Leaves from the Book of Nature: Descriptive Narrative,&c. A THOUSAND AND ONE STORIES FROM NATURE. ORIGINAL AND SELECTED. BY THE REV. F. O. MORRIS, B.A., RECTOR OF NUNBURNHOLME, YORKSHIRE, AND CHAPLAIN TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF CLEVELAND, AUTHOR OF A "HISTORY OF BRITISH BIRDS' (DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN), ETC., ETC. THE MACAW. XCI. "With a macaw belonging to us I used to be on the best of terms, and he always appeared to be very fond of me, until I was entirely supplanted in his affections by the butler. Even then we were very good friends so long as the butler was not in the room; but the moment he made his appearance, the bird seemed to be seized with a feeling of the greatest possible hostility towards me, attempting to bite me, and showing his animosity in a most decided manner. On these occasions I generally abstained from putting my fingers too close to him, but once, having on a thick velveteen shooting coat, besides shirt and flannel waistcoat, I thought I might venture to test his disposition by offering him my arm in an amicable manner. Had the butler not been there, he would at once have come on it, but as it was, he soon set all doubt at rest by taking a piece clean out of coat, shirt, flannel waistcoat, and arm, at one fell bite." THE MAGPIE. XCII. The following instance, which fell under the observation of a gentlemen when making an excursion in a remote and barren part of the north of Scotland, furnishes many interesting particulars of the sagacity shown by a pair of magpies : Observing them hopping round a gooseberry bush, and flying in and out of it in an extraordinary manner, he noticed the circumstance to the owners of the house in which he was residing, who informed him that as there were no trees in the neighbourhood, they had for several years built their nests and brought up their young in that bush. And, in order that foxes, cats, hawks, &c., might not interrupt them, they had barricaded not only the nest, but the bush itself all round, with briers and thorns in a formidable manner. The materials inside the nest were soft, warm, and comfortable to the touch; but all round on the outside, so rough, strong, and firmly entwined with the bush, that, without a hedge knife, or something of the kind, even a man could not, without much pain and trouble, get at their young; the barrier from the outer to the inner edge, being about a foot in breadth. Frogs, mice, worms, or anything living, were plentifully brought to their young. One day one of the parent birds attacked a rat, but not being able to kill it, one of the young ones came out of the nest and assisted in its destruction, which was not finally accomplished till the other old one, arriving with a dead mouse, also lent its aid. The female was observed to be the most active and thievish, and withal very ungrateful; for although the children about the house had often frightened cats and hawks from the spot, yet she one day seized a chicken, and carried it to the top of the house to eat it. The hen immediately followed, and having rescued the chicken, brought.it safely down on her back; and it was remarked that the poor little bird, though it made a great noise while the magpie was carrying it up, was quite quiet, and seemed to feel no pain, while the mother was carrying it down. These magpies were supposed to have been the very same pair which had built there for several years, never suffering either the young, when grown up, or anything else, to take possession of their bush. The nest they carefully fortified afresh every spring, with rough, strong, prickly sticks, which they sometimes drew in with their united force, if unable to effect the object alone. THE DOG. XCIII. A most singular case is recorded of a dog, which I could scarcely credit but that my authority is such as to leave no doubt on my mind, and I have seen the animal. The surgeon of a regiment, who lived in private lodgings at Vienna before the outbreak of the war, went with his corps to the northern army, and took his dog with him. They call him here a very pretty dog, but I must say that, except for his adventures, I should call him a very uninteresting and cross-bred specimen of the canine family—big rather, and rough and wiry-but certainly a creature having a most wonderful and evident affection for his kind-hearted master. At the retreat from Königgrätz the doctor's servant had charge of the dog, and put him on the saddle before him. When he rode across the Elbe, a portion of a stray shell tore off a part of the