them as the burden of his song. Nature is redolent of beauty, and many endeavour to participate the enjoyment it affords. The naturalist shuts the book he has been perusing, and hurries forth to the bank of the river, the fertile vale, and the mountain side, to collect new facts on his favourite topic; the botanist quits his herbarium, to observe

"The first gilt thing,

That wears the trembling pearls of spring;" while those who love to see God in his works find that the objects presented to them are increasing in variety and beauty. Nor is the enjoyment of the season limited to the refined and the wealthy. The ploughman whistles with pleasure, as he thinks of the pleasing change; the shepherd feels a similar satisfaction, that the storms of winter have passed; the mechanic strolls forth, to obtain some of that invigorating air, from which his occupation usually debars him; and even the village children stroll from the cottage-doors, to play in the fields, and to gather wild flowers:

Along each hedge and sprouting bush
The singing birds are blest,
The linnet green and speckled thrush
Prepare their mossy nest.

Birds-nesting is a very favourite amusement with country lads; and it seems as useless to endeavour to convince them of the folly of eating apples before they are ripe, or pulling the nuts while they have nothing in them but pith, as to tell them that there is not a vast amount of pleasure in this pursuit. Sometimes a lad will proceed along the side of a brook, or search where a bank is overgrown with bushes and small trees, beating the hedge as he proceeds; and when a bird dashes out, he examines every sprig for the nest it has left. Then he listens to detect the voices of the different songsters, and brings all his experience to decide whether the nest is near. Perhaps he approaches the nest of a pigeon, a crow, or a hawk, perched on the upmost bough of a tall tree, and after driving the bird off, will climb to the summit, and considering the more difficult the ascent the greater is the honour gained. Then, again, he pores over the sedgy bank of a great pond, for the nest of the water hen, built of flags and grasses, among the rushes. Nothing daunts the determined birds'-nester; and Howitt informs us, that he has been held by the heels over a coal-pit, one hundred and eighty feet

deep, to reach a blackbird's nest, built in a hole, two or three feet below the surface of the ground. Nor is this a solitary instance of juvenile hardihood. Marvellous are the escapes of many of the young. Well would it be were they wiser to avoid unnecessary dangers, and grateful for the deliverance they experience.

No doubt there is much wanton mischief connected with birds'-nesting; but many boys intend to ornament their rooms with the eggs they obtain, and to rear the young they carry away. They think not, indeed, of the physical suffering they occasion; but perhaps no one ever told them of it, or stated it in a manner likely to impress them. Often do they show much attention to the unfledged brood. They obtain worms, grubs, slugs, caterpillars, flies, crumbs of bread, and everything else they can think of, to furnish their little favourites with food, though ignorant alike of the amount or the kind that is required. If they think their pets are ailing, they prescribe for them as well as they can; and the writer has seen a child affectionately engaged in cramming so huge a spider down the throat of a little bird, that it died of suffocation! Thus the short lives of little birds are spent in being stuffed with food often unsuitable, if not suddenly killed by the rough kindness they experience, by being smothered in wool, or starved to death for want of the cherishing wings and downy breast of the parent bird. All this, however, must be ascribed to the true motive, though effort should be made for the prevention of unnecessary suffering. Let the child be told how different is the way in which the old birds supply their offspring from that which he adopts. Tell him, that if he looks at the swallow's nest over his bed-room window, he will see that hardly a minute passes throughout the day, without one of the parents supplying their young; and that this process is maintained from two o'clock on the summer's morning till sunset-a period of sixteen hours; so that they often have a thousand feedings a day. Let the truth be implanted in his youthful mind, that every species of bird requires a different treatment, and he will soon comprehend the fact. The heart of a child is susceptible of the tenderest impressions, and of keen sensibility; let him know, then, that the very "fowls of the air" are under the protecting guardianship of

God; that "a sparrow doth not fall to the ground without our heavenly Father," and the result may be highly beneficial.

Who that has ever seen a bird's-nest can fail to admire the words, and sympathise in the feelings of Hurdis, when he said,

"It wins my admiration

To view the structure of that little work-
A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without-
No art had he that wrought; no knife to cut,
No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert,
No glue to join; his little beak was all;
And yet how neatly finished! What nice hand,
With every complement and means of art,
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot,
Could make me such another? Fondly, then,
We boast of excellence, whose noblest skill
Instinctive genius shames."

Some birds are miners, as the sandmartin; ground-builders, like the blue hawk; mason-birds, like the swallow; carpenter-birds, like the tomtit; platformbuilders, like the ring-dove; basketmakers, like the jay; weavers, like the weaver-bird; tailors, like the tailorbird; felt-makers, like the chaffinch; dome-builders, like the wren; and parasite birds, like the house-sparrow. The choice of situation for the nests of birds is as remarkable as the materials of which they are formed. Those which build early in the spring seem to require warmth and shelter for their young, and the blackbird and thrush line their nests with a plaster of clay, whose cottage-like walls perfectly exclude the strong and perhaps keen winds of the opening year. If accident should deprive the parents of their first brood, even when the summer is advanced, they will construct another nest for a second progeny; but the limitation of their powers is here illustrated-for the new erection will be on the model of the previous one, though the milder season would rather require coolness and a free circulation of air. There is far more of art and cunning in the construction of nests than the casual observer would suppose. The wren always adapts her nest to the colour and appearance of the surrounding foliage, or whatever else may be near the large and comfortable abode which she forms for her tiny family. If they commence building with the old leaves of the last year, they will form their nests entirely of the withered leaves of the beech, so that a passer-by considers it nothing more than a chance collection of leaves heaped together, though the nest is firmly constructed. When, however, the bird builds in the spruce fir-tree, she covers the outside

with green moss, which, of all the substances she could select, is the one most resembling the foliage of the spruce.

