in that country. They could not endure the 
 intense cold without these coats. Bears, wolves, and 
 foxes yield clothes almost ready made. 
 
 You know what the beds and clothes of the 
 Eskimo are made of. Hunters in the far North, 
 gold diggers in Alaska, and people who explore to 
 find the North Pole, are all compelled to imitate the 
 Eskimo in using furs. Even in our most northern 
 states, furs are necessary to protect against the 
 winter cold. 
 
 Men need overcoats, mufflers, and gloves of fur. 
 Women need boas, muffs, capes with upturned 
 collars, and jackets of fur. All must have fur robes 
 to wrap themselves with when they ride in sleighs. 
 
144 
 
 But furs are worn where the weather is not so 
 cold. Why? Because they are showy and beau- 
 tiful. For this reason they are often worn when it 
 would be more comfortable to go without them. 
 For thousands of years, people have set the greatest 
 value on at least five things, which they call 
 precious. These are gold, diamonds, pearls, some 
 rare and beautiful stones, and furs. 
 
 The people of ancient times had fur skins to 
 cover their floors and couches. The sacred taber- 
 nacle of the Israelites was adorned with such skins 
 dyed red. Great heroes were clothed in furs ; and 
 the choicest were reserved for kings and nobles. 
 Furs were as fashionable then as they are now. 
 There was such a rage for them that some kings 
 gave orders that the people must stop paying so 
 much money for them. 
 
 Here is a problem to think of: The choicest, 
 and in every way the most valuable, of all furs are 
 taken from small animals that reach their dens or 
 catch their prey by gliding into holes in trees or in 
 the ground. Of what use is the short, fine fur to 
 such animals ? 
 
 The buffalo is a great, bouncing creature, living 
 on the surface of the ground, and the fur on his 
 skin is very coarse. The wolf's fur is finer ; the 
 
145 
 
 bear's still finer ; and the fox, which burrows in the 
 ground, has finer fur than any of these. The pretty- 
 faced raccoon is a 
 tree animal, as is the 
 gray squirrel, and 
 these have coarser 
 fur. The rat and the 
 ferret, which slip 
 through small holes, 
 have very fine, soft fur. 
 
 The rabbit, which burrows 
 
 in the ground, has a softer fur than the hare, which 
 
 lives above ground. 
 
 A DETECTIVE IN FUR — THE FERRET 
 
 Visiting a shop, where pet animals are for sale, 
 one may sometimes see a ferret. It is a yellow- 
 ish, whitish animal, as long as a cat, and as small 
 around as a rat. Its legs are short, and its claws 
 sharp. The head is small, the ears look as if 
 they had been cropped with shears, the nose is 
 tapering, and the teeth are sharp and piercing. Its 
 body is almost as limber as a snake's; and taken 
 all together the ferret looks like a snake on lees. 
 
 The ferret is one of a large group of fur-bearing 
 animals. By knowing this one, therefore, you will 
 know many traits and habits belonging to its furry 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — IO 
 
146 
 
 cousins, such as the sables or martens, which pro- 
 duce the most costly furs. These long, flexible ani- 
 mals are so formed that the)' can make their way 
 without difficulty into and along holes that are small 
 and crooked. They would be ill-formed for their 
 work if they had long legs and ears, or larger, stirrer 
 bodies. 
 
 Ferrets have fine, soft fur, but not for this are 
 they noted or valued. They are not killed for their 
 skins, because they are needed for useful work 
 which calls for life and action. Like all their rela- 
 tions in fine fur they are lovers of blood, which is 
 their main food. They seize a rat, rabbit, or ground 
 squirrel by the neck, kill it, and suck its blood. 
 Thus they kill many more animals than they could 
 possibly eat if they lived wholly on flesh. 
 
 The ferret is not now a wild animal, though it is 
 not very tame. It is bred under human care, and 
 has been for two thousand years. Its forefathers 
 were wild, and lived in Africa. The story which 
 tells how ferrets first came to be tamed is well 
 worth reading. 
 
 More than two thousand years ago Spain was 
 badly infested with rabbits, as in late years the same 
 pests have overrun New Zealand and Australia. 
 The crops of Spain were eaten up, and the people 
 were in danger of starvation. Besides eating every 
 
H7 
 
 green thing, the rabbits bored the land full of holes, 
 and left it like a honeycomb. 
 
 The study of animals and the study of geography 
 help each other. Turning to the geography, to 
 which you may already have been introduced, you 
 will see how easy it was for Spain to carry over 
 from Africa these little creatures whose disposition 
 to kill ground animals was well known. After they 
 had been landed they were tamed as well as they 
 could be, but they were still ferocious and hungry. 
 Then they were let loose to rid the country of its 
 pests. This they succeeded in doing, and thus, as the 
 Greek story goes, ferrets saved the people of Spain 
 from starving. 
 
 ii 
 
 Though the ferret was tamed, and has continued 
 tame during all these hundreds of years, it is a 
 poor kind of a pet, and there is good reason for this. 
 Our dogs are more amiable as pets, because we do 
 not allow them to kill other animals for their own 
 food, and our cats, if well fed and much fondled, 
 are not apt to be good mousers. 
 
 But the ferret is tamed in order that it may kill 
 rabbits and rats ; and the temptation to do so is 
 that the ferret is allowed to suck the blood of its 
 victims. Its ferocious nature is thus kept alive. It 
 is no wonder that now and then the little imp nips 
 
the hand of its owner, who handles the soft, silky 
 thing and puts it in his pocket. It is often neces- 
 sary, therefore, to fasten a wire muzzle over its nose. 
 It was very natural that ferrets, having once 
 rid Spain of pests, should be sought for by other 
 
 countries. After a 
 while they spread 
 throughout Europe, 
 and were finally 
 brought to this coun- 
 try, to keep up the 
 war against rabbits 
 and rats. Perhaps 
 you can now see why 
 this animal gets an 
 advantage from its 
 soft, slippery fur when it squeezes through very 
 tight places. But the one thing that makes the 
 ferret so useful and effective is that it kills its prey 
 for the blood and not for the flesh. Hence it is 
 much used as a destroyer of pests. 
 
 The ferret man, with his gang of underground 
 detectives, — bloody little knaves, — becomes a man 
 of business and a contractor. He takes jobs of rid- 
 ding warehouses, hotels, and dwelling houses of 
 unruly rats. His armed detectives do their work 
 thoroughly. In some cases, where rabbits are to 
 
149 
 
 be routed from their holes so that they may be 
 taken for game, the ferrets are set to work with 
 muzzled noses. 
 
 The ferret, by his delving, persevering work, has 
 given a strong word to our language — a word of 
 action and pluck. We ferret out a secret or a hid- 
 den crime. We make ferrets of our brains, and set 
 them at work to run down difficult answers to hard 
 questions; to find the things that trouble and per- 
 plex our study that we may chase them into the 
 light. 
 
 A TALK WITH A FURRIER 
 
 It was scarcely nine o'clock in the morning when 
 Mary Burns stepped briskly into a shop where fur 
 garments were made and sold. 
 
 " I have not come to buy anything," she said to 
 the polite lady in attendance, "but to get some 
 items for my notebook — for our little club, if you 
 please." 
 
 "About furs, I suppose," said the lady, "and I shall 
 be only too glad to tell you what I can, for I myself 
 have a strong liking for animals as well as a fancy 
 for furs. Have you learned anything about the fur- 
 bearing animals ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mary. " I have learned about 
 wolves, foxes, bears, rabbits, and squirrels." 
 
ISO 
 
 " I presume so, but they are not the animals that 
 yield the most expensive furs. Come with me to 
 the show window. It is filled with very quiet people, 
 you see, because they are only stuffed skins. We 
 don't have to feed them, and they won't hurt you." 
 They went to the window. 
 
 " Here are your old friends," said the lady, point- 
 ing them out one by one. "And here is the beaver." 
 " Yes, I know the beaver," said Mary. " He is 
 
 the fellow that cuts 
 down trees with 
 his teeth, and 
 builds a dam of 
 timber, mud, and 
 sticks across a 
 stream, to make a 
 pond, in the mid- 
 dle of which he builds his house." 
 
 " That is correct, and you notice that his fur is 
 thick and soft, as the furs of most water animals 
 are. You see that larger animal, which also lives 
 mostly in the water. It is the seal, or sea bear, of 
 Alaskan waters. The small one in the corner is the 
 muskrat, a river and pond animal. The fur of all 
 these is not injured by being wet. 
 
 " And the otter," the lady pointed out, " is a bear- 
 like water animal that grows an excellent fur, once 
 
 - <r -P 'if 
 
 ' % ■,<.:, | ' 
 
i5i 
 
 very fashionable for overcoat collars and for gloves. 
 Otters are jolly fellows, often sliding down mud 
 banks in play. But they are growing scarce, be- 
 cause so many of them 
 have been killed just for 
 sport." 
 
 " Which animal has the 
 most costly fur ? " asked 
 Mary. 
 
 " The Russian sable. 
 It looks like this weasel 
 here, and has the same 
 form and habits, but a 
 much more beautiful fur 
 and I will show you a 
 
 
 Here is a bit of the pelt, 
 sable garment soon. But 
 here are two pieces of pelt. I wonder if you can 
 tell what two different animals they are taken from." 
 
 " Why, the weasel looks like the ferret, only it is 
 red," said Mary. 
 
 " Yes, the ferret belongs to the same family," said 
 the lady. 
 
 " And these two pieces of skin," continued Mary, 
 " I am sure are sealskin. I have seen so many seal- 
 skin capes and muffs. They look alike and feel 
 alike." 
 
 " But one of them is beaverskin," the lady ex- 
 plained. " This shows you how much art there 
 
152 
 
 is in making articles of fur. The beaver's skin, or 
 pelt, is dyed exactly like real sealskin and is clipped 
 by a machine, so that you cannot tell one from the 
 other. I can also show you furs which look like 
 sealskin, but which are made of the pelts of Belgian 
 hares and raccoons. You know the raccoon ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, he is the little tree bear, and is 
 much prettier than this stuffed thing." 
 
 " So he is, but yet is a mischievous rascal in 
 the farmer's cornfield. In former times the boys 
 on the farm had coonskin caps, and nearly always 
 
 Iry- 
 
 there was nailed on the log cabin a coonskin d 
 
 & 
 
 ing in the sun. You see, then, how skill and art are 
 making beautiful things of such ordinary affairs as 
 hareskin and coonskin." 
 
 Mary was then taken to see a Russian sable jacket 
 hanging on a rack. She admired its beauty, but 
 did not understand how so large a garment could be 
 made of so small a skin. 
 
 " We call it a pelt rather than a skin," said the 
 lady, "because a pelt is a skin with its fur. Many 
 sable pelts were put together to make this jacket, 
 and the making of it is almost as much a work of 
 art as the painting of a picture by an artist. 
 
 " You see how the shades of color are made to run 
 in regular lines. This is clone by piecing together 
 parts of many pelts. These are not cut with scis- 
 
i53 
 
 sors, which would injure the fur, but with a peculiar 
 kind of knife. A single pelt usually costs two hun- 
 dred dollars, and a jacket of this fur often sells for 
 two thousand dollars, or even more. 
 
 " For the trimmings of elegant fur garments the 
 pelts of foxes and chinchillas are very fashionable. 
 You should know the pretty, squirrel-like chinchilla 
 of South America. The linings of jackets, capes, 
 and muffs are made from the pelts of rabbits, 
 squirrels, and muskrats. So you see how many 
 kinds of animals, from all parts of the world, are 
 yielding their pelts to make us warm and attractive." 
 
 " I should think all the fur animals would be 
 killed off after a while," said Mary, thoughtfully. 
 
 " No, not for a long time. Some will go like the 
 otter, and the raccoon, which is destructive. But 
 fashion changes, and a very popular animal goes out 
 of style for a while. Then its kind has a chance to 
 multiply. The art of the furrier will find a way to 
 get out of any difficulty. Tame animals, like Bel- 
 gian hares, are quite the rage just now for both 
 flesh and fur. Then, too, there are hare farms and 
 farms for raising cats, especially black cats, for 
 their pelts." 
 
