houses, if a small and convenient twig is found for the pur pose. The female is the architect, while the male goe in quest of materials; such as cotton, fine moss, and the fibres of vegetables. Of these materials, a nest is composed about' the size of a hen's egg cut in two: it is admirabl o: it is contrived, and warmly lined with cotton.

7. There are never more than two eggs found in a nest these are about the size of small peas, and as white as snow with here and there a yellow speck. The male and th female sit upon the uest by turns; but the female takes t herself the greatest share. She seldom quits the nest, excep a few minutes in the morning and evening, when the dewi apon the flowers, and their honey in perfection.

8. During the short interval, the male takes her place The time of incubation continues twelve days; at the end which the young ones appear, much about the size of blue-bottle fly. They are at first bare; by degrees they à covered with down; and at last, feathers succeed, but les beautiful at first than those of the old ones.

9. Father La-bat', in his account of the mission to A-měr că, says, "that his companion found the nest of a hummin bird, in a shed near the dwelling-house; and took it in, at time when the young ones were about' fifteen or twenty day old. He placed them in a cage at his chamber window, be ămüş'ed by their sportive flutterings: but he was mud surprised to see the old ones, which came and fed the brood regularly every hour in the day. By this means the themselves grew so tame, that they seldom quitted th chamber; and without any constraint, came to live wi their young ones.

10. "All four frequently perch'ed upon their master's han chirping as if they had been at liberty abroad. He fo them with a very fine clear paste, made of wine, biscu and sugar. They thrust their tongues into this paste, t they were satisfied, and then fluttered and chirped about th room. I never beheld any thing more agreeable," continu he," than this lovely little family, which had poş-şess'ión my companion's chamber, and flew in and out just as the thought proper; but were ever attentive to the voice their master, when he called them.

11. "In this manner they lived with him above s months. But at a time when he expected to see a ne

by shaking well the hay on which it slept, and putting it in proper order. It would then carefully draw up the coverlet. This animal lived only seven months after it had been brought into Hōl'lănd."

10. The Ou'ran-Ou'tang described by Buffon, exhibited a still greater degree of sagacity. It walked upon two legs, even when it carried burthens. Its air was melancholy, and its deportment grave. Unlike the baboon and the monkey, whose motions àre violent and appetites capricious, whose fondness for mis'chief is remarkable, and whose ó-bé'di-ènce* proceeds only from fear, this animal was slow in its motions, and a look was sufficient to keep it in awe.

11. I have seen it, says Buf'fón, give its hand to show the cómpany to the door; I have seen it sit at table, unfold its napkin, wipe its lips, make use of the spoon and the fork to carry victuals to its mouth; pour out its drink into a glass, and touch glasses when invited; take a cup and sâu'cer, lay them on the table, put in sûgar, pour out its tea, leave it to cool, and then drink it.

12. All this it would do without any other instigation than the signs or commands' of its master, and often of its own accord. It was gentle and inoffensive: it even approached strangers with respect; and came rather to receive caresses than to offer injuries. It was particularly fond of com'fits, which every body was ready to give it; but as it had a defluction upon the breast, so much sûgar contributed to increase the disorder, and to shorten its life. It continued at Păr'is but one summer, and died in Lón'dón.”

13. We are told by Py'ràrd, that the Ou'ran-Ou'tang àre found at Si-ĕr'ră Le-ōne'; where they are strong and well formed, and so industrious, that when properly trained and fed, they work like servants; that, when ordered, they pound any substances in a mortar; and that they are frequently sent to fetch water, in small pitchers, from the rivers. After filling the pitchers, they carry them on their heads to the door of the dwelling; but if they are not soon taken off, the animals suffer them to fall to the ground. When they perceive' the pitcher to be overturned and broken, they utter loud lăm-en-ta tróng.

14. The form and organs of this animal bear so near a re semblance to those of men, that we are surprised to find them productive of so few advantages. The tongue, and all the organs of the voice, àre similar, and yet the animal is

* ō-bë'je-ĕnse.

dumb; the brain is formed in the same manner as that man, and yet the creature* wants reason: an evident pro as Buf'fón finely observeş, that no arrangement of mat will give mind; and that the body, how nicely soever for ed, is formed to very limited ends, when there is not infu a soul to direct' its operations.

WHO is this beautiful virgin that approaches, clothed i robe of light green? She has a garland of flowers on head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her f The snow which covered the fields, and the ice which in the rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them.