The larger birds, the size of whose nests will not admit of concealment, adopt other precautions for their safety. A raven, who builds in a tree, invariably fixes on the one that is the most difficult to climb, if she has the choice; preferring one whose large size and smooth trunk will defy the efforts of the schoolboy. When a cliff is chosen as the site, she fixes on a niche, protected by some projection of the rock from all attacks both from above and below-at the same time choosing the most inaccessible part of the precipice. The same plans are adopted by the eagle and the falcon, while the magpie seems rather to rest her security on the fortification of brambles and thorns with which she surrounds her nest, than to the situation which she fixes on.

The wood-pigeon collects merely a rude platform of sticks; the jay makes a basket-work of brittle dead twigs, on the fork of a bush or tree; the bullfinch constructs its nest of soft materials, in low thick bushes; the missel-thrush prefers rotten twigs on the outside, which, with dead grass, hay, or moss, form a compact mass; the reed-warbler uses exclusively grass and hay, finishing the interior with great nicety; the sedgewarbler adds roots, wool, and hair; the chaffinch lines its abode with a smooth thick texture of cow's hair, forming a fine contrast to the white wool, intermixed with grey lichens, and green moss around the brim; while the nest of the long-tailed titmouse, or, as it is familiarly called, long-tailed-tom, is shaped like a bag, externally fabricated of moss and different herbaceous lichens, collected chiefly from the sloe and the maple, but in the inside is contained a profusion of feathers, forming a downy covert for its fourteen or sixteen pea-like eggs.

Among our visitors at this time is the cuckoo-and the sound of his voice is welcomed by all, as another record of the return of spring. But what melodious sounds are those that fall on the ear, as the shades of evening come on? It is the nightingale, who has just begun her song for the year; and such volume, quality, and execution are combined in that voice, as is rarely to be met with. It is the most loved of our feathered songsters; and its thrilling accents may well charm the ear and improve the

mind, by considerations such as those of honest Isaac Walton, when he said, in reference to this bird, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth?"

The brood hens have now generally hatched, and while bustling about the fields or the village with their little chirping families, they afford many amusing developments of maternal affection. This feeling, with the pride of beholding her young brood, seems to alter the very nature of the barn-door fowl, and to give her new life and energy. No longer cowardly or voracious, she abstains from every kind of food that may prove acceptable to her young; boldly flies at every creature that she imagines likely to injure or disturb them; and however strong the offending party may be, she`repeatedly attacks it. Even the ruminating cow, or the faithful mastiff, is not allowed to pass without proofs of her disapprobation. When marching at the head of her little troop she acts as commander, and varies her notes continually, either to call them to her food, or to warn them of approaching danger.

From the present time, through the summer and autumnal months, the rabbit is seen in particular districts of our country. Its existence is, however, universally proscribed-from the similarity of taste, and consequent clashing of interests between the rabbit and the farmer. This little animal is fond of the cabbages and succulent plants of the garden, and has a special partiality for the young corn. He rises while the farmer sleeps, and often riots in the garden, the field, and the wood, on that which should reward the tenant's toil. Thus an endless train of prejudices and antipathies arise, which cease only with the existence of the contending parties. Guns are brought into requisition, the nests of young rabbits are taken, and the young ones destroyed; burrows are laid open with the pickaxe and shovel; ferrets, dogs, and traps are actively employed. On the other hand, the rabbit, peeping cautiously from his burrow, sees the tender corn-blades glistening with dew, and fears its numerous enemies, who debar him of his choicest viands. Perhaps the plainness of his coat, the want of a proportionate benefit to counterbalance his ravages, and his adroitness in escaping his foes, only aggravate the hatred with which he is regarded. The

lovers of nature and of rural charms, however, will appreciate the innocent playfulness of his manners, and the moonlight scenes to which he lends animation.

Unfitted by its organization from that power of long-continued and rapid motion by which the hare is distinguished, the rabbit seeks its safety in deep holes of its own construction, and associates in large societies, in places favourable for the easy excavation of burrows, and the necessary supply of food. In sandy or gravelly heaths, covered with large bushes, rabbits often multiply to a great extent: the furze affords a secure cover and a wholesome food; for the young tops of the plants are found constantly eaten down, and the bushes present the appearance of a solid mass, with the surface even and rounded, as far as the rabbits can reach them when standing on their hinder legs. In a warren the ground is pierced with deep and tortuous holes, which so undermine the ground that Varro relates an instance of a town in Spain having been destroyed by their excavations.