 As Mary closed her notebook and was taking 
 leave, her instructor added : — 
 
 " Now, my dear girl, there is one thing I hope 
 
154 
 
 you will carry away with you and think of. Not 
 only are millions of animals sacrificed for our pleas- 
 ure every year, but think of the men who capture 
 them — those who trap and shoot the beautiful foxes 
 in the dreadfully cold North, and those who suffer 
 hunger, are frozen and sometimes die, while they 
 hunt for the richest furs in the ice-bound winter 
 of northern Russia and Siberia." 
 
 SQUIRRELS AND CHILDREN 
 
 Central Park is a school, or rather contains many 
 schools, for children and for grown-up people, too. 
 There are occasions when they are allowed to go on 
 the grass, but it is well for both young people and 
 older people that the warning " Keep off the grass" 
 is before their eyes. 
 
 There would be no grass if the people at all 
 times were allowed to tread upon the green lawns. 
 Therefore the law which forbids them to do so is 
 just, because it is for the good of all. To walk in 
 the park, and to enjoy its beauties, without injuring 
 the grass or shrubs or flowers, is to learn a lesson of 
 obedience to the law. 
 
 But the park does much more than teach such a 
 lesson. It teaches us to love what is beautiful to the 
 eyes and the ears. For what else are the shady 
 
155 
 
 trees, the leafy shrubs, the lovely flowers, the sing- 
 ing birds, and the graceful walks and quiet lakes ? 
 The squirrels, also, 
 are a perpetual de- 
 light. It is 'well 
 that they are pre- 
 served here, for the 
 wild squirrels are 
 fast passing away, 
 killed as they are 
 for food and fur. 
 
 In the park, squirrels are shown to be of a higher 
 use than for potpies and for fur. They teach les- 
 sons of human kindness, and give examples of inno- 
 cent, childish play; for they are very human in 
 some of their ways. This is what Uncle Mack 
 thinks, and he has been a constant visitor to the 
 park for many years. 
 
 Uncle Mack loves both children and squirrels. 
 For the one he keeps in his pockets crackers, for 
 the other nuts. He carries in his hand a hickory 
 stick, to punish unruly dogs with, but he never uses 
 it on children, though he thinks some of them are 
 almost as unruly as the dogs. 
 
 Because some children try to abuse the squirrels, 
 Uncle Mack thinks they are afraid of all children. 
 " No wonder the squirrels fear children," he says, 
 
1 5 6 
 
 "for I have seen women hand switches to their 
 little ones, saying, ' Here, take a whip, baby, and 
 whip the squirrels.' " 
 
 All children who know Uncle Mack love him. 
 Some of them call him Grandpa. The squirrels 
 know and love him too, for they trust him as a friend; 
 and has he not become lame with rheumatism by 
 caring for the pets in stormy weather? When he 
 enters the park and blows his whistle the squirrels 
 rush to him from every direction, as if shaken from 
 the trees. 
 
 He calls them by name — Switchtail, Daisy, 
 Barney, Garibaldi, and so forth. They come with- 
 out a fear. They climb up his clothes and his 
 hickory cane ; sit on his shoulders ; and pull at his 
 hat, until he gives them nuts. They even go clown 
 into his pockets to find nuts. Do you not think 
 Uncle Mack is a good teacher and has a model 
 school ? 
 
 Then, again, the squirrels themselves keep school, 
 in which they teach how to play in a most human 
 way. " A visitor to Central Park, the other day," 
 says the Herald, " was sure the squirrels know 
 something about boys' sports, or he thought per- 
 haps the boys had got some of their games from the 
 squirrels. 
 
 " While sitting on a bench in one of the walks, 
 
157 
 
 the visitor noticed two squirrels which were play- 
 ing tag with all the spirit any children could 
 show. They chased each other back and forth 
 over the grass and up and down the trees, and 
 took turns as regularly as two boys would have 
 done. 
 
 " Then, to the visitor's surprise, they suddenly 
 stopped playing tag, and began a real game of leap- 
 frog on the fence rail. First one would jump over 
 the other, and then stand still while the other 
 jumped over him. They kept this up for several 
 minutes, each taking his regular turn. The visitor 
 wondered if the squirrels were imitating young- 
 sters they had seen at play, or just knew the game 
 all by themselves. 
 
 " When the squirrels had tired of leapfrog, they 
 dropped to the ground, wrapped their arms around 
 each other, making themselves into a ball, and 
 rolled down a short hill to the bottom. Then they 
 scampered back to the top and rolled down again, 
 keeping it up a half dozen times. 
 
 " Finally, the squirrels' playtime seemed to be 
 ended, for .as they separated at the foot of the 
 hill, after one of their rolls, they suddenly ran off, as 
 if called to dinner, and quickly disappeared. The 
 visitor regarded his glimpse of the squirrels' play as 
 a most delightful experience." 
 
1 58 
 
 HUNTING THE CHINCHILLA 
 
 The chinchilla is in some respects like our com- 
 mon squirrel, and in others like the rabbit. It looks 
 more like the squirrel, but acts more like the rabbit, 
 for it burrows in the ground to find a secure place 
 for its nest. The chinchilla cannot climb a tree ; it 
 lives where there are no trees. 
 
 Where does this squirrel-rabbit live? Away 
 
 up on the lofty 
 
 
 Andes Mountains, 
 in South America, 
 so far away and so 
 high up that it seems 
 as if no enemy would 
 ever find it. Chin- 
 chillas gather to- 
 getherin large, happy 
 villages, and build 
 cities in small hills on the shoulders of the high 
 mountains. 
 
 But alas for these quiet mountaineers ! They 
 are clothed in thick, soft coats of dusky gray, 
 streaked with darker color, which are very beautiful. 
 People began to find out how attractive and how 
 warm this dress of fur is, and wanted it; and 
 what people want, in these enterprising days, they 
 
159 
 
 will have, no matter in what corner of the earth it 
 may be. 
 
 Because they are like squirrels, the chinchillas 
 have a handsomer fur than if they were altogether 
 like rabbits. Then, too, the clear, dry mountain air 
 improves their pelts. But they could not live where 
 they do if they were not also rabbitlike, for there 
 are neither trees nor nuts — only roots. So they 
 must burrow for their nests, and dig roots for their 
 food. They are so gentle in disposition that it is a 
 pity to disturb their peaceful homes. 
 
 At the foot of the Andes live tribes of half-wild 
 Indians, who are only too glad to get the white 
 man's money in exchange for chinchilla furs. But 
 it is no easy task to catch the cautious, cunning 
 dwellers in the ground in such a way as not to 
 injure their precious fur. 
 
 The Indians at first tried to pierce the animals in 
 their holes, using for this purpose the sharp spines 
 of the cactus plant made into spears. By this 
 method the skins were torn. Then they set traps 
 to snare the victims when they came out of their 
 holes to feed on roots in the moonlight. But the 
 chinchillas, like many other cunning animals, soon 
 found out what the traps were for. 
 
 The Indians then tried to smoke them out by 
 building fires at the mouths of their holes. This 
 
i6o 
 
 way was effectual, but the smoke turned the pelts 
 yellow. After that the little ferrets, with which we 
 catch rats, were procured at a large price. This 
 scheme proved to be too expensive and too slow. 
 Then the shrewd, crafty white man came to the 
 help of the Indians. 
 
 The powerful, terrible dynamite, which is used to 
 blast rocks and to blow up ships, was brought 
 to the hunters, and they were taught how to use it. 
 In what way could it be applied to the capture of 
 chinchillas without blowing them to pieces ? 
 
 The dynamite was used to make a great noise, 
 and to cause the ground to tremble, and not 
 directly to injure the bodies of the ground dwellers. 
 The chinchilla was rather to be scared than hurt, to 
 begin with. The citizens in the hill must be 
 routed out of their holes with their pelts in good 
 order. 
 
 So, around the hill, the Indians build a fence of 
 grass, bushes, and spiny cactus — a fence over 
 which and through which the animals cannot pass. 
 Near the center of this inclosure, when all things 
 are ready, a roll of dynamite is exploded. 
 
 The explosion thrills the city to its center, and 
 the little inhabitants rush out of their holes, throb- 
 bino; with fear. Then the Indians, who are far 
 enough away to be safe from the bursting dynamite, 
 
i6i 
 
 leap the fence, and dispatch the larger animals by 
 the use of clubs. 
 
 The skins are taken off and spread upon bushes. 
 The flesh, which is white and tender, is roasted' at 
 the fire and is eaten by the hunters, who share 
 their meal with the ferrets, when they are in the 
 hunt. 
 
 Several times during the year, the Indians are 
 met at the base of the mountains by the agents of 
 European and American fur dealers. A large sum 
 of money is paid for the dried skins, which are 
 carried to the seacoast and shipped to different 
 countries. A long time and much labor must yet 
 be spent before the chinchilla of the Andes becomes 
 part of a lady's dress in Europe. 
 
 RATS AND MICE 
 
 " Rats ! " exclaimed Johnny, when he and Mary 
 began to study this subject; "I don't see what 
 good they do. They are rascals, and so are mice. 
 What do we keep Sleepy Eyes for but to kill rats 
 and mice ? Rats are as bad as snakes, and every- 
 body knows that snakes ought to be killed." 
 
 "There, Johnny," said Mary, "you are always 
 hard-hearted toward animals you don't like. I 
 don't like rats, I am sure ; but we have no right 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS II 
 
l62 
 
 to kill them all. And the mice — cunning little 
 things ! it always makes my heart ache when 
 Sleepy Eyes brings one to her kittens." 
 
 " You're too soft-hearted, Mary. Either we've 
 frot to die or the rats have. Don't you remember 
 how the rats ate up that big cheese in Paris? " 
 
 Mary brought her scrapbook, in which she pasted 
 
 bits of knowledge that she cut from the news- 
 papers, and this was the story she read: — 
 
 "Some years ago, at the Great Exposition in 
 Paris, there was a huge cheese shown by the 
 farmers of Switzerland. It was higher than the 
 walls of a large dining room. It took the milk 
 of hundreds of cows to make this cheese, besides 
 an immense amount of work and skill in the 
 making. Eighteen horses were required to draw 
 the wagon on which it was loaded. The farmers 
 directed that when the Exposition was over the 
 cheese should be given to the poor in Paris. 
 
i6 3 
 
 "Accordingly, when the great show closed, a 
 powerful truck drawn by eighteen horses was 
 standing near, ready to carry the cheese away. 
 As soon as the men tried to move it with ropes 
 and pikes there was a great crash. The huge 
 pile fell like a collapsed balloon. There was noth- 
 ing left but an outside shell. What had done 
 it ? The ra,ts, the rats ! They had eaten the inside 
 all away." 
 
 " There ! " cried Johnny, " did the poor people 
 get the cheese ? " 
 
 " No, not the poor people," answered Mary, " but 
 the poor rats got it." 
 
 Johnny broke into a loud laugh and said : " If 
 the poor rats had their way, there wouldn't be any 
 poor people, or any rich people either, in Paris. 
 But that was a good joke on those men and 
 the eighteen horses." 
 
 Mary had to laugh, too, and her mother joined 
 in the fun. 
 
 "After all," said the mother, soberly, "though 
 rats and mice do much mischief, it would not do 
 to kill them all. Too many would be bad for us, 
 and not enough might be just as bad. But you, 
 Johnny, made a mistake when you said all snakes 
 should be killed. Some kinds of snakes kill many 
 rats and mice, moles, and other harmful animals. 
 
1 64 
 
 " Rats and mice, you know, have two pairs of 
 front teeth that cut and dig like a carpenter's 
 chisel. They use these tools, not as the 
 
 beaver \ does, to cut clown trees for his dam 
 
 ;',' and house, nor . as the squirrel, 
 
 to gnaw away the shell of a nut, 
 but to eat holes in the farmer's 
 grain room where their food is. 
 This is why they are so mis- 
 chievous. 
 '*! " But tools that do harm 
 may also do good. Rats and 
 mice get into the pantry, it is 
 and gnaw into a box of crackers, 
 with the same tools they make 
 eir way into neglected cellars, 
 ains, and sewers, all of which 
 they do much to keep clean. They 
 eat dead animals and spoiled food 
 that would create sickness. Then 
 they spend much time in cleaning 
 their own bodies ; for they are tidy 
 in their habits. 
 
 "One scarcely knows whether 
 to admire their pluck, which has 
 moved them to steal passage on ships, and thus to 
 visit nearly every country in the world, or to detest 
 
i6 5 
 
 them for the terror they are to sailors on shipboard. 
 It is a comfort to know that they have saved life 
 where there was no other food to eat, and that their 
 skins make excellent gloves." 
 
