And I could see and feel that no part of creation worked for itself, but each for every other : the sea for the land, and the land for the sea; the clouds for the rivers, and the rivers for the ocean, and the ocean for the clouds.

The

Nothing was idle even for a moment. sunbeams that I had thought asleep on the water were as busy as millions of bees, sucking up the drops for which dry lands were thirsting far away.

Then in my dream I said, "All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it." I know I must have been upon the verge of death at that stupendous height, and in my weakness I suppose the thought of so much endless toil was painful to me.

Then I heard the flutter of wings; and a bright angel face hovered above me; and she whispered, "All things work together for good to them that love God." I raised my hand to clutch her shining robes, and at that instant I awoke, to find myself convulsively grasping the cord of the valve, while the balloon was rushing downwards towards the fields below.-From "First Steps in Geography."

LEARN:

Trans-form'-ed, changed into
another form.

Con-vul'-sive-ly, with spasms
or violent shakings.
Flick'-er-ing, rising and fall-
ing, becoming brighter
and duller, wavering,
flapping.
Molt'-en, melted.

Va'-pour, moisture in the air.
E-lec'-tric light, a very bright
light obtained by passing
a stream of electricity
between two pieces of
charcoal.

Smoke-be-grim'-ed,
with smoke.

dirtied

THE pretty little Robin is a general favourite even with schoolboys.

He is less timid of man than most other birds; and in winter, when the earth is clothed with snow, this bold little fellow will often pay us familiar visits. You may see him hopping on to the sill of a window, and knocking with his slight beak at the panes of glass, asking for a few crumbs which he is certain to receive, for an open door is ever ready for Robin Redbreast.

In spring the Robin retires with his mate to the woods, and builds a pretty cup-shaped nest of

moss and dry leaves, and lines it with hair and feathers.

While the hen sits on her eggs, Cock Robin, perched close by, makes the woods resound with his cheerful song. At the same time he is careful

that no intruder shall approach the nest.

During the greater part of the year the Robin feeds on worms, grubs, and small insects, together with berries and fruits when in season. But in the depth of winter, when his natural food cannot be obtained, he is glad to pick up any crumbs which may have been thrown from our tables.

One winter a Robin became our constant guest. He made himself perfectly at home with the servants, attending their table during meal-times, and receiving all scraps with which they were pleased to favour him.

He took his stand on the frame of one of the neighbouring chairs, whence he had a good view of the ground beneath the table, ready to hop forth when a crumb fell.

He enjoyed, indeed, the range of the kitchen and pantry at will, and throve exceedingly on his good fare: from being small and thin, Cock Robin grew into a fine fat bird.

He at last became so bold as to hop on to the table, and, without waiting for an invitation, help himself to bread and any morsel that lay in his way: nothing escaped his clear bright eye.

One cold, snowy morning, Robin was absent from the kitchen much longer than usual.

We

were beginning to wonder what had become of him, when he suddenly made his entry through the open lattice of the pantry.

He was accompanied by two other robins, exceedingly lean and ill-favoured, forming a striking contrast with our fat, comely little friend. It was evident these two were invited guests.

Scarcely, however, had his hungry visitors begun to partake of the crumbs scattered beneath the table than he bristled up his feathers, hopped about in a threatening manner, and scolded in harsh and angry tones.

A battle immediately commenced, which was maintained for some minutes with great spirit by one of his outraged guests; but victory decided at length in favour of our friend, he being half as big again as his famished adversary.

Having driven both his visitors from the kitchen, Rob returned proud of his victory, and flying to his favourite peg, sang a song of triumph. He puffed out his red breast, and ruffled his feathers, as if to express his satisfaction at having vanquished his enemies.

LEARN :

As-kance', slily, sideways. Van'-quish-ed, overcome, conquered.

Ad'-ver-sa-ry, an enemy, or one opposed to.

Lat'-tice, a small window.
Ill-fa'-vour-ed, lean, in poor
condition.

In-trud'-er, one who enters
without right.

THE WILD-DUCK SHOOTER.

PART I.

IN one of the broad, open plains of Lincolnshire there is a long, reedy sheet of water, a favourite resort of wild ducks. At its northern extremity stand two mud cottages, old, and out of repair.

One bitter, bitter night, when the snow lay three feet deep on the ground, and a cutting east wind was driving it about, an old woman sat spinning in one of these cottages before a cheerful fire.

Her kettle was singing on the coals; she had a reed candle, or home-made rushlight, on her table; but the full moon shone in, and was the brighter light of the two.

The two cottages were far from any road or any other habitation; the old woman was therefore surprised, as she sat drawing out her thread and humming an old north-country song, to hear a sudden knock at the door.

It was loud and impatient, not like the knock of her neighbours in the other cottage; but the door was bolted, and the old woman rose, and shuffling to the window, looked out, and saw a shivering figure, apparently that of a youth.

Tramps are not wanted here," said the old woman; so she went back to the fire without deigning to answer the door.

The youth, upon this, tried the door, and called to her to beg admittance. She heard him rap the