CHAPTER X.

_Something worth knowing._

I have already told my readers that our little hero, whom we call Inquisitive Jack, was of a very investigating turn of mind. I do not mean to say that he was curious and inquisitive about improper things. He had not that unpleasant trait of character, which belongs to some people and some children――a constant disposition to be curious and inquisitive about other people’s affairs. If he was a kind of Paul Pry, his curiosity only led him to pry into the works of nature and art, and not to be meddlesome in the affairs of other people.

I believe I have also said that, when Jack became interested in a subject, he did not like to leave it till he knew all about it. He did not, like some little people, proceed from one object to another, amusing himself for a moment, and laying up no permanent stores of knowledge. He was more like the little insect of which we have told so long a story――the bee――which, when it alights upon a blossom, scrapes out all the honey, and then stores it away in cells for future use. So it was with Jack. He studied one subject at a time, made himself master of the knowledge it afforded, packed it away in the cells of his memory, and then was ready to set about something else.

Well, on account of this trait of character, he would not leave the subject of bees until he had extracted from Aunt Betsey all she knew of the subject――all the learning she had got. I have already told you many things which he learned, but there are many others which I have not related. I must now tell you a few of these, and then we will proceed to something else.

Jack had an idea, which is common to children, that all domestic animals were naturally tame; and he was greatly surprised to learn that dogs, cats, cows, hens, pigs, horses, and even bees, were originally wild, and had been brought into their present state by the arts of man. In the course of his conversations with Aunt Betsey, he acquired these new ideas, and he was then very curious to hear about wild bees and bee-hunters. Accordingly, his kind-hearted relative proceeded to satisfy his inquiries upon this subject. The substance of what she told him was as follows:

In nearly all countries there are swarms of wild bees, which have their abode in the forest. Their hive is the hollow trunk of some aged tree. Here they build their cells and store their honey. The native flowers of the forest, of the valley, and the mountain, of the hill-side and the lawn, afford them a supply of their delicious food, not only for the daily meal, during the warm season, but for the stores of winter.

It is a part of the plan of the benevolent Creator, that every portion of the universe shall be filled with life, so that happiness may everywhere abound. Even where man has not yet made his way in the wilderness and the solitary place, there are the flowers, with their honey, and there, amid other insects, is the busy, happy bee, to gather it. How vast must be the field of enjoyment which the omniscient eye surveys, if even the study of insects unfolds such a view as is here suggested.

The habits of the wild bees are nearly the same as those of the domestic ones. They live in large communities, build their cells in hexagons, are subject to the government of a queen, and have their periodical swarms, as we have related.

The hunting of wild bees is very common in the western states of this country. In some parts they are so abundant, that some persons become regular bee-hunters. Their mode of finding the hives is curious and interesting.

I must tell you that, when a bee sets off from a flower, to return to the hive, it always flies home in a straight line. It is one of the amazing instincts of this little creature, that, wherever it may be, it has the power of going to its home without deviation from a direct course. It may wander in the woods, it may sport amid the mazes of the flowery meadow, yet still the little creature never gets its head turned, never gets lost. The moment that its honey-bags are filled, it mounts upward on the breeze, and, without hesitation, speeds like an arrow to its mark.

The bee-hunter takes advantage of this curious trait in the bee. He sees in what direction the insect flies, and, by following on, is able, at last, to discover the hive. A practised bee-hunter often adopts this method. He notices the direction in which a bee flies from one flower, and sets down two or three sticks to mark the route. He then goes to a little distance, and starts another bee, and marks the route he takes. If the two lines tend toward each other, he concludes that the angle at which they meet is the point where the hive is to be found. Judging of the distance by the skill acquired by practice, the hunter proceeds to the spot, and seldom fails of finding the honey which he seeks pretty near the place which his calculations have indicated.