 MICE AS PETS 
 
 It is quite a turning of the tables when the tiny 
 quadruped fought by man and woman for centuries, 
 says The Sun, is raised to the rank of a pet. But it 
 is a fact that, for the last ten years, mice have been 
 reckoned among the pets of 
 England, and that some extra 
 fine breeds have found their 
 way across the Atlantic. The 
 American Mouse Club has 
 members all over the country. 
 
 Instead of having to risk his life to gain a little 
 corner in the cupboard, Master Mouse has now a 
 dainty little hutch, and is fed on the fat of the 
 land. Among the most interesting of these pets are 
 the Chinese mice, which are much smaller than 
 the common mouse, and of beautiful and delicate 
 colors. 
 
 Then there are the Japanese mice, also called 
 the waltzing mice, because they never seem quite so 
 happy as when dancing. Pointing their little sharp 
 
1 66 
 
 noses to the ground, they whirl round and round on 
 their four feet, as though life were nothing but joy. 
 There are also the singing mice, with their clear, 
 soft whistle. Perhaps the rarest are the Egyptian 
 mice, which have little quills on their backs. 
 
 In raising these little pets, a great point is made 
 of their color. There are shiny black fellows with 
 feet and tail to match ; and there are mice with soft 
 fur, bright eyes, and playful disposition. These are 
 especial favorites with children. Those with deep 
 blue or black eyes are more highly valued than 
 those with pink eyes. 
 
 Those of entire chocolate and fawn colors are 
 highly prized. The most popular ones at present 
 are the cream and pale yellow mice, one of which has 
 been sold for fifteen dollars. Another very pretty 
 specimen has a gray body, with light silver mark- 
 ings, and ears and nose of a delicate pink. 
 
 The chief charm in having mice for pets is their 
 intelligence. They may be taught many tricks, 
 even to climbing a pole to bring down a tiny flag. 
 They also show great affection for their owners, 
 following them around, coming when called, and 
 delighting to climb up their clothes to the face or 
 neck, where they will nestle down and purr with 
 contentment. They are very playful, and will amuse 
 themselves with a piece of string as kittens do. 
 
167 
 
 Their homes are made of almost any box, though 
 some very artistic hutches are built for them. For 
 exercise, the cage is provided with a little pole run- 
 ning from floor to roof. A little above the floor is 
 a shelf on which the mice run and leap. 
 
 Mice should be fed with oats every day, with now 
 and then a change of bread and milk and fresh vege- 
 tables. Cheese should never be given to them. 
 They should also have a basin of fresh water; for 
 after eating they spend a good deal of time at their 
 toilet, washing their faces, smoothing their ears, and 
 cleaning their paws. 
 
 OUR CAT AND OTHER CATS 
 I 
 
 One good reason for giving our cat a place 
 among useful animals is, that for thousands of years 
 cats have had a place in human homes. Would 
 people have kept any animal so long in their houses 
 if it had been useless ? It is saying a good deal for 
 the cat that she has borne a respectable character 
 during four thousand years. 
 
 Our cat, like our dog, has come down from wild 
 forefathers. Her greatest-grandfather was the 
 Egyptian tame cat, though the tabby, or brindled 
 kind, is supposed to have come from the pretty 
 gray, black-striped, wild cat of Europe. The Egyp- 
 
1 68 
 
 tians almost worshiped their cats. Do you sup- 
 pose those people would have shaved off their 
 eyebrows, as they did when a cat died, if the animal 
 were a worthless brute ? 
 
 Sleepy Eyes got her name from the children, who 
 
 nearly always saw her in the daytime, when she 
 looked dumpish and stupid, and the pupils of her 
 eyes were almost closed. At night her eyeballs 
 broaden out large and glare like moons. This is 
 why the cat can see in the dark. And this is another 
 reason why cats have so long been counted useful. 
 The)' hunt at night, when dogs sleep. 
 
 If you will take up a kitten and look over its 
 weapons and tools, you will pronounce them more 
 
169 
 
 deadly than those of any other animal. The teeth 
 are like a dog's teeth, only sharper and more piercing. 
 The claws are really terrible — sharp and hooked, 
 so that they can hold what they pierce. All these 
 weapons and tools are the best possible for use in 
 catching and killing, and for defense. 
 
 But the way she handles her weapons is one of 
 the best things about the cat. When a dog hunts, 
 he shows all his tools and makes a noise about 
 his work. The cat's way is exactly the opposite. 
 She is sly, stealthy, silent. She keeps her mouth 
 shut, draws her claws into their sheaths, and walks 
 on velvet-cushioned toes. 
 
 When the cat crouches, and moves as silent as 
 the darkness, ready in an instant to spring upon 
 her prey, then she is a real lion or tiger. No 
 other animal has more frightful weapons or such a 
 noiseless way of using them as the cat family has. 
 For these reasons the wild cats — the lions, tigers, 
 leopards, and smaller wild cats — have always been 
 the most destructive and the most dreadful of all 
 animals. 
 
 Now while you hold the purring kitten on your 
 lap — little bit of a tiger, as she is — you must see 
 how valuable is our tame cat, and why men very 
 long ago tamed the most dangerous beast into 
 a gentle companion. Is it not wonderful that 
 
170 
 
 the wild one — the fiercest of animals — has been so 
 softened in temper, and made so safe in the use 
 of its deadly daggers, that it is now the harmless 
 Sleepy Eyes, fast asleep upon the rug ? 
 
 It was a great triumph to conquer such a fero- 
 cious beast, and "to train it to protect the food 
 of man, as it does. But the cat is peculiar and 
 quite different from the dog. She is more at- 
 tached to the place ; the dog more to the persons 
 in the home. The dog is a friend ; the cat is a 
 companion. 
 
 And this difference might be expected, since the 
 cat has been allowed to keep enough of her wild 
 nature to kill and eat her game, while the dog is 
 trained to catch the game and bring it to his mas- 
 ter. The cat is more independent than the dog. 
 She hunts alone, and in that way is very useful. 
 
 Had the wild cat never been tamed and made a 
 companion in the household, who can tell what 
 might have happened long before this time ? You 
 know something of rats and mice, what mischief 
 they make, and how rapidly they multiply when let 
 alone. You may have heard how rats have stolen 
 passage on ships, and thus have spread over nearly 
 all the countries of the world. Read the story of the 
 
i7i 
 
 '^if.'^t' 
 
 Rat Tower on the Rhine, and you can imagine 
 what might have happened, had there been no cats. 
 
 Wild rats were kept down by wild cats, but 
 when the rats tamed themselves enough to get 
 into the homes of men and plunder, cats had to be 
 tamed to follow their prey into houses. So every 
 nation at all civilized, living in houses and having 
 stores, has had its domestic cats. 
 
 Now you can see how much 
 value there is in our cat's peculiar 
 eyes. Rats and mice do their mis- 
 chievous work mostly at night. 
 Some dogs are excellent ratters, but 
 they work during the day. Cats, 
 with their dark-lantern eyes, hunt 
 at night. A dog gives up a rat 
 when he has chased it into a hole. 
 A cat, patiently and silently, with- 
 out moving a muscle, waits before the hole till her 
 game ventures out. 
 
 Cats do their best work in storehouses and gran- 
 aries, where they are not petted much, and where 
 immense quantities of food are stored. But sup- 
 pose the great storehouses were made of iron, 
 through which these pests could not gnaw holes. 
 Then there would be but one thing for the rats to 
 do. They would rush all the more to the farmer's 
 
172 
 
 barns and bins, and destroy the grain before it went 
 to the storehouses. So, in catching the rats and 
 mice, cats have been, as you see, most useful in 
 protecting the world's food. 
 
 Pussy's fur is valuable, and for this alone 
 there are farms for raising black cats. But she 
 becomes a different creature when she is kept only 
 as a pet. Then she is prized for her beauty, her 
 grace of form and action, and for her intelligent 
 
 disposition. She forgets her teeth and claws and 
 becomes teachable. The cat schools in England 
 and France show what education may do to change 
 a brutal nature. There the tabby, the tortoise-shell, 
 the blue cat, and the Angora from Asia are taught 
 to live with tame rats and birds, to jump through 
 hoops, and even to ride the bicycle. 
 
 Go, now, to the giants of the Old World, and 
 what a contrast ! The tiger is the tyrant of the 
 
173 
 
 Asiatic jungle ; the lion is the monarch of the 
 African forest and plain. Of them and their 
 smaller cousins little that is good can be said. 
 They are always hungry, fierce, and dangerous. 
 Rosa Bonheur, the noted Frenchwoman, lover and 
 painter of animals, had several pet lions, who would 
 allow her to fondle them as if kittens. 
 
 Few lions and no tigers have ever been thus 
 tamed. In their native haunts they are the terror 
 of the people who live near them. When the Boers 
 of South Africa were fighting their way north to 
 found a nation for themselves, they killed not less 
 than three thousand lions. In India, when a tiger 
 gets old and his teeth are worn dull, he takes to 
 killing men, women, and children. Every year 
 these man eaters kill about a thousand people. 
 
 The pelts of these giants are dressed into mag- 
 nificent robes ; but at how great a cost ! 
 
 CLOTHES MOTH AND SILK MOTH 
 
 The little clothes moth, less than half an inch 
 long, is considered a nuisance in the house. The 
 silk moth, more than twice as large, is praised for 
 its virtues. Each is known by its work, though 
 the smaller one is seldom seen, and the larger one 
 never visits the house. 
 
'74 
 
 The harmful one shall help us to understand 
 the useful one, as the good and bright Cinderella 
 in the story is more clearly seen in the shadow of 
 her vain and mischievous sisters. The clothes 
 moth destroys clothes ; the silk moth makes clothes, 
 or rather the material for useful and beautiful gar- 
 ments. But both are 
 busy workers, and, 
 like flies and butter- 
 flies, are insects. 
 
 The work of in- 
 sects cannot be under- 
 stood without know- 
 ing something of their strange babyhood. There 
 is but one stage in the babyhood of the sheep. 
 The lamb is born alive and is like its mother 
 as soon as it is born. In the babyhood of the 
 chicken are two stages, the egg, and the chick 
 with feet and wings and other parts like its mother, 
 as soon as it is hatched. 
 
 The baby life of the moth and of many other 
 insects has four stages. First, the egg, and from it 
 an ugly, crawling caterpillar. Then, after getting 
 several new skins, the caterpillar changes into a 
 doll, or pupa, inclosing itself in a case of silk. 
 And last, the pupa case breaks open, and out comes 
 a winged moth in every way like the mother that 
 
i75 
 
 laid the egg. All this may have happened within 
 about a month. 
 
 The mischief or useful work done by the moth 
 is not when it is the egg, nor when it is abroad 
 with wings. The egg has no action, nor does the 
 doll in the pupa case 
 appear to act. It is 
 the middle thing — 
 the crawling, growing 
 caterpillar that is al- 
 ways eating, day and 
 night — that does the 
 bad business or pre- 
 pares for the good 
 work. 
 
 If you could only 
 see this little pirate 
 clothes moth as she 
 goes out in a May 
 night on her errand 
 of plunder! She is 
 after woolen clothes — the finer, the better — and 
 carpets, and fine furs. In these she lays her eggs, 
 and as she lays perhaps some hundreds of them, 
 she visits all the woolen and fur garments she can 
 find, deposits her eggs, and is off. 
 
 Why does she choose woolen goods ? Because 
 
176 
 
 wool is the food of her babes. How she knows 
 woolen cloth from cotton or linen, no one can ex- 
 plain. In a few clays the caterpillars are hatched and 
 begin to eat. They grow fat, and the clothes are 
 riddled with holes, as if shot with a shotgun. After 
 another few days, each caterpillar weaves a silken 
 case around itself, and spins a lining of the finest 
 silk. Then, shortly, the case splits open, and a full- 
 dressed moth flies away to repeat the work of its 
 mother. 
 
 One cannot but admire the motherly way in 
 which this winged pirate, with no evil purpose, 
 provides for her coming children. But, as it 
 happens, her evil doing is turned to good account. 
 For there is no creature in the world that creates 
 so great a commotion as do these small clothes 
 eaters. 
 
