Chapter 1

Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

ROUND-ABOUT RAMBLES

In Lands of

FACT AND FANCY

BY

FRANK R STOCKTON

_NEW EDITION_

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1910

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872,

BY SCRIBNER. ARMSTRONG & CO.,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

CONTENTS

WINTER IN THE WOODS

TRICKS OF LIGHT

SAVING THE TOLL

THE REAL KING OF BEASTS

THE FRENCH SOLDIER-BOY

A LIVELY WAY TO RING A BELL

DOWN IN THE EARTH

THE LION

BOB'S HIDING-PLACE

THE CONTINENTAL SOLDIER

A JUDGE OF MUSIC

THE SENSITIVE PLANT

SIR MARMADUKE

THE GIRAFFE

UP IN THE AIR

THE ARABIAN HORSE

INDIAN-PUDDINGS: PUMPKIN-PIES

LIVING IN SMOKE

THE CANNON OF THE PALAIS-ROYAL

WATERS, DEEP AND SHALLOW

HANS THE HERB-GATHERER

SOME CUNNING INSECTS

A FIRST SIGHT OF THE SEA

THE LARGEST CHURCH IN THE WORLD

THE SOFT PLACE

A FEW FEATHERED FRIENDS

IN A WELL

A VEGETABLE GAS MANUFACTORY

ABOUT BEARS

AN OLD COUNTRY-HOUSE

FAR-AWAY FORESTS

BUILDING SHIPS

THE ORANG-OUTANG

LITTLE BRIDGET'S BATH

SOME NOVEL FISHING

EAGLES AND LITTLE GIRLS

CLIMBING MOUNTAINS

ANDREW'S PLAN

THE WILD ASS

ANCIENT RIDING

BEAUTIFUL BUGS

A BATTLE ON STILTS

DRAWING THE LONG BOW

AN ANCIENT THEATRE

BIRD CHAT

MUMMIES

TAME SNAKES

GYMNASTICS

BUYING "THE MIRROR"

