100 LESSONS FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. various sorts of nests the very first time they try. Our swallows, then, having selected a spot suitable for their domestic arrangements, proceed at once to build themselves a house, for which purpose they carry mouthfuls of mud from the nearest mud-quarry; this is made adhesive by the addition of little bits of straw or grass which they work into it with their bills. The building time is early morning; then when about an inch of the wall has been finished it is left to dry till next day. The wings and tail of this bird fit it for long sustained flight, and swallows take to the air as naturally as ducks are said to take to the water. They seem fairly in their element when flying; they feed, drink, bathe, everything but sleep while on the wing. And how they do enjoy it, as they go sailing through the air, wheeling, diving, sporting themselves, their bright wings glittering in the sun through all the long summer day. The outside of the nest having been completed it is cosily lined, generally with feathers; and it is a very pretty sight when the young swallows, for the first time, begin to peep out of the nest. I daresay they wonder what kind of a queer big world lies outside their own mud cabin, and are very much afraid that they will never be able to fly careering through the air as they see big swallows do. Courage, little ones; that will come in good time. Many an impossible looking thing becomes an accomplished fact when resolutely taken step by step. A special interest attaches to the swallow from its migratory habits. The swallows are come,' is a remark that has a cheerie ring about it. From where have they come? Ask that knowing little fellow who has just perched by your window sill, and he may tell you that while we have been shivering amidst frost and snow, he has been revelling in the sweets of a tropical vegetation, feeding on the myriad insect tribes of Africa, and perhaps making friends with her dark-skinned children. Swallows often come back to the same locality on their return to this country in spring. What a curious thought that is. When assembling their flocks in some African forest, previous to migration, does it really come into their heads to aim for a particular spot in old Scotland? At all events, on they come with steady purpose winging their flight over land and sea, never wavering, seldom resting till they reach our shores. Then after a few days of general consultation they scatter over the country, each seeking the old familiar haunts. Having spent the summer months with us, when autumn winds begin to grow chill, they again take their departure for a more genial climate; they cannot live in the cold. An interesting incident is mentioned in Morris' 'British Birds,' of a pair of swallows that were observed to linger behind the others at the time of migration. It was discovered that a young bird had been detained in the nest from having its leg entangled by a piece of string. On being released the parents spent a few days in teaching the little one to fly, after which they all disappeared, following their companions towards the sunny south. I think we cannot better finish this notice than by quoting Bryant's beautiful lines. 'Whither, 'midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last step of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? THE COVENANT BANNER. THE OLD WALL. LOW softly, ye breezes, by mountain BLOW and moor, O'er the graves of the Covenant men; By the muirland and flood that were red with their blood, Can ye waft the old watchword again? For Scotland and Christ' the breezes of old O'er the wilds of the westland bore From the Lugar and Nith to the Lothian Frith And the German Ocean's shore. And where'er they blew a prayer was breathed, And a holy psalm was sung; And hands were clasped and the banner grasped When the covenant watchword rung. 101 It was winter, a time of frost and deadness, and the old wall looked uglier than ever. Even the sparrows taunted it as they hopped lightly along its parapetthe wind howled more dismally than ever as it hurled itself against the staunch old brickwork, as if to beat it for opposing its onward career,-just as gossips speak evil of the dignified silence which stops the tide of their eloquence against the character of others. 6 'Ugly old thing!' chirped the sparrows, you have not even a berry to give us these hungry days; what use are you, we should like to know?'- Obstinate old fellow!' whistled the wind, stopping my course as if you were something important, while nothing in all the neighbourhood is as ugly or as useless as you are.' But the wall stood still and made no reply. So the wind tore down the ivy by way of spite, and hurried on again. 'Bother the wall!' growled Carlo, the house dog, who sadly wanted to see what lay beyond the garden, Sticking yourself up there where nobody wants you: I wouldn't be you!' But sometimes the sun shone, and the sun always smiled kindly on the old wall, and it stored every genial ray in its grateful bosom, never wasting one of them. And so, in spite of rain and frost and wind and snow, and sparrows, and Carlo, and cold words and disdainful looks, it always kept its heart warm. It was not quite bare however, even when the ivy was blown down. All along it, at intervals, were things very much like dead tree stumps and frost-bound branches clinging to it. Things so ugly and lifeless that it needed almost as much faith to believe that any revivifying change could take place, as it does to re-echo the ring of the grand old assurance, I KNOW that yet in MY FLESH I shall see God.' 102 KINDNESS TO ANIMALS. would be some comfort; but as it is, I can't help wishing that I could be pulled down and my bricks used to build some little cottage, or even a shed that might shelter somebody. But that very night thieves climbed over the pretty palisadings and emptied the neighbouring green-house, while the sturdy old wall resisted all their efforts and kept its master's treasures safely. They also serve who only stand and wait,' whispered the first sunbeam, as it kissed its rugged bricks the next morning, and there were no more murmurings. And now a thrill like an electric current began to quiver through that portion of the faithful old prop which was nearest the ground. The frost was gone, the sap was rising, the trees awoke, they began to LIVE. Soon ivy leaves, of exquisite verdure, clothed with fairy-like beauty all the weather-beaten surface of the old wall. Nor leaves only; presently a lavish wealth of blossom-pink, rose-tinted, and whitedecked it also, till in all the garden nothing was so lovely as that despised old wall. Nor did the thought that the beauty was not its own cost it a moment's uneasiness. It was helping to display it for its master's sake, and that was enough. Days went by, and like a shower of snow the scattered petals lay beneath the trees. They had fulfilled their mission, they were content now to die and be forgotten. But the old wall's work was only begun. Fruit came, fruit heavy and thick, and closer and closer clung the boughs for support to the friendly wall. 