 From fear of their coming, householders the world 
 over beat their carpets and clothes and furs, and 
 clean out closets and drawers. In so doing they 
 get rid, not only of the moth's eggs, but of dust 
 and dirt that contain the germs of disease. 
 
 After all, this is good work, and the wicked 
 clothes moth begins to look like an angel of light, 
 cleanness, and health. She has set the world in 
 commotion and caused it to be cleaned up. In 
 about six weeks she is dead and gone. 
 
177 
 
 The story of the silk moth is nearly all told in 
 the history of the clothes moth. The silk moth, 
 or silkworm, as it is usually called, is not a wild 
 insect, and has been so long under human care 
 that it is not known when or where it was first 
 confined. 
 
 It is human care, however, that controls the silk- 
 worm's work and 
 makes it good. Were 
 this moth left free, 
 its large caterpillars 
 would destroy certain 
 kinds of plants, and 
 would themselves be 
 an easy prey to birds. 
 But so long has it 
 been dependent on 
 the help of men that 
 its wings have lost power, and it must be housed 
 and fed. It is handled, and its eggs are gathered 
 like hens' ea^sfs. 
 
 The eggs of the silkworm, like those of other 
 insects, are laid on the food which the caterpillars 
 eat. The leaves of the mulberry tree provide this 
 food, which is spread on tables for the cater- 
 pillars to crawl and feed upon. They are enormous 
 eaters, and, when grown, each begins to change into 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS- 
 
1 7 8 
 
 a pupa. Out of its own body it spins a delicate 
 thread of silk, which it winds around and around 
 itself until it is entirely inclosed and glued. The 
 pupa case is called a cocoon. 
 
 It is said that the silkworm turns leaves into silk, 
 but not without help. Just when the cocoon is 
 formed, human fingers take hold, as they did in 
 feeding the caterpillars and keeping them clean. 
 The cocoons, about the shape and size of peanuts, are 
 collected, then heated to destroy the pupas within, 
 and afterward the silk is unwound and reeled upon 
 spools. It is then ready for weaving in the loom. 
 
 Wherever the mulberry tree will thrive, these silk- 
 worms can be kept. China is the oldest silk- 
 raising country. France and Italy have for a long 
 time sent us their silk thread to weave, and the 
 finest of satins, silks, and velvets are woven from 
 this delicate, glossy fiber. 
 
 Forty years ago almost all our silk goods were 
 made abroad. Now nearly all are made at home. 
 Thousands of people, mostly women, are employed 
 in silk raising, and thousands more in silk weaving. 
 
 Most valuable of all insects are these humble, 
 tender worms. They spin a floss which gives health, 
 comfort, and beauty to human life. They set in 
 motion thousands of feet and fingers, and help a 
 great multitude to earn their bread. 
 
179 
 
 3.*Sto 
 
 AN HOUR WITH THE BEES 
 
 The apple trees were dressed in the blossoms of 
 May when Tony Grant left home to pay another 
 visit to Mary and John Burns. Their mother had 
 suggested that Tony be invited at this time. As it 
 was the beginning of the bee season, the children 
 and their friends in the Bonny Club were giving 
 attention to bees, and Tony's father was a successful 
 bee keeper. 
 
 It was while they were talking of this visit of the 
 country boy that Mary said to her mother: "Isn't 
 it queer, Mamma, that Tony knows so little about 
 
i8o 
 
 the birds and other animals he sees about him all 
 the time ? I almost believe country children know 
 less about country things than city children do 
 about city things, and I shall not be surprised if 
 Tony has little to say about bees except that they 
 make honey." 
 
 " Yes, it does seem a little queer, as you say," 
 said her mother, " but people on farms work so 
 hard and so long in the fields that they have little 
 time or desire to study what is interesting and beau- 
 tiful about them. But then, how much do city 
 children know of how electric cars are run, how the 
 telephone works, or how gas is made ? " 
 
 When Tony came, Mary found that he knew 
 more than she expected. He brought something 
 that was a great surprise to his friends, and to some 
 members of the club who were invited to spend an 
 hour with Tony and the bees. 
 
 In one hand he brought three living bees, each 
 in a wire cage, and in the other a bunch of apple 
 blossoms. The children crowded around the table 
 to get a peep at the prisoners behind the bars. 
 
 Tony took up one of the cages and explained 
 that the prisoner was the queen, who leads the bee 
 company, lays all the eggs, and is the mother of all. 
 In the next cage he showed the drone, who loafs, 
 is fed, and does no work; and in the third cage 
 
181 
 
 the worker, who gathers and makes the honey and 
 
 does all the work. This lesson Tony had learned 
 
 from his father, who prepared the cages 
 
 for him. Beyond this Tony confessed 
 
 that he knew little of bees. He liked 
 
 honey, but having once been stung 
 
 he kept away from the hives. 
 
 ii 
 
 It fell to Mrs. Burns, therefore, to give such 
 knowledge as she had gathered from bee keepers. 
 She told how the bees live in colonies. Wild bees 
 raise their young and store their 
 honey in hollow trees and rocks, 
 but domesticated bees have wooden 
 
 jpJlK'O hives made for them. The work- 
 ers go out in search of flowers, from 
 which they suck the sweet juice and make it into 
 honey and wax. With the wax they make combs, 
 in which are nursery cells and honey cells. 
 
 The queen lays an egg in each nursery or baby 
 cell, which the workers close up, leav- 
 ing a small hole to let in the air. In 
 a few days white grubs are hatched 
 from the eggs, as are caterpillars from $e ; 
 moth eggs. The workers feed sweet 
 food to the grubs. But the grubs, like the cater- 
 
182 
 
 pillars, soon spin cocoons around themselves, and 
 not long afterward the cocoons open and perfect 
 bees come forth. 
 
 The grubs in a few large cells are fed with very 
 rich food, which makes them grow into queens. So 
 bees make their own mother queens. As soon as 
 each new queen appears she takes with her a colony 
 of the common bees, and goes out to set up a new 
 home. This is called the swarming of the bees. 
 
 " You cannot spend all your time on the curi- 
 ous ways of these wonderful creatures," said Mrs. 
 Burns, " so I will tell you how they are made use- 
 ful to us. What are the bees working for? For 
 themselves, of course, but also to feed the queen, the 
 drones, and the young. They fly miles away to 
 find flowers, and, having filled themselves with 
 honey, return home in a straight line. It is believed 
 that they can see a very long distance, but how they 
 strike a direct line for their hives is a mystery. 
 
 in 
 
 " Bees to be useful must be protected and con- 
 trolled by men. If left to themselves, a great deal of 
 honey and wax is wasted and lost. Bears, raccoons, 
 and other enemies rob the homes of wild bees. 
 Even domesticated bees, if neglected, swarm and fly 
 away to seek homes in the woods. In Southern 
 
183 
 
 California they get into the roofs of churches and 
 store tons of honey which cannot be reached. 
 
 " But when controlled by care and skill, bees are 
 improved in many ways, and what they produce is 
 saved. They know their keepers, who handle them 
 like chickens. Hives are made for them. The 
 queen bees are caught, and each new swarm is put 
 into a separate hive. They feed near home, on or- 
 chard blossoms, 
 the flowers of the 
 garden, and of 
 grain. 
 
 " Their keepers 
 drive away their 
 enemies — rats, 
 mice, moths, and 
 birds — and keep 
 the hives clean. 
 
 For this care and help the bees make a great quan- 
 tity of honey besides that which they need for them- 
 selves. Another time you can find out how bees 
 cause flowers to bear seed. Tony can now tell us 
 something of the hives in which his father's bees 
 are kept." 
 
 Tony blushed a little at being called upon so 
 suddenly, but he described the hive very well. 
 " It is a little square, wooden house with two sto- 
 
 
1 84 
 
 ries. In the lower part the bees make wax, raise 
 their young bees, and store honey for their own food. 
 In the upper story there are frames which easily slip 
 in and out. The bees fill these with honeycomb, full 
 of honey sealed up tight. There are little glass 
 windows in the sides of the hive, so that one can 
 see when a frame is filled." 
 
 Mrs. Burns added that some of the honey is sold 
 in the comb in small frames, but that most of it is 
 thrown out of the comb by swiftly revolving ma- 
 chines. One can never be sure, however, that this 
 extracted article is pure honey, because it is often 
 mixed with other sweets. For the rest she advised 
 the children to find out for themselves the many 
 articles made of beeswax. 
 
 USEFUL SINGING HIRDS 
 
 In summer the orchards, groves, and woods 
 would be lonely and cheerless without the singing 
 birds. Many people do not notice the presence of 
 the musicians in the trees, but if the song birds 
 were suddenly taken away, everybody would feel 
 that something was wrong. 
 
 On the Pacific Coast there are few singing birds, 
 and for want of them the groves seem dreary as 
 
i8 5 
 
 one walks among them. For this reason, and for 
 one other reason, a bird society in Oregon, some 
 years ago, brought from Europe about three hundred 
 pairs of what the society called " useful singing 
 birds." Among these were the skylark and the 
 nightingale, of which the poets have sung. 
 
 These foreigners in feathers were needed, first, to 
 make joyous music among the voiceless trees, and 
 next, to destroy insects that injure the fields of grain 
 and the orchards of fruit. For the farmers were 
 greatly plagued by butterflies, moths, and their cat- 
 erpillars. The birds were let loose from their cages, 
 and at once scattered in all directions, building 
 nests and raising their young. The work of the 
 society was reported as very successful. 
 
 In the states east of the Rocky Mountains there 
 is no lack of singing birds, except for reasons that 
 this story will refer to. 
 
 In a certain uptown school in the city of New 
 York, a class of girls and boys had been enjoying 
 a course of nature study, which brought the class 
 to the subject of singing birds at the beginning of 
 June, when the birds are singing and working. 
 
 Central Park is the home of over a hundred 
 kinds of native birds, and the class was only too 
 happy to accept an invitation to visit this protected 
 bird home. So, promptly at a given hour, the chil- 
 
1 86 
 
 dren were led by their teacher along beds of gay 
 June flowers and grassy lawns, until they came 
 to the Ramble, which is the favorite retreat of the 
 birds. 
 
 Out on the green lawn near the Ramble were a 
 great many robins, — vigorous birds more than twice 
 as large as canaries. These lusty robins were hop- 
 ping, then stopping as if to show their red breasts, 
 and bobbing their heads up and down as they thrust 
 their slender bills into the grass. What were they 
 doing? The teacher explained that it was too late 
 to hear their morning chorus of song, and that the 
 birds were only getting their breakfast of grubs and 
 worms. 
 
 " Many grubs, caterpillars, and worms," said the 
 teacher, "are harmful to the grass and trees, and in 
 the orchard and garden they destroy fruits and 
 vegetables. These pests are delicious food for the 
 robins, which are getting their meal early, not only 
 because they are hungry, but because they have 
 learned by experience that ' the early bird gets the 
 worm'; for these crawling things go into hiding as 
 the sun grows hotter." 
 
 The party was entering the Ramble, when they 
 heard clear, flutelike notes from a tree top near. 
 "What bird is that? " asked the children. 
 
 " It is one of our robins," answered the teacher. 
 
i8 7 
 
 " He has finished his breakfast and is singing for 
 joy. He makes music before work and after 
 work." 
 
 ii 
 
 As they went farther along into the deeper shade 
 of the Ramble, they heard a different note, from a 
 bird moving among the dense foliage. -. 
 This bird's motions were quick, and Bh 
 it warbled with every change 
 of place. 
 
 " Why, that must be an- 
 other robin," exclaimed 
 Mary Burns, for she 
 was there with her note- 
 book. 
 
 " No," replied the teacher, who 
 was at home with birds, " the 
 notes are a little like the robin's, 
 but feebler and more broken. 
 It, is an oriole, though he hides 
 himself as yet. He is not so 
 large as the robin, and is called 
 Baltimore oriole, because his rich colors 
 are those which were worn by Lord Baltimore, the 
 first governor of Maryland." 
 
 " There ! " cried one of the girls, " I see it ! Its 
 
feathers are black and it has an orange-colored 
 breast. Oh, I am sure I have seen the oriole's 
 feathers on the hat of a lady I know." 
 
 " Very likely you have," said the teacher ; " many 
 beautiful orioles and other birds of gay colors have 
 been killed to adorn ladies' hats." 
 
