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if it could have sung a hymn it would have said, “ The snare is broken, and I have escaped."

Amazing seems the number of birds, amazing their varieties; but for the most part they take up very little room, and they seem to agree very well among themselves; for the most part they keep their own way, and however some rare instances may show to the contrary, they do not quarrel with each other; they always keep the same fashion, and very pretty some of their fashions are. With us, as an old proverb says, The world is 80 full of other folk," and therefore we always seem to be in each other's way, and multitudes waste life in attempting not to please themselves, or those with whom they are most immediately connected, so much as other people, and those other people are very often exactly those upon whom we are least dependent for our happiness; thus in England our separation from each other is as rigid as if we had here a Hindoo caste; we cannot step over into each other's societies or sets ; the fences are put up even as a Roman Catholic knows nothing of a Jew, and a Jew knows nothing of a Roman Catholic, so we know nothing of each other outside of certain sets or circles. The first question put before people take sitting at a church or chapel is “Who goes there?” The first question before we call upon any person is, “Who visits them ?” for it would be shocking to find ourselves in the wrong

set. How dreadful it would be if one of the professions should call in the way of society upon a tradesman, even if the tradesman should have a better character or be the better educated of the two! How dreadful if the large butcher should meet in society the little butcher! People who sold meat or bread, candles or candlesticks once, but who do not now, are raised to a far greater social elevation than those who are still engaged in such pursuits, while those whose fathers and distant forbears were engaged in the dishonourable practice of trade look down with pity and contempt on those who still loiter

“On Tom Tiddler's ground,

Picking up gold and silver.”
They have gathered all their gold and silver into heaps.

• The baronet, the highest flyer,
Lifts up his head above the squire;
The squire in turn the doctor shuns ;
The doctor from the grocer runs !
While he the latter, as before,
Against the huckster bars the door.
Thus all, alas! as on they go,
Blame those above, shun those below,
And prove, though from the truth they start,
That pride lies hid in every heart.
Oh, let us strive, ere time has flown.
To know ourselves as we are known;
To live in love with best endeavour,
And cast away our pride for ever.”

Proverbs, however, take the revenge of society upon all these persons when they say, He is as fine as a dung-heap stuck with roses," or, “She looks like a sow saddled.And, " That which covers thee discovers thee.And, Don't make thy tail broader than thy wings.These social foibles also have originated those many proverbs which revolve round the “pot calling the kettle black," and which remind us that prosperity forgets father and mother.

Look," says a well-known Scripture, “ to the rock whence thou wast hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence thou wast digged." And the Danish proverb reminds us that “ Adam got a hoe, and Eve a spinning-wheel, and thence come all our nobles.But there is the running satire of truth in the proverb, “ Ever since we wore clothes we do not know each other.None are more earnest to imitate grand appearances, and to find an entrance into grand society, than those who have but very recently, known either a full pocket or a large house. It has been blowing hard,” says the proverb, "the dirt has been blown into high plaoes.And such persons are always in danger of making a revelation of that which they would most carefully hide, but which their aim to display brings into notice. Ladies have ladies' whims, said crazy Anne, when she draggled her cloak in the gutter.” Thus, “ Great are the quarrels among the pans and the kettles."Fie upon thee, how black thou art, said the kettle to the saucepan." Or again, “ The raven quarrels with black things." And again, “ The raven said to the rook, Stand aside, black coat.Thus some birds have only become texts for unflattering proverbs, and the narrow-minded and mean-spirited miser is I suppose satirised in that—" Ask a kite for a feather, and she will say she has just enough to fly with.And in that other in which the cheerlessness of ambition and great place is depicted, “ Birds of prey do not sing." I wonder that parrots have not been made the subjects, more than they have, alike of proverb and of parable, for assuredly there is something very instructive in their wholly mimetic and altogether convictionless style of dealing with language, though that proverb “He prays as beautiful as our parrot" seems to look that way; and that other, Our parson was beautiful this morning; he preached almost better than our Poll." Not I suppose that there is any mischief in poor Poll; I don't know that, with her singular combinations of words, she has any idea of playing the hypocrite, but she sometimes amazingly shocks our sensibilities. Mr. Tregelles, in his “Sketches of Cornish Character," tells the story of one. He fell in with a respectable kind of publican, who supposed that it might be an advantage to his business to have such an entertaining creature in the house. “I'd heerd the parrot ovver to Sir Retchet’s and different places go on talking like, and I thot how we should love to have waun ef we could meet with waun cheap." In good time, in the good town of Falmouth, the worthy innkeeper fell in with a sailor with a parrot in a cage. “What do 'ee ax for 'un ? ” said the publican. "Should be a hundred pounds," said the sailor; "he is such a beautiful spaiker. But,” he continued, " I shall never get nawthin' like that for ’un in this outlandish country, I suppose; but he'll talk everything like a Christian, and praich a sarmunt ef 'twas wanted.” But they could not agree about terms in Falmouth. The sailor wanted five pounds, and the publican would only give three. However, the next day the sailor followed the publican to his village, for it seemed there was no one in Falmouth would raise five pounds to buy the bird. The publican's wife was in Cornish dialect rather“ poor tempered” about the transaction, especially, as she said, “the bird anyhow was not good to eat.” At last the bargain was concluded, and “The sailor went to the bird," said the publican, “and cried to 'un, and ax'd'un to spake to 'un for the last time; but the bird wouldn't spake to'un nor nobody else for days; he awnly craake, craake' like, but a wouldn't spake at all. So he went on with his craaking till about the fourth day, when I went up to talk to 'un and to scratch his head. "How do 'ee do, Poll?' says I. Oh, lor'! oh, Jemminy!” said the publican, “my dear, my dear" (the Cornish expression in conversation for everybody), “if you'd a heerd ’un, oh, you never! How he did go on! Sich swearin', such empidunces! Will a talk ?' says my wife. Oh, iss,' says I. With that she come down from our parlour and tried to make 'un talk to she. Oh, my dear, if you'd a heerd ’un. There was nawthing half so bad I think ever said before. And at last the bird called her an empidunt hussey, and told her to go to hum and sew up her stockings. 'Oh, lor',' says I. “My dear, this'll never do for our carreter, I reckon. Get a blanket,' says I, and throw it over the thing and keep 'un quiet,' and that was the only way we stopped his tongue. Then I sent for my ostler. "Take the bird down to Falmouth,' says I,' and ef you caan't get the sailor man to take 'un back sell ’un for anything you can get.' The sailor man had gone to say, and James sawld ’un to a man for twenty shillin', and he put ’un outside his door, and there a es cussin' and swearin' ever since. Oh, lor'! oh, Jemminy. He is the wickedest owld bird I suppose was ever seen, and to think I lost two pound by ’un, I ded.” Such a story as this seems to remove our feathered choristers altogether out of all sentimental relations; but true it is," and pity 'tis ’tis true,” that disreputable parrot has so many analogies among his human fellow-creatures, for the proverb says, " A bird is known by his no'e and a man by his talk."

