They arrived at home long after sun-set, and saw an owl flying into a barn. Just as he passed them he hooted, and Bella mocked him, saying, it was just as if he was laughing.

In the evening they read the beautiful story in the "Evenings at Home," called " Eyes and no Eyes."

The next day Mr. Stock told Adam that they must pay the necessary attention to their flower-garden; for that during this month all their annual flowerseeds should be sown. His father went round the beds, sticking into the earth little twigs to show Adam where he would have them sown. Each of these twigs they had prepared in the long evenings by slitting them at the top, and putting in a small piece of white paper. This simple arrangement showed conspicuously the places where seed was sown. They then proceeded, as I described last month, removing the earth in a circle about an inch deep; and Adam came to his father for the quantity requisite for each spot; Mr. Stock desiring him to be particular in scattering the seeds, so that they should not be close together. When they had finished, each took a small hoe, and weeded the flower-beds; afterwards raking them over neatly. They then took some of the layers from their finest carnations, and put them into pots.

One day Adam's mamma told him she wished some articles from a shop in the neighbouring village, and gave him leave to go for them, telling him at the same. time, that if he would promise to be very steady and bring her an account of all he saw, he might take his sisters with him. Adam was as good as his word;

her what they had seen.

and when he had returned and given his mother the articles for which she had sent him, he began telling And in one field, mamma," said he, "I do think there were a hundred little lambs. Some were very little indeed, and their legs were almost as thick as the mothers. I do not think them pretty when they are quite young. But there were some that were older, which got all together in one part of the field, and they were having such fun! they looked as if they were running a race; and their tails flew about so!" His mother pointed to Bloomfield's poems, and desired him to reach them her from the book-self. Here, Adam," said she, " is what

you have been telling me put into verse."

The following simple and natural lines were then read by his

mother:

"Say, ye that know, ye who have felt and seen,

Spring's morning smiles and soul enlivening green,
Say, did you give the thrilling transport way?"

66

"I am sure," said she, Adam, you cannot understand that line; but you will when you are a few years older." She then continued

"Did your eye brighten when young lambs at play Leap'd o'er your path with animated pride,

Or gaz'd in merry clusters by your side?

Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong,

The green turf trembling as they bound along;
Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb,
Where every molehill is a bed of thyme ;

There panting stop; yet scarcely can refrain;
A bird, a leaf, will set them off again:
Or, if a gale with strength unusual blow,
Scatt'ring the wild-briar roses into snow,
Their little limbs increasing efforts try,
Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly.”

FARMER'S BOY-Spring.

"Well, Adam," said his mother," and what else did you notice?" « Nothing more, I think," said he, "except that we stayed awhile to see the rooks building their nests. We watched one pair, and you cannot think how often they came to the nest with little branches in their beaks. I wonder the great winds do not blow their nests out of the trees, because they are all stuck on the top." And yet," said his mother, "I never saw a nest blown down; and I dare say nothing but one of those storms which tear off large arms of the trees would endanger them. The rooks are clever builders; they contrive to weave the branches of the trees with their nests so strongly, that you would find it difficult to pull one away without destroying it. Therefore it is that you see them rock backwards and forwards in very high winds, without there being a chance that they will fall."

"When I said that you could not pull away a nest without destroying it,' I did not mean you to try. And, indeed, I should be sorry to see you take any bird's nest, because it is cruel to do so; as cruel as it would be for a very strong man to turn us all out of doors and pull down our house. Now we have no more right to give pain unnecessarily to any crea

ture, than the strong man would have a right to give us pain by driving us away from home. Some animals do us much mischief, and if they were not destroyed, our houses and gardens would be much injured: such as rats, mice, moles, weasels, sparrows, snails, slugs, and many other vermin. But, then, if it could be so contrived, I would have them killed so quickly that they should not suffer for a moment. A boy or girl that could take delight in torturing a little bird, or any other weak creature, is no better than that cruel animal the cat, which will worry a poor mouse sometimes for half an hour before it kills and eats it. It used to be the custom on Shrove Tuesday-the day on which we eat pancakes, you know-for people to meet together and amuse themselves by throwing large sticks at cocks. The poor creatures were tied to a stake fixed in the ground, and the owners of them received a certain sum of money from the wretches who were inclined to throw at them. If the miserable bird received a blow on the head which stunned it, the barbarous master would put its head for a time into the ground in order to recover it, that it might be again in a state to be tortured afresh, and that he might receive more money for the fresh throws. I believe that this cruel and wicked amusement is no longer practised in this country; but the equally barbarous custom of setting game cocks to fight with sharp steel spurs tied to their heels is still common. At one of these meetings there are no fewer than thirty of these cocks killed, and all this for the gratification of people who

call themselves gentlemen. I will tell you a story-a true one, about cock-fighting: One wicked monster, who lived at Tottenham, named Ardesoif, a man of large fortune, had a favourite game cock that had gained several battles; at length, one day it was conquered, which so enraged him that he had the poor bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire! The screams of the suffering animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere, which so enraged the wretch that he seized a poker, and with the most furious oaths declared he would kill the first man who should dare to rescue the bird. But, in the midst of his rage and cursing, HE FELL DOWN DEAD ON THE SPOT! This dreadful event happened on the 4th of April, 1789. This man, no doubt, when he was a little boy, was fond of taking birds' nests, running pins through cockchaffers, and tearing the legs and wings from flies; for cruel men were generally, perhaps always, cruel boys. On Shrove Tuesday it was also the custom, and I am sorry to say is now, in some parts of England, to worry a poor bull almost to death with dogs. They call it bull-baiting. The noble animal is tied to a post fixed very strongly in the ground, then the dogs are set at him, who fly at his nose; and, if they succeed in catching hold of it, such is their fierce and stubborn nature, that they will never quit the gripe till they are either worn out, or choked off by squeezing their throats. Sometimes the bull is torn and tormented to such a degree, that he becomes desperate and mad; and, if he break loose, revenges him