Part 7

The sea-cow has a thick skin, and a layer of fat under it to keep it warm. The arm-like fins are terminated by curious appendages like fingers, except they are united by a sort of membrane, or skin. At the ends of these are nails, similar to finger nails. The resemblance of these fins to hands must be strongly marked, for it is from these it gets its name of manatee, from the Latin _manus_, a hand.

It is said by some that the female manatee carries her young in these arm-like fins, but this is not at all probable.

The sea-cow feeds upon plants, and is, therefore, generally found near the shores of rivers and lakes. It prefers a warm climate.

It is hunted for its oil, of which it yields a good supply of very excellent quality; and for its flesh, which is juicy and tender eating.

The female manatees are affectionate mothers. They take great care of their children, and keep them by them a long time, to train them in the way in which they should go.

TWO EXTREMES.

The ostrich is the largest bird known to exist in the world. Its body is rather small in proportion to the length of its neck and its legs. The latter are very large and strong. The wings and tail are short, and the feathers are extremely beautiful.

For these feathers they are hunted; but their speed is so great that it is impossible for the swiftest horse to overtake them. The European hunters shoot them, and the native Africans have various expedients for entrapping them. They can run from a hunter as fast as the fleet-footed antelope.

It is said, that, on being pursued, the birds become very much frightened, and hide their heads in the sand, thinking that no one can see them, because they themselves cannot see, and that many are run down and captured in this way. But this account has been contradicted by travelers, and it is not at all probable that so sprightly-looking a bird is so very stupid.

The wings of the ostrich are not intended for flight, but they assist it in running. The bird cannot fly at all. If it could there would be no use for such prodigious legs as it has.

But the ostrich can run! It is estimated that one of these giant birds at full speed, travels at the rate of thirty miles an hour, which is as fast as most locomotives go! But then the bird gets tired after awhile, and the locomotive does not. The ostrich, however, can travel a very long distance before it gives out from fatigue.

It is a magnificent-looking bird when it is traveling over its native sands at full speed, with its head proudly erect; its bright eyes gleaming, its wings outspread, and its feet twinkling over the sand so fast you can scarcely see them.

In a public garden in Paris there is a fine ostrich, which is very gentle, and good-natured. He allows himself to be harnessed to a carriage, in which little children ride about the grounds. He is not permitted to go very fast, as he would not keep in the road in that case; but a keeper walks by his side to regulate his gait; and one of the children acts as driver, holding the reins, which are passed around the lower part of the bird’s neck.

But, you may say, the ostrich is indeed very large, but it is not so very much like a bird, because it cannot fly.

The ostrich is certainly a bird; but, if you insist upon it that a bird must fly, we will take a look at the condor, and see how large he is.

He is intended for flight, you see, and has short legs, and long powerful wings. He is swifter on the wing than the ostrich on his feet, and will take a steady flight for miles without weariness. He has a large body to carry through the air, but, though large, it is light, and his wings are enormous.

A large full-grown condor, with its wings spread, measures from twelve to fourteen feet from tip to tip of the wings; and nine feet is the measure of very ordinary specimens.

It lives on the highest peaks of the Andes mountains in South America; and builds its nests on crags that are inaccessible to man. It cares nothing for snow and ice, nor for the great tempests of wind that sweep over these lofty summits. Among these cold, desolate rocks it makes its nest, and rears a hardy brood of young ones. When it wants food for its family, it perches upon a jutting rock, and sends its piercing glance far down into the cultivated valleys below. When it has singled out an object it comes down with a swift, grand swoop of its wings, and strikes its prey with unerring aim.

It has marvelously keen and long vision, and can see an object several miles distant with ease.

Seen thus upon the wing, the condor is a most majestic-looking bird; but when you get a near view of him you find he is nothing but a great vulture, and has all the disagreeable features and traits of a vulture; being a cruel, greedy, and dirty creature, that is glad to feed upon carrion; and having an ugly, hooded head, fierce eyes, and a savage beak. His wings are his beauties.

The condor is fond of carrion, but it also feeds upon living animals, or, I should say, kills animals, and feeds upon the fresh flesh. It is very strong with its beak and talons; and two of them will sometimes attack and kill a sheep, or even a cow.

Having seen such very large birds, let us turn to the other extreme, and find out what we have in the way of small feathered creatures.

You have, no doubt, in the summer, watched the brilliantly-colored humming-birds flying around the flowers, and dipping their long bills into the blossoms to find the insects that may be there. They want these insects for their dinner, and they run their bills so deftly into the blossoms, and touch them so daintily that they do not injure them in the least. On the contrary they help them by eating the insects that would otherwise feed upon the flowers.

