Part 9

"I suppose, boys, that they really thought so; but then they had not noticed the birds enough to find out the truth. It requires a great deal of time and patience to find out the truth about animals: and this is the reason why so many mistakes have been printed about them. It is a pity that such mistakes have been made; for really there is enough that is very curious about them, without men's making stories to appear strange. But I think that there will be fewer mistakes made in future."

"Why so, Uncle Philip?"

"Because, boys, men are taking more pains to see for themselves. There are more naturalists now than there were formerly; and I hope there will be more still, especially in our own large and beautiful country, where there have not yet been many. I hope that natural history will be studied in all our schools before a great while. But let us go back to our African birds.

"There is another kind which Mr. Vaillant speaks of, and I will tell you of that. He calls it the capocier, and he had a very fine opportunity to watch two of them. It is a bird easily made gentle, and he had managed by feeding two of them to make them so tame that they would come into his tent and hop about several times in a day, though he never had them in a cage. When it became time for them to build a nest, they staid away for some time, and would come to the tent once only in four or five days. At last they began to come regularly, as before, and Mr. Vaillant soon found out what they came for. They had seen upon his table cotton and moss and flax, which he used to stuff the skins of birds, and which were always lying there; and the capociers had come for these things, to build their nest of them. They would take up large bunches of them in their bills and fly away. Mr. Vaillant followed and watched them to see the nest built, and found them at work in the corner of a garden, by the side of a spring, in a large plant which grew under the shade of a tree. They were building in the fork of the branches, and had laid the foundation, which was about four inches high and six inches across. This part was made of moss and flax, mixed with grass and tufts of cotton. The next day this gentleman never left the side of the nest: the female was at work building, and the male brought the materials. In the morning the male bird made twenty-nine journeys to Mr. Vaillant's table for flax and cotton and moss; and in the afternoon he made seventeen. He would help his mate to trample down and press the cotton with his body, so as to make it into felt. Whenever he came with a load, he would put it either upon the edge of the nest or upon some branch within reach of the female.

"After he began to help the female at her work, he would often break off, and begin to play; and sometimes, as if in mischief, he would pull down a little of her work. She would get angry, and peck him with her bill: but he still continued to vex her, until at last, to save her work from being pulled down, she would stop working, and fly off from bush to bush, to tease him. They would then make up the quarrel, and she set about her work, while he would sing most delightfully for several minutes. After his song was finished, he would go to work again, until he got into a new fit of mischief and frolic, and then he would torment her as before.

"On the third day the birds began to build the walls, after having repeatedly pressed the bottom, and turned themselves round upon it in all directions, to make the nest solid. They first made a plain border all around; this they trimmed, and on it they piled up tufts of cotton, which they felted in by beating and pressing with their breasts and wings; and if any part stuck out, they worked it in with their bills, so as to make all perfectly smooth and firm. And they worked their nest round the branches near it, just as the chaffinch does.

"In seven days they finished it. It was as white as snow, and on the outside it was nine inches high, and not smooth or regular in its shape; but in the inside it was shaped exactly like a hen's egg, with the small end up: the hollow was five inches high, and between four and five inches across; and it was so neatly felted together that it might have been taken for a piece of fine cloth a little worn; and so close that you could not take away any part without tearing the nest in pieces. Here is a picture of the nest, boys, and it is wonderful work for a small bird."

"Oh, Uncle Philip! we like the capociers very much. When they were tired of working, they were ready to play; and when they had played enough, they went back to work. Do not you think there was good sense in that?"

"Yes, boys, I do: it will not do, either to work all the time or to play all the time. All that we have to do is to take care that we do not spend more time than we should at either. But there is a sweet little bird, boys, quite common in our own country, which makes felt: would you like to hear of it?"

"Oh yes, Uncle Philip. What bird is it?"

"It is the humming-bird. Here is a drawing of its nest. It is about an inch deep, and an inch across; and from a little distance, appears more like a small knot upon the branch than like a bird's nest. The outside of the nest from which this picture is made, was covered with a kind of bluish-gray lichen, that grows in scales upon old trees and fences: this seemed to be glued on by the bird in some way or other. The inside was the felt, and was made of the fine down from seeds that float about in the air, mixed with the down from mullein-weed and stalks of fine grass. This, boys, is the smallest nest made by a bird, I believe; and some insects make larger houses for themselves than this bird does.

"But I have not time at present to talk with you any longer, as I have letters to write; and therefore I must bid you good morning."

"Farewell, Uncle Philip."

FOOTNOTE:

[11] M. Vaillant.

CONVERSATION XVI.

