made by the Eagle's claws in the blue plumage on his back did not show any signs of healing.

"I do not think that we shall be able to bring him up," observed the Blackbird; "if he were in good health those gaps would have united before now, and become smooth again; I despair of rearing him."

"Never despair," said the Jackdaw. "Tea, a product of China."

"That bird is a public nuisance, and must be got rid of, somehow," said Downy's mother.

It was on the third day of the young man's captivity, that two large and strong human beings were observed to be making their way towards the foot of the crag on which the Eagle had built his nest, and they were distinctly seen to pick up something from among the long grass, which the Eagle declared to be the top of the young man's head, that had fallen off as he was being carried to the nest. This sounds strange, but the statement is only repeated, not vouched for. At all events, the two men, after reaching the foot of the crag, and looking very attentively up at the nest, suddenly put on artificial noses of great length, and blew fire and smoke through them at the Eagle, who was hovering in the air at some little height above his nest. A frightful sound was heard, and the Eagle fell on the ground, quite dead! A thrill of terror ran through the wood, and all the birds flew different ways in the wildest alarm. It was a long while before they were calm enough to talk over the sad event.

"A great misfortune has happened to us," said the

Thrush, at length.

"Misfortunes frequently occur," remarked the Jackdaw. "The potato is a useful vegetable."

"But it is at least a comfort to know that our friend gave his life to so good a cause," the Thrush resumed; "and I propose that we should continue the pursuit of useful knowledge, undaunted by the sad fate that has befallen him."

"Yes," said the Robin, who, though small, was very courageous; "let us visit the scene of his martyrdom, recover the body, and make arrangements for securing and rearing the valuable specimen which we owe to his courage and enterprise."

A very young linnet pressed closer to his mother, and piped out the faint remonstrance, "I's f'ightened!"

"We must be prepared to do or die," declared the Blackbird; "if we delay much longer the specimen will be starved, and the great object for which the Eagle gave his life will not be attained."

So, with feelings of mingled grief and pride, the birds visited the scene of the Eagle's great achievement, but only to find that the body of the hero had been carried away, and that his nest was empty! Not content with taking away his life, his savage enemies, wingless though they were, had ascended to the top of the crag, pillaged the nest that had so lately been his home, and carried off the remarkable specimen which the birds had hoped

to keep and rear, as a sad though interesting memorial of his labours in the cause of science.

Pre

Dismay and disappointment kept them silent. sently a Water-wagtail exclaimed, "And just as we thought that we were advancing in knowledge!"

The Jackdaw dreamily quoted, “Gradually advancing from the simple stroke to a superior small-hand."

The birds could bear with him no longer; the grief and anger that had been swelling in their hearts suddenly flamed out against him, demanding, as it were, a victim of some kind, and with pecks and cries of rage they drove him from the wood. He flew away to seek a refuge elsewhere, repeating, "Civility should be practised at all times. Brazil, in South America."

WE

"G

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WEAVER-BIRDS' VILLAGE.

was a GOLDFINCH, with five little eggs."

HEN Harry had finished laughing at the bird's story, F was nowhere; perhaps he had gone back to the marshy spot to seek the society of his friend the Frog, but Harry had no time to ask what had become of him, he was so taken up by admiring wonder at the beauty of a little bird that flew from the bush behind him, and perched upon a swaying twig, bringing a gleam of sunlight into the shadows of the wood. brown tints in his plumage seemed to be glossed with gold, as if the reflection of a glorious sunset shone upon his feathers.

"He is a goldfinch,” said G.

"He is a beauty!" exclaimed Harry.

The

“Yes, he is very handsome, and his song is wonderfully pretty too, with all manner of little trills in it; listening to a goldfinch at about this time of the year, you might almost hear him saying that the world is beautiful, and that he is glad to be alive."

"But of course," said Harry, "birds do not really talk, except on a day of wonders."

"Not so that little boys can understand them; but not long ago it was sworn before some very grand people, called Parliamentary Commissioners, that birds talk to each other, and understand each other quite well."

"Did the birds swear?" asked Harry.

"No, they did not give the evidence; the bird-catchers were accused of being very cruel, because, when they catch birds that they do not want, they kill them instead of letting them go."

"That is dreadfully cruel!" exclaimed the little boy.

"It seems so, indeed; but it was proved on oath that when birds which have been caught in the nets are allowed to go back to the other birds, no more of them will go near the nets in that neighbourhood."

"Then they tell the others," said Harry.

"That is what we must think, of course, as there is no other way of explaining the fact. Let me introduce you to the Goldfinch."

He glittered like a little bit of the sun, as the twig on which he was perched bent down beneath the weight of himself and his song.

"Sing that over again, please," said Harry, catching a few notes that were almost like a tune, or part of one.

"I can't," the Goldfinch answered; "the thrush can sing every little bit exactly over again, but I always want to go on to something a little different."

"How is Mrs. Goldfinch?" asked G.