by the fall of scaffolding; carried on a shutter, maimed and bleeding, to the hospital near, he was attended by his dog, but the dog was not permitted to enter the ward: he was driven beyond the outer gate. He walked round and round the walls; he lay down and watched with wistful eyes those who entered, imploring admittance. He never left the precincts night or day; and by the time the poor boy had breathed his last, his faithful dog, too, had ceased to live.-Professor Low.

V.

The affection which some dogs show to their masters and mistresses is not only very sur prising, but even affecting. An instance of this lately occurred at Brighton. The wife of a member of the town council at that place

had been an invalid for some time, and at last was confined to her bed. During this period she was constantly attended by a faithful and affectionate dog, who either slept in her room or outside her door. She died, was buried, and the dog followed the remains of his beloved mistress to her grave. After the funeral, the husband and his friends returned to his house; and while they were partaking of some refreshment, the dog put its paws on his master's arm, as if to attract his attention, looked wistfully in his face, and then laid down and instantly expired.

VI.

The most powerful mind the world has known during the last two centuries had its emotions raised by, and left its testimony to, the sublime attachment of the dog.

The great Napoleon, when riding over the field of Bassano after the battle, observed a dog guarding the body of his slain master. He turned to his staff, and, pointing to the animal, said, "There, gentlemen, that dog teaches us a lesson of humanity."

VII.

TRADITION OF THE INDIAN DOG, BEZERRILLO.

Salazar had one day taken an old Indian woman, among other prisoners, after a defeat of the natives, and for no assigned or assignable reason, but in mere wantonness of cruelty, he determined to set this dog upon the poor wretch. But it was to be made a sport of, a

spectacle for the Spaniards, or the Christians, as their contemporary historian and fellowChristian calls them, even while he is relating this story. The reader will judge what the state of natural and general feeling must have been, when a man of his extraordinary acquirements and talents, and who gives evident proofs in his book of a sincere religious belief, could relate these circumstances without the slightest expression of horror, and undoubtedly without the slightest feeling that there was anything unusual, anything unfitting, still less that there was anything devilish and damnable related. Salazar gave the old woman a letter, and told her to go with it to the governor at Aymaco. The poor creature went her way joyfully, expecting to be set at liberty when she had performed her errand. The intent was merely to get her away from the rest, that the dog might have a fair field, and the beholders a full sight. Accordingly, when she had proceeded little farther than a stone's throw, Bezerrillo was set at her. Hearing him come, the woman threw herself on the ground; and her simple faith in Salazar's intention, and in the animal's sagacity, saved her for she held out the letter to the dog, and said, “O sir dog, sir dog! I am carrying a letter to the lord governor; don't hurt me, sir dog." The dog seemed to understand her; and did understand her, in fact, sufficiently to know that she did not look upon herself as a condemned person, and that she implored his mercy; and he came up to her gently, and did her no harm.

:

The Christians held this for a thing of much mystery, knowing the fierceness of the dog; and the captain also, seeing the clemency which the dog had shown, ordered him to be tied up; and they called back the poor Indian woman, and she came back to the Christians in dismay, thinking they had sent the dog to bring her, and trembling with fear she sat herself down. And after a little while, the governor Juan Ponce arrived, and being informed of what had happened, he would not be less compassionate with the woman than the dog had been, and he gave orders that she should be set at liberty, and allowed to go whither she would; and accordingly so it was done.

GENTLEMAN at Coniston gives the following curious account of the effects produced on birds by the very severe cold, and long continuance of snow on the hard frozen surface of the ground, in January and February, 1865.

"Four species of Titmouse (Parus) were familiar visitors, and greedy after any sort of kitchen refuse. That well-known and now deeply regretted benevolent observer and naturalist, Sir John Richardson, erected at Lancrigg, a strong pole with a erossbar, to one end of which he tied a basket filled with crumbs of bread and such-like dainties, for the refection of hungry Linnets, Robins, Chaffinches, and a miscellaneous company of visitors to the welcome feast; at the other end of the crossbar was a net bag containing lumps of fat, which proved particularly attractive to the Titmouse family (Parus). The beautiful blue Tit, whose lively manners have been so well described by White, and which, whatever may be said of him, is really a great friend to gardeners, by destroying quantities of insects, is rather numerous in Westmoreland, and must be dear to all lovers of roses for its active assistance in waging war against the Bracken Clocks, a sort of minute beetle (Chrysomela) with shining metallic wing cases, which seem to descend in clouds from the neighbouring heath and ferncovered mountains as soon as the roses begin to open; and bright and beautiful to the eye as is this glittering shower of sparks of emeralds, rubies, and diamonds that dazzle as they pass' through the sunshine, we soon lose all admiration for the false and fair visitants, who ruthlessly bury themselves among the petals of the roses, and mutilate and devour the choicest blooms in the most aggravating way. So if the Tomtits help us a little to keep down these pests in the summer, they well deserve their regale of fat to help them through the season when no insect larvæ can be found.