 " It is a shame ! " cried Mary. " But why is this 
 bird so shy ? Why doesn't it show its gay colors ? 
 
 They are so 
 gorgeous ! " 
 
 " That is just 
 why it doesn't 
 show itself," an- 
 swered the teacher. 
 " The robin's dark 
 feathers protect it from 
 notice on the ground, but 
 the flaming coat of the oriole exposes it to danger 
 from hawks and shotguns. You observed how 
 quickly Amy discovered the bird among the leaves, 
 and noticed that the feathers were like those on the 
 hat of her friend. The bird doesn't want to be seen, 
 and the lady does. But the killing of these and thou- 
 sands of other useful singers is dreadful business." 
 
 So the children thought and said, as they sat 
 down on the benches to rest. After a while, the 
 teacher called their attention to what the oriole was 
 
doing ; for it was working as well as warbling. 
 " You see it is picking something from the branches 
 and leaves. It is getting its breakfast of caterpillars 
 and insects, as the robins were, only it is hunting 
 in the trees for such food as they took from the 
 ground. But, listen a minute!" 
 
 There sounded through the dense shade where 
 they sat the sweetest tune — two notes with an 
 upward slide, and two with a downward cadence. 
 " Pe-wee, pe-wee," sang the bird. The children 
 were charmed, but the teacher told them to keep 
 still. In a moment a little dusky bird, like a canary 
 in size, lighted on a bough in full view, blowing 
 the same tune from its pipe to tell where it 
 was. 
 
 Suddenly the pewee flew straight up into the air, 
 and, having caught a flying butterfly, dropped again 
 on the branch, repeating its tune. 
 
 " You saw what the pewee did ? " said the 
 teacher. " It catches harmful insects in the air, 
 and sings between its captures. You are now 
 acquainted with three of the many useful singing- 
 birds. All are birds of the air and of the trees. 
 One gets its food mostly on the ground ; one on 
 the trees ; and one in the air on the wing. These 
 are but three of the many singers that help us 
 by their song and by their work." 
 
190 
 
 HOUSE SPARROW AND CANARY 
 1 
 
 Our little house sparrows have spread rapidly 
 over the country. Forty years ago there were 
 none here ; now there are a great many millions. 
 They have traveled from the Atlantic to the Pacific 
 coast. This is astonishing when you think what a 
 rough-and-tumble life they have lived. 
 
 Only a few pairs were at first brought across the 
 ocean. They were called English spar- 
 rows because they came from England ; 
 but they live nearly everywhere in 
 Europe. Not for their beauty or 
 for their song were they 
 brought across the 
 ocean. Strangely 
 enough, they have no song. Could 
 you see one of them by the side of 
 our native song sparrow, or tree spar- 
 row, you would say the two were alike. Both have 
 the short, stout bill that belongs to seed-eatinq; 
 birds ; not the soft, long bill of the robin, that 
 catches worms and caterpillars for food. 
 
 It is thought that the house sparrow was once 
 a bird of the bush and of the tree, like our singing 
 sparrows. No one knows just when or how he 
 
 --"- 
 
changed from the old habits of his kind, came into the 
 town and the city to live, and lost his singing voice. 
 This we do know: that the young of our singing 
 birds learn their songs by imitating the voices of 
 their parents. Young robins have been reared in 
 cages placed near singing birds of a different kind, 
 and have thus learned a song not at all like the 
 song of their fathers. 
 
 Why did the house sparrow come to live in the 
 town and the city ? It is not hard to tell why — it 
 came to get food. The worm-eating robin and some 
 of the seed-eating sparrows go south to spend the 
 winter, not to get away from winter because it is 
 cold, but because the frost and snow destroy and 
 cover up their food. The forefathers of the house 
 sparrows were smart enough to find that by staying 
 in town they could pick up a good living in the 
 streets and around the houses, and so save a long 
 and dangerous journey to the South. 
 
 So they changed their old sparrow life and began 
 to build their nests under the eaves of dwelling 
 houses, in nooks of barns, in holes, and in boxes. In 
 this way they were separated from singing birds, and 
 were left to imitate only the harsh noises of the 
 street. In this new life they learned how to get in 
 everybody's way, and how to get out of the way 
 without being hurt. It is not strange that a great 
 
192 
 
 cry went up against these noisy foreigners with 
 wings, when they began to litter the verandas and 
 became so impudent in getting their food. 
 
 ii 
 
 Why, then, were these sparrows brought over from 
 Europe ? This was clone when the cankerworms 
 and tent caterpillars were trying to destroy our fruit 
 trees and shade trees. " But," said many wise 
 people, " these little ruffians drive away robins and 
 singing birds, and besides, they are seed eaters, not 
 worm eaters." Now that they have battled for their 
 life so long, and are so many and so plucky, we find 
 much to be said in their favor. 
 
 Only the other clay, I watched a house sparrow 
 wrestling with a cracker which a child had dropped 
 on the pavement near the park. A dog came along 
 and claimed the morsel. The sparrow picked it up 
 and flew to a bush. The clog passed on. The 
 sparrow dropped to the ground and began again to 
 break the cracker. Then a wicked moth flew over. 
 The sparrow darted into the air, caught the moth, 
 swallowed it, and once more attacked the cracker. 
 
 The house sparrows are seed eaters, it is true, 
 but like all seed-eating birds they also eat many de- 
 structive insects and worms. And they must have 
 worms for their young in the nest, because the bird- 
 
193 
 
 lings cannot eat grain. So, notwithstanding the 
 house sparrow's saucy ways, and his plundering of 
 berries and grapes in their season, he does destroy 
 a great many injurious insects. A naturalist watched 
 a pair carrying food to their family. In half an 
 hour they had brought to the nest over a hundred 
 fly grubs, besides catching fourteen flies on the 
 wing. 
 
 To the credit of the house sparrow, it must not 
 be forgotten that he is in town all the year round, 
 and always at work. He cleans the street and the 
 back yard, and takes away the scattered food on 
 which flies and other pests thrive. 
 
 But the best thing about these busy scavengers 
 is the way they work and fight for one another. 
 Under the lamp of an electric light pole a pair of 
 sparrows had their nest, and their young were learn- 
 ing to fly. By accident, one of the young birds 
 dropped to the ground, when a dog, the terror of all 
 the other dogs in the neighborhood, sprang after the 
 helpless waif to make a meal of it. Instantly the 
 parent birds attacked the head of the heartless dog 
 and tried to peck his eyes. In another instant their 
 cries of distress brought at least twenty of their 
 comrades to the rescue. Together they pecked the 
 brute on all sides, and in every part, until he was 
 glad to get away for his own safety. 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 1 3 
 
194 
 
 Now turn to the canary in the cage. He seems 
 to like his narrow quarters, for he is nearly always 
 in good spirits. The house sparrow's business is 
 that of a street cleaner and insect killer. His 
 squeaking note is in keeping with the rattling, 
 rasping noises of the street; but the canary's business 
 
 is to sing sweetly, 
 
 <* V. ■.- ..« * J and t0 say to the 
 
 Infill] ^r ° f 
 
 Perhaps you 
 think the canary 
 in the cage is an 
 imprisoned bar- 
 barian, caught in 
 the woods, and tamed as the mocking bird and red- 
 bird are tamed. This is not so. Its forefathers 
 were captured more than four hundred years ago. 
 Since then, the merry singers have been raised in 
 confinement. They have lost the ways of wild 
 birds, and have gained the habit of singine in all 
 seasons more than any wild bird. 
 
 Most of the canaries are bred among the Hartz 
 Mountains, in Germany, and the raising of them 
 makes busy work for thousands of peasants. They 
 labor to produce fine singers, though they are not 
 
i9S 
 
 careless of fine forms and feathers. In hundreds of 
 cottages, which dot the hills and valleys of the bird 
 district for many miles distant, the work of select- 
 ing, mating, and feeding the birds and their young 
 goes on in summer and in winter. Men skilled 
 in the business, and called pickers, spend their 
 time going from house to house to gather up the 
 young singers and bring them to the training school. 
 
 To sing the best songs, canaries must be trained. 
 If left to themselves, they will learn to repeat any 
 sounds which they hear frequently. Thus they 
 acquire " choppy " notes that are not pleasant to 
 the ear. The school is carried on by men and 
 women, but the teachers, the " professors," as they 
 are called — who are they? They are feathered, like 
 the pupils, and are the best and most accomplished 
 singers to be found. 
 
 The young birds brought in by the pickers are 
 put into cages, each with a " professor," and there 
 they learn to imitate the notes of a real artist, not 
 broken or choppy notes, but musical, flowing, and 
 sweet. Birds so trained bring high prices. 
 
 Many people are also employed in making the 
 small wicker cages in which the birds are sent to 
 market — to other countries in Europe, and to 
 America. 
 
 Healthy birds only are shipped to America, and 
 
1 9 6 
 
 the care of fifteen hundred singers on the voyage is 
 a hard task for one skillful man. He must rise 
 early in the morning to clean the cages and pro- 
 vide breakfast for these hundreds of hungry bills. 
 He must watch every sign of disease. He must 
 guard against the ship rats, which find the place 
 of the birds by their song and chirping, but care 
 nothing for their music — only for their precious 
 little bodies. So the bird tender has long, anxious 
 work and but little sleep. 
 
 FOWLS OF THE FARM 
 i 
 
 All animals that have feathers are birds. There 
 are birds of the air, birds of the land, and birds of 
 the water. They lay eggs, as do fishes, snakes, and 
 flies. Birds are very different from sheep, cows, 
 dogs, and from all other animals that give milk but 
 do not lay eggs. 
 
 The horse and cow eat large food, large quantities 
 of grass, bundles of hay, and boxes of grain. But 
 there is small food that would go to waste were it 
 not for the birds. They eat the kernels of grain 
 which the horse scatters, the seeds blown every- 
 where by the wind, and the insects that hide in 
 the cornfield and in the garden. 
 
197 
 
 For this purpose birds have a peculiar set of 
 tools. A cow cannot pick up a single kernel of corn, 
 nor can a dog catch a grasshopper; but a chicken 
 can do both. It has a sharp, pointed bill for pick- 
 ing up small things, and scratching claws for uncov- 
 ering worms in the ground. The duck has a flat 
 bill to scoop up food from 
 the muddy bottom of a 
 pond, and webbed feet to 
 paddle with. 
 
 Birds yield some peculiar 
 products which no other 
 animals give. Cows mow 
 the grass and give us meat, 
 milk, and leather. Chickens 
 pick up the small food and 
 give us meat, eggs, and 
 feathers. We need the 
 chickens, turkeys, ducks, and geese ; we need their 
 meat, their eggs, and their feathers. 
 
 Eggs are wonderful food. They take the place 
 of both meat and milk. After they have been laid 
 they are easily gathered, handled, packed, trans- 
 ported, and cooked. Have you ever tried to think 
 how many eggs the people of the United States eat 
 in one day? They eat a greater number of eggs 
 in one day than you can count in a whole year. 
 
Feathers are light, warm, and beautiful. They 
 are in every house, and very near to our dreams. 
 They are on the girls' hats. The Red Man's king 
 was crowned with feathers, and the gay garments of 
 his people were adorned with them. Far away in 
 the cold regions of the North the Eskimos are busy 
 plucking the softest of feathers from the nests of 
 the eider cluck. As many people are hunting and 
 raising African ostriches for their delicate plumes. 
 These are the most costly feathers. 
 
 But the birds of the world could never supply 
 the fowls, eggs, and feathers that are called for, 
 if skill and industry did not help and improve 
 the birds. So the poultry business has grown 
 immensely, and fowls are made to produce very 
 much more than they did in early times. To see 
 how this is done, take a peep at a poultry farm. 
 
 ii 
 
 Mr. Grant laid out, at great expense, poultry 
 yards, chicken houses, and cluck houses. Tony 
 took such a deep interest in the enterprise that his 
 father allowed the boy to think it was his own ; and 
 indeed Tony worked very hard and talked rather 
 large about his " business." When everything was 
 in running order he invited Johnny and Mary to 
 visit him. 
 
199 
 
 How delighted they were with the sight ! Tony, 
 like a general manager, showed them through the 
 whole " business." They stepped into the dark 
 nest room where the hens stole softly in and laid 
 their eggs in boxes lined with clean earth and 
 straw. For the first time they heard a hen cackle 
 with joy, after she had laid her egg, and a rooster 
 answer her music with a louder, more melodious 
 note. 
 