BIG GAME

THE BOOTBLACK'S DOG

GOING AFTER THE COWS

THE REFLECTIVE STAG

WHEN WE MUST NOT BELIEVE OUR EYES

A CITY UNDER THE GROUND

THE COACHMAN

GEYSERS, AND HOW THEY WORK

A GIANT PUFF-BALL

TICKLED BY A STRAW

THE LIGHT IN THE CASTLE

THE OAK TREE

THE SEA-SIDE

THE SICK PIKE

TWO KINDS OF BLOSSOMS

ABOUT GLASS

CARL

SCHOOL'S OUT

NEST-BUILDERS

THE BOOMERANG

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

_Frontispiece._

The Woodcutter

The Minstrel on the Wall

Tricks in a Church

The Dance of Demons

Nostradamus

The Lion's Head

The Theatrical Ghost

The Toll-bridge

A Royal Procession

An Elephant after Him

The Dog's Protector

An Elephant Nurse

Saving the Artillery-man

The Gallant Elephant

The French Soldier-Boy

On a Bell

Fishes found in the Mammoth Cave

The Bottomless Pit

The Lion's Home

The Uncaged Lion

A Lion's Dinner

A Terrible Companion

Off to the Kitchen

Blind Man's Buff

The Story-Teller

In the Cellar

Handing round the Apples

The Drummer of 1776

The Continental Soldier

The Donkey in the Parlor

Sir Marmaduke

The Giraffe

Above the Clouds

The Flying Man

The Parachute--shut

The Parachute--open

Le Flesseles

Bagnolet's Balloon

Coming down Roughly

A Balloon with Sails and Rudders

The Minerva

Safe Ballooning

Driven out to Sea

The Arabian Horse

In the Cornfield

A Big Mosquito

Exactly Noon

The Spring

The Brook

The Mill

The Cascade

The Great River

Falls of Gavarni

The Falls of Zambesi

Niagara

Fishing with a Net

Fishing with a Spear

Sponge-Fishing

A Pearl Oyster

Divers

Rough Water

The Iceberg

The Storm

The Shipwreck

Water-Spouts

A Bit of Cable

Hans, the Herb-Gatherer

Patsey

A Spider at Home

The Ant's Arch

The Cock-chafer's Wing

The Spider's Bridge

The Moth and the Bees

Learned Fleas

The Pacific

St. Peter's at Rome

Interior of St. Peter's

The Five Young Deer

Waking Up

Familiar Friends

The Pigeon

The Dove

The Swan

The Goose that Led

The Goose that Followed

The Sensible Duck

The Goldfinch

The Magpie

The Owl

Morning Singers

In a Well

The Fraxinella

A Company of Bears

The Black Bear

The Grizzly Bear

The White Bear

The Tame Bear

An old Country-House

Ancient Builders

The Pine Forest

Tree Ferns

Tropical Forest

The Giant Trees

The Great Eastern

The Orang-Outang

Bridget and the Fairies

Flat-Fish

Turbots

The Sea-Horse

The Cuttle-Fish

The Polypier

Tunnies

The Sword-Fish

The Shark

The Child and the Eagle

Climbing the Mountain

Andrew and Jenny

Wild Asses

The Palanquin

The Chariot

Transformation of Beetles

A Battle on Stilts

Drawing the Long Bow

The Colosseum

The Cormorants

The Bittern

The Pelican

The Hoopoe

The Falcon

The Mummy

The Stand

The Coffin

The Outside Coffin

The Sarcophagus

The Tame Snake

The Novel Team

Youngsters Fighting

Throwing the Hammer

Throwing the Stone

Thomas Topham

Venetian Acrobats

The Tight-Rope

The See-Saw

The Wild Boar

The Musk-Ox and the Sailor

Hunting the Brown Bear

A Brave Hippopotamus

A Rhinocerus Turning the Table

A Tiger-Hunt

A Fight with a Gorilla

The Boot-black's Dog

Going after the Cows

The Reflective Stag

The Mirage

Fata Morgana

The Spectre of the Brocken

A Narrow Street in Pompeii

A Cleared Street in Pompeii

The Atrium in the House of Pansa

Ornaments from Pompeii

A Pompeiian Bakery

The Amphitheatre of Pompeii

The Coachman

The Grand Geyser

The Artificial Geyser

A Giant Puff-ball

Tickled by a Straw

The Will-o'-the-Wisp

The Oak Tree

The Sea-Side

The Vessels on Shore

The Sick Pike

The Blossoms

Ice-Blossoms

Ice-Flowers

Ancient Bead

Venetian Bottle

German Drinking-Glass

Glass Jug

Making Bottles

Venetian Goblet

Modern Goblets

The Queen's Mirror

Bohemian Goblet

French Flagon

The Portland Vase

The Strange Lady

Carl and the Duke

The Dominie

Wrens' Nests

Orioles' Nest

Owl's Nests

Flamingoes' Nests

The little Grebe's Nest

The Ostrich-Nest

The Stork's Nest

A Fish's Nest

Throwing the Boomerang

The Way the Boomerang Goes

PREFACE

Come along, boys and girls! We are off on our rambles. But please do not ask me where we are going. It would delay us very much if I should postpone our start until I had drawn you a map of the route, with all the stopping-places set down.

We have far to go, and a great many things to see, and it may be that some of you will be very tired before we get through.

If so, I shall be sorry; but it will be a comfort to think that none of us need go any farther than we choose.

There will be considerable variety in our rambles. We shall walk about familiar places, and we shall explore streets and houses that have been buried for centuries. We shall go down deep into the earth, and we shall float in a balloon, high up into the air. We shall see many beasts of the forest; some that are bloody and cruel, and others that are gentle and wise. We will meet with birds, fishes, grand old buildings, fleas, vast woods, bugs, mummies, snakes, tight-rope dancers, gorillas, will-o'-the-wisps, beautiful blossoms, boomerangs, oceans, birds' nests, and I cannot tell you what all besides. We will also have some adventures, hear some stories, and have a peep at a fairy or two before we are done.

I shall not, however, be able to go with you everywhere. When you are enjoying a "Bird Chat;" "Buying the Mirror;" learning when "We must not Believe our Eyes;" visiting "A City under the Ground;" hearing of "The Coachman's" troubles; sitting under "The Oak-tree;" finding out wonderful things "About Glass;" watching what happens when "School's Out;" or following the fortunes of "Carl," your guide will be a lady, and I think that you will all agree that she knows very well where she ought to go, and how to get there. The rest of the time you will be with me.