While doing this you will observe they make a little buzzing noise with their wings. From this they get their name.

When hovering over a flower they move with such rapidity that you can scarcely see any motion at all, and the birds look as if they were painted on the air.

You think these humming-birds very small; but in South America, the home of the condor, they have some humming-birds no larger than bumble-bees! It would be a curious sight to see one of these by the side of the condor! But, while the latter lives on the snowy mountain tops, the humming-birds stay in the warm valleys, where there are plenty of flowers and insects.

It is generally supposed that these birds live on the honey of the flowers. They do often eat the honey, but they prefer insects.

There are a great many species of these tiny birds, and nearly all are brilliantly colored. The most gorgeous specimens are found in tropical countries. They are differently marked. Some have such bright spots on their tails that they are called “sparkling-tailed.”

Humming-birds build their diminutive nests on vines and low trees. Their eggs are the size of little peas, and white in color. The species I mentioned as being no larger than bees build the dearest little nests, no bigger than a walnut; and they put into them the cunningest little eggs, and hatch out their very small young ones, just as grandly as if they were great condors.

And they do not like confinement any better than the condors do. Shut up in cages they generally pine, and die. They are made for sunshine and flowers, free, out-door life and happiness.

A SNOW-STORM IN THE TROPICS.

“Father,” said George Moore, one stormy winter’s night, “won’t you please tell me of some one of your adventures?”

“You seem never to tire of my adventures,” said his father, smiling. “Did I ever tell you how nearly I was lost once, in a snow-storm, in the tropics?”

“A snow-storm in the tropics! How could that be?”

“It happened when I was quite a young man, that, for several months, in the course of business, I had to stay at a lonely place on the coast of Peru. I was in a town, but it was a dull one, and only showed signs of life when some trading vessel would lie there for a day or two. My only amusement was seal fishing; but I soon tired of that, for I was not very successful. It was a sport that required more practice than I was able to give it. The boats are nothing but two bags of skin, connected by a narrow deck, and I did not consider them altogether safe, for me, at least.

“At last I thought I would vary the monotony of my life by a little trip up the Andes mountains. I could not go alone, of course, but a small sum was sufficient to hire a guide, and two men besides, and four mules. There were no hostile Indians to fear, and the guide was all that I needed, but I knew he would be better contented with some companions, and I felt, myself, that it would be a lonely sort of journey for two.

“It was my intention to make an early start, but it was quite late in the morning before I could get the lazy natives on the road. The first part of our march was across a sandy, stony desert, with the rays of a hot sun beating on our heads. My broad-brimmed Panama did not prevent my face from blistering, and the white cotton cape I wore did not seem to be much of a protection.

“We halted twice to take some refreshments, and short rests; and, before sunset, we arrived at a miserable sort of inn, where we remained for three hours, and rested ourselves and the mules; and both men and beasts ate hearty suppers. Then we continued our journey, for it was more pleasant to travel at night than in the day. It was evident that we were reaching higher ground, though the ascent was so easy as scarcely to be perceptible. But the air gradually became fresher and cooler, and, at last, a woolen cloak was comfortable.

“When day came we found ourselves in a region almost as barren as the desert we had left the day before. We were on a rocky plain, high up on the hills, or, more properly, small mountains. No plants grew on this plain except a few species of cactus, which flourish in the poorest soils: there were no signs of life, but flocks of turtle-doves.”

“That must have been a pretty sight, though, father! I should like to see a great many turtle-doves together.”

“You would not, if you were a Peruvian farmer, for these poetical birds are the very mischief in the grain-fields. They only troubled us by their melancholy wail. Their sad notes made this dreary solitude still more awful.

“But I had a consolation. Before me rose grandly up the high peaks of the Andes. Their white tops seemed to touch the sky.

“After a time, to my surprise, we began to descend. In a few hours more we were in a lovely valley, filled with villages, and farms, and trees, and flowers. I staid there two days enjoying the valley, and inspecting its curiosities, which I will tell you about some time.”

“Was it warm in the valley?”

“Yes, but not oppressively hot. It was high up on the hills; and then it was the month of August, and the winter season.”

“Winter season in August?”

“Of course. I was south of the equator, where the seasons, you know, are just the reverse of ours. We commenced the ascent of the mountains in high spirits. The wind was cool and bracing; and the vegetation all around us was of great interest to me. But it began to change rapidly; and, before night, we were among huge stones, and jagged rocks, where only evergreens were seen.”

“How could you find the way?”

“There was a rough kind of road over the mountains. In many places I should never have been able to find it at all, but the guide knew all the landmarks.

