up there like great sheets of lead, nor spread them out like lakes of ink, but He rolls them from one beau-ti-ful form in-to an-oth-er. He folds the heavens in fes-toons, and hangs the rain-bow o-ver the earth like a great wreath of flowers. He paints the grass on which you tread, the deep-est green; and in the sum-mer morning, when the world sits si-lent, as if wait-ing for a choir of an-gels to lift up their voi-ces and praise Him, or when the great red sun goes down at night, like a joy-ous child go-ing to his pil-low, how beau-ti-ful it is! What a look the sun throws back when he turns the lake in-to a great ba-sin of gold !

And the spring! When the win-ter goes a-way, what a res-ur-rec-tion! The river bursts from the chains of ice that held it so fast; the lit-tle seed that lay freezing in the ground be-gins to sprout; the lit-tle bird whose notes seem to trem-ble for joy, the small in-sect that leaps up and ut-ters his hum of glad-ness, the moun-tains with their thin veil of blue o-ver their fa-ces, the buds that swell and burst, and the ver-y trees that seem to clap their hands for joy_all preach a-bout God!

“ Con-sid-er the lil-ies !" We must, my dear children, stud-y the works of God. Oh! He might have made the grass to be col-oured like the mud in the street; the trees to shoot up their branch-es like i-ron wire, without a green leaf to cov-er them; the morn-ing sky to be black, like the pall on a coffin; and He might have made ev-er-y beast to howl in pain, and ev-er-y bird to shriek in notes of ag-o-ny, and ev-er-y bush to bris-tlo with thorns, and ev-er-y flow-er to hang its head in a sick-ly yel-low, with a fra-grance like that of an old grave; and the spark-ling brooks might have been made to

lie still and dead; but in-stead of that He has made the flowers to smile on us,—has hung, as it were, a whole flower gar-dcn lift-cd up on a sin-gle ap-ple-tree; and has clothed the pear, the peach, and the cher-ry trees in beau-ti-ful flowers, like a queen's robe thrown o-ver each tree. The fields of grain send a-broad their per-fume. The ver-y po-ta-to has a charm-ing flow-er. All these hath God made, not to be eat-en or drunk, or burned up, but to make our hearts glad and our eyes de-light-ed. Con-sid-er the flow-era.—Todd.


"I won-dcr," said a spar-row, "what the ea-gles are about, that they don't fly a-way with the cats. And now I think of it, a civ-il ques-tion can-not give of-fence." So the spar-row fin-ished her break-fast, went to the ea-gle, iind said:—

"May it please your roy-al-ty, I see you and your roy-al race fly a-way with the kids and the lambs that do no harm; but there is not a crea-ture so ma-lig-nant as a cat. She prowls a-bout our nests, eats up our young, bites off our own heads. She feeds so dain-ti-ly that she must be her-self good eat-ing. She is light-er to car-ry than a kid, and you would get a fa-mous grip in her loose fur. Why do you not feed up-on cat?"

"Ah," said the ea-gle, "there is sense in your ques-tion! I had the worm, too, here this morn-ing, ask-ing me why I did not break-fast up-on spar-row. Do I see a mor-sel of worm's skin on your beak, my child?"

The spar-row cleaned his bill up-on his bo-som, and said, "I should like to see the worm who came to you with that in-qui-ry." "Stand for-ward, worm," the

en-gle said. But, when the worm ap-peared, the sparrow snapped him up and ate him. Then he went on with his ar-gu-ment a-gainst the cats.--Henry Morley.


Of the two young el-e-phants which were ta-ken in the Cor-ral, the small-est (ten months old) was sent down to my house at Co-lom-bo, where he be-came a gen-e-ral fa-vour-ite with the serv-ants. He at-tached him-self es-pe-cial-ly to the coach-man, who had a lit-tle shed e-rected for him near his own quar-ters in the sta-bles. But his fa-vour-ite re-sort was the kit-chen, where he re-ceived a dai-ly al-low-ance of milk and plan-tains, and picked up sev-e-ral o-ther del-i-ca-cies be-sides. He was in-no-cent and play-ful in the ex-treme, and when walking in the grounds he would trot up to me, twine his lit-tle trunk round my arm, and coax me to take him to the fruit-trees. In the eve-ning the grass-cut-ters now and then in-dulged him by per-mit-ting him to car-ry home a load of fod-der for the hors-es, on which oc-casions he as-sumed an air of grav-i-ty that was high-ly a-mus-ing, show-ing that he was deep-ly im-pressed with the im-port-ance and re-spon-si-bi-li-ty of the ser-vice en-trust-ed to him. Be-ing some-times per-mit-ted to en-ter the di-ning-room, and helped to fruit at des-sert, he at last learned his way to the side-board; and on more than one oc-ca-sion hav-ing slo-ien in, du-ring the ab-sence of the ser-vants, he made a clear sweep of the wine-glas-ses and chi-na in his en-deav-ours to reach a bas-ket of o-ran-ges. For these, and sim-i-lar pranks, we were at last forced to put him a-way. He was sent to the gov-ern-ment stud, where he was af-fec-tion-ate-ly

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Ra-ven on the blast-ed tree,
Sit-ting, croak-ing mourn-ful-ly,
I would have a word with thee!
Ra-ven, thou art si-lent now,
On the splin-tered for-est bough,
Glan-cing on me thy bright eye,
I shall ask—do thou re-ply!

In that far-gone aw-ful time,
When the earth was purged of crime,
And old No-ah and the sev-en
In the go-pher ark were driv-en-


I was there.


I know it, bird.
And when rain no more was heard,
Plash-ing down in tor-rents wild ;
When the face of heav-en grew mild,
And from moun-tain sum-mits brown
The sub-si-ding floods went down,
And the pris-oned crea-tures fain
Scent-ed the young earth a-gain ;
Where-fore, when the pa-tri-arch forth
Sent thee to look round the earth,
And bring ti-dings to his door,
Cam'st thou to the ark no more ?


Nar-row was the ark, but wide
And fair the earth on ev-er-y side ;
And all a-round in glens and plains
Lay of life the lorn re-mains;
Man, and beast, and bird, like seed
Scat-tered on the har-vest mead :
How could I re-turn to bear
Ti-dings? I was feast-ing there !

Ra-ven, lo! I thought the same ;
But in after years ye came
To the ex-iled pro-phet good,
Bring-ing him his dai-ly food.


Yes,-by Che-rith brook there grew
Might-y ce-dars not a few;
And a ra-ven tree was there,
Spread-ing forth its branch-es bare.
'Twas our home, when thith-er ran
From the king, an aw-ful man,
Robed and san-dalled as in haste,
With a gir-dle round his waist;
Strong-ly built, with brow se-vere,
And the bear-ing of a seer.
Down by Che-rith brook he lay;
And at morn and set of day
Thus a voice un-to us said,
“ By you must this man be fed ;
Bring him flesh, and bring him bread !"

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