_In hollow trees the Opossum lives, And slumbers through the day, But when the shades of night descend, Goes forth in search of prey._

A SINGULAR HABIT OF THE WOODc.o.c.k.

Among several curious habits of the woodc.o.c.k, described by the editor of the _Zoologist_, its practice of carrying its young is perhaps the most interesting. The testimony of many competent witnesses is cited to corroborate the statement. The late L. Lloyd, in his "Scandinavian Adventures," wrote, "If, in shooting, you meet with a brood of woodc.o.c.ks, and the young ones cannot fly, the old bird takes them separately between her feet, and flies from the dogs with a moaning cry."

The same author makes a similar statement in another work, this habit of the woodc.o.c.k having been observed by a friend.

One of the brothers Stuart gives, in "Lays of the Deer Forest," a graphic account of the performance. He says, "As the nests are laid on dry ground, and often at a distance from moisture, in the latter case, as soon as the young are hatched, the old bird will sometimes carry them in her claws to the nearest spring or green strip. In the same manner, when in danger, she will rescue those which she can lift; of this we have frequent opportunities for observation in Tarnaway. Various times when the hounds, in beating the ground, have come upon a brood, we have seen the old bird rise with the young one in her claws and carry it fifty or a hundred yards away."

THE SKY-LARK

Has any one ever told you that they were "happy as a lark," and have you stopped to think how happy a lark is?--its joyous flight up into the sky, as high or higher than the sight of man can reach, singing louder and louder, and more and more gayly the higher it ascends? When the sweet hay-time comes on, and mowers are busy in the fields with their great scythes, it is sometimes a dangerous season for larks, who make their nests on the ground. Often the poor little nests must suffer; but only think how ingenious their owners are if they do. A mower once cut off the upper part of a lark's nest. The lark sitting in it was uninjured. The man was very sorry for what he had done; but there was no help for it--at least so he thought. The lark knew better, and soon afterward a beautiful dome was found made of gra.s.s over the nest by the patient, brave bird.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SILKWORM.

THE BAT.

CARRION BEETLES.

THE SPIDER.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SYRIAN OX.

THE HORSE.

THE MULE.

THE ARABIAN HORSE.]

THE STORY OF A SEAL.

Some years ago a German Artist was travelling in Norway, on foot, with his knapsack on his back and his stick in his hand. He lodged most of time in the cottages that he fell in with on his road. In one of them there was a seal, which the fisherman had found on the sand, after harpooning the mother of the poor animal. No sooner was it admitted into the cottage than the seal became the friend of the family and the playmate of the children. It played from morning till night with them, would lick their hands, and call them with a gentle little cry, which is not unlike the human voice, and it would look at them tenderly with its large blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes. It almost always followed its master to fish, swimming around the boat and taking a great many fish, which it delivered to the fisherman without even giving them a bite. A dog could not have been more devoted, faithful, teachable, or even more intelligent.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE KING OF THE MOUNTAINS.

"What is that, mother?" "The eagle, boy, Proudly careering his course with joy, Firm on his own mountain vigor relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying; His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on.

Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world he stands; The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls, He watches from his mountain walls.

Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward and upward, and true to the line."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE BEE.

Oh! busy bee, On wing so free, Yet all in order true; Each seems to know, Both where to go, And what it has to do.

'Mid summer heat, The honey sweet, It gathers while it may; In tiny drops, And never stops To waste its time in play.

I hear it come, I know its hum; It flies from flower to flower; And to its store, A little more It adds, each day and hour.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LARK AND YOUNG.]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

V--THE VULTURE.

_On rugged rods the Vulture waits To scent its carrion prey, When down, into the plains below It takes its rapid way._

[Ill.u.s.tration]

W--THE WOLF.

_Fierce is the wolf, and crafty too, And swift of foot is he; In forest depths and mountain glens He loves to wander free._

[Ill.u.s.tration]