The scientific bee-hunter sometimes adopts the following method: he places some bee-bread, in order to tempt the bees, on a flat board or tile, and draws a circle round it with white paint. The bee always settles upon the edge of anything flat; so she must travel through the paint to reach the edge. When she flies away, the white paint on her body enables the hunter to observe her flight, and her course is marked down with a pocket compass. The same thing is done at another spot, some distance from the first, and, by comparing the direction of the two lines, the situation of the nest is easily found, as it must be at the point where the lines would meet.

We are told that, in Africa, there is a curious little hunter of the wild bee. This is a quadruped, about as large as a woodchuck, called the honey-ratel. This cunning little fellow seems to understand optics; for, when he wishes to get a distinct view of the bees, he holds up one of his fore paws, as you would your hand, in order to shade his eyes, and thus exclude from the pupil of the eye an excess of light. He watches the bees, particularly at sunset, for he knows that, like other working people, they are then retiring to their homes. Following the route they take, he is able to find out the vicinity of the hive, and, when he has come pretty near, his keen scent directs him to the honey which he seeks.

There is, also, in the wilds of Africa, a little bird called the honey-guide. This creature has the faculty of finding out where the honey is stored, and it is said that, when he meets a traveller in the wilderness, he will flutter along before him, from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, and, at last, guide him to the hive.

I remember to have read a story, of this kind, a great many years ago, when I was a boy. It was in the beautiful tale of Alphonso and Dalinda, told by Madame de Genlis, in her Tales of the Castle. I have never forgotten it; and no story, that I have since heard, has seemed half so pleasing. Does it not seem, indeed, almost like an incident of fairy land, that travellers, wandering in the wilds of Africa, should find a little bird, who becomes their guide to a feast of honey?

If I were to repeat all that Aunt Betsey Piper told her nephew about bees, I am afraid that I should fill a book. So I may as well bring this chapter to an end, after saying a few words about other kinds of bees.

I might talk a long time about the humble-bee, or, as some of my little readers call him, the bumble-bee. He is very large, and goes about with an air of importance, like some fat, bustling people that we know of. He has one habit which it is well not to imitate, and that is, of always humming a tune as he roams about. This bee makes his nest of moss, in the hayfield, usually beneath a heap of stones, or in some excavation of the earth. Two or three dozen usually assemble together, and carry on the various operations of the little community.

The mason bee builds her nest in the hole of an old wall, of little pieces of clay. She makes four or five cells, of the size of a thimble, in each of which she lays an egg. The carpenter bee makes a nest in an old post, by boring a hole, twelve inches long, with her teeth. In these holes she lays her eggs.

We could tell some of Aunt Betsey’s curious stories about upholstery bees and leaf-cutter bees, and we could say a good deal about their spiteful cousins, the wasps and hornets. But we must close the chapter by remarking, that all these different branches of the bee family live in communities, make and store honey, hatch their young from eggs, adopt a kind of despotic government, and carry a sharp sword sheathed in the tail.

Stomach of the Horse.

When we think of the adaptations of animal structure to the different conditions of living creatures, the camel, the ship of the desert, immediately occurs; and no doubt it is highly interesting to observe how this animal is adapted to the sandy wastes, in its eye, its nostril, its foot, the cells of its stomach, and its capacity of endurance. But it is, perhaps, more important to look to _our_ domestic animals, and, of all, the most deserving of attention is the horse.

Of all creatures, the horse has the smallest stomach, relatively to its size. Had he the quadruple, ruminating stomach of the ox, he would not have been at all times ready for exertion; the traveller could not have baited his steed and immediately resumed his journey. The stomach of the horse is not so capacious, even when distended, as to impede his wind and speed; and the food is passing onward with a greater degree of regularity than in any other animal.

A proof of this is, that the horse has no gall bladder. Most people understand that bile is necessary to digestion, and the gall-bladder is a receptacle for that bile. Where the digestive process is performed in a large stomach, and the food descends in larger quantities, and at long intervals, the gall bladder is necessary; and there is that sympathy between the stomach and gall bladder that they are filled and emptied at the same time. The absence of the gall bladder in the horse, therefore, implies the almost continual process of digestion, which again results from the smallness of the stomach.

