R

Hunger, prolonged, is temporary madness! The brain is at work without
its required food, and the most fantastic notions fill the mind.
Hitherto I had never known what hunger really meant. I was likely to
understand it now.

And yet, three months before I could tell my terrible story of
starvation, as I thought it. As a boy I used to make frequent excursions
in the neighborhood of the Professor's house.

My uncle always acted on system, and he believed that, in addition to
the day of rest and worship, there should be a day of recreation. In
consequence, I was always free to do as I liked on a Wednesday.

Now, as I had a notion to combine the useful and the agreeable, my
favorite pastime was birds' nesting. I had one of the best collections
of eggs in all the town. They were classified, and under glass cases.

There was a certain wood, which, by rising at early morn, and taking the
cheap train, I could reach at eleven in the morning. Here I would
botanize or geologize at my will. My uncle was always glad of specimens
for his herbarium, and stones to examine. When I had filled my wallet, I
proceeded to search for nests.

After about two hours of hard work, I, one day, sat down by a stream to
eat my humble but copious lunch. How the remembrance of the spiced
sausage, the wheaten loaf, and the beer, made my mouth water now! I
would have given every prospect of worldly wealth for such a meal. But
to my story.

While seated thus at my leisure, I looked up at the ruins of an old
castle, at no great distance. It was the remains of an historical
dwelling, ivy-clad, and now falling to pieces.

While looking, I saw two eagles circling about the summit of a lofty
tower. I soon became satisfied that there was a nest. Now, in all my
collection, I lacked eggs of the native eagle and the large owl.

My mind was made up. I would reach the summit of that tower, or perish
in the attempt. I went nearer, and surveyed the ruins. The old
staircase, years before, had fallen in. The outer walls were, however,
intact. There was no chance that way, unless I looked to the ivy solely
for support. This was, as I soon found out, futile.

There remained the chimney, which still went up to the top, and had once
served to carry off the smoke from every story of the tower.

Up this I determined to venture. It was narrow, rough, and therefore the
more easily climbed. I took off my coat and crept into the chimney.
Looking up, I saw a small