'Lean on me,' it cried, 'lean on me!' They nestled on it and were safe. And ever still it gathered more and more of the sun's warmth and brightness in its capacious breast and radiated it upon the fruit-trees, till berries of many hues, ripe, juicy, and luscious, hung thick on every stem. From the earliest cherry to the latest pear, everyone liked better than any other the fruit from the old wall. Not alone did merry children pause in their gleeful games to slake their thirst from its bounteous store; not alone did eager school-boys fill their pockets with its purple plums, and friends rejoice in dainty baskets of its downy peaches and velvet-like apricots. Nor was it even enough that it furnished beautiful adornments for happy dinner parties, and lent its aid at the wedding breakfast of a gentle bride,—its work went further still, even to the tender ministry of love in abodes of poverty and suffering; cooling parched lips, and moistening fevered tongues, and speaking with mute eloquence of those 'fruits of righteousness,' -sympathy, charity, and gentleness, which break down the barriers between wealth and poverty, and teach men to 'love as brethren.' Ah, Katie,' said the master of the garden to his daughter one day, as they paused to gather a peach for a sick child, what should we do without our old wall?' 6 'What indeed?' replied Katie. 'Do you know, papa dear, I think it is both the prettiest and the ugliest thing in the whole garden, if that is not too great a contradiction.' 'Yes,' replied her father thoughtfully; 'yes, ungainly and ugly in itself, it is glorious with reflected beauty, and by means of that REFLECTION its very existence is one constant service of help and support to others. We may be well contented, darling, if we can in any degree resemble the old wall.' 'Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness, The mouse that creeps along the floor; Yon eagle that through space doth soar The worm that crawls upon the ground; The stately stag in forest found; The sheep and oxen, tame and good, The wild things sheltered by the wood; Have each its place God's heart within: To tease them or torment were sin. The lark that to the clouds doth fly Doth sing the praise of God on high; The humming chefees praise Him too, And so the smallest insects do. The bee thy honey makes; and thou Wilt thou then torture these poor things, Oh, little child, be on thy guard, JANET. 104 IF FAMOUS BOYS. ALBERT TELL-THE PATRIOTIC BOY. ALBERT TELL. F the following incident in the life of Albert Tell, son of the famous William Tell, be true,—and it is given as true in the book where I read it,-it shows that he was a worthy son of his father. It has often been remarked that the sons of great men are seldom like their fathers. Solomon's son, Rehoboam, was a weak, ignorant king. Bruce's son, David, did much to lose the results his father had gained. In the case of William Tell at least, we have an exception to this rule. His son Albert showed that he was fired with the same love to his country as his father was. The time of our story was a black time for Switzerland. The Austrian governor, Gessler, was cruel; and what was worse, he had force to carry out his cruelty. William Tell, the champion of his country's freedom, was in hiding. A price was set upon his head, and soldiers were hunting for him as if he had been a wild beast. His position reminds us of similar passages in the lives of Wallace and Bruce. Wallace was betrayed by men induced by the large rewards offered for his capture. Bruce, at one period of his life, was chased by bloodhounds. In his hardships, however, Tell had a source of comfort which these patriots had not; and that was the company and love of his son Albert. At the time of which I speak, matters seemed at their very worst. Tell and his son had been driven from one hiding-place to another. Their provisions were running done. The season was winter-a Swiss winter-much more severe than a winter in this country. At last they must choose between two courses: either they must starve, or one of them must go for food. The father, of course, could not leave his hiding-place; so there was nothing for him to do but to let Albert, who was not yet eleven years old, go for food to his village some distance away. Forth went Albert, armed with bow and arrow, and carrying his alpenstock. He had also a letter from his father to his mother. The journey was a difficult one. The path was hidden by snow; and as it was the only way to the valley, he required to watch well where he was going. The snow also concealed the mountain crevices, into which he often stumbled. The day, too, was short; and to be overtaken by night among the mountains, with no companions but the wolves, was no pleasing prospect. But trained as Albert had been among the heights of the Alps, and relying upon God for help, he was more able for the journey than might have been expected. As Night was coming on by the time the foot of the valley was reached. Here his way was stopped by a stream too rapid and deep for him to cross. To cross by the bridge, several miles lower down, would have made his journey much longer. he stood wondering what would be his best course, the howl of wolves and a cry of distress reached his ear. Immediately he started in the direction of the sound, and soon came to a place where a soldier, sword in hand, was trying to keep off three wolves. With his alpenstock Albert disabled two of the wolves, and the stranger had already settled the other. Turning to the youth, the soldier asked where he was, as he had lost his way. On being satisfied, the following conversation took place between them. 'How is it,' said the stranger, 'that a youth like thee should be wandering alone in this dismal place? Whence comest thou?' 'I have travelled from Mount Faigel.' |