Part 3

There are no opossums now just like this one. This species lived before the flood; and is, therefore, antediluvian. The animal in the picture was never hunted by men and dogs, because neither men nor dogs existed in his days. I think it should make us feel a little ashamed, when we are chasing opossums, to think that their ancestors had possession of the world before ours.

If men had lived in those days they would have had some queer game. How would you like to hunt a Labyrinthodon?

This remarkable beast lived about the same time as the antediluvian opossum. Not a very agreeable acquaintance to meet face to face. A glance at his teeth would be sufficient to make one’s hair stand on end. How awful he must have looked with his mouth open! I think he would have made but two mouthfuls of the Cardiff giant if he had had a bite at him before he turned into stone.

Do you notice the strange way his teeth are placed, working in and out of each other? This suggests a labyrinth, and hence his name, Labyrinthodon.

You may not recognise him as a toad, but such he was, and was as big as an ox.

So the toad in the fable, which, you remember, attempted to swell himself to the size of an ox, and came to grief thereby, was only trying to make himself such as his forefathers had been.

The opossum was about the best-looking animal on the earth in those days. The rest were nearly all frightful monsters. There was the Ichthyosaurus, a great fish-lizard, thirty feet long, and ten times more dreadful than the present crocodiles. Then there was the Plesiosaurus, which had the body and feet of a turtle, only many times larger, a short stumpy tail, and a neck like a serpent, thirty feet long. And the Pterodactyls, like huge bats, with birds’ heads, and very long bills.

After this race of animals died off there appeared upon the earth a better-looking set. But these, too, all died long before the deluge, and we have none of them now.

One of these, the Anoplotherium, is supposed to have been something like our otter, but it was much larger; and I don’t think, myself from the pictures we have of him, that the likeness is very strong.

ITURIM, AND HIS FORTUNES.

The Antis Indians live in the mountainous districts of Peru. They have a proverb: “From happiness to misfortune is only a flea-leap.”

Iturim proved the truth of this very early in life. He was a young Antis who had been so successful in his various journeys to the cities on the coast, where he sold apes and birds, that he was able to build and furnish a fine house; to adorn his person bravely; and to take a wife.

This lucky fellow did not even have to make a clearing in the woods for his house. He found in the forest, just in the right place, an open space, containing only a small grove of palms. These graceful trees would make a pleasant shade for his dwelling, and the forest was sufficiently distant not to make it close and hot.

If this clearing had been upon the bank of the river it would not have answered his purpose. For the Antis always make the clearings for their dwellings at a little distance from a water-course, taking care to have a thick growth between them and a river. Otherwise Indians who are not friendly to them would see the houses while paddling by in their canoes, and seize upon the first opportunity to steal everything they contained.

Iturim’s house, or _ajoupa_, as he called it, was very large, because he owned so much property. Stakes were driven into the ground for supports to a long, sloping roof, thatched with straw. The sides were made of mud, hardened in the sun. He had a large assortment of pots, pans, kettles, knives, &c., that he had brought up from the coast from time to time. He made a net-work of strong vine stalks near the roof, on which to hang provisions. Otherwise the ants which were sure to invade the premises would make sad havoc with the eatables. On the earthen floor he spread beautifully prepared tapir skins. There was not so handsome a residence in all the Antis region.

For his personal adornment, he had tattooed his face with three dotted blue lines across each cheek, and a purple star in his forehead. He dressed partly in the European style, having learned this on the coast. His trowsers were of blue cotton, and his jacket of red cotton; on state occasions, he wore a long scarf cloak of white cotton about him, and put a conical cap on his head. I must not forget what he considered the most elegant part of his toilette—a small plate of highly polished silver, which hung from his nose. He daubed patches of red and black paint on his face, and thus attired, he went for his wife. She was slightly tattooed on her forehead and chin in blue and red plaids. Usually she was dressed in a long white sacque, but, on this occasion she wore a full skirt of white with a gay scarf wound around her shoulders. Her ornaments were colored seeds, and tapirs’ claws. She also put on a conical cap that Iturim had given her, ignorant of the fact that it was not a proper head-dress for a woman.

Miniqui, the bride, lived on the opposite side of the river from the palm grove; and, after the wedding feast, Iturim conducted her to her new home.

They crossed the river on a rude suspension bridge, made of osiers; and you may be sure Miniqui was pleased with the large, sumptuously furnished house she found in the palm grove. They were welcomed by a large pet ape, named Simuco. He was a very wise creature, and devotedly attached to his master.

For a short time all three lived together in the happiest manner. Iturim hunted and fished; Miniqui did the housework; and Simuco amused them both with his funny tricks.

