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It is shaped somewhat like an invert- part of the story is to come-the whole ed bottle, with a long neck, through is suspended on the leaf of a plant ! which the bird passes up to the snug How the bird could have built the nest in and downy little chamber above. The this position, it is not easy to say, but we nest consists of soft vegetable substances, have many evidences that instinct makes basketed and sewed together in a very that easy to birds, which is difficult to wonderful manner. But the strangest the industry and ingenuity of mankind.

THE SECRET."Mother," said a girl about it?"

6 Because I wish to do as of ten years of age, “I want to know you do, that I may be happy also.” the secret of your going away alone · Well, my child, when I leave you in every night and morning.” Why, my the morning and the evening, it is to comdear?" “ Because it must be to see mune with my Savior. I go to pray to some one you love very much." “ And him-I ask him for his grace to make me what leads you to think so ?” “Because happy and holy-I ask him to assist me I have always noticed that when you in all the duties of the day, and especome back you appear to be more happy cially to keep me from committing any than usual.”

“Well, suppose I do go sin against him and above all I ask to see a friend I love very much, and him to have mercy on you, and save you that after seeing him, and conversing from the misery of those who sin against with him, I am more happy than before, him.” “Oh, that is the secret,” said the why should you wish to know anything child;" then I must go with you."

THE LOGUE FAMILY.—The crier of a voice. “ Apologue," whispered the country court was upon a certain occasion lawyer. “Appy Logue!” reiterated the required to go to the court-house door, crier, at the same time expostulating and, as is usual in the absence of a with the lawyer_“You certainly want witness, call out for Philip Logue, one the whole family of the Logues!” “Proof the sons of Erin, who was summoned logue,” said the persevering lawyer. in a case then pending. The man of “Pro Logue!" rung through the halls of the baton accordingly, stepping to the the court-house, from the stentorian lungs door, sung out at the top of his voice, of the public crier, attracting the at" Philip Logue!” A wag of a lawyer tention of everybody, and shocking the happening to be passing the door at the dignitaries on the bench themselves, who, time, whispered in his ear, “ Epilogue, not understanding the cause of his vocifalso." “ Epi Logue !" sung out the erousness, despatched the sheriff, with crier. “Decalogue,” said the lawyer all haste, to stop the constable from in an under tone. “Dekky Logue !” further summoning the family of the again sung out the crier at the top of his Logues,

H Y MN.

THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY'S MUSEUM.

#3

4
When morning pours its gold - en

rays,

O'er hill and vale, o'er earth and sea,

My heart un - bid - den swells in praise, Fa-ther of light and life, to

Thee !

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161

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ROBERT

MUSEUM

My own Life and Adventures.

(Continued from page 133.) CHAPTER VIII.

that the course of the sun is now only Youth a happy period. - My young days.—A close of that day that has dawned upon

downward; and that sunset is the final summer morning.--A day's adventures.

them, and lighted up a world full of It is a common remark that youth is hopes, and wishes, and anticipations. It the happiest portion of life, but, like is not till the shadows, dark and defined, many other wise and deep sayings, it are creeping around us, an forcing us passes by us unheeded, till, at some late to deal honestly with ourselves, that we period in the great journey, we look admit the truth-that life is made up of back upon our track, and, by a compari- a series of illusions; that we are conson of the past with the present, are stantly pursuing bubbles, which seem forced to feel and confess the truth, bright at a distance and allure us on to which we have before doubted. Man- the chase, but which fly from our pur. kind are ever tempted to think that there suit, or, if reached, burst in the hand is something better before them; if they that grasps

them. It is not till we are are not happy yet, they still indulge already at the landing and about to step bright expectations. They are reluctant, into the bark that is to bear us from the even when advanced in years, to believe shore, that we come to the conclusion that the noon of life's joys is past; that that human life is a chase, in which the the chill of evening is already mingling game is nothing, and the pursuit everyin

every breeze that feeds the breath; thing; and that the brightest and best por. that there is no returning morn to them; tion of this chase is found in the spring

morning, when the faculties are fresh, mine at the age of fifteen. At such the fancy pure, and all nature robed in times my bosom actually overflowed dew, and chiming with the music of with joy. I would sometimes shout birds, and bees, and waterfalls.

aloud from mere pleasure; and then I It is something to have enjoyed life, would run for no other object than the even if that enjoyment may not come excitement of the race. At such times again, for memory can revive the past, it seemed almost that I could fly. There and at least bring back its echoes. It is was an elasticity in my limbs like that a pleasure to me, now that I am crippled of a mountain deer. So exuberant was and gray—a sort of hulk driven a-wreck this buoyant feeling, that in my dreams, upon the shore, and if incapable of fur- which were then always blissful, I ther adventures upon the main, at least often dreamed of setting out to run, and inaccessible to the surges that rise and after a brief space of stepping upward rave upon its bosom-to look out to sea into the air, where I floated like some -to mark the sails that still glide over feather upon the breeze. its surface-and, above all, to busy my At evening, I used again to experifancy with the incidents of my own ence the same joyous gust of emotion; voyage upon the great ocean of life. and during the day, I seldom felt other