man's cloak, and in his confusion at the moment, though he was not hit, he let the poor dog fall into the river. That was not a time to value the life of so humble an animal; and, indeed, in the excitement of great events, I regret to say both master and man forgot all about their dumb friend. The good surgeon reached Vienna some time after, and one day he went to pay a visit to the family he had been previously lodging with. What was his astonishment as he entered the door to find his poor dog rush upon him with whines, and loud barks, too, of delight. It appears the cunning creature had reached the capital six days before his master, but how he came is to this day altogether unknown, though it is guessed he may have been picked up by some wounded soldier, and, with that never-failing love of dumb pets so usual amongst the men of all armies, may have been brought down from the north to one of the hospitals of Vienna.T. P., 1866. XCIV. In the neighbourhood of Cupar, in the county of Fife, there lived two dogs, mortal enemies to each other, who always fought desperately whenever they met. Capt. Bwas the master of one of them, and the other belonged to a neighbouring farmer. Capt. B—'s dog was in the habit of going messages, and even of bringing butcher's meat and other articles from Cupar. On day, while returning charged with a basket containing some pieces of mutton, he was attacked by some of the curs of the town, who, no doubt, thought the prize worth contending for. The assault was fierce, and of some duration; but the mes senger, after doing his utmost, was at last over. powered and compelled to yield up the basket, though not before he had secured a part of its contents. The piece saved from the wreck he ran off with, at full speed, to the quarters of his old enemy, at whose feet he laid it down, stretching himself beside it till he had eaten it up. A few snuffs, a few whispers in the ear, and other dog-like courtesies, were then exchanged; after which they both set off together in company, when they worried nearly all the dogs in the town; and, what is more remarkable, they never afterwards quarrelled, but were always on friendly terms. LL right, sir ?" on THROUGH THE TROSACHS.* "All right," and away we started an August morning from the Dreadnought Hotel at Callander, the greys prancing along as if they too enjoyed the bracing air which swept down from the hills. We soon passed through the village, bowling along towards the vast barrier of Benledi, for such the mountain seemed. Now it was a great mass of purple gloom, the mist hanging over the hundred furrows worn on its barren sides, which after a shower glistened from the descent of innumerable runlets. It has the reputation of being an altar for ancient heathen worship, and it is said that down to a late period the beltane mysteries, remnants of heathen rites, were performed on its summit. As we dash along, the mountains seem entirely to block the way, as if there were no entrance to the world beyond, save by climbing their craggy shoulders. The base of Benledi formed our route for some distance, the brawling Teith rushing along beneath us, during which part of our journey we were wrapt in the oblivion of a Illustrations of this route will be found in OUR OWN FIRESIDE, Vol. I., pp. 656.714. summer shower. Presently the sunlight burst forth over flood and field, flashing on the shallows of the stream where it issued from "silver Vennachar." Just at this point, where the lake narrows to the river, the coachman, with a flourish of his whip, proclaimed the lines, "And this is Coilantogle ford, Where thou must keep thee with thy sword," and proceeded to recite with great enthusiasm the combat between Fitzjames and Roderick Dhu, much to the amusement of some of the passengers. "Deep and still" as ever the poet saw it, slept placid Loch Vennachar among its soft slopes of verdure; in the distance rose masses of mountain, and purple-stained moors swelled northward into hills. In the middle of the loch, Inch Vroin, the only island on the lake, reposed in solitary grandeur. "The gathering-ground of Clan Alpin!" exclamed the coachman, pointing to a level bit of marshy meadow on the edge of the loch; and true enough there was a flat piece of ground amid a vast surrounding array of mountains, woods, and rocks, intermingled with lakes, and intersected by streams—a fitting place for the muster of a clan. The islet of Eilan-a-vruin—“Lamentation"—lies not far off, the dismal name of which may have reference to the drowning of a whole funeral procession once, while