2. The young lambs frisk about' her, and the birds wâr in their little throats to welcome her coming; and wh they see her, they begin to choose their mates, and to b their nests. Youths and maidens, have you seen this be tiful virgin? If you have, tell me who is she, and wha her name.

1. WHO is this that comes from the south, thinly clad light transparent garment? her breath is hot and sult she seeks the refreshment of the cool shade; she seeks clear streams, the crystal brooks, to bathe her lang limbs. The brooks and rivulets fly from her, and àre di up at her approach. She cools her parched lips with ries, and the grateful acid of fruits; the seedy melon, sharp apple, and the red pulp of the juicy cherry, wh àre poured out plentifully around' her.

2. The tanned haymakers welcome her coming; and sheepshearer, who clips the fleeces of his flock with sounding shears. When she comes, let me lie under thick shade of a spreading beech tree;-let me walk w her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon grass; let me wânder with her in the soft twilight, w the shěp'hérd shuts his fold, and the star of evening appe Who is she that comes from the south? Youths and m ens, tell me, if you know, who is she, and what is her na

grape, and his temples àre bound with a sheaf of ripe wheat. His hair is thin and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed with mournful gray. He shakes the brown nuts from the tree.

2. He winds the horn, and calls the hunters to their

sports. The gun sounds. The trembling partridge and the beautiful pheasant flutter, bleeding in the air, and fall dead at the sportman's feet. Who is he that is crowned with the wheat-sheaf? Youths and maidens, tell me, if you know, who is he, and what is his name.

1. WHO is he that comes from the north, clothed in furs and warm wool? He wraps his cloak close ǎbout' him. His head is bâld; his beard is made of sharp icicles. He loves the blazing fire, high piled upon the hearth. He binds skates to his feet, and skims over the frozen lakes. His breath is pier'cing and cold, and no little flower dares to peep ǎbove the surface of the ground, when he is by.

2. Whatever he touches turns to ice. If he were to strike you with his cold hand, you would be quite stiff and dead, like a piece of marble. Youths and maidens, do you see him? He is coming fast upon us, and soon he will be here. Tell me, if you know, who is he, and what is his name. BAR BAULD.

SECTION VI.

Divine Prov'idence.

1. THE glorious sun is set in the west; the night-dews fall; and the air, which was sultry, becomes cool. The flowers fold up their coloured leaves; they fold themselves up, and hang their heads on the slender stâlk. The chickens are gathered under the wing of the hen, and are at rest; the hen herself is at rest also. The little birds have ceased their wâr bl-ing; they are asleep on the boughs, each one with his head behind his wing. There is no murmur of bees ǎround' the hive, or ǎmóngst the honeyed woodbines; they have done their work, and they lie close in their waxen cells.

2. The sheep rest upon their soft fleeces, and their loud bleating is no more heard amongst the hills. There is no sound of a number of voices, or of children at play, or the trampling of busy feet, and of people hurrying to and fro. The smith's hammer is not heard upon the anvil; nor the harsh saw of the carpenter. All men àre stretched on their

quiet beds; and the child sleeps upon the breast of its mo er. Darkness is spread over the skies, and darkness is u the ground: every eye is shut, and every, hand is still.

3. Who takes care of all people when they are sunk sleep; when they cannot defend themselves, nor see if ger approaches?-There is an eye that never sleeps; th is an eye that sces in dark night, as well as in the bri sunshine. When there is no light of the sun, nor of moon; when there is no lamp in the house, nor any li star twinkling through the thick clouds; that eye sees ev where, in all places, and watches continually over all families of the earth. The eye that sleeps not is Go his hand is always stretched out over us. He made slee refresh us when we are weary: he made night, that might sleep in quiet.

4. As the mother moves about the house with her fin on her lips, and stills every little noise, that her infant be disturbed; as she draws the curtains around' its bed, shuts out the light from its tender eyes; so God draws cur'tains of darkness around', us; so he makes all thing be hushed and still, that his large family may sleep in pe

5. Labourers spent with toil, and young children, every little humming insect, sleep quietly, for God wate over you. You may sleep, for he never sleeps: you close your eyes in safety, for his eye is always open to tect you.

6. When the darkness is pass'ed away, and the beam the morning sun strike through your eye-lids, begin the with praising God, who has taken care of you through night. Flowers, when you open again', spread your lea and smell sweet to his praise! Birds, when you aw wârble your thanks amongst the green boughs! sing to before you sing to your mates! Let his praise be in hearts, when we lie down; let his praise be on our when we ǎwake. BAR BAUL

1. WHO is she that with graceful steps, and with a li air, trips over yönder plain?