S

NOBLY BORN.

BY THE EDITOR.

CHAPTER VII.—SUNDAY MORNING. I AWOKE next morning early, and I had slept so soundly that for the first few minutes I could do nothing but rub my eyes and wonder where I was. The leaving Eaglesmere, the long journey, the arrival at the Gate House, and everything else connected with our recent exodus seemed very much like a long, dimly-remembered dream, and I half expected, when I opened my eyes a little wider, to see the walls of my own old room at Waterbead, with its low ceiling and its small-paned window, and its decent but humble furniture. But stare as hard as I would, I saw no blue and white check-curtains, no rush-bottomed chairs, no rickety deal ta ble; instead thereof I perceived the grand carved oaken pillars of the vast bed on which I lay, the rich, heavy curtains of faded damask, the elaborately carved chimney-piece, the massive chairs and tables all of solid oak, worn dark with age, and the large oriel window, the centre pane of each compartment bearing the emblazoned arms of the noble Dovercourts. Instead of the rugged brow of Canter Fell, and the shadowy outline of the distant mountains against a hazy sky, I saw tall waving trees, an undulating expanse of emerald greensward, and between an opening in a little copse not far away the glittering waters of the bright blue sea! Then I knew where I was, and I recollected all about it, and finging off the last remnant of drowsiness, I sprang from my couch and began to dress as fast as I could in the new Sunday clothes placed ready for me on the carved and inlaid lid of a mighty chest, which resisted all my sturdiest endeavours to open it. I learned afterwards that it was a Venetian coffer," that it was the property of the Lady Dorothea, who had once filled it with rustling silks and costly laces, and all the purple and fine linen of the days of her first youth ; in short, with what we in the North would have called her marriageproviding-only the marriage never took place, being summarily broken off by her father, the stern, old, arbitrary Marquis. Poor Lady Dorothea ! who knows what tears of anguish she shed in that stately gate-chamber, now given over to the occupation of a boy, all careless and all unconscious of the griefs and agonies which come in later years ? Who knows what weary nights she spent beneath those canopied rich hangings, where now a child, an alien of her proud house, slept the untroubled sleep of childhood ?

I was soon dressed, and then I stole down the winding stone -stairway, and felt the glorious sea breeze mingled with sweet land scents coming in through the narrow loopholes of the tower, and, looking out, I saw the sunshine on the trees, and falling in great flecks of light and shadow on the ferny glades beneath, where a herd of deer were just then quietly browsing; and between the branches I caught the glint of distant waves that made. my

heart rejoice, for ever since I had seen the sea I had felt its mysterious influence; it seemed like an old friend who could tell me of the past, and I longed to be down upon the shore, listening to the low thunder of the resistless surges, with the wild wind in my hair and the salt spray in my face.

When I reached the parlour, I found that it was exactly twenty minutes past seven by the clock, which meant that it was just six by the sun. I listened; all was profoundly still, no one was stirring in the house; should I sit down and read something? there were plenty of books that I longed to open in a huge, old-fashioned book-case in a recess; or should I go out among the deer, and drink in the fresh morning air, and brush the dew off the grass, and get an appetite for breakfast ?

One look into the sunshiny world without decided me; there would be many a rainy day and many a long evening for the books; there might not be many more sweet, bright Sunday mornings such as this, so I would go out into the breezy park, and perhaps get a distant view of the Castle of which I had as yet seen no more than its turrets, and part of one grey wing which was visible from the gate-house. Or I might go into the church ; or surely I might climb some knoll or wooded height, and feast my eyes upon the broad and glittering Channel, for the glimpses I caught of it throngh the woods were very far from satisfying, they only served to provoke the insatiate desire I had for the full glory of the salt sea wave.

I was just undoing the fastenings of the outer door, when I heard a step behind me, and, turning, saw Rebecca.

“ Oh! it's you, Master Hugh,” said the damsel.

She was not quite four years older than myself, but she seemed to me a woman grown-only a young woman, and I had an idea that all young women were pleasant and good-tempered, and all old women disagreeable and cross. It was Rebecca's grown-up, capable air, no doubt, that impressed me so vividly, and she really was a very clever and energetic girl, with a downright passion for thoroughness in everything she said or did. Indeed, she was a living impersonation of the text, “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." Thoroughness was not so much a guiding principle as an instinct with her; she could not help going heart and soul into everything she undertook ; she was firm even

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