Another peculiarity in the horse is the supply of fluid. When the camel drinks, the water is deposited in cells connected with the stomach; but if a horse drinks a pail of water, in eight minutes none of that water is in the stomach; it is rapidly passing off into the large intestines and cœcum. We cannot resist the conviction that this variation in the digestive organs of the horse is in correspondence with his whole form and properties, which are for sudden and powerful, as well as long-continued exertion.

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Patriotism.

An interesting story of Codrus, the last king of Athens, is handed down by the historian. When the Heraclidæ made war against Athens, one of the oracles, in which the Grecians placed great confidence, and which they were accustomed to consult on important occasions, declared that victory would be granted to them provided they abstained from injuring the Athenian king.

Codrus was a man of noble soul, and preferred the happiness of his country to everything else. Accordingly, he determined to sacrifice his life in order to secure success to the Athenians. With this view, he dressed himself as a common person and entered the enemy’s camp. He provoked a quarrel with a soldier, and was immediately slain.

The Heraclidæ soon discovered that they had killed the Athenian king, and, knowing that they had violated the condition upon which the oracle promised them success, became alarmed, and discontinued the war.

[Illustration]

The Wooden Horse.

One of the most famous poems ever produced, is that entitled the Iliad. This was written by a man called Homer, who composed it in several different fragments, and went about the country reciting them to the people. He lived about nine hundred years before Christ.

The scene of the Iliad is laid along the north-eastern shore of the Mediterranean sea. It gives an account of a terrible war, carried on by the Greeks against the city of Troy. This lasted for ten years, and resulted in the overthrow of that city. The events, as related by Homer, are, many of them, curious and remarkable. He not only describes the deeds of military heroes, but he represents the gods and goddesses,――such as Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, Juno, Venus, and others, as taking part in the struggle; at one time aiding and animating their friends, and, at another, baffling or overthrowing their enemies.

The principal leaders, on the part of the Greeks, are Ajax, Achilles and Ulysses. Those on the part of the Trojans, were Hector, Priam and Paris. The characters of these heroes are drawn with great power and skill by the poet, though we cannot but shudder at the bloody and savage acts which they perform. The manner in which Troy was at last taken, is thus related by Homer. It seems that Ulysses, who was a very artful and contriving man, caused an immense wooden horse to be made, capable of holding a considerable number of people. This was filled with soldiers, and offered, as a present, to the Trojans. These, having no suspicion of what was in the horse, accepted the present with great pleasure. A part of the walls, which surrounded and defended the city, was removed, and the immense horse was rolled in, amid the acclamations of the crowd. The breach in the wall was then closed up, and the Trojans were left with their admired, but dangerous present.

In the middle of the night, when the people of Troy were wrapped in profound sleep, the soldiers, who were locked up in the bowels of the horse, stole out and spread themselves over the city. They then set fire to it in various places, and opened the gates to their friends, the Greeks, without. These were waiting for the opportunity, and rushed into the city.

The Trojans were now suddenly awakened from their repose, and, when they went forth, they beheld their houses in flames and the enemy filling the streets. Most of the inhabitants were put to the sword. Such is old Homer’s story of the Wooden Horse.

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Hannibal crossing the Alps.

One of the most wonderful events related in history, is that of Hannibal’s crossing the Alps, with an army of many thousand men, about two thousand years ago.

At that period, Rome, a city of Italy, and Carthage, a city of Africa, were at war. Hannibal was the Carthaginian general, and, being in Spain with his army, he determined to lead them into Italy. He, accordingly, crossed the Pyrenees and entered France, in his march. But now the Alps, the loftiest mountains in Europe, lay between him and Italy. They were not only many thousand feet in height, but their tops were covered with perpetual snow and ice. There were no roads over these cold and desolate regions, and no general had ever before thought of leading an army across them.

But Hannibal was a bold and enterprising man. He did not follow in the footsteps of those who had gone before, but struck out new paths for himself. He carefully examined the mountains, and, while he thus saw the difficulties, he felt sure that they could be overcome.