But during that very severe weather, not only tribes of small birds, but even the very Rooks came to be fed, and enjoyed picking bones, especially a bone from a sirloin of beef which had been previously boiled for soup for the poor. The smaller bones the Rooks flew away with to enjoy in their own selfish corners, like 'little Jack Horner,' without allowing a taste to a hungry brother. Peevish and quarrelsome among themselves,

how is it that such regular discipline can be maintained as to keep a sentinel ever strictly on the watch to give signals of any approaching danger? Is the sentinel some grave old patriarch of the flock, who shows his chieftainship by watching over the safety of his tribe? or is he some unlucky junior, who dares but obey his elders, and remain patiently at his post of observation, even if it excludes him from his share in the feast ?

"Another strange pensioner was a waterhen (Gallinula), starved out from ber accustomed reedy haunts on the edges of Coniston Lake; she came in haste to partake of any fragments of food within reach, and then as hastily departed to her hiding-place.

"I once had the opportunity of watching a pair of these birds in the fenny districts of Buckinghamshire, in an old orchard filled with grotesque old trees, thickly coated with grey lichens, and yet very productive of good apples and enormously large stewing pears; there was in one corner a dark pond, the remains of part of an ancient moat, fringed and almost hidden by sedges and brambles. By the edge of this, and fastened to an overhanging branch, the Gallinules built their cradle-nest of sticks. The female sat very closely under cover of the shrubs, but by stealing gently round behind the bushes, I every day threw near her the crumbs and scraps from the children's dinner, which were always eaten, and by-and-by I had the pleasure of seeing a flock of six or eight such beautiful silky little black balls darting and squirting about in the most lively and restless manner, caring little for the shelter of the mother's wing. But in a day or two the whole family had disappeared. The Ouse was out, a common occurrence with that sluggish river, and probably the pretty Gallinules had adjourned to the wide swampy fishing-grounds to seek their living in company with the lordly crested grey heron, who would stand there for hours, with meekly bowed head on his breast, one foot tucked under his feathers-one might feet imagine to warm it, if he only changed his now and then; but it seemed to be always on the same leg, in the shallow water, balancing himself in perfect stillness till he pounced his prey, and secured his fish with that same sharp hard bill wherewith his ancestors have stilettoed so many a noble falcon in the olden days of that sport." P. S. B.

on

To sing when summer's golden hours are shining

Through cloudless skies;

To fade, and still to sing, without repining,
When summer dies.

As in the music of some grand rehearsal
All sounds unite,

At once to swell the chorus universal,
If tuned aright;

So in the garden-song around our dwelling-
All parts complete,

Each tender note of leaf or floweret swelling The anthem sweet,

Rises the strain, unnumbered voices blending, Their burden one

One hymn of praise, for evermore ascending To God's high throne.

Come forth, my garden sisters, come!
Heed not the rain-clouds in the sky;
Fear not the blight of early bloom,

Spring is no time to fade and die.
The clouds that look so dark and cold,
Rich drops of fruitful life may hold;
And even the wintry gales that blow,
May give you strength to bud and grow.

Come, garden sisters! Lovelier far

Than mine the charms you seek to hide. Come, velvet rose, and golden star,

Come, blush, and glow in all your pride; But still remember I was first, Cold winter's icy chain to burstWas first my silver bells to ring, And wake you with the voice of Spring.

The Snowdrop Gathered.

O sang the Snowdrop, when a hand came forth

And plucked her bell, which, broken, answered not.

"Ah!" thought the flower, "this life is little worth,

If thus to perish must be all my lot."

Within a darkened room the flower was brought,

Where crimson curtains hung, and pale lamps burned;

Softly the feet trod there, where love had taught

Her tender lessons, oft in sorrow learned.

"Sweet flower of Spring!" a voice of music said,

"Oh come, and place it near me where I lie; Then raise the pillow for my weary head,

That I may see the Snowdrop ere I die."

They placed the Snowdrop where its silver bell Hung faint and still, its music all forgot; And yet, to her who gazed, it seemed to tell

Of One who loved, and could forsake her not. In its own life, renewed as from the grave, Arrayed in beauty by His sovereign will, There seemed a pledge that He who died to save,

Through the dark valley would be near her still.

