Читать книгу Autobiography of Matthew Scott, Jumbo's Keeper; also Jumbo's Biography (Matthew Scott) - illustrated - (Literary Thoughts Edition) - Matthew Taubold Scott - Страница 7

“Feed and tend birds,” say you, “a delightful occupation? Oh! I like birds well enough; but then I want the servants, my sister, or mother, to feed and clean after them. I like to see them, and listen to their singing; but I don’t care about the bother of attending to their wants.” Oh, my dear readers, there’s where you miss it. You cannot have the affection of any of the feathered tribe, nor really love the little pets, unless you sacrifice something for them. You must learn how to clean for them, what their various wants are, and you must also study their character to learn their little ways, before you can appreciate them, or they will appreciate you.

To illustrate: When I was crossing the Atlantic with “Jumbo,” I had considerable leisure, and loved to be on the quarter-deck to watch the movements of the “sea gulls,” the birds of the sea that followed and hovered around the stern of the ship all day long. I soon made their acquaintance after leaving Queenstown’s beautiful bay.

I made a practice of filling my pockets with bread at meal times, and when it was a little more stormy than usual, and no persons were on deck, except the officers on duty, I would have all the birds to myself. They would soar around the after part of the steamship, as majestically as eagles soar in the heavens, and with the eyes of hawks, and the swiftness of falcons, sweep over the turbulent green and white waters which the screw of the ship threw madly up as she ploughed the mighty deep.

Sometimes, as the steamer pitched forward, the screw propeller would come to the surface of the waters, and I tell you, my dear readers, that it required some real nerve to sit on the side of the ship with legs dangling over the side, holding on by my left arm to the rigging, and feeding the birds with the right hand, in a rather rough sea. Yet that was, I found, about as good a place to sit as any other, and somewhat better to view the graceful actions of these birds of the briny deep, as the pretty creatures battled with the wind over the mighty waters, which man has not been fully able to master.

There is only one Master of these elements.

When I was a boy in a Sunday-school, we used to sing the following simple hymn, which a thousand times recurs to my mind. I think it apropos to introduce it here, it tells how the waters were mastered only once, and then by the “Great Master.”

“A little ship was on the sea,

It was a pretty sight,

It sailed along so pleasantly,

And all was calm and bright.

When lo! a storm began to rise;

The wind blew loud and strong,

It blew the waves across the sky,

It blew the waves along,

And all but One were sore afraid

Of sinking in the deep.

His head was on a pillow laid,

And he was fast asleep.

‘Master, we perish; master, save!’

He rose; rebuked the wind and wave,

And stilled them with a word.

And well we know it was the Lord,

Our Saviour and our Friend,

Whose care of those who love his word

Will never, never end.”