In countries unmolested by the intrusive foot of man, the giraffe is found generally in herds, varying from twelve to sixteen; but I have not unfrequently met with herds containing thirty individuals, and on one occasion I counted forty together; this, however, was owing to chance, and about sixteen may be reckoned as the average number of a herd. These herds are composed of giraffes of various sizes,-from the young giraffe of nine or ten feet in height, to the dark chesnut-coloured old bull, whose exalted head towers above his companions, generally attaining a height of upwards of eighteen feet. The females are of lower stature, and more delicately formed, than the males, their height averaging from sixteen to seventeen feet. Some writers have discovered ugliness and want of grace in the giraffe, but I consider him one of the most strikingly beautiful animals in the creation; and when a herd is scattered through a grove of the picturesque parasol-topped acacias which silver their native plains, and on whose uppermost shoots they are enabled to browse, by the colossal height with which nature has endowed them, he must indeed be slow of conception who fails to discover both grace and dignity in all their movements.

Every animal is seen to the greatest advantage in the haunts which nature destined him to adorn; and amongst the various living creatures which beautify this fair creation, I have often traced a remarkable resemblance between the animal and the general appearance of the locality in which it is found. This I first remarked at an early age, when entomology occupied a part of my attention. No person following this interesting pursuit can fail to observe the extraordinary likeness which insects bear to the abodes in which they are met with.

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Thus, among the long green grass, we find a variety of long green insects, whose legs and antennæ so resemble the shoots emanating from the stalks of the grass, that it requires a practised eye to distinguish them. Throughout sandy districts, varieties of insects are met with of a colour similar to the sand they inhabit. Among the green leaves of the various trees of the forest innumerable leaf-coloured insects are found; while, adhering to the rough grey bark of these forest trees, we observe beautifully coloured, grey-looking moths, of various patterns, yet altogether so resembling the bark as to be invisible to the passing observer. In like manner among quadrupeds I have traced a corresponding analogy; for, even in the case of the stupendous elephant, the ashy colour of his sides so corresponds with the general appearance of the gray thorny jungles which he frequents during the day, that a person unaccustomed to hunting elephants, standing on a commanding situation, might look down upon a herd and fail to detect their presence. And in the case of the giraffe, which is invariably met with among venerable forests, where innumerable blasted and weather-beaten trunks and stems occur, I have repeatedly been in doubt as to the presence of a troop of them, until I had recourse to my spy-glass; and on referring the case to my savage attendants, I have known even their optics to fail,—at one time mistaking these dilapidated trunks for cameleopards, and again confounding real cameleopards with these aged veterans of the forest. Cumming.

LESSON XLIII.—THE BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring? –

"We come from the shores of the green old Nile, From the land where the roses of Sharon smile, From the palms that wave through the Indian sky, From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.

"We have swept o'er cities in song renowned,—
Silent they lie with the deserts round!

We have crossed proud rivers whose tide hath rolled
All dark with the warrior-blood of old;
And each worn wing hath regained its home
Under peasant's roof-tree or monarch's dome."

And what have ye found in the monarch's dome,
Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam?
"We have found a change, we have found a pall,
And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet-hall;
And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt ;-
Nought looks the same, save the nest we built!"

Oh! joyous birds, it hath still been so;
Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go,
But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep,
And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep:
Say what have ye found in the peasant's cot,
Since last ye parted from that sweet spot?—

"A change we have found there, and many a change! Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange!

Gone are the heads of the silvery hair,

And the young that were have a brow of care,
And the place is hushed where the children played—
Nought looks the same, save the nest we made!"

Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth!
Yet through the wastes of the trackless air
Ye have a guide, and shall we despair?
Ye over desert and deep have passed-
So may we reach our bright home at last!
Mrs. Hemans.

LESSON XLIV.-EARTHQUAKES.

In various parts of the world, and at various times, there have been felt movements of the superficial crust of the earth, consisting for the most part of one or more rapidly succeeding undulations, accompanied often by sounds, and traceable distinctly in some particular direction, chiefly linear, taking time to proceed from one point to another. They are called earthquakes, and are recognised phenomena in all volcanic countries; but occur also in districts which present no mark whatever of volcanic origin, and no trace of volcanic products. The following account of the great earthquake that destroyed Lisbon well describes the chief phenomena.

"There was a sensible trembling of the earth in 1750, after which it was excessively dry for four years together, insomuch that some springs, formerly very plentiful of water, were dried, and totally lost; at the same time the predominant winds were east and northeast, accompanied with various, though very small, tremors of the earth. The year 1755 proved very wet and rainy, the summer cooler than usual, and for forty days before the great earthquake, clear weather, yet not remarkably so. The 31st of October, the atmosphere and light of the sun had the appearance of clouds, with a notable obfuscation. The 1st of November, early in

the morning, a thick fog arose, which was soon dissipated by the heat of the sun; no wind stirring, the sea calm, and the weather as warm as in England in June or July. At thirty-five minutes after nine o'clock, without the least warning, except a rumbling noise, not unlike the artificial thunder at our theatres, immediately preceding, a most dreadful earthquake shook, by short but quick vibrations, the foundations of all Lisbon, so that many of the tallest edifices fell that instant. Then, with a scarcely perceptible pause, the nature of the motion changed, and every building was tossed like a waggon driven violently over rough stones, which laid in ruins almost every house, church, convent, and public building, with an incredible slaughter of the people. It continued, in all, about six minutes. At the moment of the beginning, some persons on the river, near a mile from the city, heard their boat make a noise, as if run aground or landing, though then in deep water, and saw at the same time the houses falling on both sides the river. Four or five minutes after, the boat made the like noise, which was another shock, which brought down more houses. The bed of the Tagus was in many places raised to its surface. Ships were driven from their anchors, and jostled together with great violence nor did the masters know if they were afloat or aground. The quay was overturned, with many hundreds of people on it, and sunk to an unfathomable depth in the water, not so much as one body afterwards appearing. The bar was seen dry from shore to shore; then suddenly the sea, like a mountain, came rolling in, and about Belem Castle the water rose fifty feet almost in an instant; and, had it not been for the great bay opposite to the city, which received and spread the great flux, the low part of