122 FINDING A NEST; FINDING A NEST. OR, MAN'S DUTY TO THE LOWER ANIMALS. ALFRED,' said little Annie Maitland, one bright spring morning as she skipped lightly in by the open study window to where her brother sat reading, 'I have found such a beauty of a nest in the old tree; can it be our pretty Robin that has built there?'-'Not if it is in a tree,' explained Alfred. Robins build on the ground, generally at the root of a tree or hedge. Anyhow, put away that tiresome book and come to the garden with me.''Indeed, Annie, how do you know that it is tiresome,' was the laughing reply, 'seeing you haven't read it?' Of course the book was not tiresome to Alfred. He was fond of tales of adventure; and this was an account of a real voyage to the Artic Regions, that strange weird land of snow and night.' But Alfred Maitland had already learned to be able cheerfully to give up his own wishes for the gratification of others; and so now, closing the book, he joined his young sister and led her off in a merry gallop down the garden path, as only big brothers know how, prudently pausing, however, before coming to the tree, lest the unusual noise should frighten the bird. Alfred admired the nest quite as much as his sister expected, and well he might; for a chaffinch's nest, as this was, is one of the neatest of nests, and with its green moss walls and soft lining it forms such a cosy resting place for the pretty speckled eggs. 'But, Annie,' said her brother, 'we must not come here very often until after the eggs are hatched; then there will be no danger of the bird forsaking its young, and we can watch the father and mother carrying food, which the funny little creatures make such wide mouths to receive.' After carefully removing all signs of their footsteps from the grass about the tree, our two children went off for a walk by the river side. A short way down the road they were met by one of the village boys, who was carrying something very cautiously in his cap, which the young Maitlands soon perceived to be a bird's nest with four lovely blue eggs, that Tom had just helped himself to from a hedge close by. 'You cruel wicked boy,' exclaimed Annie, to have robbed the poor bird of her nest. That is none of your business,' Iwas the rude answer. 'But indeed it is, and I shall tell my papa to have you punished.' The boy only laughed at this foolish threat, but Annie had that very morning heard her father speaking of some one who had been taken up for interfering with game on a neighbouring estate, and in the eyes of our little girl a hedge sparrow was as precious as a pheasant. 'But, Tom,' said Alfred more gently, 'it doesn't seem quite fair, does it, to run off with the poor birds' property. They must have spent a great deal of time and labour in building themselves so beautiful a house : it is enough to break their hearts when they come back and find it gone. We get so much pleasure too from the singing of birds, it is rather hard lines to give them only pain in return.' This was quite a new view of the case to the country Arab,' and he began to look a bit ashamed of himself; for Tom was not so much a really hardhearted boy as that idle habits had been his snare, and we know that Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do. 'It can't be helped now any way,' was the half repentant answer. Here a bright thought struck Annie. 'Oh, Alf, 'she said, 'couldn't we put back the nest if Tom is willing to give it up?' Alfred was doubtful if the bird would return, but they might try. And so this was accomplished to the entire satisfaction of the children, but whether or not to that of the original owners of the nest we dont pretend to say. Tom now rather puzzled Alfred by asking if there was any difference between a fellow like me taking a shie at a bird and the gentry going out for the same thing with dogs and guns?' 'I am not sure that I can explain this rightly, Tom, but there is papa coming along the meadow path; let us ask hir. When Mr Maitland heard what was wanted เ ROSSLYN. of him he kindly invited all three children to sit down beside him on a grassy slope and have a nice talk. The best way of settling as to whether one or both or neither of the sports mentioned were wrong was first to ascertain in what our duty to the lower animals consists.' 6 Tom opened his eyes rather wide at the idea of our having a duty to perform to birds and beasts, but as he said nothing, Mr Maitland proceeded to say that God who has placed other creatures along with us in the world will certainly be displeased if we use our superior powers for purposes of cruelty. This much at least is required of us that we neither needlessly destroy life nor give unnecessary pain. However, it is a mere sentimentality impracticable of execution, to say that the lower animals are never to be killed by man; for although we give up using them as food, they would still multiply so as to overrun the earth and take possession for themselves.''Farmer Johnston says that if he didn't shoot the sparrows he would have no grain left. That is quite to the point,' Annie, said her father; and the case is not altered when we try to keep down one kind of animal by introducing another that preys upon it. Take the familiar example of keeping a cat to clear the house of mice. It were absurd to charge pussy with the slaughter, and free ourselves.' 