crossing on the ice to a place of sepulchre, since which time Loch Vennachar has been regarded as a special haunt of the kelpie. Henceforth the Grampians shut in the lakeworld with mighty barriers; every mile the mountains seem higher and wilder. A little further on we reach the first stage of the exhausted bearer of the fiery cross, where "Duncraggan's huts appear at last, And peep like moss-grown rocks, half seen, and shortly afterwards the road leading to Glenfinlas. This is now a deer-forest, belonging to the Earl of Moray; ten miles of wild glens and heaths, embosomed in mountains, once the headquarters of malignant sprites and other ghostly phantoms, likewise of the more substantial outlaws, cattle-reivers, and the like, concerning whom many legends are said and sung. About a mile from the bridge on the road to this glen, there is a deep and narrow ravine, on the left side of which, down the perpendicular face of the rock, the river Turk thunders in a fine cascade. In a romantic grotto, in a shelf of this rock, one of the outlawed Macgregors is said to have taken refuge. He was supplied with food by an adventurous Highland girl, who lowered it to him in a basket from the edge of the precipice above; he procured water for himself by letting down a flagon into the black pool beneath the fall. We roll gaily over the Brig o' Turk, and are now upon the borders of Loch Achray, lying low and calm among peaks and precipices. Benvenue rises opposite, a pile of grey rocks atop of endless woods. Sometimes the road lies at the foot of crags on the very edge of the loch; at other times the woods close above and around with a verdant darkness, only lit by a glance of sunbeam piercing among the leaves. We continue "Up the margin of the lake Between the precipice and brake," when suddenly a building with every token of a baronial residence comes in sight, which one might almost take for a noble family mansion, dowered with date back to the Tudors. Here the coach stops, and as we feel rather hungry after an early breakfast and a bracing drive, we descend and enter Ardcheanochrochanthe Trosachs Hotel. The interior is thus described by one who visited it: "The new inn is a most extraordi nary concern, more like a penitentiary, or place of punishment for evildoers, than one of entertainment for either man or beast. It consists chiefly of turrets, and you are ushered into a little circular cell, with several windows pierced in different directions, but each win. dow like a slit in Bridewell, being only a single narrow pane in breadth, and three panes in height. When you sit in the middle of your cell, you actually see nothing but your prison walls and three or four narrow streaks of light. However, when you rise and put your face quite into one of the windows, the effect is rather striking, especially that from the western slit. You have, as in a dark framework, a view of a finely broken portion of the Trosachs, a small gleaming portion of Loch Achray, and almost the whole of Benvenue, with its great rocks, rugged pastures, and gloomy hollows." Notwithstanding this rather uninviting de scription, we find the hotel very comfortable. We do not stay long, however, and are soon on our way to the far-famed pass. Near the entrance of the gorge Fitzjames lost his "gal lant grey;" and so imbued has the whole scenery become with the story of the "Lady of the Lake," that we are almost tempted to look for the blanched bones of the generous steed. A little further on and we enter "the bristled territory," the Trosachs. What can I say about it? No language could convey an idea of its surpassing loveliness. The poet of Abbotsford has done the best that poetry can do. Macaulay has equally excelled in the medium of prose. "The Trosachs wind between gigantic walls of rock, tapestried with broom and wild roses," writes England's great historian. In truth, the place is a bewildering chaos of beauty. The mountains keep closing up their colossal ranks, darkening even the summer noonday. Recesses whence cascades leap to the loch-deep glens of ferns and copsewood-crags crested with feathery birk and bracken-glimpses of bright sheeny water afar-all varieties of foliage-everything of scenery which is singly beautiful, is here collected, massed richly together. Issuing from the defile, we reach a narrow inlet, and then Loch Katrine bursts upon the view. One great charm of the Trosachs is the suddenness with which Loch Katrine presents itself, and the beauty of the scene at the narrow inlet, still and deep." Of old the access to the loch from the