But a tribe of Antis came up from the lower river, and challenged the Upper Antis to a canoe race. The elderly men were in favor of declining the challenge; but the younger ones, at the head of whom was Iturim, were eager for the contest; and so it was determined upon.

The rivers in the Antis country are mountain torrents. Even in the places where the water seems to flow smoothly there are strong under-currents that call for a great degree of skill in navigation. And every few miles, the rivers dash over rocks, and form dangerous rapids. The Indians are very expert in managing their canoes in this kind of boating, which is called “shooting the rapids;” but with all their skill and practice, they cannot help fatal accidents occurring quite frequently. The mere upsetting of a boat is nothing, for the Antis is almost as much at home in the water as on the land; but it is impossible to swim in the whirling waters of the rapids, and the danger consists in being dashed against the rocks, or violently sucked under the waves.

The prize, to be given to the man who should first reach the goal in this race was one of those ingenious pocket knives that contain a number of tools in a small compass.

These savages had never seen anything like it until now when one was displayed; and to their ambition to distinguish themselves, was added a keen desire to possess this treasure.

The race was three miles long, and there were two rapids to “shoot.” The second one was very dangerous, and was full of jagged rocks. At some distance below this rapid the women and children of the two tribes assembled to watch the boats rush over the fall, and to see them come up to the goal. With them were the few men who did not join in the sport. There were eight canoes, with three men in each. One of these men was the leader; and it was his business to guide the boat with a paddle safely and swiftly through the rapids. These eight leaders were the candidates for the prize. The one whose boat first touched the beach at Toucan Point was to have the knife. It was the duty of the other men to row the boats until they approached the rapids. It seems to me that these men were also entitled to a prize; for, of course, the boats that first reached the rapids were most likely to win; and on the calm stretches of the river everything depended upon the skill of the rowers. But the Antis have their own rules for boat racing.

It was a pretty sight to see the eight light, gracefully-pointed canoes abreast, at the start. But nobody was there to witness it, unless we allow Simuco, the monkey, to be a person. He sat upon the bank, and gravely watched the scene. What he thought of it I don’t know, but he perfectly understood that he was not to be of the party. He made no attempt to enter any of the boats, but as soon as the signal was given, and the canoes started off, he darted off also, running swiftly along the shore, or scrambling over rocks.

Where the boats started the river widened into a sort of lake, but it soon became too narrow for the boats to keep abreast. The Indians knew this, but they knew that they would not long keep abreast in any case. Before the first mile was passed the boats were much scattered. Four canoes went over the first rapid side by side. Two of them were so close that they came near crashing together, and their leaders yelled and scolded at each other furiously. One of these was Iturim, and the other a young man of the lower Antis, Altisquo. But the four canoes went over together, and swept into the calmer water with their bows in a straight line with each other.

During the next mile and a half of quiet water two of these canoes fell back, and were passed by some that had come over the rapid more slowly. The rowers of Iturim and Altisquo kept an even stroke with their oars. Occasionally a boat would pass them, but would soon give out, and the two canoes were still side by side when the last, and most dangerous rapid came in sight.

The rowers drew in their oars. Their task was done. Iturim and Altisquo stood each in the stern of his boat, and dexterously guided their frail crafts among the black rocks, turning aside from the whirling eddies that threatened to suck them in. Each was anxious to be the first to reach the narrowest and most perilous part of the voyage.

Iturim shot into this vortex of waters more than a boat’s length ahead of Altisquo. It was impossible now for the latter to pass him. The prize was virtually won. Iturim was full of joy, though the spray from the waves wet him from head to foot, and his canoe often grated against the rocks, or was tossed from side to side.

Altisquo saw that the swift rush of waters would now bear his rival over the fall before he could hope to overtake him; and his heart was filled with rage and hate. Suddenly an opportunity presented itself to him. His quick eye saw that he had one chance more. It was a wicked chance, but that did not matter to him. To the left of Iturim’s boat was a whirlpool. The waters swirled furiously around a rock, throwing up blinding sheets of spray. By a sudden movement Altisquo turned the stern of his boat around at the risk of breaking it against the rocks. This brought him into swift collision with the stern of Iturim’s boat, and turned the latter violently around towards the whirlpool, while his own canoe swung into the current, and rushed over the fall, stern foremost. It spun around two or three times after this fearful leap, then darted off bow foremost, and Altisquo was the first man who beached his boat at Toucan Point.

Fortunately Iturim’s boat was not quite as near the whirlpool as Altisquo supposed, and did not get drawn into it, as he had hoped. The shock it received sent it violently over the fall, dashing it against a rock, where it was broken to pieces, and the two rowers tumbled out. But they were in comparatively still water, and succeeded in swimming to the shore.