The orchard especially deserves notice at this period of the year:

"Ye fair trees,
How ye are changed, and changing while I gaze!
It seems as if some gleam of verdant light
Fell on you from a rainbow; but it lives

Amid your tendrils, brightening every hour
Into a deeper radiance."

What refined resemblances and distinctions there are between the various blossoms of the fruit-trees, and no less so is it in their general effect than in their separate detail. Observe, too, the almondtree in the garden, which appears so soon, while destitute of leaves, displaying its beauteous rose tints. Nor is there a flower, of the thousands that crowd on the sight in every part, that does not contain the precise number of thirty little threads, or one of these little threads that has not its regularly-figured head placed in the same direction on its summit, and filled with a waxy dust, destined to impregnate the already teeming fruit.

The peach and nectarine are now full blown, appearing as though growing out of the hard bare wall, or the rough wooden paling. They are of a deep bluish colour, and of a delicate bell shape; the lips, however, divided, and turning backward, to expose the interior to the cherishing sun. But perhaps the bloom which is richest is that of the cherry and bilberry.

During this month barley and oat sowing are completed, if not finished in March; and peas, tares, sainfoin, and lucerne, are committed to the earth; top-dressings of manure are applied to wheat, barley, and other crops; watermeadows which have been eaten are closed at the end of the month; early potatoes are planted; hops are poled, and the ground between the rows dressed. Osiers are cut, and then are set on end in sheaves, in standing water, a few inches deep, till, by the ascension of the sap in May, they will readily peel. Birch-trees are tapped in this month, and birch wine made some trees running twenty-four gallons in as many hours. The bush-harrow is used during this month; this consists of a gate, or flake, or a frame resembling one of these, on a pair of wheels, with thorns drawn through the bars, and so pulled about the grass fields by a horse, to level and scratch down the worm-heaps, or other lumps of earthy matter, before the fields are "laid" or shut up, for the grass to grow for mowing. How often has the country lad mounted the bush-barrow, and ridden up and down the field, in all that joyfulness which a bright April day, pleasant companions, and a happy spirit, induce.

Another April employment is the rolling of grass lands, where they are in a fit state to allow it; for the earth must neither be very wet nor dry, if it is to be performed to advantage. A moderate shower softens the earth to the required degree where the soil is dry, while, on the contrary, wet lands will require a drying air. By this means the heavy clods are broken up; or, if it is grass land, a level surface is obtained. Young crops are sometimes treated in the same way, and the plants have a much firmer hold on the ground, and thrive more vigorously.

Among a particular class the amusement of deer-hunting is followed during this month. The fleetness of the chase, the sagacity of the noble animal, the dangers of the pursuit, conspire to render the occupation in a high degree exciting, Scotland and its borders appear early celebrated for this pursuit, and it was regarded as a matter of serious importance, as supplying the wants of the inhabitants with food and clothing. Even as late as the time of Henry VIII., the Highland huntsman found most of his wants supplied by the deer which he

killed. From the increased demand for land for agricultural purposes, the quantity of deer in Britain is greatly diminished, and the occupation is necessarily less frequent. The chase, and its attendant cruelties, have been pathetically, yet truly delineated by our poet, Thomson: "At first in speed

He, sprightly, puts his faith; and, roused by fear,

Gives all his swift aerial soul to flight.

Fleeter than the winds He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, And plunges deep into the wildest wood. Oft in the full descending flood he tries Oft seeks the herd; the watchful herd, alarmed,

To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides:

With selfish care, avoid a brother's woe.
What shall he do? His once so vivid nerves,

so full of buoyant spirit, now no more
Inspire the course; but fainting, breathless toil,
Sick, seizes on his heart; he stands at bay,
The big round tears run down his dappled face,
He groans in anguish, while the growling pack,
Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest,
And mark his beauteous chequered sides with gore."
F. S. W.

And puts his last weak refuge in despair.

THE WORD OF CHRIST.

By the "Word of Christ," our apostle seems to have meant the whole of the inspired Scriptures; not excluding the word or doctrine of Christ, as preached by the apostles "with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven," and afterwards communicated in written epistles; but embracing the whole volume of inspiration. The universal terms employed, and the reference to the book of Psalms in the following clause of the verse, appear to imply a well-known book, acknowledged and received as the word of God or the Holy Scriptures; and this, I conceive, the apostle calls, with a particular view to the case of the Colossians, the "Word of Christ."

And the Holy Bible may well be thus styled as containing our Lord's personal preaching of the gospel with his own lips; as revealing the mystery of his redemption; as dictated by his Holy Spirit; and as terminating, in all its parts and bearings, in the manifestation of his glory.

For the Holy Scriptures contain our Lord's personal teaching; all the gospel in its main particulars, as preached by him when he was on earth. The four gospels are only the narrative of the words of Christ proclaiming salvation to man. His Divine voice preached the good tidings, appealed to the Old Testament Scriptures; gave a Divine attestation to the law of Moses, the Psalms, and