Evenings at Home; Or, The Juvenile Budget Opened. John Aikin
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Название: Evenings at Home; Or, The Juvenile Budget Opened
Автор: John Aikin
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066168360
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When he looked forward, however, he was somewhat discouraged to observe that another eminence rose above him, full as distant as that to which he had already reached; and he now began to feel stiff and fatigued. However, after a little rest, he set out again, though not so briskly as before. The ground was rugged, brown, and bare; and to his great surprise, instead of finding it warmer as he got nearer the sun, he felt it grow colder and colder. He had not travelled two hours before his strength and spirits were almost spent; and he seriously thought of giving up the point, and returning before night should come on. While he was thus deliberating with himself, clouds began to gather round the mountain, and to take away all view of distant objects. Presently, a storm of mingled snow and hail came down, driven by a violent wind, which pelted poor squirrel most pitifully, and made him quite unable to move forward or backward. Besides, he had completely lost his road, and did not know which way to turn toward that despised home which it was now his only desire again to reach. The storm lasted till the approach of night; and it was as much as he could do, benumbed and weary as he was, to crawl to the hollow of a rock at some distance, which was the best lodging he could find for the night. His provisions were spent; so that, hungry and shivering, he crept into the farthest corner of the cavern, and rolling himself up, with his bushy tail over his back, he got a little sleep, though disturbed by the cold, and the shrill whistling of the wind among the stones.
The morning broke over the distant tops of the mountains, when squirrel, half frozen and famished, came out of his lodging, and advanced, as well as he could, toward the brow of the hill, that he might discover which way to take. As he was slowly creeping along, a hungry kite, soaring in the air above, descried him, and making a stoop carried him off in her talons. Poor squirrel, losing his senses with the fright, was borne away with vast rapidity, and seemed inevitably doomed to become food for the kite’s young ones: when an eagle, who had seen the kite seize her prey, pursued her in order to take it from her; and overtaking her, gave her such a buffet, as caused her to drop the squirrel in order to defend herself. The poor animal kept falling through the air a long time, till at last he alighted in the midst of a thick tree, the leaves and tender boughs of which so broke his fall, that, though stunned and breathless, he escaped without material injury, and after lying a while, came to himself again. But what was his pleasure and surprise, to find himself in the very tree which contained his nest. “Ah!” said he, “my dear native place and peaceful home! if ever I am again tempted to leave you, may I undergo a second time all the miseries and dangers from which I have now so wonderfully escaped.”
The Mask of Nature, p. 25. EVENING II.
ON THE MARTEN.
“Look up, my dear,” said his papa to Little William, “at those birds’nests above the chamber-windows, beneath the eaves of the house. Some, you see, are just begun—nothing but a little clay stuck against the wall. Others are half finished; and others are quite built—close and tight—leaving nothing but a small hole for the birds to come in and go out at.”
“What are they?” said William.
“They are martens’ nests,” replied his father; “and there you see the owners. How busily they fly backward and forward, bringing clay and dirt in their bills, and laying it upon their work, forming it into shape with their bills and feet! The nests are built very strong and thick, like a mud wall, and are lined with feathers to make a soft bed for the young. Martens are a kind of swallows. They feed on flies, gnats, and other insects; and always build in towns and villages about the houses. People do not molest them, for they do good rather than harm, and it is very amusing to view their manners and actions. See how swiftly they skim through the air in pursuit of their prey! In the morning they are up by daybreak, and twitter about your window while you are asleep in bed; and all day long they are upon the wing, getting food for themselves and their young. As soon as they have caught a few flies, they hasten to their nests, pop into the hole, and feed their little ones. I’ll tell you a story about the great care they take of their young. A pair of martens once built their nest in a porch; and when they had young ones, it happened that one of them climbing up to the hole before he was fledged, fell out, and, lighting upon the stones, was killed. The old birds, perceiving this accident, went and got short bits of strong straw, and stuck them with mud, like palisades, all round the hole of the nest, in order to keep the other little ones from tumbling after their poor brother.”
“How cunning that was!” cried William.
“Yes,” said his father; “and I can tell you another story of their sagacity, and also of their disposition to help one another. A saucy cock-sparrow (you know what impudent rogues they are!) had got into a marten’s nest while the owner was abroad; and when he returned, the sparrow put his head out of the hole and pecked at the marten with open bill, as he attempted to enter his own house. The poor marten was sadly provoked at this injustice, but was unable by his own strength to right himself. So he flew away and gathered a number of his companions, who all came with bits of clay in their bills, with which they plastered up the hole of the nest, and kept the sparrow in prison, who died miserably for want of food and air.”
“He was rightly served,” said William.
“So he was,” rejoined his papa. “Well; I have more to say about the sagacity of these birds. In autumn, when it begins to be cold weather, the other swallows assemble upon the roofs of high buildings, and prepare for their departure to a warmer country; for as all the insects here die in the winter, they would have nothing to live on if they were to stay. They take several short flights in flocks round and round, in order to try their strength, and then on some fine calm day, they set out together for a long journey southward, over sea and land, to a very distant country.”
“But how do they find their way?” said William.
“We say,” answered his father, “that they are taught by instinct; that is, God has implanted in their minds a desire of travelling at the season which he knows to be proper, and has also given them an impulse to take the right road. They steer their course through the wide air directly to the proper spot. Sometimes, however, storms and contrary winds meet them and drive the poor birds about till they are quite spent and fall into the sea, unless they happen to meet with a ship, on which they can light and rest themselves. The swallows from this country are supposed to go as far as the middle of Africa to spend the winter, where the weather is always warm, and insects are to be met with all the year. In spring they take another long journey back again to these northern countries. Sometimes, when we have fine weather very early, a few of them come too soon; for when it changes to frost and snow again, the poor creatures are starved for want of food, or perish from the cold. Hence arises the proverb,
‘One swallow does not make a summer.’
But when a great many of them are come, we may be sure that winter is over, so that we are always very glad to see them again. The martens find their way back over a great length of sea and land to the very same villages and houses where they were bred. This has been discovered by catching some of them, and marking them. They repair their old nests, or build new ones, and then set about laying eggs and hatching their young. Pretty things! I hope you will never knock down their nests, or take their eggs or young ones! for, as they come such a long way to visit us, and lodge in our houses without fear, we ought to use them kindly.”
MOUSE, LAPDOG, AND MONKEY.—A Fable.