killhim; and serve him right too!
I should deem this chapter incomplete if I omitted to say a word aboutanother little member of the company in my crowded cabin--a real friend,too, and a decided enemy to all the rest of the creeping genera abouthim. I refer to a chameleon I caught in the woods and tamed. Hisprincipal food consisted in cockroaches, which he caught very cleverly,and which, before eating, he used to beat against the deck to soften.He lived in a little stone-jar, which made a very cool house for him,and to which he periodically retired to rest; and very indignant he was,too, if any impudent cockroach, in passing, raised itself on itsfore-legs to look in. Instant pursuit was the consequence, and hiscolour came and went in a dozen different hues as he seized and beat todeath the intruder on his privacy. He seemed to know me, and crawledabout me. My buttons were his chief attraction; he appeared to thinkthey were made for him to hang on to by the tail; and he would stand forfive minutes at a time on my shoulder, darting his tongue in everydirection at the unwary flies which came within his reach; and, upon thewhole, I found him a very useful little animal indeed. These lizardsare very common as pets among the sailors on the coast of Africa, whokeep them in queer places sometimes, as the following conversation,which I heard between two sailors at Cape Town, will show.
"Look here, Jack, what I've got in my 'bacca-box."
"What is it?" said Jack--"an evil spirit?"
"No," said the other, as unconcernedly as if it might have been an evilspirit, but wasn't--"no! a chameleon;" which he pronounced kammy-lion.
"Queer lion that 'ere, too," replied Jack.
But, indeed, there are few creatures which a sailor will not attempt totame.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
CONTAINING A TALE TO BANISH THE CREEPIES.
"The noblest mind the best contentment has."
Spenser.
"Now," said Frank, next night (we are all assembled drinking tea on thelawn), "after all those tales about your foreign favourites, and yourpet creepie-creepies, I think the best thing you can do is to comenearer home and change your tactics."
"I was dreaming about cockroaches last night," said my wife; "and youknow, dear, they are my pet aversion."
"Yes," cried Ida; "do tell us a story to banish the creepies."
"Well then, here goes. I'll tell you a story about a pet donkey andNero's son, `Hurricane Bob.' Will that do? And we'll call it--"
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JEANNIE'S BOARDING-HOUSE: A SEASIDE STORY.
"Jeannie was an ass. I do not make this remark in any disparaging way,for a more interesting member of the genus donkey never, I believe,stood upon four legs. Indeed, I do not think I would be going too farif I said that I have known many individuals not half so wise who stoodupon two. Now, although I mention Jeannie in the past tense, it isbecause she is not present with me, but she is still, I believe, aliveand well, and is at this moment, I have little doubt, quietly croppingthe grass on her own green field, or gazing pensively at the ocean fromthe Worthing sands.
"I must tell you who was my travelling companion when I first made theacquaintance of the heroine of this little sketch. He was a very largejet-black Newfoundland dog. Such a fellow! And with such a coat too,not one curly hair in all his jacket, all as straight as quills, and assheeny as the finest satin. Hurricane Bob can play in the sea, toyingwith the waves for hours, and still not be wet quite to the skin, andwhen he comes on shore again he just gives himself a shake or two,buckets of water fly in all directions, for the time being he looks likean animated mop, then away he feathers across the sands, and in a fewminutes he is dry enough for the drawing-room. Bob is quite anaristocrat in his own way, and every inch a gentleman--one glance at hisbeautiful face and his wide, thoughtful eyes would convince you ofthis--nor, on being introduced to him, would you be surprised to be toldthat not only is he a winner of many prizes himself, but that his fatheris a champion dog, and his grandfather before him as well. I do notthink that Hurricane Bob--or Master Robert, as we call him on high daysand holidays--has a single fault, unless probably the habit he has ofgoing tearing along the streets and roads, when out for a walk, at therate of twenty miles an hour. It is this habit which has gained for himthe sobriquet of Hurricane; it is sometimes a little awkward for thelieges, but to his credit be it said that whenever he runs down a littleboy or girl he never fails to stop and apologise on the spot, lickingthe hands of the prostrate one, and saying, as plainly as a dog canspeak, `There, there, I didn't really mean to hurt you, and you'll beall right again in a minute.'
