N the ivy-mantled tower of an ancient church, which for many many years had never been used, there hung an old rusty bell. It had once been renowned for its wonderful tones,

but now, now, having had its day, and being worn out and useless, it served but as a dwelling-place for the swallows and martins, who built their nests in it, safe in the shelter of that old mouldering tower from the invasions of thoughtless boys. The old bell did not dislike the birds; on the contrary, it always welcomed them joyfully, and felt very sorrowful when the summer was over, and they, accompanied by their young ones, had taken flight to a warmer land. One year a pair of fine robins arrived, but instead of taking up their abode inside the old bell, they built their nest in a corner of the belfry window. We will

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call them Bobby and Jenny. Bobby was a large handsome bird, with bright black eyes and a very red breast; and Jenny was a pretty little creature, with glossy brown feathers, which she always kept neat and smooth. Soon four white eggs with reddish spots were laid in the nest. Bobby used to fly about nearly all day long, collecting worms and nice little tit-bits for his wife, and would hasten home quite laden, and out of breath, thinking what a nice supper she would have, and how her little eyes would twinkle with pleasure. But Mrs. Jenny thought it very dull to sit on the nest all day, and it not unfrequently happened that Bobby, on his return, would find her hopping about outside amidst the ivy, looking for nice fat spiders and other delicacies on her own account. In vain he implored her in the most touching manner not to leave the eggs for so long a time, or so often, as he feared they would never be hatched. Mrs. Jenny tossed her little head, wagged her short tail, and said she liked to amuse herself as well as he did, and she didn't care what became of the eggs! Bobby was very angry at this unmotherly speech, and the birds had quite a

quarrel, which the old bell listened to with sorrow, and tried in vain to interrupt. The noisy wrangle ended in Jenny creeping back to the nest with her head hanging down, looking very much ashamed of herself; while Bobby, with ruffled feathers, remained perched on the top of the tower, wondering how he could manage to prevent his flighty little wife from neglecting her maternal duties. At last he resolved to tell his troubles to the bell, feeling sure of a sympathising listener. What was his joy when the latter suggested a plan by which Mrs. Jenny could be kept quietly on the nest all day long!

"I will try and amuse her," said the Bell, "by telling her stories. Mine has been a long life, and many and various are the things which I have both seen and heard. Dearly Dearly as I have always loved the trees and flowers, and still more my favourite companions the birds of this bright world, my sympathies have perhaps not been so much with them as with human beings, the nobler part of the creation. For them I have helped to ring out wild peals of joy and mirth, for them I have sorrowed with muffled sounds of woe. All this is now over; my day has long

since passed away; my companions have fallen into decay; but still I do not, and never can forget."

The Bell paused for a moment, then in a lighter tone said—

"It would not interest, and might perhaps weary Mrs. Jenny to hear such tales as these, but I will try and amuse her with others, of birds, and legends of the forest. Some have been told me by my feathered friends, others by the ivy, and several have been wafted to me by the wind as it swept past the belfry window."

The robin was delighted with the idea, which he was quite certain would be successful, and thanking his old friend, went happily to sleep with his head under his wing. Jenny was very humble and good the next day, and promised Bobby faithfully that she would not leave the eggs during his absence, while he promised, on his part, to take her out on his return to call on some swallows who lived under the eaves of a large house close by. She was, moreover, delighted at the prospect of the old Bell's stories, and insisted on his commencing almost before Bobby had flown out of sight.

"Now then," she said, spreading her wings out comfortably, and nestling down, "I am quite ready; do begin."

Accordingly, the Bell began the following

story of

THE DISCONTENTED SPARROW.

"Oh dear! oh dear! how dull it is in this stupid old place," chirped a little sparrow sitting on the top of a house, one fine morning in autumn; "I wish I could go away, it is so stupid here!"

"Cocky, Cocky!" cried a sharp voice; "what are you doing idling your time out there? Here's all the work of the nest on my poor beak, and your little sick brother's dinner to get besides. Come home directly, you good-for-nothing creature."

"I'm coming, mother, I'm coming; don't make such a fuss," replied the sparrow. “I never have a moment's peace, oh dear!" and grumbling thus to himself, he flew down to the nest, which was at the top of a neighbouring water-spout. It was a very comfortable warm home; there was no