breath of the creature, bellowed out with all the force of lungs accustomed to give a view-halloo. "Bless me, is it gone?" said the Parson, thrusting his person between the ass and the Squire.

"Zounds!" cried the Squire, rubbing himself as he rose to his feet.

"Hush!" said the Parson, gently.

"If you had my nankeens on," said the Squire, still rubbing himself, "and had fallen into a thicket of thistles with a donkey's teeth within an inch of your

"It is not gone, then?" interrupted the Parson.

"No-that is, I think not," said the Squire, dubiously; and he clapped his hand to the organ in question. "No, it is not gone."

"Thank heaven!" said the good clergyman, kindly. "Hum!" growled the Squire, who was now once more engaged in rubbing himself. "Thank heaven, indeed, when I am as full of thorns as a porcupine: I should just like to know what use thistles are in the world."

"For the donkeys to eat, if you would let them, Squire," answered the Parson.

"Ugh, you beast!" cried Mr. Haseldean, shaking his cane at the donkey, which, at the interposition of the Parson, had respectfully recoiled a few paces, and now stood switching its thin tail, and trying vainly to lift one of its forelegs for the flies teased it.

"Poor thing!" said the Parson, pityingly. "See, it has a raw place on the shoulder, and the flies have found out the sore."

"I am very glad to hear it," said the Squire, vindictively.

"Fie, fie!"

"It is very well to say 'Fie, fie.' It was not you who fell among the thistles. What's the man about now, I wonder?"

The Parson had walked towards a chestnut tree that stood on the village green-he broke off a boughreturned to the donkey-whisked away the flies, and then tenderly placed the broad leaves over the sore, as a protection from the swarms. The donkey turned round its head, and looked at him with mild wonder.

"I would bet a shilling," said the Parson, softly, "that this is the first act of kindness thou hast met with this many a day. And slight enough it is, heaven knows."

With that the Parson put his hand into his pocket, and drew out an apple. It was a fine large rosecheeked apple; one of the last winter's store, from the celebrated tree in the parsonage garden, and he was taking it as a present to a boy in the village who had notably distinguished himself in the Sunday school.

"Nay, in common justice, Lenny Fairfield should have the preference," muttered the Parson. The ass pricked up one of its ears, and advanced its head timidly. "But Lenny Fairfield would be as pleased with two pence; and what could two pence do to thee?"

The ass's nose now touched the apple.

"Take it, in the name of charity," quoth the Parson; "Justice is accustomed to be served last:" and the ass took the apple. "How had you the heart?" said the Parson, pointing to the Squire's cane.

The ass stopped munching, and looked askant at the Squire.

"Pooh! eat on; he'll not beat thee now."

"No," said the Squire, apologetically; "but, after all, he is not an ass of the parish; he is a vagrant, and he ought to be 'pounded. But the pound is in as bad a state as the stocks, thanks to your new-fashioned doctrines."

"New-fashioned!" cried the Parson indignantly, for he had a great disdain for new fashions. "They are as old as Christianity; nay, as old as Paradise, which you will observe is derived from a Greek, or rather, a Persian word, and means something more than 'garden,' corresponding (pursued the Parson, rather pedantically) with the Latin vivarium, viz., grove or park full of innocent dumb creatures. Depend on it, donkeys were allowed to eat thistles there."

66

"But

Very possibly," said the Squire, drily. Haseldean, though a very pretty village, is not Paradise. The stocks shall be mended to-morrow-ay, and the pound too-and the next donkey found trespassing shall go into it, as sure as my name's Haseldean."

"Then," said the Parson, gravely, "I can only hope that the next parish may not follow your example; or that you and I may never be caught straying."-Lord Lytton.

Vin-dic'-tive-ly, by way of revenge.
Pe-dan'-tic-al-ly, with a boastful dis-
play of learning.

Pound, an enclosed yard in which
stray cattle are placed until the
owner claims them.

Sac-ri-le'-gi-ous, violating or injuring sacred things.

Re-prieve', an interval of rest or relief, respite after sentence of death. I-tin'-er-ant, one who wanders from place to place.

AMONG the many novelties which the discovery of this part of the western continent first brought into notice, we may reckon that of the mocking-bird, which is not only peculiar to the new world, but inhabits a very considerable extent of both North and South America; having been traced from the states of New England to Brazil; and also among many of the adjacent islands. These birds are, however, much more numerous in those states south, than in those north, of the river Delaware; being generally migratory in the latter, and resident (at least many of them) in the former. A warm climate, and a low country, not far from the sea, seem most congenial to their nature; accordingly we find the species less numerous to the west than east of the great range of the Alleghany, in the same parallels of latitude.

In the severe winter of 1808-9, I found these birds, occasionally, from Fredericksburg in Virginía to the southern parts of Georgia; becoming still more numerous the farther I advanced to the south. The berries of the red cedar, myrtle, holly, cassine shrub, many species of smilax, together with gum berries, gall berries, and a profusion of others with which the luxuriant swampy thickets of those regions abound, furnish them with a perpetual feast. Winged insects, also, of which they are very fond, and remarkably expert at catching, abound there even in winter, and are an additional inducement to residence. Though rather a shy bird in the northern states, here he appeared almost half domesticated, feeding on the cedars and among the thickets of smilax that lined the roads, while I passed within a few feet; playing around the planter's door, and hopping along the shingles.

During the month of February I sometimes heard a solitary one singing; but on the 2nd of March, in the neighbourhood of Savannah, numbers of them were heard on every hand, vying in song with each other, and, with the brown thrush, making the whole woods vocal with their melody. Spring was at that time considerably advanced; and the thermometer ranging between 70° and 78°. On arriving at New York, on the 22nd of the same month, I found many parts of the country still covered with snow, and the streets piled with ice to the height of two feet, while neither the brown thrush nor mocking-bird were observed, even in the lower parts of Pennsylvania, until the 20th of April.

The precise time at which the mocking-bird begins to build his nest varies according to the latitude in which he resides. In the lower parts of Georgia he