 Then they went into the hatching room where 
 large hens were sitting on their nests. Tony lifted 
 one from her nest and uncovered sixteen eggs. 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mary, " so many eggs in one 
 nest ? How long does the hen sit before the chicks 
 are hatched ? " 
 
 Tony explained that it took three weeks for hens' 
 eggs to hatch ; and while Johnny looked on in 
 silent interest, Mary said: " How strange it is! The 
 hens must get very hungry and tired sitting still so 
 Ions'." She touched the e^s and found them warm. 
 
 " This way," said Tony, opening a door looking 
 out upon a small yard where were food, water, and a 
 heap of sand. " Here," said he, " the hens take a 
 recess for an hour or so every clay — eat and drink 
 and roll in the sand. Now let me show you a hen 
 that doesn't get tired." 
 
 The children were full of curiosity as they has- 
 
200 
 
 tened to enter another hatching room. There they 
 saw nicely finished cabinets, like show cases, with 
 glass in the sides. They looked through the glass 
 and saw eggs arranged in rows ; tiny chicks and 
 empty shells ; chicks with their heads just out of the 
 shell ; and little bills sticking through other shells. 
 Tony had wisely planned for their visit at hatching 
 time. 
 
 The children were astonished. Johnny was quite 
 startled for him. " What is this ? " he asked. " This 
 isn't a hen ! You must be joking." 
 
 " But where did you get all these eggs?" Mary 
 wanted to know. " Your hens didn't lay them, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " No, I buy the eggs of other farmers," answered 
 Tony. " If real hens had to hatch the eggs, there 
 wouldn't be chickens enough for the people to eat ; 
 and then if hens had to do all the hatching;, there 
 would not be enough left to lay all the eggs the 
 people want. You see if we do not let a hen sit, 
 she goes on laying eggs, and perhaps lays a hundred 
 and fifty in a year. Yes, this is my hen that doesn't 
 grow tired ; we call her an incubator, and these four 
 incubators hold six hundred eggs." 
 
 " A jolly old hen is this," said Johnny, laughing, 
 "and you don't have to feed her." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I do," said Tony, quickly. " Look 
 
201 
 
 here ! " He then showed them a lamp, with a ther- 
 mometer attached, that is kept burning for three 
 weeks, to keep the incubator at the same degree of 
 heat. " This is the way the old hen is fed," he added. 
 
 in 
 
 Then the visitors were led to the coops where 
 were hens brooding little chicks. 
 Mary was deeply affected by see- 
 ing the old hens coddle the 
 young things under their 
 wings. " But, Tony 
 she cried, " what do 
 those poor little in- 
 cubator chicks do ? " 
 
 So back they 
 went to the 
 hatching house. 
 Tony opened 
 one of the incu- 
 bators and put 
 
 three little chicks, now ready to be taken away, 
 into Mary's hands. Then he led his friends into 
 still another room, where steam pipes were laid a 
 little above the floor. There were many little ones 
 already nestling under the pipes, and Mary put hers 
 there. 
 
202 
 
 " This is the mother," said Tony. " It's a steam 
 mother, and is just as good as one with feathers 
 and wings." 
 
 After visiting the ducks at the pond, the geese in 
 their pasture, eating grass, and the turkeys roaming 
 with their broods over the meadows, the children re- 
 turned to the house. Here they met Tony's father, 
 who, he said, helped him in the business. From 
 
 him they learned how 
 ducks are fattened for 
 market ; that geese live 
 long lives, make a 
 great deal of noise 
 while they live, and 
 that their feathers are 
 plucked twice a year. 
 After Mr. Grant had 
 answered many ques- 
 tions he took from his pocket a small pearl-handled 
 knife with a sharp blade. " What do you call 
 such a knife ? " he asked. 
 
 " A penknife," said Johnny, promptly. 
 "Why do you call it a penknife?" asked Mr. 
 Grant. 
 
 To this there was no answer, and Mr. Grant 
 said, " I'll tell you why." He took from a vase a 
 large goose quill, — a feather that had been pulled 
 
203 
 
 from the wing of a goose, — and whittled the end 
 of it into a pen. 
 
 " There, Johnny," he said, " take this home with 
 you, and you will find that it will write very well. 
 This knife is not used to make pens nowadays, for 
 our pens are made of steel, but its name tells an 
 interesting history. When my father was a boy, 
 all pens were made from quills, and with a penknife. 
 The children at school had to learn how to make 
 their own pens. But the geese made the quills. 
 So you see that geese and feathers have done a 
 great deal to educate the world." 
 
 OSTRICH FARMS 
 
 The most graceful and costly plumes come from 
 the African ostrich, just as the best ivory comes 
 from the African elephant. The ostrich is the 
 largest of all birds, so large that a boy can ride him 
 if he can get on the bird's back, and sometimes he 
 can. It is a swift runner, and is more than a match 
 for a swift horse. When in full speed its steps are 
 twenty feet long. 
 
 No animal with feathers is more famous ; and it 
 seems rather odd that so mighty a bird should get 
 its fame on account of the feathers on its wings and 
 tail rather than for its strength and speed. 
 
204 
 
 Thousands of years ago ostrich plumes were worn 
 by the kings of Egypt, and were made into splen- 
 did fans for the ladies of Rome. Even to this day 
 the native kings and chiefs of Africa adorn them- 
 selves with these feathers, and they are so bril- 
 liant, so glossy, and so delicately curled that they 
 are very much in demand for ladies' dress the 
 world over. 
 
 It is troublesome to get them, however, for 
 
 wild ostriches 
 are not easily 
 caught. Many 
 horses have 
 been tired out, 
 one after an- 
 other, running 
 down a single 
 bird. So the 
 idea was started 
 to catch and confine a few of them, and otherwise 
 treat them as geese are treated. 
 
 Ostrich farms were first tried in South Africa, 
 and from them were brought over the few birds 
 with which American farms were begun in Florida 
 and Southern California. These poor pilgrims 
 were seasick during the whole voyage to Califor- 
 nia. Many of them died on shipboard, and those 
 
205 
 
 that were left died soon after they were landed. 
 Fortunately some eggs had been laid, and from 
 these were hatched healthy, happy creatures that 
 were never seasick or homesick. 
 
 In their native home, ostriches travel a dozen 
 miles or more daily in search of grass to eat. On 
 the farm the grass or hay is brought to them cut up 
 fine. The wild ostrich hen lays one huge egg, in 
 a sandy hole, every other day. The hatching begins 
 when fifteen eggs have been laid, and a pair of birds 
 take turns in brooding them. When an ostrich's 
 egg is placed beside a hen's egg, its great size is 
 seen. It weighs about three pounds. 
 
 On the farm the farmer takes a hand in the hatch- 
 ing. As soon as the ostrich hen has laid an egg, the 
 farmer removes it from the nest. The hen, though a 
 stupid bird, never gives up her dream of a happy 
 brood of' chicks, and keeps on laying until she has 
 laid perhaps eighty eggs. From time to time the 
 eggs are placed in an incubator, and in forty days 
 the downy chicks are hatched. Their life goes on 
 smoothly for three years, or until their feathers grow. 
 
 The choice plumes of the grown ostrich adorn his 
 wings and tail. He is unwilling to part with them, 
 and, like a vicious horse, defends them by kicking 
 with his powerful feet. Placed in a box stall he 
 grows furious. But when a stocking has been 
 
206 
 
 drawn over his head and eyes, the bird submits qui- 
 etly to being plucked, which fortunately gives little 
 pain, as the plumes are taken with shears. 
 
 An ostrich is not full grown until it is four 
 years old, but it may live eighty years. A 
 good bird produces a pound of feathers each year, 
 but that pound is worth sixty dollars. Prepar- 
 ing the feathers for the hats, capes, and boas of 
 women is a great business in itself. The clean- 
 ing, the starching, the dyeing, and the piecing 
 together of small feathers so as to make large 
 
 plumes, is a 
 work of skill 
 and art. 
 
 Besides the 
 profitable crop 
 of feathers pro- 
 duced," the os- 
 trich farm is an 
 
 amusing show 
 
 for the visitor. 
 
 The performers 
 are such odd, awkward, gawky creatures. They 
 march and whirl, and then suddenly break into 
 a ludicrous dance or waltz. Again they stretch 
 their long necks over the fence and pick a ribbon 
 or a flower from a lady's hat, or a lighted cigar from 
 
207 
 
 a man's lips. These, with nails, screws, and buttons, 
 they swallow as if they were dainty morsels. 
 
 The only time an ostrich allows itself to be 
 petted is during its chickhood, from the moment 
 it leaves the eggshell until it gets its first real feath- 
 ers in the place of its bristling down. 
 
 " There are not many young animals prettier 
 than the ostrich chick," says an observer. " It has 
 such a sweet, innocent baby face, such large eyes, 
 and such a plump, round little body. All its move- 
 ments are comical, and there is an air of conceit 
 about the tiny creature which is most amusing." 
 
 ARE ANY ANIMALS USELESS? 
 i 
 
 It would take too long to tell all that the chil- 
 dren and their helpers said after the question was 
 asked, Are any animals useless ? The children 
 agreed that the growling, ferocious beasts, such as 
 tigers, bears, and wolves, and the biting, stinging 
 things, such as flies, fleas, mosquitoes, and spiders, 
 do nothing but harm. They resolved to take the 
 question to Uncle Frank. 
 
 Uncle Frank was a genial old man, with long, 
 flowing gray hair. He was a great student, and 
 spent most of the time in his " den," as he called it, 
 
208 
 
 surrounded by piles of books and papers. But 
 every bright day he sat in the park where the 
 children of the neighborhood flocked around him 
 to listen to his wise and odd talk. 
 
 He was sitting there, with his hat off, under his 
 large umbrella, when the girls and boys asked him 
 the question. He smiled, and his eyes brightened, 
 for he had a subject before him that was near his 
 heart. 
 
 " I see," he said, " you are puzzled as I once was. 
 I will try to fill a few nutshells which you may 
 carry home. What you know about the big ani- 
 mals which you think are useless you have got by 
 reading. But some of the stinging insects you 
 know by experience. Let us begin with these." 
 Then Uncle Frank began very bluntly : — 
 
 " One good thing these pests do is to make 
 people scratch themselves," he said. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " cried the children in astonishment, 
 for this was the very thing that led them to hate 
 the insects. Uncle Frank explained. 
 
 " Not for you, but for some people, it is necessary 
 to fret the skin with the finger nails. To live and 
 to be well, the pores or little holes in the skin must 
 be kept open. There are people in Africa, and 
 some in America, too, who scarcely ever wash 
 themselves, or rub their skin with coarse towels, as 
 
209 
 
 you do. The biting insects compel such people to 
 open the little chimneys in their skins by scratch- 
 ing." 
 
 "Then why do the horrid things bite us ? " asked 
 the children. 
 
 "Plain enough," replied Uncle Frank. "It is a 
 law of nature that those who do well must often 
 suffer with those who do ill. The mosquito only 
 does as her na- 
 ture tells her to. 
 She has fine tools 
 on her head to 
 pierce the skin 
 with. She feeds 
 on blood, and she 
 is going to get 
 the first blood 
 she finds, whether under a clean skin or a dirty 
 skin. Of course she must like to taste of a soft 
 little white hand, like this one I am holding in 
 mine. But she is honest. She gives you warning 
 of her visit by singing in your ears a sweet, lovely 
 tune. 
 
 "An awful tune!" exclaimed the children; "it 
 is as bad as the bite. It's horrible ! " cried one of 
 them. " When I hear the music I know the bite is 
 coming, and I get dreadfully nervous." 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 14 
 
2IO 
 II 
 
 " Well," said Uncle Frank, joining in the 
 laughter, " I will say some good, sober words for 
 the mosquito, though it is said that she spreads 
 disease by her bite. I must tell you that plants and 
 animals were on the earth a long, long time before 
 men were born. During all that period, plants and 
 animals were growing and working, living and 
 dying, and making a home for men, who were to 
 come. 
 
 " Plants grow by feeding on something in the 
 ground and in the air; animals by feeding on 
 plants and on other animals. It is natural for 
 plants and animals to die, and their death has done 
 much to prepare the earth for men. 
 