It must have been a strange and interesting sight to have seen the soldiers climbing up the steep, shaggy sides of the mountains, creeping along the dizzy edges of the precipices, crossing the dark and narrow ravines, and ascending and descending the steep and slippery glaciers. It must have been curious to have seen the elephants, of which there were several hundreds attached to the army, climbing over the lofty peaks of the mountains. It must have astonished the inhabitants of Italy to have seen the vast army, after crossing a barrier regarded as insurmountable, now pouring down upon their smiling plains like an overwhelming torrent, and spreading the terrors of war on every hand.

This achievement of Hannibal has ever been regarded as one of the wonders of history. A little more than forty years ago, Buonaparte, also, crossed the Alps with a large army; but he enjoyed many advantages not possessed by the Carthaginian hero. He had better equipments, tools and implements for his purpose, and possessed far more skilful engineers. His soldiers, also, were better fitted to aid in such an enterprise. The achievement, however, is esteemed one of the greatest exploits in the life of Napoleon.

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The House of our Childhood

There is no word in our language that has a sweeter sound than _home_. It is the place where we began our existence――where life opened upon us. It was here that our parents dwelt; it was here that brothers and sisters lived; it was here that we became acquainted with good and evil. And now, when we have parted with home, we look back to that dear spot with an affection amounting almost to transport.

How beautiful has the old house become by that enchantment which distance lends to the view! How is every room consecrated in the memory by some little incident treasured in the heart! How many things about it are associated with a mother’s voice――a mother’s look――a father’s hallowed tone! How is every spot, around the dwelling, touched with the hues of childhood’s romance and poetry, where

Not the lightest leaf but trembling teems With golden visions and romantic dreams!

My little readers, let me tell you a secret. There is no time in life more happy than childhood. You will find no friends in life better than father and mother; no attentions truer than those of brothers and sisters; no place sweeter than home. Think of these things, and do all you can to make home still happier, and to enjoy and deserve the blessings which home furnishes to those who are virtuous.

Blessing on a Child.

BY CAROLINE BOWLES.

And the bonnie babe! on her All your choicest gifts confer; Just as much of wit and sense As may be hers without pretence―― Just as much of grace and beauty As shall not interfere with duty―― Just as much of sprightliness As may companion gentleness―― Just as much of firmness, too, As with self-will has naught to do―― Just as much light-hearted cheer As may be melted to a tear By a word, a tone, a look, Pity’s touch, or Love’s rebuke―― As much of frankness, sweetly free, As may consort with modesty―― As much of feeling as will bear Of after life the wear and tear―― As much of life――but, fairies! there Ye vanish into thinnest air; And with ye parts the playful vein That loved a light and trivial strain. Befits me better, babe! for thee T’ invoke Almighty agency―― Almighty love――Almighty power, To nurture up the human flower; To cherish it with heavenly dew, Sustain with earthly blessings too; And, when the ripe, full time shall be, Engraft it on eternity.

Varieties.

A PUZZLER.――Will some of my little readers learn to repeat the following: “Mr. B, did you say, or did you not say, what I said you said? because Mr. C. said you never did say what I said you said. Now, if you did say that you did not say what I said you said, then what did you say?”

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FEEDING THE POULTRY.――I know a little girl, who feeds her mother’s poultry; and I believe she takes the entire care of them. She gives them corn to eat, and fresh water to drink, every day. There is one chicken, which she says is very greedy, and always tries to get more than his share; and that, you know, is very disagreeable. So his little mistress shuts this greedy fowl up, sometimes, in a coop, and makes him eat his dinner by himself, as she thinks he sets a bad example to the other chickens. Do you not think so, too?

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A SHARP REPLY.――A countryman sowing his ground, two smart fellows riding that way, one of them called to him, with an insolent air, “Well, honest fellow, ’tis your business to sow, but we reap the fruits of your labor.” “’Tis very likely you may,” replied the man, “for I am sowing hemp.”

