and bellowed with all their might, and the young foal, kicking out his hind legs, gallopped off as fast as he could.

In the mean time the old sow had gone up to the sheet in which her little sucking-pigs lay so still, and, on loosening and unwinding it, there she found them all as dead as so many stones.

This made the animals all excessively angry. They now were convinced that the ape was a stupid and conceited creature, who fancied that he knew everything better than anybody else, but who had neither the industry nor the desire to learn anything thoroughly or as it should be. They then drove the foolish fellow from their society, returned back to man, who was their appointed master, and became his good domestic animals.

The ape thinks, however, even yet, that he shall one day obtain lordship over the animals, and therefore he is always imitating man, whom he somewhat resembles; but, as he only does things by halves, and merely for his own amusement, he is, and will always remain to be, nothing but an ape!

Story of the Seasons.

BY H. G. ADAMS.

A

(Continued fram page 199.)

Part E.-Summer.

ND what a ramble it was which the boy had with SUMMER, and how much he learnt to love and adore the great God, at whose command the changeful Seasons come and go, in regular succession; each performing an important part in the work of rendering earth a fruitful and agreeable habitation for man. First of all his guide led him out to

the top of a green hill, which rose gently from the wood side, and gave him an extensive view over the surrounding country; beautiful it was to see the landscape that lay spread out like a map beneath him; to mark the tree tops gilded with the sun, just then rising above the distant hills that bounded the prospect: to see the long shadows cast over the green meadows, and fields of waving

Corn and Clover in full blossom, here pink, there white, and here again a mingling of the two colours; to mark the golden tint of the Charlock, changing and shifting as the breeze swept over it; and the Bean-field, which seemed enveloped in a silvery cloud, from which the most delicious fragrance arose; and the rich purple of the blossoming Peas, and the deep crimson of the Poppies, which grew at places so thickly amid the corn, as to make it appear in the distance, as though the ground was occupied by them alone. And away, away, through the very midst of the meadows and the fields, and around the old farm-houses, with their stables and huge barns, and Cherry and Apple orchards, and by the little cottages, here standing singly, there in rows and groups, with their gay Flower gardens, and little patches of Potatoes and other vegetables. And in and out where the tall Elms hid from view all but the pointed spire of the village church, and the shrubbery, or plantation, of young Firs and Larches, that screened the dwellings of the country gentlemen; and along the park pailings of the squire, or baronet, over which could be seen the dappled Deer bounding across the velvet turf, or reclining beneath the stately Oaks, and other trees of large growth; and the sparkling river went gliding, as the poet says,

Winding at its own sweet will,” running free and uncontrolled by man; for, you know, a river cannot have a will of its own, as a living creature can. Well, away it went, just as if it was bent upon taking a pleasure excursion through the beautiful pastoral scenery, as grazing and cultivated lands of a calm and peaceful character are generally called:-away, here hidden by inter

vening trees, or high hedges, or the green sloping banks, between which it flowed so peacefully; here bright in sunshine, there dark in shade; now seen glittering and sparkling in the rays of the early sun; now suddenly lost; and then, as suddenly flashing out again, in some quite unexpected place. Oh! it was beautiful; and the child clapped his little hands, and shouted again with joy, while a Cock from the farm-yard close at hand, seemingly aroused by the sound of his voice, began crowing lustily; he was answered by another farther down the valley, and that one again by another, whose note was in turn taken up and repeated by others yet more remote, so fast, that they seemed like mere echoes, as, indeed, perhaps, they were; then " tuck-tucktuck," went the Hens: and " quack-quack," went the Ducks; and " cackle-cackle," went the Geese; and "gobble-gobble," went the Turkey; and the Peacock flew screaming to the top of a waggon-lodge, where he stood spreading his broad tail, full of eyes, that seemed formed of jewels, in the sun; and the neigh of the Horses; and the low of the Cows; the squeak of the Pigs; the bleat of the Sheep; the bark of the Dogs; and the voices of Men and of Boys just arisen, and going forth to their daily labour, were heard sounding far and near; and first from one chimney, and then another, the smoke began to arise in snowy wreaths towards the skies, which had gradually changed from a misty grey, tinged in the east with a rich rose colour, that became, as the sun got higher, like widely-spread flame, to a clear transparent blue, through which the child thought he could see, shining afar off, those realms of everlasting rest and joy, of which he had been told, and of which he had

read in the Bible; here and there a fleecy cloud, yet tinged with red and primrose-coloured light, lay like a beautiful island in a sea of glass, and he could not help fancying that these must be the resting places of those good people who were journeying to the homes of the blessed. And then the songs of the innumerable Larks, which had sprung up one by one, and were now straining their little throats, as if striving to see which could sing the loudest. He likened their voices to heaven-bound pilgrims, blessing and praising God for his goodness and mercy: it seemed to him that the poet was indeed right, when he said

"Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings!"

and he remembered what he had been taught to repeat about the Lark, by an American poet, which commenced :— "What is this, mother?

The lark, my child!

The morn has just looked out, and smiled,

When he starts from his humble, grassy nest,

And is up and away with the dew on his breast,
And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere,

To warble it out in his Maker's ear.

Ever, my child! be thy morn's first lays,

Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise.'

And not the Lark alone, but a hundred other birds were now hailing the approach of the fresh SUMMER morn, though but few of them could keep so unwearied a strain of melody through the sultry day, and even until the twilight shadows steal over the landscape; and the Owl begins to hoot out her welcome to the coming night.

To be continued.