_Uncle Philip tells the Boys about Birds that are Weavers; and about the Politician-bird; and a Story about some Philosophers; and what may be learned from these Conversations._

"Well, boys, were you pleased enough with our last conversation to wish to hear more about birds' nests?"

"Yes, if you please, Uncle Philip. You said something about birds that were weavers; we should like to hear something of them."

"Very well, then; I will talk about the weavers this morning. And the first thing I have to say is that this is no uncommon trade among birds. Take the nest of any of the common small birds that use hair for a lining, and you will be apt to find some part of it woven."

"But, Uncle Philip, you do not mean that birds weave as smoothly and regularly as people do!"

"Not quite, boys; but still it is very fair weaving, and done as our weaving is, by working a hair or thread in and out between other hairs and threads, or roots, or bits of stick and grass. The best way to see it, is to remove the outside work of hay or roots very carefully, or to take away the felt-work of wool or moss, and you may see a round piece of hair-cloth, sometimes finer, and sometimes coarser, according to the bird that made it, and the things of which it is made. In the common sparrow's nest the hair-cloth is very thin, so that you can see through it easily; but still every hair is woven in singly, and always bent, so as to lie smooth in the bottom of the nest. And there are no ends of hairs left sticking out; they are always worked into the moss which makes the outside of the nest."

"Uncle Philip, how do the birds make the hairs lie smooth in their places?"

"About that, boys, there is some uncertainty. Some persons think that the birds have a kind of glue in their mouths by which they make them stick; and others suppose that they wet the hairs, so as to make them bend. But there are much better weavers than the common sparrow. The red-breast and the yellow-hammer are both better workmen."

"Where do they get hairs. Uncle Philip?"

"They find bunches of them sticking in the cracks of a fence or post where a horse or cow has been rubbing; and some of these little creatures, when they find such a bunch, will pull it to pieces, and work it in, hair by hair."

"Are there many of these weaver-birds. Uncle Philip?"

"Yes, boys, a great many: our country is quite full of them. There is the mountain ant-catcher,[12] which will weave a nest of dry grass, and wind the blades round the branches of a tree; and the king-bird,[13] which first makes a basket frame-work of slender sticks, and afterward weaves in wool and tow, and lines it with hairs and dry grass. There is another, too, the white-eyed fly-catcher, which some have called the politician. This bird builds its nest and hangs it up by the upper edge of the two sides on a vine. The outside is made of pieces of rotten wood, threads of dry stalks or weeds, pieces of paper, commonly old newspapers; and all these are woven together with caterpillar's silk, and lined with fine dry grass and hair."

"Uncle Philip, why do they call it the politician? What is a politician?"

"What is commonly called a politician, boys, is a person who is always reading in newspapers about the government of the country, and talking a great deal about the President and Congress, and the laws that are made, and all such things: but the real politician is one who studies the different kinds of government which have been in the world, and endeavours to find out which is good and which is bad, and why they are good or bad. He reads, too, a great deal of history, to learn how other nations have done, what kind of laws they made, and why they made them, how they became great nations, or how they became very poor; and he _thinks_, too, a great deal, that he may find out what will be best for his own nation. It requires hard study and thought, boys, to make a good politician."

"Then, Uncle Philip, a man cannot learn how to be one out of the newspapers."

"No, boys; not out of newspapers alone: but still he will read them, and very often learn from them things very useful to him in his business. Newspapers are valuable things, and I think it is always best for a country to have a great many of them spread about in it. But they will not, of themselves, make a man a politician; and if you should ask the persons who print them, whether they expect them to teach men all about governments, they will tell you, No: but they will teach people what is doing in all the governments in the world. No good government, boys, will ever be afraid to let the people have newspapers. They are always fewest where the government is hardest upon the people. But let us go back to the birds. Can you tell me now why some people call the fly-catcher a politician?"

"Oh, yes; because he has so many bits of old newspapers about his nest."

"That is the reason, boys. There is another kind of fly-catcher, called the hooded fly-catcher, and it weaves its nest of flax and strings pulled from the stalks of hemp: but the best weaver in this country is the Baltimore starling. This bird chooses the ends of high bending branches for his nest, and he begins in a forked twig, by fastening strong strings of hemp or flax around both branches of the fork, just as far apart as he means the width of his nest to be: he then with the same kind of strings, mixed in with pieces of loose tow, weaves a strong, firm kind of cloth, which is like the hatter's felt in appearance, only that you can see that the nest is woven, not felted. In this way he makes a pouch, or purse, six or seven inches deep, and lines it on the inside with several soft things, which he weaves into the outside netting, and finishes the whole with horse-hair. Mr. Wilson describes one of these nests which he had. He says that it was round like a cylinder. Do you know what a cylinder is?"