And now, having talked enough, suppose we start.

WINTER IN THE WOODS

What can be more delightful, to a boy of spirit, than a day in the woods when there has been a good snow! If he also happens to have a good friend or two, and some good dogs (who are just as likely to be friends as his boy-companions), he ought to be much happier than an ordinary king. A forest is a fine place at any time, but when the ground is well covered with snow--especially if there is a hard crust upon it--the woods seem to possess a peculiar charm. You can go anywhere then.

In the summer, the thick undergrowth, the intertwining vines, and the heavy lower branches of the trees, make it difficult even to see into the dark recesses of the forest. But in the winter all is open. The low wet places, the deep holes, the rotten bogs, everything on the ground that is in the way of a good run and a jump, is covered up. You do not walk a hundred yards under the bare branches of the trees before up starts a rabbit, or a hare, if you would rather call him by his right name,--and away go the dogs, and away you go--all of you tearing along at the top of your speed!

But poor Bunny has a small chance, when a hard snow is on the ground. His hiding-places are all covered up, and before he knows it the dogs have caught him, and your mother will have stewed rabbit for supper. It seems a hard fate for the poor little fellow, but he was born partly for that purpose.

When you have caught your rabbit, and come back to where the men are cutting wood, you will be just as proud to tell the boy who is cutting up the branches all about your splendid hunt, as if you had chased and killed a stag.

"There's where we started him!" you will cry, "and away he scudded, over there among the chestnuts, and Rover right at his heels, and when we got down there to the creek, Rover turned heels-over-head on the ice, he was going so fast; but I gave one slide right across, and just up there, by the big walnut, the other two dogs got him!"

That boy is almost as much excited as you are, and he would drop his axe in one minute, and be off with you on another chase, if his father were not there.

And now you find that you have reached the wood-cutters exactly in time, for that great tree is just about to come down.

There go the top-branches, moving slowly along through the tops of the other trees, and now they move faster, and everything begins to crack; and, with a rush and a clatter of breaking limbs, the great oak comes crashing down; jarring the very earth beneath your feet, and making the snow fly about like a sparkling cloud, while away run the dogs, with their tails between their legs.

The tree is down now, and you will want to be home in time for dinner. Farmer Brown's sled has just passed, and if you will cut across the woods you can catch up with him, and have a ride home, and tell him all about the rabbit-hunt, on the way.

If it is Saturday, and a holiday, you will be out again this afternoon, with some of the other boys, perhaps, and have a grand hunt.

Suppose it is snowing, what will you care? You will not mind the snow any more than if it were a shower of blossoms from the apple-trees in May.

TRICKS OF LIGHT.

There is nothing more straightforward in its ways than light--when we let it alone. But, like many of us, when it is introduced to the inventions and contrivances of the civilized world, it often becomes exceedingly fond of vagaries and extravagances.

Of all the companions of light which endeavor to induce it to forsake its former simple habits, there is not one which has the influence possessed by glass. When light and glass get together it is difficult to divine what tricks they are going to perform. But some of these are very interesting, if they are a little wild, and there are very few of us who do not enjoy them.

For instance, what a delight to any company, be it composed of young folks or old, is a magic-lantern! The most beautiful and the most absurd pictures may be made to appear upon the wall or screen. But there is an instrument, called the phantasmagoria, which is really nothing but an improved magic-lantern, which is capable of producing much more striking effects. It is a much larger instrument than the other, and when it is exhibited a screen is placed between it and the spectators, so that they do not see how the pictures are produced. It is mounted on castors, so that at times it can be brought nearer and nearer to the screen, until the picture seems to enlarge and grow in a wonderful manner. Then, when it is drawn back, the image diminishes and recedes far into the distance. The lenses and other mechanism of the phantasmagoria can also be moved in various directions, making the action of the pictures still more wonderful. Sometimes, when the instrument is exhibited in public, the screen is not used, but the pictures are thrown upon a cloud of smoke, which is itself almost invisible in the dim light of the room. In such a case the figures seem as if they were floating in the air.