But, as Iturim was standing in the stern when the collision took place, he was thrown out of the boat with such violence that he fell into the whirlpool. He clutched fast hold of a projecting rock, but the waters were too strong for him. He could not drag himself out by the slippery rocks, and he would certainly have been sucked under and drowned, but for Simuco. The ape had reached the lower rapid before the boats, and was watching the scene with a lively interest when the fatal collision occurred. He comprehended at once his master’s situation, and, springing quickly from rock to rock, seized Iturim by the hair, and held him with so firm a grip that he was enabled with some difficulty to scramble upon the rock, and was taken off by a boat.

The leaders, who were steering the two boats not far behind Altisquo, were too much occupied in making their own way through the dangerous pass to observe closely what had been done. But the four rowers of these canoes were not deceived by Altisquo’s quick movements. They saw very clearly how unfairly he had won the race, and the spectators suspected foul play from what they could observe of his manœuvres. After hearing all the testimony, the judges awarded the prize to Iturim. He had, virtually, won the race before the accident, and, as this was the result of a malicious assault, and not brought about by his own carelessness, it was decreed that the marvelous tool-knife should be his.

But alas for Iturim’s fine clothes! He had arrayed himself in his very best European costume in order to show off before the strangers, and now he was clad in rags. Simuco had snatched the high-pointed cap from the waves, and put it again on his master’s head, but its ambitious peak hung down, limp and forlorn. Iturim was rather crestfallen, at first, at the ridiculous figure he cut. He certainly did not look like a hero. But the knife consoled him, and he was in a jolly humor when he walked home with his prize in his pocket, and his faithful ape perched upon his shoulder.

This was at the end of the day, after a great feast in honor of his victory, in which both tribes of Antis had joined. The Lower Antis had bidden farewell, however, some time before, and were now on their way back to their own country.

Miniqui had left the river with the women and children, and had gone home before Iturim. What was his surprise then when he met her in the woods some distance from the house. She came flying towards him, with her arms outstretched, and shrieking as she ran.

“Everything is gone!” she cried, as soon as she saw Iturim.

“What has happened?” he asked. “I don’t know,” said Miniqui, “but it is all gone—house and all! When I got home there was nothing there!”

Iturim ran to his grove at his best speed. His house had been torn to pieces, the stakes broken up, and the straw trampled in the mud. All his possessions, which he had been collecting for so many years, his pots, pans, baskets, beads, silver ornaments, clothes, tapir skins, everything had been taken away. The thieves had not left him so much as an old shoe.

He knew very well who had done it. Altisquo and his two rowers had been missed from the feast at an early hour, and it was supposed that they were too angry to remain, and had returned quietly home; and everybody was glad they had gone. But instead of that, they had been executing this vengeance upon their successful rival.

Iturim was now the poorest man in the Antis tribe, and only a few hours before he had been the richest.

“Only a flea-leap from happiness to misfortune,” he muttered.

You might suppose that this mean and shameful deed of Altisquo would arouse the whole tribe of the Upper Antis to make war upon the Lower Antis. That would have been the case with many Indian tribes. In civilized communities the friends of Iturim would have demanded that Altisquo should be tried, and properly punished. But the Antis did neither of these things. I am sorry to say that theft is so common among them, that robbing a house is considered rather a fine thing to do, provided, of course, that the house robbed is not one’s own. If an Antis, on returning home, finds his things have been stolen, he says nothing, but watches his chance to make good his loss by stealing from any house belonging to another Antis tribe.

So Altisquo was not punished at that time for his theft, and he felt that he had compensated himself for the loss of the prize.

Iturim and Miniqui found shelter in her father’s house until they should be able to have another house of their own. Iturim set at once to work snaring birds, and catching monkeys, that he might take them down the river and sell them at a large settlement, whence they would be carried over the mountains to the coast. This was a profitable business, provided he was able to get his birds and monkeys there safely.

When he had got together some twenty birds, and three or four monkeys, he made up his mind it was time for him to start upon his journey, and he considered what would be the best way to carry his menagerie. He hit upon the brilliant idea of building a raft, and taking them down the river in this way.

It seemed as if Iturim was again to be lucky in his ventures after fortune, for just as he had everything prepared to start, two English travelers arrived in the Antis country, and were glad enough to make a bargain with Iturim for a passage down the river for their baggage. He, on his part, was very glad to take the cargo, for there were a great many bundles and packages, and the sum paid him was as much as he expected to make from the sale of his animals.