"No, Uncle Philip."

"A smooth round pillar to hold up a porch is a cylinder; my walking-cane is a cylinder; so is the straight body of a tree. When these are of the same size all through their whole length, they are perfect cylinders; and any thing in that shape is a cylinder."

"We understand you, Uncle Philip; a gun-barrel is a cylinder, and there is a cylinder in your garden."

"What is it?"

"The heavy stone roller that you let us pull over the walks."

"Right. Well, this nest was like a cylinder, about five inches across, and seven inches long. At the top the bird had worked a level cover, so as to leave a hole only two inches and a half across; at the bottom it was round. It was made of flax, tow, hemp, hair, and wool, and was woven into a complete cloth; it was also tightly sewed through and through with long horse-hairs, some of which when drawn out measured two feet. Here is a picture of this nest. In the bottom it had bunches of cows' hair, and these were also sewed down with horse-hairs. This bird, boys, is a thief."

"A thief, Uncle Philip! What does it steal?"

"When I say it is a thief, boys, I mean that it takes what does not belong to it: but it is not a thief as man is. When a man takes something which belongs to another person, he _knows_ that it is not his; and therefore he steals: but the poor bird does not know, and that makes a difference. You asked me what it steals: I will tell you. At the time for building its nest, it will take whatever suits for that purpose; and therefore the country women are obliged to watch their thread that they have put out to bleach: the farmer, too, who has cut off young grafts from his fruit-trees and tied them up in bundles, must be careful, or the bird will pull at the string till he gets it off; and sometimes, when the bunch is not too large, he will fly off with the whole. In autumn, when the leaves have fallen, you may sometimes see skeins of silk and hanks of thread hanging about the starling's nest, but so woven up and entangled in it that they are good for nothing. Now, boys, before this country was settled by people from Europe, where do you suppose the starling got silk and thread for his nest?"

"Why, Uncle Philip, are you sure he got them at all?"

"A very sensible question, boys. When you are asked _why_ a thing is so, it is always well, first to be satisfied that it is so, before you begin to look for a reason. I have read a story about this very thing: would you like to hear it?"

"Oh yes, Uncle Philip."

"Well, then, I have read that there were once several philosophers (I told you what a philosopher is, you know), who were in the habit of meeting together to put questions to each other, and to make new discoveries. At one of these meetings, one of them asked the others, '_Why_ a fish weighed more _in_ the water than he did _out_ of it?' Several of them gave very wise reasons, as they thought; and all the reasons were different: so they could not agree. There was among them, however, a very sensible old gentleman, who listened to them all, but said nothing. When he went home, he got a fish and weighed it, out of the water, and wrote down its weight; he then took a bucket of water, and weighed that; and when he dropped the fish in the bucket, he found that it increased the weight of the whole, precisely as many pounds as the fish had weighed out of the water; so he found out that there was no reason why a fish weighed more in the water than he did out of it, because it was not true: his weight was the same either in or out of it."

"Ah, Uncle Philip, that is a pleasant story: he was a sensible old gentleman."

"Yes, boys, he was; and it was sensible in you to ask first whether the starling _did use_ silk and thread before Europeans came here; and after that is answered, it is time enough to ask where he got such things. Now the truth is, that he _did not_ use them until after Europeans brought them here; because there were no such things in this country: for the Indians who lived here could not make thread. I think; and I am sure they could not spin silk: but I will tell you, boys, what it shows us; and it is that I wish you to notice."

"What is it, Uncle Philip?"

"It is the wisdom of this bird in taking advantage of circumstances. No doubt he built very good nests long before silk and thread were in the country; but he had sense enough to know that they were exactly what suited him, and he used them as soon as he could get them."

"Then, Uncle Philip, you think that the bird has reason?"

"No, boys, I do not: but you have reason, and I have something to say to you about it. It is this: as God has given you reason, and so made you better than the poor dumb animals, he expects more from you. That is fair, is it not?"

"Yes, Uncle Philip; very fair."

"Then what I wish you to remember is this: that you must use your reason in such way as to glorify God. He gave it to you to learn his will and his commandments, and to live accordingly. So now you see the things which our conversations about the animals can teach us. In the first place, we see the goodness of God; in the second place, we see the power of God; in the third place, we see the wisdom of God: and we see in ourselves that God has done more for us than he has done for them, and therefore we ought to love and serve him: we ought to believe what he says in his Word; we ought to pray to him for his blessed help; we ought, _first of all_, to seek the salvation of our souls, through our Lord Jesus Christ.