east was by a footpath over a steep crag, in crossing which the tourist had to trust to the help of a rope; but at the beginning of the present century a good road was cut through this wonderful labyrinth of mountains, rocks, and woods. As we have an hour or two's leisure before the steamer starts, we visit the Silver Strand, where Ellen obtained her first interview with the Knight of Snowdoun. Not far from this is the pass of Bealach-an-Duine, where a skirmish took place between the Highlanders and a party of Cromwell's soldiers, and the heathcovered grave of the only soldier who fell is still pointed out. To revenge his death his comrades resolved to plunder Ellen's Isle, where the mountaineers had concealed their wives and children and cattle. As the only boat upon the lake was at the island, one of the soldiers swam off to bring it away; but a daring woman, named Helen Stewart, struck him with a dirk as soon as he laid his hand on the gunwale, and his companions would not tempt such desperate courage further. But we must see the home of the "Lady of the Lake." There is a boat at the little wooden pier, which we charter. Taking our way up the lake, we soon come in sight of Ellen's Isle, the single gem of these waters-a bosky rock, drooping on all sides with foliage. Alas for the stern facts of history! This pretty island was inhabited, not by a gentle girl and her aged harper, but by a desperate gang of outlaws of the clan Gregor, who fortified it "with men, victual, powder, bullets, and other warlike furniture, intending to keep the same as a place of war and defence for withstanding His Majesty's forces." The imagination of the tourist can hardly conjure up any figures on its strand or among its copse, save those of the fair Ellen and the white-haired Allan Bane. Into the boat again, and we shoot across to Coir-nan-Uriskin, the Goblin's Cave, on the south-eastern side of the lake. It is approached from the shore by a steep and narrow defile, and is a vast circular hollow in Benvenue, enclosed on all sides by steep rocks, and almost shut out from the light of day by the shade of the neighbouring crags. It takes its name from the belief that it was the abode of the Urisks, or shaggy men-a race of sprites akin to the Lowland brownie and the English Robin Goodfellow. The cave was at one period the haunt of outlaws, and there also, when Douglas concealed his daughter after removing her from Roderick Dhu's island, the angel-hymn of Ellen "was raised to Heaven in pensive sighs.” But the bell rings, and the steamer is about to start, so we hasten on board, and with a few lingering looks, the Trosachs are left behind as we steer our course up the lake. On each side are the silent mountains reposing in solitary grandeur, with here and there a lonely cot, and perhaps a shepherd on the mountainside. Things were very different once. The very name of the loch brings us back to the days when Bealach-nam-bo, yonder, was really the pass of the cattle, and plundering the sole handicraft of the caterans of these mountains. Lovely as these scenes are, they are soon to us "passing away," but we shall long treasure the memory of our last glimpse of "Promontory, creek, and bay, T. STEWART ROBERTSON. Songs of the Garden. BY MRS. ELLIS, AUTHORESS OF THE "WOMEN OF ENGLAND." The Lily. AS the garden two queens p" the lily, "Or sisters that reign on one throne ?" Oh, life has no charm to the lily, sang No sweetness when reigning alone! The rose has her blushes so tender, So deep her more exquisite glow; But the lily is pale in her splendour, And spotless, and pure as the snow. The rose-queen has many a lover Less true than the sweet nightingale, Who comes, ere the daylight is over, And tells her his musical tale. The lily, fair vestal, stands lonely; No blush on her cheek, and no glow To heighten her loveliness, only A crown of white stars for her brow. So stately and gracious her bearing, So high above jealousy raised; Most gracious, most happy, when hearing How warmly her sister is praised. "So we reign," sang the lily, "together, O'er a kingdom of verdure and bloom, And we die with the bright summer weather, Our farewell a sigh of perfume." Tidings. VII. ARK! what foot with gentle tread Steals the listening flowers among? Maiden, why that drooping head? Why no answer to their song? Why that cheek so lily-pale? Why the glistening of thine eye? Tell the faithful flowers thy tale, Trust their love and constancy. Tell it not, ye listening flowers, Youth is fickle-youth is light; Worlds of glory far away. But the sun we know is there; |