He embarked at a place several miles below the Antis settlements, and, from that point, had a river clear of rapids, and made a safe and prosperous voyage. He had no difficulty in disposing of his birds and monkeys, and the proceeds of this sale, with the money the two Englishmen paid him, enabled him to load his raft with a variety of cooking utensils and other things for his house, and he returned safely to Miniqui with all the merchandise.

So, when the new house was built under the palms, it was almost as richly furnished as the first one had been, and Iturim came to the conclusion that he had again made his fortune. And he was right. He had all he wanted, and that is a fortune, always.

LARGE HOUSES FOR SMALL TENANTS.

In Australia there is a bird—the Megapodius—that builds for its family an enormous dwelling. It is not a large bird, being about the size of our partridge, but it seems to have very lofty ideas. If a man built a house in the same proportion to his size, as that of this bird is to its size, his house would be twice as large as the Great Pyramid of Egypt. It would be very inconvenient to have such residences as these, and they would be very difficult to keep clean, to say nothing of the great expense of building them. A man would have to call in the aid of hundreds of workmen, and pay them well, and years would be required to complete such a mansion, and a great many different instruments would be called into use. Whereas two of these birds will build their huge dwelling in a few weeks, with no tools but their own beaks and claws, and with no expense whatever.

The Megapodius does not believe in gay clothes, and is always dressed in plain and sombre brown. It is an intelligent, patient, industrious, persevering little creature, as you will see from the way it constructs its nest.

It begins by gathering together a mass of leaves, branches, and plants. With these it spreads out on the ground, in the place it has selected for its nest, a thick bed of a circular form. Upon this it heaps up earth and stones, and packs them well together, continuing to labor perseveringly until it raises a mound from eight to fourteen feet high. Some of these mounds measure a hundred and fifty feet round the base, and as much as twenty-four feet up the slope. A circular opening is left in the center of this mound, and extends from the top to the ground.

In this opening herbs and leaves are heaped up; and, on this the Megapodius places its eggs, eight in number, arranged in a circle, at equal distances from each other, with the points downward.

After the female has performed this task of arranging the eggs, both of the parent birds leave the nest, for they are of no use whatever to the young birds after they are hatched. So you see this great labor, in which they have shown so much skill is not for themselves, but for their children.

The leaves and herbs, enclosed in this great mass of compact earth, become so heated after a time that fermentation commences, and this heat hatches the eggs. How does the Megapodius know this? And how does it know what plants will produce poisonous vapors, so that it never brings these to its nest?

Most birds, you know, are born naked, or covered with a soft down, and they have to be fed for several weeks until their feathers grow, and they can be taught to fly. But the young Megapodius, we are told by travelers, comes out of its shell fully provided with feathers. They say that it throws off the hot leaves that surround it, and mounts to the top of the mound, looks about for a few minutes, flaps its wings, and then, at once, soars up in the air, and comes back to its nest no more. If this be true, it knows where to look for food, and how to take care of itself as soon as it is born.

Another Australian bird, the Telegalla, also builds a large nest, though, by no means equal in size to that of the Megapodius. The bird is larger, too. It is about the size of a turkey, and, like that fowl, carries itself with quite an important air. It works in the grassy fields. It cuts down grass by the handful; or rather, I should say, by the clawful. For, after it has gathered a small bunch of grass, it grasps it with one claw, and hops proudly along on the other claw to the spot it has chosen for its nest.

The male and female bird work for a long time in this way, and make a vast number of journeys to and fro, always bearing to the nest a little bundle of grass. They heap this up, as haymakers build up their haycocks. In fact a Telegalla’s nest is not unlike a haycock, and is about the size of one.

Having reared up their nest as high as they think proper, the female carefully places her eggs in the center; and then, with her mate, takes her departure. They do not trouble their minds any more about either eggs or nest. They know, in some mysterious way, that the grass they have piled up will dry, when exposed to the sun, and that it will be heated by this process. And they know that this heat will hatch the eggs; and that the young birds will be able to take care of themselves as soon as they issue from the shell. So, why should they worry themselves about the matter?

In the Cape of Good Hope, Southern Africa, there are birds, not larger than our sparrows, that build cities to live in. They belong to the family of Grossbeaks, and these are called Social Grossbeaks, because they live in communities. Hundreds of birds will unite in building an immense nest, high up the trunk of some tree. They work away with twigs, and sticks, and grass, and feathers, and moss. And, when the structure is completed, it looks at a little distance as if men had built some great timber work around the tree trunk. It is in reality a city, consisting of rows of single nests, each one inhabited by a pair of birds.

There they lay their eggs, and hatch them, and raise their children, and teach them how to fly, and to get their living. Hundreds of families live thus peaceably together, and have a good time helping and visiting each other. Policemen do not seem to be necessary in these cities, where each bird behaves just as well as he knows how.