Yet the long watching of those soft blue eyes, Fixed on the flower, to other eyes brought tears.

Was it some dream of Heaven's eternal skies,
Or closer memory of bygone years?
Was it that in that look of tenderness,

That constant gaze of earnest, yearning love, Were thoughts no human language might express

Now torn from earth, now borne in prayer above?

Once, only once, the big tears, one by one,

Gushed forth, and wandered down the pallid

cheek;

But still those blue unclouded eyes gazed on, And still the pale lips found no words to speak.

At length the day went down, the eyelids closed, The room grew still, and dark, and darker

yet:

The couch was smoothed, and garnished, where reposed

A death-cold form, whose sun of life was set. Ah, little Snowdrop! in those few brief hours, Thou hadst thy triumph. Who like thee could bring

From memory's waste such wealth of scattered flowers?

From hope such promise of eternal Spring?

Daily Bible Illustrations. By JOHN KITTO, D.D. New Edition, revised and enlarged by J. L. Porter, D.D., LL.D. Author of "The Giant Cities of Bashan." Vols. I. and II. Edinburgh: William Oliphant and Co.

Dr. Kitto's "Daily Bible Illustrations” are a monument to his worth. One of the most extraordinary men of the century, his literary productions possess a peculiar personal interest, in addition to that which arises from their intrinsic merit and value. The latter certainly could not well be over-estimated. The "Daily Bible Illustrations" furnish, perhaps, the most interesting and useful series of Bible readings extant. Unlike many commentators, Dr. Kitto did not confine himself to any one particular mode of exposition. His work is not a history, not a commentary, not a book of critical or antiquarian research, nor of practical reflection, but it is something of all these. The present edition is edited by a distinguished Biblical scholar, Dr. Porter; and although no change has been made in the text, notes are appended in smaller type, in which the editor has introduced the leading results of recent important discoveries in the geography and antiquity of eastern lands, and of the advances made in Biblical criticism and interpretation. We strongly recommend "Daily Bible Illustrations" as adapted to promote an intelligent apprehension of the Bible, and to encourage a habit not merely of reading it, but of thinking over its contents. The two volumes now issued embrace the "morning series" from January to June.

Our Hymns; their Authors and Origin. By JOSIAH MILLER, M.A. London: Jackson, Walford, and Hodder.

What is done in this book is well done. When we state that it contains biographical sketches of nearly two hundred of the principal psalm and hymn writers, with notes on their psalms and hymns, it will be understood that brevity is studied; but all that is recorded is full of interest. Everyone is conscious of the increased interest which attaches to the Psalms of David when we are acquainted with the circumstances under which they were written. This holds equally true of the hymns of the Christian Church; and we value Mr. Miller's work mainly on this account Not only does he furnish biographical information, but frequently the history of a hymn is introduced which serves to cast a flood of light upon its

It is said to have been written at the time when, owing to his views differing from those of the king, he was ordered to quit the country. He went, in reduced circumstances, with his wife, on foot. One night, on seeking a refuge in a village inn, his wife, affected by their altered condition, burst into tears. Then the poet reminded her of the verse, 'Commit thy way unto the Lord,' Psalm xxxvii. 5; and, retiring to an arbour, wrote this hymn upon those words. The same night two gentlemen arrived who had come by order of Duke Christian, of Merseburg, to invite the poet to Merseburg, and to inform him that the Duke had settled a considerable pension on him as a compensation for the injustice of which he was a victim. Gerhard then gave his wife the hymn he had written in trouble but in faith, and said, 'See how God provides! Did I not bid you to trust in God, and all would be well ?'"

The extracts from the diary of Gerhard's wife written in their family Bible-which are inserted in OUR OWN FIRESIDE, vol. iii., page 651-should be read after this note, in order that the heroism of the wife, as well as the faith of the husband, may be equally appreciated.

The Creation and Deluge. By the Author of Doing and Suffering."

66

The Desert Journey. By the Author of "Mothers in Council." London: John F. Shaw and Co.

66

The Scriptural narrative is simply told, and illustrated with attractive pictures. The author of "The Creation and Deluge" advocates Church in the School." We confess we prefer to see children in the House of God; and if they are well placed, and taught to join in the singing and responses; and if the clergyman is accustomed to give a few words in his sermon to the "lambs," we think the children would themselves decide for the Church rather than the School. These little books are well suited for Home use.

The Sunday Scholar's Annual. London: Elliot Stock.

Will make an excellent Sunday School present.

E