I love particularly to go back to that wise than happy. Considering the quiet period, at which my last chapter closed, nature of the place in which I dwelt,

was then full of health, animation, and my life was marked with numerous incihope. As yet, my life was tarnished with dents and adventures-of little moment no other vices or follies than those that to the world at large, but important to a belong to an ungoverned and passionate boy of my years. Saturday was, in that boy. My health was perfect. I can golden age, a day always given up to hardly describe the elation of my heart amusement, for there was no school kept of a spring morning. Everything gave then. A description of a single day me delight. The adjacent mountains, will give a sufficient idea of my way of robed in mist, or wreathed with clouds, life at this period. seemed like the regions of the blest. The day we will suppose to be fineThe landscape around, tame and com- and in fact it now seems to me that there monplace as it might be, was superior was no dull weather when I was a boy. to the pictures of any artist that ever laid Bill Keeler and myself rose with the his colors upon canvass, to my vision. sun-and we must, of course, go to the Every sound was music. The idle but mountain. For what? Like knights joyous gabble of the geese at the brook- of the olden time, in search of adventhe far-off cawing of the crows that skim- tures. Bound to no place, guided by no med the slopes of the mountains—the other power than our own will, we set multitudinous notes of jays, robins, and out to see what we could see, and find blackbirds in the orchard—the lowing of what we could find. cattle the cackle of the fowls in the We took our course through a narrow barnyard-the gobble of the ostentatious vale at the foot of the mountain, crossed turkey-were all melody to me. No by a whimpling brook, which wound burst of harmony from an Italian orches, with many a mazy turn amid bordering tra, even though Rossini composed and hills, the slopes of which were covered Paganini performed, ever touched the with trees, or consisted of smooth, open heart as those humble melodies of morn, pastures.

The brook was famous for in the little village of Salem, touched trout, and as Bill usually carried his

hooks and lines, we often stopped for a his stockings and shoes, for it was time and amused ourselves in fishing. On May, and we were both indulging ourthe present occasion, as we were passing selves in the luxury of going barefoot a basin of still water, where the gush of a luxury which those only can know the rivulet was stayed by a projecting who have tried it. bank, Bill saw an uncommonly large Nothing could exceed the pitch of trout. He lay in the shadow of the vexation to which Bill was worked up, knoll, perfectly still, except that the when, turning the last pocket inside out, feathery fins beneath his gills fanned and shaking it as if it had been a viper, the water with a breath-like undulation, he found that he had not a hook or line I saw Bill at the instant he marked the about him. Gathering up his merchanmonster of the pool. In a moment he dise, and thrusting the articles back into lifted

up and waved his hand as a sign their places, he cast about, and picking to me, and uttered a long, low she-e-e-e! up a stone, approached the place where He then stepped softly backwards, and the trout lay, and hurled it at him with at a little distance knelt down, to hide spiteful vengeance, exclaiming—"If I'm himself from the view of the trout. All ever ketched without a fishhook aginthis time Bill was fumbling with a ner. I hope I may be shot!”, vous quickness for his hook and line. Stop, stop, Bill!” said I; “don't be First he ran his hands into the pockets rash." of his trowsers, seeming to turn over a "I say I hope I may be shot if I'm great variety of articles there; then he ever ketched without a fishhook agin ! felt in his coat pockets; and then he so there!” said he, hurling another stone uttered two or three awkward words, into the brook. which signified much vexation.

“ Remember what you say now,

Bill!” There was Bill on his knees-it seems said I. as if I could see him now—evidently “I will remember it,” said my comdisappointed at not finding his hook and panion; and though nothing more was line. At last he began very deliberately said of it at the time, I may as well obto unlade his pockets. First came out serve now that the fellow kept his word; a stout buck-handled knife, with one for ever after I remarked that he carried large blade, and the stump of a smaller a fishhook in his hat-band, and, as he

Then came a large bunch of tow, said, in fulfilment of his vow. Such several bits of rope, a gimblet, four or was the eccentric humor of my friend, five flints, and a chestnut whistle. From and such the real depth of his character the other pocket of the trowsers he dis- and feelings, that a speech, uttered in moclosed three or four bits of lead, a screw- mentary passion and seeming thoughtdriver, a dough-nut, and something roll- lessness, clung to his mind, and never ed into a wad that might have been parted from him till death. Could that suspected of being a pocket-handkerchief, poor boy have had the advantages of if Bill had ever been seen to use one. wise cultivation, what a noble heart had The trowsers pockets being thus emp- now beat in his breast! But, alas ! he tied, our hero applied himself to those was bound to a briefer and more inin the flaps of his coat. He first took glorious destiny ! out a ball covered with deerskin, then a We pursued our way up the valley, powder-flask and tinder-box, two or three though loth to leave the rivulet; for corks, and sundry articles difficult to there is a fascination about running water name. From the other pocket he took that few can resist

there is a beauty in

one.

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