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THE BIRD CATCHER.
He could bark like a dog,
Then as for a bird,
It must be confess'd, That he copied them best; You'd have thought he had lived all his life in a nest,
The Chaffinch’s tone
The Goldfinch and Thrush Would often cry “Hush! Our brothers are singing in yonder bush.”
And then what a race, To fly to the place! Where the cunning rogue cleverly caught the brace.
Now it happened one day That he eame in the way Of a sportsman, an excellent marksman, they say.
While near a hedge-wall, With his little bird call, He thought it fine fun to imitate all.
And so well did he do it,
As it proved no fun — For, the man with the gun, Who was seeking for Partridges, took him for one.
He was shot in the side; And he feelingly cried; A very few minutes before he died:
“Who for others prepare
ALPINE HORN. — FABLE. 275
THE ALPINE HORN.
THE Alpine Horn is an instrument constructed with the bark of a cherry tree; and which, like a speaking trumpet, is used to convey sounds to a great distance. When the last rays of the sun gild the summit of the Alps, the shepherd who dwells the highest on those mountains, takes his horn and calls aloud, “Praised be the Lord ' " As soon as he is heard, the neighboring shepherds leave their huts and repeat those words. The sound lasts many minutes, for every echo of the mountains, and grot of the rocks, repeat the name of God. How solemn the scene : Imagination cannot picture to itself anything more sublime. The profound silence that succeeds — the sight of those stupendous mountains, upon which the vault of heaven seems to rest; everything excites the mind to enthusiasm.
In the meanwhile, the shepherds bend their knees, and pray in the open air, and soon after retire to their huts to enjoy the repose of innocence.
THE LITTLE BOY AND THE ROSE.
A LITTLE boy was allowed one day to ramble about a garden, in which were many choice flowers; but he was desired not to touch any of them. He, however, soon forgot what was said to him ; and seeing a pretty rose, he ventured to pluck it. In a few minutes, his fingers streamed with blood, for he was severely scratched, and he cried bitterly, and ran to his sister. She bound up the wound, but reproved him ; “Ah, brother, if you had minded what was said to you, and not gathered the rose, fou would not have been wounded by “the thorn.’”
RULES FOR CONVERSATION.
THAT conversation may answer the ends for which it was designed, the parties who are to join in it must come together with a determined resolution to please and be pleased. As the end of conversation is either to amuse or instruct the company, or to receive benefit from it, you should not be eager to interrupt others, or uneasy at being yourself interrupted.
Give every one leave to speak in his turn, hear with patience, and answer with precision. Inattention is illmanners; it shows contempt, and contempt is never forgotten. Trouble not the company with your own private concerns. Yours are as little to them, as their's are to you. Contrive, but with dexterity and propriety, that each person shall have an opportunity of discoursing on the subject with which he is best acquainted; thus, he will be pleased, and you will be informed. When the conversation is flowing in a serious and useful channel, never disturb it by an ill-timed jest.
In reflections on absent people, say nothing that you would not say if they were present. “I resolve,” says Bishop Beveridge, “never to speak of a man's virtues before his face, nor of his faults behind his back.' This is a golden rule, the observance of which, would, at one stroke, banish flattery and defamation from the earth.
SHORTNESS OF TIME.
REMEMBER that time is short. Should your life be protracted to the period of old age, you will say at its close, that it was only “as a watch of the night, as a dream when one awaketh.”
FREDERick the Great was so fond of children, that the young princes, his nephews, had always access to him. One day, writing in his cabinet, where the eldest of them was playing with a ball, it happened to fall on the table; the king threw it on the floor, and wrote on. Presently after, the ball again fell on the table; he threw it away once more, and cast a serious look on the boy, who promised to be more careful, and continued his play. At last, the ball fell unfortunately on the very paper on which the king was writing, who, being a little vexed, put the ball into his pocket. The little prince humbly begged pardon, and entreated to have his ball again; but was refused. He continued for some time, praying for it in a very piteous manner, but all in vain. At last, grown tired of asking, he placed himself before his majesty, put his little hand to his side, and said, with a menacing look and tone, “Do you choose, Sire, to restore the ball or not 2 " The king smiled, took the ball from his pocket, and gave it to the prince, with these words; “Thou art a brave sellow ; Silesia will never be retaken whilst thou art alive.”
MY HEART LEAPS.
My heart leaps up when I behold