A man, named Robertson, once gave exhibitions in Paris, in an old chapel, and at the close of his performances he generally caused a great skeleton figure of Death to appear among the pillars and arches. Many of the audience were often nearly scared to death by this apparition. The more ignorant people of Paris who attended these exhibitions, could not be persuaded, when they saw men, women, and animals walking about in the air between the arches of the chapel, that Robertson was not a magician, although he explained to them that the images were nothing but the effect of a lantern and some glass lenses. When these people could see that the figures were produced on a volume of smoke, they were still more astonished and awed, for they thought that the spirits arose from the fire which caused the smoke.

But Robertson had still other means of exhibiting the tricks of light. Opposite is a picture of the "Dance of Demons."

This delusion is very simple indeed, and is produced by placing a card-figure on a screen, and throwing shadows from this upon another screen, by means of several lights, held by assistants. Thus each light throws its own shadow, and if the candles are moved up and down, and about, the shadows will dance, jump over each other, and do all sorts of wonderful things. Robertson, and other public exhibitors, had quite complicated arrangements of this kind, but they all acted on the same principle. But all of those who exhibit to the public the freaks of light are not as honest as Mr. Robertson. You may have heard of Nostradamus, who also lived in Paris, but long before Robertson, and who pretended to be a magician. Among other things, he asserted that he could show people pictures of their future husbands or wives. Marie de Medicis, a celebrated princess of the time, came to him on this sensible errand, and he, being very anxious to please her, showed her, in a looking-glass, the reflected image of Henry of Navarre, sitting upon the throne of France. This, of course, astonished the princess very much, but it need not astonish us, if we carefully examine the picture of that conjuring scene.

The mirror into which the lady was to look, was in a room adjoining that in which Henry was sitting on the throne. It was placed at such an angle that her face would not be reflected in it, but an aperture in the wall allowed the figure of Henry to be reflected from a looking-glass, hung near the ceiling, down upon the "magic" mirror. So, of course, she saw his picture there, and believed entirely in the old humbug, Nostradamus.

But there are much simpler methods by which the vagaries of light may be made amusing, and among the best of these are what are called "Chinese shadows." These require a little ingenuity, but they are certainly simple enough. They consist of nothing but a card or paper, upon which the lights of the picture intended to be represented are cut out. When this is held between a candle and a wall, a startling shadow-image may be produced, which one would not imagine to have any connection with the card, unless he had studied the manner in which said card was cut. Here is a picture of a company amusing themselves with these cards. No one would suppose that the card which the young man is holding in his hand bore the least resemblance to a lion's head, but there is no mistaking the shadow on the wall.

The most wonderful public exhibitions of optical illusions have been those in which a real ghost or spectre apparently moves across the stage of a theatre. This has frequently been done in late years, both in this country and Europe. The audiences were perfectly amazed to see a spirit suddenly appear, walk about the stage, and act like a regular ghost, who did not seem to be in the least disturbed when an actor fired a pistol at him, or ran him through with a sword. The method of producing this illusion is well shown in the accompanying picture. A large plate of glass is placed in front of the stage so that the audience does not perceive it. The edges of it must be concealed by curtains, which are not shown in the picture. An actor, dressed as a ghost, walks in front of the stage below its level, where he is not seen by the audience, and a strong electric light being thrown upon him, his reflected image appears to the spectator as if it were walking about on the stage. When the light is put out of course the spirit instantly vanishes.

A very amusing account is given of a man who was hired to do some work about a theatre. He had finished his work for the present, and wishing to eat his supper, which he had brought with him, he chose a nice quiet place under the stage, where he thought he would not be disturbed. Not knowing that everything was prepared for the appearance of a ghost, he sat down in front of the electric lamp, and as soon as it was lighted the audience was amazed to see, sitting very comfortably in the air above the stage, a man in his shirt-sleeves, eating bread and cheese! Little did he think, when he heard the audience roaring with laughter, that they were laughing at his ghost!

Light plays so many tricks with our eyes and senses that it is possible to narrate but a few of them here. But those that I have mentioned are enough to show us what a wild fellow he is, especially where he and glass get frolicking together.

SAVING THE TOLL.

When I was a youngster and lived in the country, there were three of us boys who used to go very frequently to a small village about a mile from our homes. To reach this village it was necessary to cross a narrow river, and there was a toll-bridge for that purpose. The toll for every foot-passenger who went over this bridge was one cent. Now, this does not seem like a very high charge, but, at that time, we very often thought that we would much rather keep our pennies to spend in the village than to pay them to the old man who took toll on the bridge. But it was often necessary for us to cross the river, and to do so, and save our money at the same time, we used to adopt a very hazardous expedient.