“The first night we spent in an Indian cabin; and the next morning continued our journey, but we were not so gay as on the preceding day. It was bitter cold, and we needed all the wraps we had with us. I do not know how our two companions managed to wander away from the road, as they afterwards insisted that they did. I think the cold was too much for their courage, and they grew tired of their bargain, and made up their minds to fall back of us, and watch a chance to turn around and go home. The guide and I soon missed them, and we rode about in various directions, calling them, and searching for them. But it was easy enough for them to conceal themselves behind a rock, or in a ravine, and we could not find them. We gave them up at last, hoping they would find their way back again.

“But we soon discovered that, in looking for them, we had lost _our_ way. For hours we wandered about, and my guide could not find a trace of the road. This was serious, for we had but a small stock of provisions, as there were Indian huts scattered all along the regular route, on which we had relied for supplies. We could not travel over this rough country at night; and a night’s exposure to the cold was not to be thought of without a shudder. And besides, we might never find our way out of this frightful solitude."

“Was there nothing anywhere about to show that any kind of people lived there?”

“No. It seemed to me we were the first human beings who had ever set foot there. In the midst of our perplexities my guide pointed silently to the sky. There were several small, thick, white clouds floating there. They did not look very terrible, but the guide said we would soon have a storm, and we must try to find shelter. Soon more white clouds floated into sight, and they increased until they hid the sun from us. We were now on smoother ground, and pressed forward as fast as we could, but there was no place of shelter to be seen, not even an overhanging rock.

“Soon the wind came with a rush; and then the thunder and lightning. Our mules broke into a gallop. We enveloped ourselves in the folds of our great woolen wrappers, called _tapacaras_, lifting our heads once in a while to see where we were going. Next we were treated to a shower of hail-stones. Fortunately they were not very large, but we were rather severely thumped with them. The poor mules fared the worst.

“And then came the snow. The arctic regions could not furnish a better example of a snow-storm than this tropical place! It fell so thick and fast we could not see twenty steps in advance. My heart failed me then. I thought we were lost, and would be buried in snow drifts.

“But just then a dark object loomed up before us. ‘An Indian lodge!’ I cried in joy.

“The guide said nothing, but rode on before me, and called to me to dismount. I was glad enough to do this, and he pointed to the open doorway of the building. It was so low I had to crawl through it, but I was thankful to get in, in any fashion.”

“I wonder, father, that you were not afraid of finding something dreadful in there!”

“I did not stop to think about the matter. And then I knew there was something dreadful _outside_. So, in I went, and found the place entirely empty. The guide followed me as soon as he had covered the mules, and made them as comfortable as he could.”

“It was a deserted house, I suppose.”

“No, it was a tomb.”

“A tomb! Out in that lonely place!”

“Yes, but then the place had not always been lonely. I found out afterwards that that region was once inhabited by a tribe of Indians. They all perished before their country was discovered by Europeans, but some of their dwellings, and many of their tombs remained. These tombs were large stone buildings, with one room, lighted by a single window. This room was capable of holding ten or twelve dead bodies, placed in a sitting posture. These bodies were first embalmed—made into what we call mummies. When the tomb was full the door was sealed up. The Europeans opened these sepulchres that had been sealed up for centuries; and carried the mummies away to put into museums.

“The tomb in which we had taken refuge had been despoiled of its mummies long before. The room inside was about ten feet square. It was built of very large stones, and had sloping walls. It was a cheerless place enough, but seemed sumptuous to us, after what we had passed through.

“In half an hour the storm ceased, and we proceeded on our journey, hoping to recover the road. But we could not, and night was approaching, with no prospect of a shelter. So we retraced our steps to the sepulchre once more, lighted a fire within, consumed the last of our provisions, gave the mules what was left of their provender and slept soundly all night.”

“Were you not afraid of wild beasts?”

“There were none in that region, or at least the guide knew of none. There were too many settlements among the mountains. And the guide still insisted upon it that we had not wandered far from the regular route. I had my doubts on the subject, but they did not prevent me from sleeping soundly, for I was very tired.

“The next morning was bright, and we set off in better spirits, and with renewed hope, though rather hungry. Our hunger became so great after a time that it quite conquered our spirits, and we stumbled about the rocks, sick and dispirited. We spared our mules all we could, for the poor beasts were nearly worn out and half starved. If they failed us we would indeed be in a bad plight.

“Finally, utterly exhausted, we all laid down, beasts and men together, to keep warm, and to rest. I was just dropping into a doze when I heard the sound of music. The guide heard it also, and we both started up, and felt new life in our veins. So suddenly did hope spring up in our hearts, that all fatigue dropped from us as if by magic. The mules too pricked up their ears at the sound. We sprang upon their backs and were soon traveling towards the point from whence the music came. It was not long before we came upon the musician.

