Do you see that pretty country-house, so picturesquely situated at the entrance of the wood? A few years since it was inhabited by one of my friends, a great lover of pleasant conversation, of good dinners, and good society, whence it happens that the house is now deserted. He had raised in his poultry-yard a brood of ducks, which, still very young, had become for the second time orphans, because the hen who had hatched them had been drowned in a pond, in attempting to drive them from the water. Every day a child, of from ten to twelve, the son of the gardener, had, since this fatal epoch, led the ducklings to this pond, at two hundred paces from the house. He left them there about an hour, then drove them back to the poultry-yard.

This child had a magpie, which followed him everywhere, and particularly to the duck-pond. There, Margot, perched on the branch of a willow, did not for a single instant lose sight of her orphan pets. The hour for their return had scarcely sounded, when, in imitation of her young master, she hovered about the

pond, attempting to drive away the ducks, then hopped along behind them, watching them narrowly, keeping them in the path with blows of her beak, and compelling them to hasten their heavy march towards the poultry-yard.

The child would sometimes meet one of his school-mates, and stop a moment to play. Then Margot, left sole conductress of the ducks, would redouble her activity and her blows with the beak, to restore them safely to their lodgings.

It happened one day that the child fell sick, and could not lead them at the usual hour. Margot, very uneasy, went incessantly from the kitchen to the poultry-yard, and from the poultry-yard to the kitchen, fluttering and screaming louder than usual; but all in vain: no one appeared to lead the ducks. She then undertook the task, and acquitted herself so entirely to the satisfaction of the girl who had charge of the poultry, that thenceforth she was allowed to have the sole care of them.

Margot performed her duty daily, with as much intelligence as faithfulness, and seemed to be proud of her charge. It is very certain that, if a cat or dog approached too near her little flock, she would fly at him, with a courage which she would not have displayed under any other circumstances.

But her pupils became large and fat, and every week the cook diminished their number. The magpie, nevertheless, continued to conduct to the pond those who remained; and her zeal endured to the last, though her chagrin was visible and profound. Finally, the last duck was consigned to the spit; and Margot, when she witnessed his capture in the poultry-yard, uttered a lamentable cry, and fled to the neighboring forest. She was never seen afterwards.

I am certain that with intelligence, and especially by using much gentleness, man might tame and render serviceable many species of wild animals, even among those who pass for ferocious and untameable. My friends have seen at my house a convincing proof of this. I lived in the country, and, like most young people, loved to raise all the wild animals I could procure. To increase my little menagerie, a hunter one day brought me a wolf, so young that it was not larger than a kitten six weeks old. I educated it with great care, and made every effort to save it from being ill-treated

by the domestics of the house and peasants in the neighborhood. This was not easy; for the country people have so rooted an antipathy against the wolf, that they were always ready to respond by a kick or a blow to the caresses of the poor little animal. It may be imagined that an education so rude was not calculated to diminish the prejudices to which, but for me, my wolf would have fallen a victim, until his strength permitted him to take his natural revenge.

Educated in liberty and with much gentleness, the animal attached himself to the persons who had charge of him, caressing them like a dog, with the same affection and signs of submission. If sometimes his nature overcame his education to such a degree as to lead him to seize an object which his appetite coveted, he would immediately recognize his fault, and come crouching to ask pardon. A harsh and imperative tone was sufficient correction; but I will acknowledge that he was impatient under corporal punishment, and it would have been dangerous for any one but myself to have threatened him with a whip.

At the age of eighteen months, he followed me everywhere—to the woods, in the fields, and even in the most frequented streets of the little town where I lived. What will most surprise men who love to observe nature in animals, he chased the hare very well, in company with two hounds raised with him. He was killed in one of these excursions by a hunter who encountered him, and mistook him for a wild wolf, notwithstanding the collar which I had placed on his neck.

A CURIOUS STANZA.

THE following stanza contains every letter in the English alphabet, except E. It is a question whether any other English poetry, embracing four lines, can be produced without the letter E, which is a letter employed more than any other:

"A jovial swain may rack his brain,

And tax his fancy's might,
To quiz in vain, for 'tis most plain
That what I say is right."

THE FROG AND THE SNAKE.

A FABLE, BY J. P. M'CORD.

ONCE on a time, an eager snake
Around a shallow forest lake

Pursued a panting frog:

Hope urged awhile the powers of each,
Across the pool, along the beach,
From bush to rush and bog.

At last the snake, with native guile,
O'ermatched the frog by tangled wile,
And caught him by the toes;
The frog, at first, unnerved by fear,
With groans bewailed that life's career
So soon would sadly close.

His throbbing brain a little cool,
He called himself a coward fool,
Ere he was killed, to die;

His ample body, whole, alive,
Along that slender neck to drive,

He laughed that one should try.

Meanwhile the snake, with sturdy will,
Retained his simple captive still,
And still his aim pursued;
His throat enlarged, by sure degrees,
He passed the victim down with ease
To where he stored his food.

MORAL.

The earth sustains a serpent race,

Who lure the souls in their embrace

To ruin, shame, and tears:

While fools thus meet the fate they mock'd,

The wise shall be in safety lock'd,

Who heed their prudent fears.