At a short distance below the toll-bridge there was a railroad-bridge, which you cannot see in the picture. This bridge was not intended for anything but railroad trains; it was very high above the water, it was very long, and it was not floored. When any one stood on the cross-ties which supported the rails, he could look right down into the water far below him. For the convenience of the railroad-men and others who sometimes were obliged to go on the bridge, there was a single line of boards placed over the ties at one side of the track, and there was a slight hand-rail put up at that side of the bridge.

To save our pennies we used to cross this bridge, and every time we did so we risked our lives.

We were careful, however, not to go on the bridge at times when a train might be expected to cross it, for when the cars passed us, we had much rather be on solid ground. But one day, when we had forgotten the hour; or a train was behind, or ahead of time; or an extra train was on the road--we were crossing this railroad bridge, and had just about reached the middle of it, when we heard the whistle of a locomotive! Looking up quickly, we saw a train, not a quarter of a mile away, which was coming towards us at full speed. We stood paralyzed for a moment. We did not know what to do. In a minute, or less, the train would be on the bridge and we had not, or thought we had not, time to get off of it, whether we went forward or backward.

But we could not stand on that narrow path of boards while the train was passing. The cars would almost touch us. What could we do? I believe that if we had had time, we would have climbed down on the trestle-work below the bridge, and so let the train pass over us. But whatever could be done must be done instantly, and we could think of nothing better than to get outside of the railing and hold on as well as we could. In this position we would, at any rate, be far enough from the cars to prevent them from touching us. So out we got, and stood on the ends of the timbers, holding fast to the slender hand-rail. And on came the train! When the locomotive first touched the bridge we could feel the shock, and as it came rattling and grinding over the rails towards us--coming right on to us, as it seemed--our faces turned pale, you may well believe.

But the locomotive did not run off the track just at that exact spot where we were standing--a catastrophe which, I believe, in the bottom of our hearts, every one of us feared. It passed on, and the train came thundering after it. How dreadfully close those cars did come to us! How that bridge did shake and tremble in every timber; and how we trembled for fear we should be shaken off into the river so far below us! And what an enormously long train it was! I suppose that it took, really, but a very short time to pass, but it seemed to us as if there was no end to it at all, and as if it would never, never get entirely over that bridge!

But it did cross at last, and went rumbling away into the distance.

Then we three, almost too much frightened to speak to each other, crept under the rail and hurried over the bridge.

All that anxiety, that fright, that actual misery of mind, and positive danger of body, to save one cent apiece!

But we never saved any more money in that way. When we crossed the river after that, we went over the toll-bridge, and we paid our pennies, like other sensible people.

Had it been positively necessary for us to have crossed that river, and had there been no other way for us to do it but to go over the railroad bridge, I think we might have been called brave boys, for the bridge was very high above the water, and a timid person would have been very likely to have been frightened when he looked down at his feet, and saw how easy it would be for him to make a misstep and go tumbling down between the timbers.

But, as there was no necessity or sufficient reason for our risking our lives in that manner, we were nothing more or less than three little fools!

It would be well if all boys or girls, to whom a hazardous feat presents itself, would ask themselves the question: "Would it be a brave thing for me to do that, or would I be merely proving myself a simpleton?"

THE REAL KING OF BEASTS.

For many centuries there has been a usurper on the throne of the Beasts. That creature is the Lion.

But those who take an interest in the animal kingdom (and I am very sorry for those who do not) should force the Lion to take off the crown, put down the sceptre, and surrender the throne to the real King of Beasts--the Elephant.

There is every reason why this high honor should be accorded to the Elephant. In the first place, he is physically superior to the Lion. An Elephant attacked by a Lion could dash his antagonist to the ground with his trunk, run him through with his tusks, and trample him to death under his feet. The claws and teeth of the Lion would make no impression of any consequence on the Elephant's thick skin and massive muscles. If the Elephant was to decide his claim to the throne by dint of fighting for it, the Lion would find himself an ex-king in a very short time. But the Elephant is too peaceful to assert his right in this way--and, what is more, he does not suppose that any one could even imagine a Lion to be his superior. He never had such an idea himself.