“A bare-legged Indian, in a gay striped cloak and broad Panama hat was running along at a rapid pace, and playing upon a mouth-organ. He led a bony horse which trotted gently after him. Across its back was a leathern bag.

“This man was a mail carrier, and was on his way from the sea-coast to some mountain town. So it turned out that the guide was right, and we had not been at any great distance from the settlements. Nevertheless, had it not been for the music of this poor little mouth-organ we might have wandered off in a contrary direction from the highway, and have lost ourselves in the forest, and perished there. Indeed we might never have awakened from the sleep into which we were falling when we heard the strain of music.”

“Did you go with the mail carrier, father?”

“No. He was not going to the place for which we were bound. But he told us that just behind the spur of the mountain we would find an Indian village. And there we rested for a day and refreshed ourselves, and filled our provision bags, and procured a guide to the road we wished to take. The rest of my journey was made in safety.”

“But, father, I don’t think that was a tropical snow-storm, when it happened in so cold a place. I always think of tropic as meaning hot.”

“It was a tropical snow-storm George, certainly, for we were in the tropics, only a few degrees south of the equator. The weather was cold because we were so high up in the air.”

HOW THREE MEN WENT TO THE MOON.

That is, how it is said that they went to the moon. That no man ever did go is very certain, and that no one ever will go, is very probable, but true as these statements are, they did not prevent a Frenchman from writing a story about a trip to the moon, undertaken by two Americans, and one Frenchman.

I cannot tell you all this story, but I can give you a few of the incidents that occurred during the journey, and although these are purely imaginary, they are very interesting and amusing. If any one ever had made this journey he would probably have gone as these three people went in the story. Everything is described as minutely and carefully as if it had really happened.

The journey was made in an immense, hollow cannon ball, or rather a cylindrical shot, which was fired out of a great cannon, nine hundred feet long!

This cannon, which was pointed directly at the spot where the moon would be by the time the ball had time to reach it, was planted in the earth in Florida, where thousands of people congregated to see it fired off.

When the great load of gun-cotton was touched off by means of an electrical battery, there was a tremendous explosion, and away went the great hollow projectile, with the three travelers inside, directly towards the moon.

This projectile was very comfortably and conveniently arranged. The walls were padded and there were springs in the floor, so that the inmates might not receive too great a shock when they started. It was furnished with plenty of provisions, with contrivances for lighting and ventilating it, and a machine for manufacturing atmospheric air, which is something that travelers do not expect to find at the moon.

There were thick plate-glass windows in the sides, and everything that could be thought of to make the trip comfortable and safe was found in this curious aerial car.

Not only were there three men in the projectile, but it contained two dogs and some chickens. The picture shows the dogs, which were handsome creatures, and it will also give you an idea of the inside arrangements, with the telescope, and the guns hanging on the wall.

The distance from the earth to the moon was to be accomplished in about four days, and after the first shock of the starting, which was quite heavy, notwithstanding the springs and the cushions, our travelers began to make themselves at home.

They talked, they ate and drank and smoked. They took observations out of their windows, and watched the earth recede until it looked like a great moon, and saw the moon approach until it seemed like a little earth.

One of them, the Frenchman, was in such high spirits that if his companions would have allowed him he would have got outside of their little house and stood in triumph on the very top, as it went whizzing through the air.

The artist has given us a picture of how he would have looked if he had stood out there where he wanted to perch himself.

His idea was that as there was as much _momentum_ in him as there was in the projectile, there was no danger of his falling off and being left behind.

But if any of you ever _do_ go to the moon in a hollow cannon-ball, I would strongly recommend you not to get outside.

After a while they passed beyond the limit of the earth’s attraction, and began to enter that of the moon. But when they were about on the line between these two attractions, a very singular thing took place. Everything in the projectile, the men, the dog, (one of the dogs died the first day and was thrown out) the telescope, the chickens and every article that was not fastened down, seemed to lose all its gravity or weight.

As there is no reason why anything without weight should stay in any particular place, unless it is fastened there by some mechanical means, these people and things began to float about in the air.

The men rose up and were wafted here and there by a touch. Hats floated away and chickens and telescopes hung suspended between the floor and the roof, as thistledown, on a still summer’s day floats in the air.

Even the dog, who thought that he was sitting on the floor, was sitting in the air, several feet from the floor.

This was a most remarkable state of things, and it is no wonder that the travelers could not very soon get used to it.

To feel oneself soaring like a balloon must certainly be a curious sensation.