Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 460

Ostrich-shooting is conducted in quite a different manner, and as it is practised only or chiefly during the period of incubation, it is to it we are principally indebted for the acquaintance which the Arabs have gained with the habits of these singular birds.

The pairing-season is the month of August. The reumda (female) is generally shy, and the delim has often to pursue the object of his choice at full speed for four or five days, during which he neither eats nor drinks. When, however, she has consented to be his, she never again quits him till the young ones are reared; and the bond between them is equally respected by all their companions: there is no fighting about mates, as among some other gregarious species.

The period of incubation begins in the month of November, and presents the best opportunity for shooting the ostrich. At this season, also, the feathers are in the finest condition, though the fat is much less abundant. Five or six sportsmen set out together on horseback, taking with them two camels laden with provisions for a month, besides an abundant supply of powder and ball. They search for places where rain has lately fallen, or where pools of water occur, for in such localities there is likely to be that plentiful herbage which never fails to attract the ostrich. Having discovered its footprints, the sportsmen examine them with care. If they appear only here and there on the bare spots, they indicate that the bird has been here to graze; but if they cross each other in various directions, and the grass is rather trampled down than eaten, the ostrich has certainly made her nest in the neighbourhood, and an active but cautious search for it is commenced. If she is only making her nest, the operation may be detected at a great distance, as it consists simply of pushing out the sand from the centre to the circumference of a circle, so as to form a large hole. The sand rises in dense clouds round the spot, and the bird utters a pining cry all day long. When the nest is finished, she cries only towards three in the afternoon. The female sits on the eggs from morning till noon, while her mate is grazing; at noon, he takes her place, and she goes to the pasture in her turn. When she returns, she places herself facing her mate, and at the distance of five or six paces from the nest, which he occupies all night, in order to defend it from enemies, especially from the jackals, which often lie in ambush, ready to take advantage of an unguarded moment. Hunters often find the carcasses of these animals near ostriches' nests.

In the morning, while the reumda is sitting, the sportsmen dig on each side of the nest, and at about twenty paces from it, a hole deep enough to contain a man. In each of these they lodge one of their best marksmen, and cover him up with long grass, allowing only the gun to protrude. One of these is to shoot the male, the other the female. The reumda, seeing this operation going forward, becomes terrified, and runs off to join her mate; but he does not believe there is any ground for her terror, and with somewhat ungallant chastisement, forces her to return. If these preparations were made while the delim was sitting, he would go after her, and neither would return. The reumda having resumed her place, the sportsmen take care not to disturb her; it is the rule to shoot the delim first, and they patiently wait his return from the pasture. At noon, he takes his place as usual, sitting with his wings outspread, so as to cover all the eggs. In this position, the thighs are extremely prominent, and the appointed marksman takes aim at them, because, if he succeeds in breaking them, there is no chance of escape, which there would be if almost any other part were wounded. As soon as he falls, the other sportsmen, attracted by the report, run up and bleed him according to the laws of the Koran. They hide the carcass, and cover with sand every trace of the blood that has been shed. When the reumda comes home at night, she appears not uneasy at the absence of her mate, but probably concluding that he was hungry, and has gone for some supper, she takes his place on the eggs, and is killed by the second marksman in the same way as the delim. The ostrich is often waylaid in a similar manner at its usual drinking-place, a good shot being concealed in a hole, whence he fires on it. The ostrich drinks nearly every five days when there is water; otherwise it can do without it for a much longer time. Nothing but excessive thirst induces it ever to approach a human habitation, and then it flies as soon as it is satisfied. It has been observed, that whenever the flashing lightning announces an approaching storm, it hastens towards the water. Though single birds may often be shot on these occasions, it is a much less certain sport than killing them on the nest, and less profitable, as in the latter case the eggs form no contemptible part of the spoil.