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AN IMITATIVE HORSE.――A gentleman had a horse, which, after being kept in the stable for some time, and turned out into the field, where there was a pump well supplied with water, regularly obtained a quantity therefrom by his own dexterity. For this purpose, the animal was observed to take the handle in his mouth, and work it with his head, in a way similar to that done by the hand of man, until a sufficiency of what nature called for was produced in the trough.

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QUEER.――A country editor, having no deaths in his paper, put in this notice: “Several deaths unavoidably deferred.”

Our Correspondence.

Notes, letters and billets, puzzles and charades, cuts and compliments, praise and blame, are here before us, for which we return our hearty thanks to our little correspondents. We insert the following, which is all we can do this month. We are now winding off all our stories for the close of the year, and are preparing lots of pleasant things for the first of January. So, gentle readers, all, pray hold us excused, if we have omitted particularly to acknowledge any of your kind favors.

SHEBOYGAN FALLS, W. T., 1843. ROBERT MERRY, ESQ.:

My Dear old Friend,――Your “Museum” has been very amusing, as well as instructive, to me and my little brothers, during the last year. And, my dear father having made us a new-year’s present of one dollar, I think the best use we can make of it is to send it to you, for which we wish you to send us the Museum during the year 1843; and, by so doing, you will very much enhance the pleasure of your little friends in the wilds of Wisconsin. G. F. C.

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A “CONSTANT READER” sends us the following charade:

When walking by the water’s side, My _first_ you oft may see; And if a lamp your steps should guide, My next would in it be: My whole does form a lady’s name, Who long has been beloved of fame.

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Elizabeth B. guesses that the answer to the geographical puzzle, in the September number, is, “Merchants’ Exchange,” and she guesses right.

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Another correspondent, who calls himself a “reader of Merry’s Museum,” has furnished us with a similar answer.

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I am pleased with the letter from our limping friend, which follows. I have a sort of sympathy and fellow-feeling for every one who has been upon crutches and carries a cane――if it be for use, and not for display. Our little correspondent has hard fortune, but let him keep a good heart. Mind Bob Merry, and go ahead.

MACHIAS, Sept. 7, 1843. _Good morning, Mr. Merry!_

Dear Sir,――I am a blue-eyed friend and subscriber. I have taken your Museum ever since it was published. I like it very much indeed. The story of the Siberian Sable-Hunter, and Merry’s Adventures, please me best. Would you be so good as to put in some more stories about “Bill Keeler?” Bill was an honest chap. I am lame, but was not shot through the knee, like you. I used to walk on crutches for four years, but now I only use a cane.

I was twelve years old the twenty-second day of February, Washington’s birth-day. I like Washington very much; he did so much good for his country.

Will you not publish some original stories about China and the emperor Napoleon? By so doing, you will gratify your little friend. Please write an answer to my letter. SAMUEL H――――

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We have received a very pretty letter from Sophia M. T. She scolds us a little, and she has reason. But she shall hear from “the old man in the corner,” and perhaps he will be able to make amends for his delay.

MERRY’S MUSEUM.

[Illustration: DECEMBER, 1843.

Vol. 6. No. 6.]

December, the first month of winter and the last of the year, has come. It is a severe and pinching season, and compels us to shut the door, cherish the fire, and make ourselves comfortable within.

It is the very time for Robert Merry’s Museum, provided it be interesting and instructive. We have taken some pains to make the present number satisfactory to our readers. It winds up the stories of Jumping Rabbit, a Tale of the Revolution, the Life of Columbus, and Inquisitive Jack; for we do not wish to stretch our narratives across from one year to another.

We know not how it may be with others, but we are seldom satisfied with our own efforts. The conception is often bright and warm, while the performance is dim and cold. We have sought to please, we have striven to improve the little companions of our monthly prattle, but we have fallen far short of what we intended. We are, however, not discouraged; but, with good resolution and cheerful hope, we shall enter upon a new year, promising to exert ourselves to do our best――to do better than ever before.

A Revolutionary Story.