 " No animals ever lived, I think, that were not 
 at some time useful, though some now seem to 
 be useless, and we may have to get rid of them. 
 We must get rid of mosquitoes if we can. But 
 the death of some animals, as well as of some plants, 
 has done good. The coal we burn is made of dead 
 plants, and one kind of stone for building houses is 
 composed of very small water animals. 
 
 " It is the flesh eaters and blood suckers that 
 you dislike so much. I think I can show you, how- 
 ever, that even they have done good for the world 
 in the past, and are doing good now. 
 
211 
 
 " You know that trees and small plants, like 
 grass, grow from seeds. But how was the seed 
 scattered so that the forests spread over the hills 
 and the grass over the hills and plains ? Some 
 bird, perhaps a pigeon, filled its crop with acorns, 
 and some ground bird, like the quail, filled its 
 stomach with grass seed. 
 
 " Then an eagle or a hawk sailing overhead 
 pounced upon the seed eater and carried it off to 
 some distant hill to feast upon, like little Jack 
 Horner eating his Christmas pie. The ravenous 
 bird wanted only the flesh of his victim, and so he 
 scattered the seeds on the ground, where they 
 sprouted and grew into oaks and grass. 
 
 " Look at those horses trotting so briskly on the 
 hard pavements. Not a foot in the world could 
 do such work so well as the horse's bard, horny 
 hoof. How firmly it holds the steel shoe. Do 
 you know what sort of an animal our horses and 
 tough little donkeys came from ? You don't know ? 
 Then I will tell you. 
 
 " It was a piglike animal about the size of a half- 
 grown sheep, and its foot ended in a claw 
 with four toes. This ugly animal lived in a 
 swampy jungle. Its clawed feet did good 
 service in the soft ground filled with brush 
 and water plants. All sorts of animals, great 
 
212 
 
 and small, were there, including your mosquito 
 friends and other horrid creatures. 
 
 " The pygmy horse and other plant eaters were 
 game and food for the flesh eaters. So the mos- 
 quitoes worried and stung, and the wild cats and 
 wild dogs harried and killed, until the strongest of 
 the pygmies were driven out on the grassy plains 
 and the rocky hills. Then what happened ? 
 
 " Having a chance to run on the harder ground, 
 the feet of the animals began to change, and to 
 become hard, just as your soft hands would 
 change if they were put to handling spades 
 and stones. After a very long time, and 
 many generations had lived and died, the 
 descendants of the pygmy horses lost all 
 their toes except one. The other toes ceased to 
 grow because there was no use for them. 
 
 " That one toe grew harder and rounder as the 
 ages rolled on, and as the descendants of the ugly 
 little animal with claws had more room and better 
 food than their forefathers, they grew more comely. 
 Those living on level ground became horses, and 
 those living on the hilly, rocky places became the 
 hardy donkeys, which carry burdens over moun- 
 tains and rocks where horses cannot go. What 
 seemed to be evil, ages and ages ago, was only 
 working for good in the end. 
 
213 
 
 III 
 
 " Had not the flesh eaters driven the pygmy 
 horses out of the jungles, I am afraid we should 
 not have the true horses, the noble animals that 
 trot on the hard pavements." 
 
 " But, Uncle Frank," asked the children, " isn't it 
 dreadful that the animals have always been killing 
 one another? " 
 
 "Ah, that is a serious question," answered Uncle 
 Frank. "You have seen how much good comes 
 from taking the life of some kinds of animals. The 
 great question is, Who has the right to kill, and 
 how, and when ? 
 
 " Tigers and wolves have a right to kill and eat 
 other animals because the wild cats and dogs are 
 flesh eaters. They are made with teeth that cannot 
 chew and stomachs that cannot digest plant food. 
 
 " Men, too, have a right to kill animals for food 
 and other useful purposes, if they take the life of 
 these creatures with the least possible pain. But 
 hunting animals for sport is wrong. The shoot- 
 ing of pigeons by the gun clubs, merely for sport, 
 leaving the poor things in torture, is horrible. 
 
 " Now a word more about your dear friends, the 
 biting insects," said Uncle Frank, picking up his 
 newspaper and laying it down again. 
 
 " This would be a poor world indeed to train 
 
214 
 
 good little men and women in, if roses had no 
 thorns, if there were no storms and hardships, and 
 if all were sunshine, flowers, rest, and no work. 
 Difficulty and annoyance are our best friends. We 
 should grow lazy and worthless without them. 
 
 " Some of our best lessons are taught us through 
 stings and bites. Mosquitoes, fleas, flies, and ticks 
 have not yet done their work in the world. They 
 are always saying to us, ' Keep clean ! ' Mosquitoes 
 are hatched in still water, and the young are well 
 named ' wigglers.' They are restless, lively little 
 fellows, and they begin at once to purify the water 
 in which they swim. 
 
 " Flies and fleas are hatched in rubbish and decay- 
 ing matter. They, with the 
 mosquitoes, say to us, ' Keep 
 the earth clean ! Drain your 
 swamps, and make them 
 smile with corn and flowers ; 
 keep your streets clean, your 
 sewers in order, and burn 
 your rubbish. By so doing 
 you destroy our cradles, and we can pester you 
 
 A Fly seen through a 
 Microscope 
 
 With these parting words Uncle Frank picked 
 up his newspaper. As the children slowly and 
 reluctantly went away, with many a " Thank you, 
 
215 
 
 Uncle Frank," his very person echoed the words he 
 had spoken, for he was dressed in white linen, as 
 clean as the driven snow. 
 
 THE PEARL MAKERS 
 i 
 
 Before long you will study geography. Then 
 you will learn that the earth is covered with three 
 times as much water as land. The rivers, the lakes, 
 and the oceans are as necessary to make the earth 
 a home for man as is the land. This great quantity 
 of water is needed to make rain clouds and to keep 
 the air from becoming too hot or too cold. 
 
 But is that all ? What is within these great 
 masses and running currents of water? They are 
 the homes of countless creatures which furnish 
 either food, or useful articles, or beautiful orna- 
 ments for men. Nearly all the people of the world 
 eat fish, and without fish many peoples could not 
 have lived at all. 
 
 The ocean, like the land, is not all taken up by 
 harmless animals. Big fish eat up little fish, and 
 there are great man-eating sharks and devilfish, 
 which make trouble in the ocean. 
 
 This story will tell only of some peaceful animals 
 of the sea. You know something of our friends, the 
 
2l6 
 
 oyster and the clam. When the oyster on the half 
 shell is on the table, only one thing is thought of, 
 that the oyster is good to eat. Who ever thinks 
 about the soft, satin mantle, or rain coat, that wraps 
 the delicious thing around ? Or who looks at the 
 half shell itself to admire the rainbow colors in its 
 smooth lining ? Or does any one try to find the 
 foot (if it has one) or the eyes of the oyster? 
 
 It is true that our common oyster shell has a 
 rather dull, sober lining. But there is one kind of 
 oyster with a brilliant, beautiful lining which is 
 called mother-of-pearl, and in some shells of this 
 kind are found jewels of pearl, those pearls of great 
 price which for thousands of years have been treas- 
 ured like gold and diamonds. 
 
 The finest of these pearl oysters are taken near 
 the shores of Ceylon, in the Indian Ocean. The 
 precious pearl, when at its best, is round, about the 
 
217 
 
 size of a pea, and of the softest white. Many 
 thousands of pearl oysters may be opened before 
 one is found which contains the fair jewel. This 
 is why the pearl is so costly. 
 
 It is the glory of the oyster that she is more than 
 food. She is the mother of the paperknife and the 
 elegant cardcase, and of those eardrops of Cleo- 
 patra which were valued at nearly half a million 
 dollars. The oyster does not know how great an 
 artist she is. See, now, how she does her fine work ! 
 
 n 
 
 That delicate satin mantle, 
 which causes the oyster on 
 the half shell to slip from the 
 fork, really builds the shell. 
 The young oyster shows the 
 shell growing, ring after ring, 
 from the mantle, and the rainbow lining is its first 
 
218 
 
 fine work. Then, sometimes, but not often, there 
 lodges within this cloak a grain of sand, or one 
 of the oyster's eggs. 
 
 This obstruction, which, for the animal's comfort, 
 ought not to be there, irritates the mantle and turns 
 the oyster into an artist and a jeweler. She gathers 
 at this painful point her choicest material, and 
 makes a precious pearl. A little suffering brings 
 to pass the glory of the pearl oyster. 
 
 Clams, and their near relations, the mussels, are 
 of the same class of water animals as the oyster. 
 One kind of mussel produces the mother of pearl, 
 and occasionally the precious pearl. These pearl 
 mussels live in fresh water, and are most abundant 
 in the upper Mississippi River. Most of the pearl 
 shell used in the manufactories comes from this 
 region. 
 
 Among thousands of mussels perhaps one may 
 be found which, like the pearl oyster, contains a 
 precious pearl. But the chief reason why hundreds 
 of men rake the river bottom for these shell animals 
 is because the factories want the pearl lining of the 
 shells. The mussel itself is not good for food. 
 
 After the shells have been dried they go to the 
 shops, where the rough outside is ground away, and 
 the inner lining is polished by wheels driven by 
 steam. Then the shining material is made into 
 
219 
 
 buttons of many shapes and sizes; into the inlaid 
 backs of expensive brushes ; into knife handles, 
 collar studs, and scarf pins, buckles, earrings, and 
 bracelets. To think that all this convenience and 
 beauty comes from the muddy river bottom, and 
 from clams ! 
 
 A rare kind of pearly shell covers the Chinese 
 window-oyster. This oyster abounds near Manilla, 
 as well as in other Asiatic waters, and the natives 
 of the Philippines use the shell for window glass. 
 The shell is very thin, and when ground off and 
 polished, printed words can be read through it. The 
 window-oyster is one of the marvels of the sea. 
 
 OYSTER AND SPONGE 
 i 
 
 A living oyster may be seen at almost any time 
 by stepping into a restaurant, but a living sponge 
 is rarely seen except by the diver who takes it from 
 the bottom of the sea. The two animals are not 
 alike in form. In two ways they are alike; both lay 
 eggs, and both spend the most of their lives fastened 
 to the sea bottom. 
 
 They are also alike in what they do not have, for 
 neither of them has bones, legs, fins, or wings. They 
 appear to have no weapons to defend themselves 
 
220 
 
 with. It is best for them, therefore, that they keep 
 away from the ravenous rabble of water animals 
 with teeth and jaws. 
 
 The oyster has a soft body within a pair of hard 
 shells that open and close like the covers of a book. 
 That which we call a sponge is a bunch of fine- 
 spun, flinty fiber, full of holes. The living sponge 
 which the diver catches is more than this. It has 
 a coat of soft flesh covering 
 
 o 
 
 all parts and lining all the 
 holes of our lifeless bunch of 
 springy fiber. Remove the 
 hard shell of the oyster and you 
 have the soft body for food. 
 The fisherman strips off and 
 squeezes out the soft body of 
 the sponge, and gives you the 
 useful and wonderful utensil 
 for cleaning. 
 A young oyster, hatched from an egg, is called a 
 spat. Until it is a week old the spat has a lively 
 time paddling itself about by long hairs attached to 
 its body. Its only covering is a delicate mantle as 
 soft as silk. A shell begins to grow from the 
 mantle, and, if still alive, the innocent swimmer 
 settles clown and fastens itself, perhaps to an old 
 oyster shell, on the bottom. 
 
221 
 
 When the shell has grown around it, the spat is 
 at ease. It opens the shell to let in small food 
 plants that float in the water, closing the shell when 
 danger approaches. But how does it know when 
 an enemy comes near? The shell opens, and the 
 fringe of the mantle slips out. The eyes are in 
 this fringe. They see the danger, and the shell 
 instantly closes. In no other way could the oyster 
 be safe or be able to preserve and fatten the soft, 
 delicate body so delicious for human food. 
 
 n 
 
 Likewise the sponge is hatched from an egg, and 
 with its hair paddles swims gayly away, but not for 
 long. It, too, for the sake 
 of its life, must get to the 
 bottom and make itself fast. 
 There it grows, sometimes 
 in the form of a vase. But 
 how does the sponge get 
 its food ? It is an animal 
 of a lower grade than the 
 oyster, and has no eyes, no 
 real mouth, and no stomach, as the oyster has. 
 