The nest of an ordinary pair contains from twenty-five to thirty eggs. But it often happens that several couples unite to hatch together: in this case, they form a great circular cavity, the eldest couple lay their eggs in the centre, and the others make a regular disposition of theirs around them. Thus, if there are four younger couples, they occupy the four angles of a square. When the laying is finished, the eggs are pushed towards the centre, but not mixed; and when the eldest delim begins to sit, all the rest take their places where their eggs have been laid, the females observing similar order. These associations are found only where the herbage is very plentiful, and they are understood always to be family groups, the centre couple being the parents of the rest. The younger birds lay fewer and smaller eggs—those of one year old, for instance, have only four or five. The period of incubation is ninety days.

In the case of several couples associated thus in the same nest, the sportsmen do not attempt to destroy any but the old ones; for if they were to set about making as many holes as there were ostriches, the whole company would take fright and decamp. But perhaps it is determined to leave them all in peaceable possession for the present, and rather make a prey of the brood when hatched. The watching of the nests in such cases has led to further observations. The eggs of each pair are disposed in a heap, always surmounted by a conspicuous one, which was the first laid, and has a peculiar destination. When the delim perceives that the moment of hatching has arrived, he breaks the egg which he judges most matured, and at the same time he bores with great care a small hole in the surmounting egg. This serves as the first food of the nestlings; and for this purpose, though open, it continues long without spoiling, which is the more necessary, as the delim does not break all the eggs on the same day, but only three or four, and so on, as he hears the young ones stirring within. This egg is always liquid, but whether by a provision of nature in its original composition, or through the instinct of the parent-birds in avoiding to keep it covered like the rest, is not ascertained. The young ones, having received this their first nourishment, are immediately dried in the sun, and begin to run about; in a few days they follow the parent-birds to the pastures, always returning to shelter under their wings in the nest.

The paternal affection of the delim is remarkable: he never leaves his offspring; he faces every danger, and combats every foe in their defence. The reumda, on the contrary, is easily terrified, and leaves all to secure her own safety; so that it is usual to compare a man who bravely defends his tent to a delim, and a pusillanimous soul to a reumda. The delim finds himself more than a match for the dog, the jackal, the hyæna, or the eagle: man is his only invincible foe; yet he dares to wage the unequal war when the young are in danger. If the Arabs desire to make a prey of the ral, as the young ostriches are called, they follow their footmarks, and having nearly overtaken them, they begin to shout; the terrified birds run to their parents, who face about, and stand still to fight for them; so the Arabs lead away the ral before their eyes, in spite of the bravadoes of the delim, who then manifests the liveliest grief. Sometimes the greyhound is employed in this sport: the delim attacks him, and while they are fighting, the men carry off the young ones, to bring them up in their tents.

The ral are easily tamed; they sleep under the tent, are exceedingly lively, and play with the children and dogs. When the tents are struck for a flitting, the pet ostriches follow the camels, and are never known to make their escape during the migration. If a hare passes, and the men start in pursuit of it, the ostrich darts off in the same direction, and joins the chase. If she meets in the douar (village of tents) a child holding any eatable thing in its hand, she lays him gently on the ground, and robs without hurting him. But the tame ostrich is a great thief, or rather is so voracious, it devours everything it finds—even knives, female trinkets, and pieces of iron. The Arab on whose authority these details are given, relates that a woman had her coral-necklace carried off and swallowed by an ostrich; and an officer in the African army affirms, that one of them tore off and ate the buttons of his surtout. The ostrich is, at the same time, exceedingly dexterous; so that she will tear a date from a man's mouth without hurting him. The Arabs are distrustful of her, and know where to lay the blame if, on counting their money, they find two or three dollars missing.

It is no uncommon thing to see, at some distance from a douar, a wearied child riding on the back of an ostrich, which carries its burden directly towards the tent, the young Jehu holding on by the pinions. But she would not carry too heavy a load—a man, for instance—but would throw him on the ground with a flap of her wing.

When ostriches are taken to market in Africa, their legs are tied almost close together with a cord, another cord attached to this one being held in the hand.

PROGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES

The official statement of the United States' census, published at Washington in December last, furnishes us with the means of knowing what our American brethren have been doing in the ten years from 1840 to 1850. In that decennial period, the whole territory had increased from 2,055,163 to 3,221,595 square miles, exclusive of the great lakes in the interior, and deeply-indenting bays on the coast. The gross population in June 1850, numbered 23,246,201; an increase from June 1840 of 6,176,848. Of these, 19,619,366 were whites; 3,198,298 were slaves; and free blacks, 428,637; the increase having been respectively, 5,423,371—711,085—42,392. The whole increase was equivalent to 3½ per cent.; while in Europe, it is not more than 1½ per cent.; and if it continue as at present, the population will, forty years hence, exceed that of England, France, Spain, Portugal, Sweden, and Switzerland put together. The deaths in the last of the ten years were 320,194, being 1 to each 72.6, or 10 to each 726 of the inhabitants; this return is, however, supposed to involve an error, as the mortality is less in proportion than in the most favoured parts of Europe; whereas the reverse is generally considered to be the fact. In the same year, 1467 slaves were manumitted, and 1011 escaped. The number of emigrants from foreign countries during the 10 years was 1,542,850.

Among the individual states, the most populous are New York, which numbers 3,097,394 inhabitants; Pennsylvania, 2,311,786; Ohio, 1,980,408; Virginia, 1,421,661; Massachusetts, 994,499; Indiana, 988,416; Kentucky, 982,405; Georgia, 905,999. Taking the whole 31 states, the proportion of inhabitants is 15.48 to the square mile: the free states comprise 13,605,630, and the slave states, 9,491,759 of population.

To supply this population, there are 2800 newspapers: 424 in the New England states; 876 in the middle states; 716 in the southern states; and 784 in the western states. Three hundred and fifty are dailies, 150 three times a week, 125 twice a week, 2000 weekly, 50 fortnightly, 100 monthly, and 25 quarterly: the aggregate circulation being 422,600,000 yearly. There is 1 periodical for every 7161 free inhabitants.

The capital invested in manufactures, excluding the establishments under 500 dollars of annual value, amounted to 530,000,000 dollars; the value of raw material was 550,000,000; the amount paid for labour (in one year we presume), 240,000,000; value of articles manufactured, 1,020,300,000; persons employed, 1,050,000. There were 1094 cotton 'establishments' in operation, which produced 763,678,407 yards of sheeting; 1559 woollen establishments, which produced 82,206,652 yards of cloth; 2190 iron establishments, which produced 1,165,544 tons of iron of various kinds.

Of improved lands, there were 112,042,000 acres; of wheat, 104,799,230 bushels were grown in the last year; 591,586,053 bushels of Indian corn; 199,532,494 pounds of tobacco; 13,605,384 tons of hay; 32,759,263 pounds of maple-sugar were made; 314,644 hogsheads of cane-sugar of 1000 pounds each; 312,202,286 pounds of butter; and 103,184,585 pounds of cheese.

