THE BIRDS AS ARCHITECTS.

HE variety in the formation and arrangement of birds' nests is very wonderful. There are the mining-birds, who dig burrows for the nests of their young; the ground-builders, who merely scrape a hollow on the surface; the masonbirds, who build up homes of earth and clay; carpenter-birds, who hollow out chambers in trees; basket-makers, who contrive cradles of twigs; weavers, who intertwine the leaves and moss; and the tailors, who actually sew leaves together.

The ordinary bank-swallow is an illustration of the miningbird; the partridge is a very familiar example of the groundbuilder; and the eider-duck has the same habit, laying in some sheltered spot a foundation of drift-grass and seaweed, upon which it places the down plucked from the mother's own breast. Of masonbirds the common window-swallow is a favourite illustration.

Many ancient writers have praised the swallow's skill in housebuilding, one in particular considering that their ingenuity exceeds that of men in the same matter. The swallow's nest is, however, so common an object, that familiarity has kept most of us from seeing and admiring the skill with which it is made.

Our acquaintance with carpenter-birds is less general; but the woodpecker may be taken as a specimen, the nest in their case being merely a smooth excavation in the body of some tree. The habits of basket-making birds are more familiar to us, as the rook constructs his nest in this way. Since, however, they are usually placed high in the towering elms, we have few opportunities of closely examining their work. The weavers intertwine moss, hay, wool, and any kinds of fibre, much in the way that others work up twigs and sticks. The tailor-bird, however, surpasses all these in ingenuity, for it secures the safety of its nest by sewing it to a living leaf, using for a needle its own sharp bill, and for a thread some slender fibre. The weight of the nest is so small that the fabric is in no danger of being torn away from its hold. A. R. B.

Her mother? No, she is not here,

A neighbour comes instead,

And tells (oh, sad and shameful tale!)
How mother lies in bed,

Too drunk to listen while they tell
The fate of little Isabel!

Alas! poor girl, her years were few;
But toil, starvation, care,
Had been the lot of that poor child
All scorched and dying there.
Few pleasures had she ever known,
And now Death claimed her for his
own.

But hark! Again the childish voice
Breaks on the listening ear,
Her eyes are fixed on something bright
Laid on a table near.

A bunch of flowers! all wet with dew,
Fresh from the garden where they
grew.

'Please let me hold those pretty flowers
Just once before I go;

I smell the sweetness over here,
And oh! I love them so.'
They laid the blossoms fresh and fair
Beside the child now dying there.

Poor little one! her eyes grew bright
With gratitude and love,

As the kind nurse in tender tones
Told her of God above,

And how 'twas He Who made the
flowers

That cheered her in her dying hours.

She whispered of the Home above,
So radiant and so fair,
Where Jesus takes His little ones

To make them happy there;
And (said the nurse) no grief can come,
Nor hunger, to that happy Home.

So gently spoke the kindly nurse
To the poor dying child,

So soothing was the tender hand,
The eyes so soft and mild,
That like some heavenly music fell
Those blessed words on Isabel.

A silence fell upon the ward

As slowly passed the hours;

And still she lay, and softly clasped

Her precious bunch of flowers, While those who watched her scarce could tell

When angels came for Isabel.

Who sent those flowers? Why, no
one knew!

They came with many more;
Some kindly hand had plucked a few

From their abundant store.

And when the perfumed gift had gone
Perhaps 'twas no more thought upon.

But One Who guides our small affairs
Through every passing year
Had sent those fragile messengers
To brighten and to cheer
A dying child with thoughts of love,
Of home, and peace in Heaven above.
D. B. MCKEAN.

ST. BARTHOLOMEW THE GREAT, SMITHFIELD. HE church of St. Bartholomew the Great, Smithfield, and a large group of buildings attached to it, formed one of the earliest houses in England of the Austin or Black Canons. The traces of these other buildings are almost entirely lost, but mention is made in a deed of sale by the King to Sir Richard Rich, dated 19th May, 1544, of the chief mansion or prior's house,

St. Bartholomew the Great, Smithfield.

with appurtenances, consisting of the infirmary, the dormitory, the frater-house, the cloisters, the galleries (over them), the hall (or refectory), the kitchen, the wood-house, the garner, and the prior's stables.' The church itself was founded in 1103 or 1123. The earlier date is accepted as the most probable, and the later date is supposed to be that of the consecration of the choir. The founder was one Rahere, a man of singular and pleasant wit.' It is thought that he may have been the same Rahere who defended the Isle of Ely against William the Conqueror.

On the conventual seal (of the twelfth century) the original design of the church is shown, with a low central tower with two pairs of towers, one at each of the angles of the church. When complete it measured 280 feet in length. The present churchyard was the site of the nave, which was 87 feet in length, and of which one bay still remains. This bay, with the choir and aisles of the original building, form the present church. The choir is of five bays, separated from the aisles by solid piers, with semi-cylindrical pillars carrying scolloped capitals on their lateral faces. The round arches have the billet ornament. The lofty triforium is composed of arcades of four roundheaded arches, carried on three shafts and included within a comprising arch, which has the billet ornament; the spandrils are plain. The northern triforium wall was rebuilt in the seventeenth century, and the gallery itself is now used as a schoolroom. The southern gallery was partly burnt down in 1830, and the remainder of it is now occupied by a fringe-manufactory. On the south side is an oriel built by Prior Bolton in the beginning of the sixteenth century, probably used by the sacristan for the supervision of the altar-lights. The choir-aisles below the galleries are the earliest parts of the present building, and in the slightly domical vaults and horse-shoe arches show some trace of Byzantine influence. The original intention seems to have been, that the east end should terminate in an apse: but it is doubtful if the apse was ever completed. Instead of it, a square Norman lady-chapel was built, projecting beyond what would have been the curve of the apse; this chapel now forms part of a fringe-manufactory. The clerestory, originally Early English, retains a wall passage with shouldered arches. Another wall, a few feet to the eastward, is of the date of Charles I. Between these two is a space formerly used as a charnel -house, and called 'Purgatory. Above them is a wall, forming the east end of the church, of the vilest modern brickwork, pierced by two Georgian windows equally vile. The modern tower, which appears in our picture at the end of the south aisle, was built in 1628, but altered in the eighteenth century; it contains five bells.

In the church are the tomb of Rahere, the founder, the tomb and effigy of Prior Bolton, and the Elizabethan tomb of Sir Walter Mildmay, founder of Emmanuel College, Cambridge. William Hogarth was baptized here in 1697. This old church is one of the most interesting buildings in England, ecclesiastically, architecturally, and historically; and it must be specially endeared to the memory of many former patients in the neighbouring hospital, as it is generally attended by those approaching convalescence.