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Oh! could I fly, I'd fly with thee;

We'd make, with social wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,

Companions of the spring.

LOGAN.

This bird, so well known to you by its singular and unvaried note, arrives in our island early in spring, and takes its departure for Africa generally in the month of July. The Cuckoo is insectivorous in its diet, that is, lives upon insects, such as caterpillars, dragonflies, &c. What is most strange in the history of this bird is, its habit of providing for its young, by depositing its eggs in the nests of other birds; the nests usually chosen are those of the Hedgesparrow, Wagtail, &c. The egg is very small in comparison with the size of the bird;-when the young Cookoo is hatched, and has gained a little strength, it very coolly dislodges all its weaker companions by getting under them and with a sort of jirk forcing them overboard, not very grateful conduct after the kind attention and care of the foster-mother.

THOSE EVENING BELLS.

"Those Evening Bells, those Evening bells,
How many a tale their music tells,

Of youth and home and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing (1) chime.

Those joyous hours are past away,
And many a heart that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

(1) Soothing-comforting.

And so 'twill be when I am gone,

That tuneful peal will still ring on;

While other Bards (2) shall walk these dells, (3)
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells."

(2) Bards-poets.—(3) Dells-shady walks.

MOORE.

These verses describe certain thoughts and reflections which passed over the mind of the writer, on hearing the ringing of bells at Evening. He is reminded of his home, of his early friends, and youthful playmates, many of whom are gone to their long home, and he reflects that those same bells will still ring on when he also sleeps.

THE WANDERING BOY.

When the winter wind whistles along the wild moor,
And the cottager shuts on the beggar his door;

When the chilling tear stands in my comfortless eye,
Oh, how hard is the lot of the Wandering Boy;

The winter is cold, and I have no vest.(1)
And my heart it is cold as it beats in my breast;
No Father, no Mother, no Kindred (2) have I,
For I am a parentless (3) Wandering Boy.

Yet I once had a home, and I once had a sire,(4)
A Mother who granted each infant desire;
Our cottage it stood in a wood-embowered (5) vale,
Where the ring-dove (®) would warble its sorrowful tale.
(1) Vest-jacket.-(2) Kindred-relations.-(3) Parentless-not
having parents.—(4) Sire—a Father.-(5) Wood-embowered—
surrounded by woods.-(6) Ring-dove-a sort of pigeon.

But my Father and Mother were summoned away,
And they left me to hard-hearted strangers a prey;
I fled from their rigour with many a sigh,
And now I'm a poor little Wandering Boy.

The wind it is keen, (7) and the snow loads the gale;
And no one will list (8) to my innocent tale:
I'll go to the grave where my parents both lie,
And death shall befriend the poor Wandering Boy.

KIRKE WHITE.

(7) Keen-cold.-(8) List-short for listen.

HUMILITY.

The bird that soars on highest wing,
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing,
Sings in the shade, when all things rest;
In Lark and Nightingale we see,
What honour hath Humility.

When Mary chose " the better part,"

She meekly sat at Jesus' feet;
And Lydia's gently opened heart,

Was made for God's own temple meet.

Fairest and least adorned is she,

Whose clothing is humility.

The saint that wears heaven's brightest crown,
In deepest adoration bends;

The weight of glory bows him down,

Then most, when most his soul ascends.

Nearest the throne itself must be,

The footstool of humility.

J. MONTGOMERY.

In reading the biographies of great and good men you will find, with but few exceptions, that the greatest men have generally been the humblest. Take for example the immortal name of Newton, how transcendent was his genius, yet how humble in all things did he at all times show himself.

As in the natural world with the Nightingale and Lark. so it is in the world of Man, an unassuming and plain deportment conceals frequently great and glorious powers.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

The stately homes of England,

How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral (1) trees,

O'er all the pleasant land!

The Deer across their green sward bound,
Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the Swan glides past them with the sound,
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England!

Around their hearths by night,

What gladsome looks of household love,

Meet in the ruddy light!

(1) Ancestral-relating or belonging to ancestors.

There Woman's voice flows forth in song,
Or childhood's tale is told;

Or lips move tunefully (2) along,
Some glorious page of old.

The cottage-homes of England;
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brook,
And round the hamlet-fanes;
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves;
And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free fair homes of England;
Long, long in hut and hall,
May hearts of native proof be rear'd,
To guard each hallow'd wall;

And

green for ever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves,
Its country and its God.

MRS. HEMANS.

(2) Tunefully-musically, pleasantly.-(3) Nook-corner or bed. (4) Hallow'd-sacred.

The subject of the above verses is the 'Homes of England.' commencing with the 'Stately Homes of England,' down to the 'Cottage Homes of England.' And true it is that the Peasant's small cot is as dear to him, and perhaps more so, than the splendid mansion is to the Nobleman. In no country more than England do the people value so highly their homes and their hearths. In them are centred their affections, their hopes, their joys;-and in them, as a quiet haven, they seek repose and tranquility from the stormy and turbulent world. Little boys and girls cannot value too much their happy and comfortable homes.

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