EFFECT OF THE EARTH'S ROTATION ON LOCOMOTION

The following is from Herapath's Journal on the effect of the earth's rotation on locomotion: 'Mr Uriah Clarke, of Leicester, has called our attention to an article in the Mechanic's Magazine, by himself, on the influence of the earth's rotation on locomotion. It is well known, that as the earth revolves on its axis once in twenty-four hours, from west to east, the velocity of any point on its surface is greater nearer the equator, and less further from it, in the ratio of the cosine of the latitude. Mr Clarke says: "Some rather important conclusions in relation to railway travelling arise out of the view now taken. The difference between the rotative velocity of the earth in surface-motion at London and at Liverpool is about twenty-eight miles per hour; and this amount of lateral movement is to be gained or lost, as respects the locomotion in each journey, according to the direction we are travelling in from the one place to the other; and in proportion to the speed will be the pressure against the side of the rails, which, at a high velocity, will give the engine a tendency to climb the right-hand rail in each direction. Could the journey be performed in two hours between London and Liverpool, this lateral movement, or rotative velocity of the locomotive, would have to be increased or diminished at the rate of nearly one-quarter of a mile per minute, and that entirely by side-pressure on the rail, which, if not sufficient to cause the engine to leave the line, would be quite sufficient to produce violent and dangerous oscillation. It may be observed, in conclusion, that as the cause above alluded to will be inoperative while we travel along the parallels of latitude, it clearly follows, that a higher degree of speed may be attained with safety on a railway running east and west than on one which runs north and south." There is no doubt of the tendency Mr Clarke speaks of on the right-hand rail, but we do not think it will be found to be so dangerous as he says. It will be greatest on the Great Northern and Berwick lines, and least on the Great Western.'

FOREST SCENERY OF AMERICA

The forests between Lake Superior and the Mississippi, where the country is very flat and wet, are composed almost entirely of black cypress; they grow so thick that the tops get intermixed and interlaced, and form almost a matting overhead, through which the sun scarcely ever penetrates. The trees are covered with unwholesome-looking mosses, which exhale a damp earthy smell, like a cellar. The ground is so covered with a rank growth of elder and other shrubs, many of them with thorns an inch long, and with fallen and decayed trunks of trees, that it is impossible to take a step without breaking one's shins. Not a bird or animal of any kind is to be seen, and a deathlike silence reigns through the forest, which is only now and then interrupted by the rattle of the rattlesnake (like a clock going down), and the chirrup of the chitnunck, or squirrel. The sombre colour of the foliage, the absence of all sun even at mid-day, and the vault-like chilliness one feels when entering a cypress swamp, is far from cheering; and I don't know any position so likely to give one the horrors as being lost in one, or where one could so well realise what a desolate loneliness is. The wasps, whose nests like great gourds hang from the trees about the level of one's face; the mosquitoes in millions; the little black flies, and venomous snakes, all add their 'little possible' to render a tramp through a cypress swamp agreeable.—Sullivan's Rambles.

THE BETTER THOUGHT

The Better Thought! how oft in daysWhen youthful passion fired my breast,And drove me into devious ways,Didst thou my wandering steps arrest,And, whispering gently in mine earThine angel-message, fraught with love,Check for the time my mad career,And melt the heart naught else could move!Thine was no stern and harsh rebuke;No 'friend's advice,' so true, so cold;No message wise, such as in book,Or by the teacher oft is told,Which, like the pointless arrow, falls,And rings perhaps with hollow sound,But ne'er the wanderer recalls,And ne'er inflicts the healing wound.Thy voice was gentle, winning, mild;Thy words told thou wert from above,Like those with which the wayward childIs wooed by a fond mother's love;Or like a strain of music stealingAcross the calm and moonlit seas,Which moves the heart of sternest feeling,And wakes its deeper harmonies.Sweet was thy presence, welcomed guest;And I, responsive to thy call,Arose, and felt within my breastA power that made the fetters fallFrom off my long enthrallèd soul,And woke, as with a magic spell,Griefs which yet owned the soft controlOf hopes that all might still be well.But ah, thou wast an injured guest!How soon departed, soon forgot,Were all the hopes of coming restThat clustered round the Better Thought—The tender griefs, the firm resolves,The yearnings after better days,Like transient sunlight which dissolves,And leaves no traces of its rays!Yet I despair not—through the nightThat long has reigned with tyrant sway,E'en now I see the opening light,The harbinger of coming day;To Heaven I now direct my prayer—O God of love, forsake me not!Grant that my waywardness may ne'erQuench the returning Better Thought!Garvald.  J. F.

1

Kynge Johan, a Play in Two Parts. By John Bale. Edited for the Camden Society by J. Payne Collier, Esq., F. S. A., from the Manuscript of the Author in the Library of the Duke of Devonshire. 1838.