 Being so made, the sponge must take the food 
 that floats to it in the water. Having no stomach 
 to digest what is eaten, the food directly enters all 
 
222 
 
 parts of its body. Hence its body is full of holes, 
 and each hole acts as a mouth to take in food. 
 It has these mouths on all sides to catch the small 
 plants that float around it. 
 
 Could anything be better for the life of this 
 strangely made animal than the frame, or skeleton, 
 which finds its way to the drug store and the bath 
 room ? It is so elastic, so springy, that it swells 
 and opens to take in water and food, and then con- 
 tracts, squeezing out the water and what remains 
 of the food. Very few animals are so active while 
 they are standing or sitting. 
 
 This is the story of the oyster and the sponge : 
 The way in which the oyster lives, gets its food, 
 and protects itself, is what makes its soft body 
 so good for food. The living sponge fills itself 
 with water and food, and, if it will, squeezes both 
 out. In the same manner the dead sponge in a 
 human hand is filled with water and soap, wipes up 
 dust and dirt, and throws them out. 
 
 How oysters are raised in beds along the sea- 
 coast, and how they are taken and brought to 
 market, any oyster dealer can tell you. Find out 
 for yourself the many uses of the sponge in the 
 house, the stable, the tailor's shop, and the business 
 office. The business of sponge fishing is a longer 
 and more eventful story. 
 
223 
 
 DIVING FOR SPONGES 
 
 Sponges live in the waters of the seacoast, where 
 the climate is warm. They differ in size, some 
 being as large as a man's head, and some as small 
 
 Sorting sponges in the Bahamas 
 
 as a squirrel's. The very large horse sponge grows 
 in the Mediterranean Sea, where also the finest and 
 best sponges live. The common and coarser kinds 
 grow on the coasts of the Bahama Islands and 
 Florida. 
 
 The great center of sponge fishing is among the 
 
Greek islands of the Mediterranean, and the Greek 
 people are the most accomplished sponge divers. 
 The animals have been taken from about these 
 islands for so long a time, and so many more 
 sponges are needed the world over, that the divers 
 must continually go down in deeper water. There- 
 fore the hardships and dangers of sponge diving 
 are becoming greater and greater. 
 
 In some places sponges are taken with spears 
 and dragnets, but in such fishing there is danger 
 of tearing and spoiling the sponges. The Greek 
 sponge-fishermen are clivers, of whom there are two 
 kinds, plain divers and machine divers. 
 
 The plain diver strips off his heavy clothes, hangs 
 a bag around his neck to hold his catch, and takes 
 a marble slab of forty pounds' weight in his hands. 
 He then plunges, head foremost, into the water, and 
 is swiftly carried to the bottom by the weight in his 
 hands. A cord is fastened to him, which is also 
 tied to the boat from which he dives. This diver 
 seldom, if ever, remains five minutes under the sur- 
 face of the water, for he must hold his breath all 
 the time. 
 
 The machine diver is inclosed in a water-tight 
 dress, fitted loosely to his head, arms, and legs. 
 The part covering his head is of metal, and has 
 openings set with glass, so that the man can see 
 
225 
 
 while under the water. A very ugly-looking ogre 
 is this diving suit. It is called a machine because 
 its parts are made to move. Air is pumped into 
 it from the boat above through a Ions: rubber hose. 
 A signal cord connects the diver with the boat. 
 Besides articles for gathering the sponges, he carries 
 a lance to fight sharks with — the man-eating sharks 
 — very large and ferocious fish, with huge mouths 
 and terrible teeth. These enemies have learned the 
 ways of the diver, who often hears their dreadful 
 cluck when he strikes the bottom. This diver 
 sometimes stays under water fifteen minutes. 
 
 Sponge divers, whether naked or in diving suits, 
 feel that they take their lives in their hands when 
 they go down, as they sometimes do, ninety feet 
 under the surface of the water. They act the part 
 of heroes. They must be quick about their work. 
 Much depends on the effort of a few minutes. 
 
 The risk of life and the dangers are so many and 
 so fearful that before the divers begin their day's 
 work religious services are held ; and women and 
 children, with sad faces, bid good-by to husbands, 
 fathers, and brothers who are making ready to dive. 
 
 Sharks are not the only enemies of the diver. 
 The swordfish sometimes attacks him, and the 
 
 MONT. ANIMALS — 15 
 
226 
 
 sponge itself is infested with a worm which stings . 
 the bodies of the naked divers, wounding them as 
 if by the point of a sword. Then, too, the diver 
 suffers from the great weight of the water pressing 
 upon him, so that he is often stricken with paralysis. 
 Many hundreds of Greek divers lose their lives in 
 this dangerous business every year. 
 
 It takes something of a hero to be a sponge 
 diver, and this, perhaps, is what makes the work 
 fascinating in spite of its difficulties and dangers. 
 A large number of the Greek people on the islands 
 are engaged in this kind of fishing, and the highest 
 ambition of every boy is to be a diver. 
 
 The boys, as soon as they can toddle in water 
 and swim, begin to leap and plunge into the sea. 
 They practice staying under the surface and hold- 
 ing their breath the longest possible time. As they 
 grow older, they go out in the boats with the sponge 
 fishers, and take turns in sinking clown to the 
 sponge beds, in the regular fashion of the old diver. 
 At twenty years of age, if he is expert, the young 
 man becomes a regular sponge diver. 
 
 Families all over the civilized world use sponges, 
 but few ever think of the cost at which thev get 
 these comforts. Soon after the sponges are brought 
 to the fisherman's boat they are beaten so as to 
 loosen the flesh from the skeleton, and are then tied 
 
227 
 
 into bunches and allowed to trail in the water as the 
 boat moves homeward. After the catch is sold, the 
 sponges are sent to factories, where they are thor- 
 oughly cleansed, clipped, sorted, and made ready 
 for use. 
 
 THE DESPISED EARTHWORM 
 
 i 
 
 Throughout the whole year the Bonny Club had 
 met nearly every week, except during the school, 
 vacations. Mary Burns had contrived to make 
 each meeting interesting by mingling study, play, 
 and music. She was industrious and quite advanced 
 
 for a girl of her age, but she always acknowledged 
 that she had been greatly helped by her mother 
 and her teacher, both of whom were deeply inter- 
 ested in nature study. 
 
 The last meeting of the year was a red-letter day, 
 as Mrs. Burns called it, referring to the old time 
 when a festival was marked with red letters in the 
 almanac. The programme of exercises cannot be 
 given here. It is enough to say that it pleased the 
 children. Of course Tony Grant was there. 
 
228 
 
 Tony was like all other children. Though he 
 was with animals every day, he did not know how 
 necessary they are to human life until he was called 
 on to answer questions. After that he took new 
 interest in his animal companions, and began to put 
 questions to his intelligent father. He was notified 
 that the earthworm would be discussed at this meet- 
 ing, but Mary said beforehand that Tony would 
 know nothing about the earthworm except that it is 
 good for fish bait. 
 
 And so it proved. Tony, however, knew as much 
 about this subject as many older people. Indeed 
 he uttered contempt for the animal, and said that 
 his chickens would not touch it unless they were 
 half starved. But earthworms are to be seen in 
 the city; and as Mrs. Burns and the children were 
 walking on the pavement, which was bordered with 
 grass, one crawled on to the path before them. 
 
 It appeared to be about eight inches long, but 
 when Johnny touched it with his finger the worm 
 drew itself together in a second like a Japanese 
 lantern. It was then not half so long and much 
 larger around. Having taken it home, they watched 
 it again, and could see the rings which composed its 
 body. Placing it under a magnifying glass, they 
 could see, attached to each ring, very small hooks 
 which serve as feet and help the worm to move. 
 
229 
 
 At this meeting of the club Mrs. Burns was led, 
 by Tony's remark, to say something about the use 
 of the angleworm, as the earthworm is usually called, 
 for fish bait. " This fish bait of Tony's," she said, 
 "is a very lively thing, as all fishermen know who 
 dig in the ground for it. They find it in rich, damp 
 soil where it eats dirt that is mixed with decaying 
 vegetable matter. To get food and moisture it 
 burrows holes everywhere in the ground. 
 
 " Angleworms are not apt to be found where the 
 soil has become worn out and poor from long rais- 
 ing of crops. This is the case in a large part of 
 New England. But the very states where the 
 worms are scarce contain the favorite fishing re- 
 sorts of sportsmen. Where, then, shall the anglers 
 get their bait? This was a serious question with 
 hundreds of fishermen until a shrewd man in 
 Maine started an angleworm farm. A queer idea, 
 wasn't it? * 
 
 " One thing you have learned. When men keep 
 animals for profit- they must do for them many 
 things which the animals did before for themselves. 
 Tony gets more egg3 and chickens by providing 
 the fowls with food, and by hatching the eggs in an 
 incubator. In the same way the man in Maine 
 
230 
 
 managed the angleworms. By feeding them he 
 saved them the labor of burrowing in the ground for 
 food. He built in the ground large reservoirs 
 lined with cement, which made them smooth and 
 tight, so that the worms could not crawl out. He 
 had drains to carry off the waste water, and pipes 
 to let in fresh water, for these worms cannot live 
 except where there is moisture. 
 
 " How did he provide food for them ? Instead 
 of filling the reservoirs with dirt, he filled them with 
 old bran from the grain mills. In this material the 
 worms had no hard boring to do, and they were as 
 happy as pigs in clover. Besides the bran, they 
 were fed with grass and lettuce. The worms had 
 nothing to do but to eat and to lay their eggs. 
 
 " The result was that the angleworms increased so 
 fast that soon there were millions of them. After 
 they were full grown they were packed alive in wet 
 moss, and were shipped wherever there was a de- 
 mand for them. But this use of angleworms seems 
 very small when compared with their great work 
 which Mary is going to tell about." 
 
 Yes, Mary had prepared an essay, which her 
 teacher had corrected to make it express just what 
 Mary wished to say. And here is that part of the 
 composition which describes the greater work of 
 the earthworm, after a paragraph of introduction. 
 
231 
 
 III 
 
 " The little men and women of the Bonny Club 
 have learned how nearly all kinds of animals are 
 working for us. We cannot by ourselves make wool, 
 skins, feathers, horn, ivory, pearl, silk thread, meat, 
 milk, eggs, or honey. These things are made for 
 us by sheep, cattle, chickens, pigs, elephants, oysters, 
 caterpillars, and many other animals, but it re- 
 quires the work and skill of men to make the gifts 
 of animals fit for use. 
 
 " Among the very small animals that help us is 
 the silkworm ; but the most wonderful of all, 
 whether big or little, is one that we despise and 
 don't like to touch. It is the earthworm, and the 
 boys use it for fish bait. They call it the angleworm, 
 because fishers are called anglers. What does it do 
 for us ? Or what has it done for the world ? 
 
 " The farmer cannot raise corn or wheat unless 
 he first plows the ground, and the ground could not 
 be plowed, nor would anything grow in it, if it were 
 not loose and rich. Earthworms make the ground 
 loose. They burrow holes in it to make their nests, 
 and to find food and water. They eat the dirt 
 which contains vegetable food and then cast it out 
 at the top of the ground, thus raising the ground 
 higher. In this way they have covered a large part 
 of the earth with rich soil. They are the makers of 
 
232 
 
 soil in which the plants grow that are food for 
 larger animals. 
 
 " Earthworms were the first plows. They plowed 
 with their sharp, gimlet noses and invisible feet long 
 before the Egyptians used pigs for plows. Even 
 now they often throw up, in one summer, a quart 
 of rich soil on every square foot of a large garden. 
 They do more than this. By burrowing under 
 large stones they help them to sink below the reach 
 of the farmer's plow. We are told, moreover, that 
 the ruins of ancient cities were buried in this way 
 by earthworms. 
 
 " So we must feel thankful to these humble and 
 despised crawling creatures. They have made the 
 earth's surface rich and smooth. They deserve 
 more praise than all other animals, because they 
 have prepared the earth for plants, animals, and men. 
 All the soil that makes plants grow has passed 
 through their little bodies. Without the earth- 
 worms there would be few trees, and no grain, no 
 fruit, no animals of the land, and no men. 
 
 " A great man, Mr. Darwin, says, ' It may be 
 doubtful whether there are many other animals which 
 have played so important a part in the history of the 
 world as have these lowly creatures.' "