"We called the place where Jeannie lived, at Worthing, Jeannie'sboarding-house. It was a nice roomy stable, with a coach-house, a yardfor exercise, and a loose-box. The door of the stable was always leftopen at Jeannie's request, so that she could go out and in as shepleased. The loose-box was told off to Hurricane Bob; he had a dish ofnice clean water, a box to hold his dog-biscuits, and plenty of drystraw, so he was as happy as a king.
"When his landlady, Jeannie, first saw him she sniffed him all over,while Bob looked up in her face.
"`Just you be careful, old lady,' said Bob, `for I might be tempted tocatch you by the nose.'
"But Jeannie was satisfied.
"`You'll do, doggie,' she said; `there doesn't seem to be an ounce ofreal harm in your whole composition.'
"The other members of Jeannie's boarding establishment were about twentyhens, old and young, more useful perhaps than ornamental. Now, anyother landlady in the world would have had a bad time of it with thisill-bred feathered squad, for they were far from polite to her, andconstantly grumbling about their food; they said they hadn't enough ofit, and that it was not good what they did get. Then they werecontinually squabbling or fighting with each other; the little fowlsalways stole all the big pieces, and the big fowls chased and pecked thelittle ones all round the yard in consequence, till their backs, undertheir feathers, must have been black and blue, and they hadn't peace toeat the portion they had stolen. `Tick, tuck,' the big fowl would say;`tick, tuck, take that, and that; tick, tuck, that's what greed gets.'
"But Jeannie was a philosopher, she simply looked at them with thosequiet brown eyes of hers, shook one ear, and said--
"`Grumble away, grumble away, I'm too well known to be afraid of ye; yecan't bring disgrace on my hotel. Hee, haw! Haw, hee! There!'
"Hurricane Bob paid his bill _every_ morning and every night with adog-biscuit. The first morning I offered Jeannie the biscuit she lookedat me.
"`Do you take me for a dog?' she asked. Then she sniffed it. `It dosmell uncommonly nice,' she said; `I'll try it, anyhow.' So she tookthe cake in her mouth, and marched into the yard; but returned almostimmediately, still holding it between her teeth.
"`What's the correct way to eat it?' she inquired.
"`That's what I want you to find out,' I said.
"Poor Jeannie! she tried to break it against the door, then against thewall, and finally against the paving stone, but it resisted all herefforts. Then, `Oh! I know,' she cried. `You puts it on the ground,and holes it like a turnip.' N.B.--I'm not accountable for Jeannie'sbad grammar.
"Every morning, when I came to see Master Robert, Jeannie ran to meetme, and put her great head under my arm for a cuddle. She called meArthur, but that isn't my name. She pronounced the first syllable in adouble bass key, and the second in a shrill treble. Ar--thur! Haw,hee! Haw, hee!
"She was funny, was Jeannie. Some mornings, as soon as she caught sightof me, she used to go off into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, thenshe would apologise.
"`I can't help it, Arthur,' she seemed to say. `It does seem rude, Idaresay, but I really can't help it. It's the sight of you that doesit. Hee, haw! Hee, haw!'
"One day, and one day only, Bob and his landlady nearly had a quarrel.Jeannie, having eaten her own biscuit, burst into the loose-box, to helpthe dog with his. `Ho, ho!' said Hurricane Robert, `you've come toraise the rent, have ye? Just lo
ok at this, old lady.' As he spoke,the dog lifted one lip, and showed such a display of alabaster teeth,that Jeannie was glad to retire without raising the rent.
"What was Jeannie like, did you ask? Why, straight in back and strongin limb, with beautiful long ears to switch away the flies in summer,with mild, intelligent eyes of hazel brown, and always a soft, smoothpatch on the top of her nose for any one to kiss who was so minded. Inwinter Jeannie was rough in coat. She preferred it, she said, becauseit kept out the cold, and made an excellent saddle for her three littleplaymates to ride upon. Of these she was exceedingly fond, and nevermore pleased and proud than when the whole three of