6 'But, papa,' said Alfred, a little doubtfully, 'I thought you disapproved of getting up shooting parties for pleasure. For pleasure; there you have it, Alfred. I do not, my son, like the amusement of taking life. Although it may be at times necessary to destroy animal existence, I see no sport in putting out the vital spark. A far higher and holier joy is to be found in sympathy with Creation. God's beautiful world is full of life, and He has meant us to rejoice in it. Some of these thoughts were a little beyond our friend Tom; but he and Mr Maitland's children now parted, certainly not the worse for the conversation that came of-finding a nest.' A. W. BUT A LITTLE CHILD. 123 'I am but a little child; I know not how to go out or come in.' 1 Kings iii. 7. THOUGH thou art but a child, little and weak, Yet even unto thee Jesus doth speak. O my child! lov'st thou Me? How to go out or in scarcely I know; Once Jesus lived on earth, a holy child; He whispers, follow Me, Lord, I who cannot go one step alone, Lean hard on Me. weird and leafless through the gloom of the November night. Hawthornden is peopled by one memory, that of an old laird who lived there in the days of Charles First, and wrote sacred poems and meditations, and has made the name of his small domain familiar to every reader. Drummond of Hawthornden, he was called then, and is so still. I do not think you would care to read anything he ever wrote. Yet now, as the winter evenings come, you turn to books for company. You have dearest faces round you, but books are added friendships. They are your winter flowers. When you are sad with that causeless sadness, which you cannot hope to walk through the world without knowing in some dim hour,-a feeling so vague you cannot tell it to your dearest, so close folding, you cannot get free,-the bright, wise page of some favourite book will many times dispel the gloom, and open a vista of sunlight on the very track of the shadows. What should you know of this, my bright Harry, in the glory of your youth and joy? But when you have learned it, you will understand what it is to have good bookfriends. You will discover slowly the books which can truly be your friends. For books are like people, we must partly choose them for ourselves. Those which respond to our moods, and meet us at our trysting places, at the places where our thoughts wait for sympathy, are those which can truly do us good. There is one book which will always meet us with sympathy, love and rest. You do not ask what book I mean. You know it is the Bible. This is nothing new to tell you. Yet I like to tell it again. I do not know any poetry so sweet as the poetry of the psalms; nor any stories of such utter beauty as the old calm stories of the patriarchal days. And if you will have heroism, it is there too. Do you remember the history of Nehemiah's rebuilding of the wall? 'In what place, therefore, ye hear the sound of the trumpet, resort ye thither unto us; our God shall fight for us. 'So we laboured in the work; and half of them held the spears from the rising of the morning until the stars appeared.' Nehemiah is a note of brightness in the midst of the sadness of the prophets. It is he who teaches the people : The joy of the Lord is your strength.' But the glory of all the Bible meets in the story of the gospels. The centre of the whole world's history, the wonder of love which the human heart sometimes scarcely dares to believe; so infinite the tenderness, the pity. We come to Christ's feet for pardon; we come to His heart for love; and there we learn Him best. Keble has four beautiful lines, which I think are better to remember than whole books of theology. 'Seek thou the Saviour out, and dwell Beneath the shadow of His roof, And known Him for the Christ, by proof.' Perhaps you know the lines already. Then keep them in your heart. Sometimes you may learn the deep preciousness of the thought that is in them. But I hope you will make friends of many books besides the best book of all. History, science, art-God is also in these. In these, too, we may follow His steps, and hold the Divine Hand. And we must leave unused no gift which He has given us. The best is God's. If you follow the little path which leads by the side of the Esk, you will come to the high old castle which overhangs the stream. It is but a lofty, airy fragment, hung against the black night sky. And the wind is wailing through its crumbling loopholes, and searching the dark old dungeons that have such secrets to keep. A little nearer is the Chapel, with its endless flowers carved in stone-half mouldered in pathetic beauty-yet still a loveliness. The people worship under its |