are perpendicular, and about two feet thick. If any wood projects from them, they cut it off with their teeth, which are more serviceable than saws; and, by the help of their tails, they plaster all their works with a kind of mortar, which they prepare of dry grass and clay mixed together. In August or September, they begin to lay up their stores of food; which consist of the wood of the birch, the plane, and of some other trees. Thus they pass the gloomy winter in ease and plenty. These two American animals, contrasted with each other, afford a most striking picture of the blessings of INDUSTRY, and the penury and wretchedness of SLOTH.

Plu'mage, feathers; ele-gance, beauty; pe-cu-li-ar'i-ty, coldness; ob-scu'ri-ty, darkness; ma-ter'nal, motherly; ig'no-rant, not knowing; fledged, able to fly; sup-pos-i-ti'tious, not real; prob'a-ble, likely.

It

THE Cuckoo is one of the most noted of the feathered race; and, although it cannot boast any great variety or beauty of plumage, is remarkable for the elegance of its form, and the peculiarity of its habits. It is somewhat less than a pigeon; but its form resembles a hawk, and its colour is a greyish blue. Its note is universally known, and, because it announces the approach of summer, it is always listened to with pleasure; but the particulars of its history are involved in obscurity, and the country to which it migrates is yet unknown. appears to be a bird of the rapacious kind. The female cuckoo makes no nest of her own, but, invading that of some other bird, very often that of the wagtail or sparrow, destroys the eggs, and substitutes her own in their place. The bird, on its return, not discovering the cheat, hatches the egg of her insidious invader with the same assiduity as if it were her own, and, when the changeling is excluded from the shell, continues to feed it with maternal tenderness, ignorant that she is nursing an enemy to her race, and a destroyer of her future progeny. When the young cuckoo is fledged, it quits its supposititious parent, and follows its native propensities. What becomes of this tribe in the winter season is wholly unknown; but the most general, as well as the most probable supposition is, that, on the approach of winter, both the cuckoo and the swallow migrate to warmer climates.

9.-Address to the Cuckoo.

HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of spring!
Now heaven repairs thy rural seat,

And woods thy welcome sing.

What time the daisy decks the green,

Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?

Delightful vistant! with thee
I hail the time of flowers,
And hear the sound of music sweet
From birds among the bowers.

The school-boy, wandering through the wood
To pluck the primrose gay,
Starts-thy curious voice to hear,
And imitates thy lay.

What time the pea puts on the bloom,

Thou fliest the vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands

Another spring to hail.

Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear;

Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year!

O! could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,

Companions of the spring.

Bruce.

Hol'i-day, play-day; bar'gain, purchase; vex-a'tion, sorrow; cha-grin', ill humour; am-bi'tious, desirous; popu-lar'i-ty, favour of the people; mi'ser, a covetous person; laud'a-ble, praiseworthy; eq'ui-page, attendance; es'timate, calculation.

WHEN I was a child, about seven years of age, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pockets with halfpence. I went directly towards a shop, where toys were sold for children, and being charmed with the sound of a whistle that I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for it. I then came home, and went whistling over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of my money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation. My reflections on the subject gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. This little event, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself

"Do not give too much for the whistle;" and so I saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle."

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When I saw one too ambitious of court-favour, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to obtain it, I said to myself, "This man gives too much for his whistle.”

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect; "He pays indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle."

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, and the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth:-" Poor man!” said I," you indeed pay too much for your whistle."

When I met a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of mind, or of fortune, to mere sensual gratification: "Mistaken man!" said I, "you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle,"

If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipage, all above his fortune, for which he contracted debts, and ended his career in prison; "Alas!” said I," he has paid dear, very dear for his whistle."

In short, I conceived that a great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by the false estimate they make of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.

Franklin.

C