"Now, my dear children, to-morrow I must leave home for a few weeks; but when I come back we will talk together again: and as I am going to see my nephews, I will get a book which they printed about insects; it is called the History of Insects,[14]--and I will bring it to you; and some of the largest boys among you may read it aloud, and I will explain to you what you cannot understand. If you are pleased with what I have been telling you, that book will tell you a great deal more."

"Oh, thank you, Uncle Philip. We shall like it very much."

"Farewell, boys."

"Good-by, dear Uncle Philip."

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Myiothera obsoleta of Bonaparte.

[13] Tyrannus intrepidus.

[14] Family Library, No. VIII.--_Publishers._

THE END.

_Now republishing, on good paper and large type, in 18mo. volumes_,

SOCIAL EVILS AND THEIR REMEDY.

A SERIES OF NARRATIVES TO BE PUBLISHED QUARTERLY.

BY THE REV. CHARLES B. TAYLER, M.A.

No. I.

THE MECHANIC.

IS NOW REPUBLISHED, AND FOR SALE BY THE BOOKSELLERS.

"Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ."

AUTHOR'S ADDRESS

No doubt can be felt as to the fact, that there are at present many crying evils in all ranks of society--perhaps there never was a time when more remedies were proposed. It is, however, a melancholy truth, that the only remedy is too generally over-looked, or despised. Remedies, selfish in principle, and selfish in their proposed end, are held forth and confided in by those who profess to be Christians, and, as such, dependent on the Great Head of the church. Man is taught how to live in time, and to be wise for time; but it has become unusual to refer to that fine old scriptural prayer, "So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Indeed, the wisdom desired by too many is that which is so forcibly described by an apostle's pen, as "earthly, sensual, devilish;" not that wisdom the attributes of which form the graces of man's new and regenerate character, which is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated; "full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy."

It is intended, in the series of narratives now advertised, to set forth, faithfully and simply, the one great principle on which Christians profess to act. This principle should never be lost sight of, in any publication addressed by a Christian author to Christian readers. "Other foundation can no man lay, than that is laid," laid by Infinite Wisdom himself--"which is Christ Jesus." My illustrations will extend to every class of society; from the highest to the lowest. When it is found necessary to introduce the subject of political economy, I shall endeavour to give what seem to me the right views of the subject; and I shall take care to show, that when political economy cannot be identified with Christian economy, it ought to occupy a subordinate place. If it enters society as the servant of Christian principle, it may be very useful as a servant; but, if it is to teach a man to walk in the counsel of the ungodly, to speak of its usefulness in a Christian community is absurd.

False principles, however taking they may be, for a while, with the ignorant, or with those who are not deep thinkers, can never stand for any length of time; and as for the ungodly, we know _Who_ has told us they are "like the chaff which the wind driveth away." I have undertaken this work in a spirit of prayer to God for His assistance, and His blessing. Many of my readers. I am sure, will unite their prayers to mine, that it may be continued in the same spirit. Some few may object to this address from a minister of Christ to a Christian community, and say that it is according to the puritanical cant of the day. I answer, that such cant (if mere cant) is quite as offensive to me as to themselves; almost as offensive as the cant of ungodliness; but I cannot forget those words of solemn warning, from One who, alas, is still the despised and rejected of many men: "Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."

The second number of "Social Evils," entitled "_The Lady and the Lady's Maid_," will be republished about the 1st of February, 1834.

* * * * *

THEOLOGICAL LIBRARY.

No. I. The Life of Wiclif. By Charles Webb Le Bas, A.M.

II. The Consistency of the whole Scheme of Revelation with Itself and with Human Reason. By Philip Nicholas Shuttleworth, D.D.

III., IV. Luther and the Lutheran Reformation. By John Scott, A.M.

V., VI. The Life of Archbishop Cranmer. By Charles Webb Le Bas, A.M.

VII., VIII. History of the Reformed Religion in France. By Rev. Edward Smedley, M.A. _In Press._

+----------------------------------------------------------------- + | Transcriber's Note: | | | | * Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired. | | | | * Original spelling and its variations were not standardized. | | | | * Original use of quotation marks was left unchanged. | | | | * The word "scattered is missing between pages 135 and 136. | | | | * "... have got permission from your friends...." This should | | be "permission from parents," as the context suggests. | | | | * Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, _like | | this_. Words in bold characters are surrounded by equal signs, | | =like this=. | | | | * Footnotes were moved to the end of the paragraphs to which | | they applied and numbered in one continuous sequence. | +------------------------------------------------------------------+