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instead of his own blue, he could hardly be distinguished from him. Like him, he is known to almost every child, and shows as much confidence in man by associating with him in summer, as the other by his familiarity in winter.

He is also of a mild and pleasing disposition, seldom fighting or quarrelling with other birds. His society is courted by the inhabitants of the country, and few farmers neglect to provide for him, in some suitable place, a snug little summer house, ready fitted and rent free. For this he more than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song, and the multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys. Towards fall,that is, in the month of October, his song changes to a single plaintive note, as he passes over the many-colored woods; and its melancholy air recalls to our minds the approaching decay of the face of nature..

Even after the trees are stripped of their leaves, he still lingers over his native fields, as if loath to leave them. About the middle or end of November, few or none of them are seen; but with every return of mild and open weather, we hear his plaintive note amid the fields, or in the air, seeming to deplore the devastations of winter. Indeed, he appears scarcely ever to forsake us, but to follow fair weather through all its journeyings till the return of spring.

Such are the mild and pleasing manners of the bluebird; and so universally is he esteemed, that I have often regretted that no pastoral muse has yet arisen in this western woody world to do justice to his name, and endear him to us still more by the tenderness of verse, as has been done to his representative in Britain, the robin redbreast. A small acknowledgment of this kind I have to offer, which the reader, I hope, will excuse as a tribute to rural innocence.

When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, Green meadows and brown furrowed fields reappearing, The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,

And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering;

When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing,

When glow the red maples, so fresh and so pleasing, O, then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring,

And hails with his warblings the charms of the season.

Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to ring;
Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine is the weather;
The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring,
And spicewood and sassafras budding together.
O, then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair;
Your walks border up; sow and plant at your leisure,
The bluebird will chant from his box such an air,
That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure.

He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree,

The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms; He snaps up destroyers wherever they be,

And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms;

He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours,

The worms from their beds where they riot and welter;

His song and his services freely are ours,

And all that he asks is, in summer a shelter.

The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his train,
Now searching the furrows, now mounting to cheer him;

The gardener delights in his sweet, simple strain,

And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him ; The slow, lingering school boys forget they'll be chid, While gazing intent, as he warbles before 'em,

In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red,

That each little loiterer seems to adore him.

When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er,
And autumn slow enters, so silent and sallow,
And millions of warblers, that charmed us before,
Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking swallow,

The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to this home,
Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow,
Till, forced by the horrors of winter to roam,

He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow.

While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm,
The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven,
Or love's native music, have influence to charm,

Or sympathy's glow to our feelings is given,
Still dear to each bosom the bluebird shall be;
His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure ;
For, through bleakest storms if a calm he but see,
He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure.

LII.-ANIMAL HUMANITY.

CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL.

I is extremely curious to observe in animals ways and doings like those of human beings. It is a department of natural history which has never been honored with any systematic study; perhaps it is thought too trifling for grave philosophers. I must profess, however, that I feel there is some value in the inquiry, as tending to give us sympathies with the lower animals, and to dispose us to treat them more kindly than we generally do.

The sports of animals are peculiarly affecting. They come home to our social feelings; and the idea is the more touching, when we regard the poor beasts as perhaps enjoying themselves when on the very brink of suffering death for our enjoyment.

It is reported by all who have the charge of flocks, that the lambs resemble children very much in their sports. In the mellowed glow of a June evening, while the ewes are quietly resting in preparation for their night's sleep, the lambs gather

together at a little distance, and then begin a set of frolics of their own; dancing fantastically about, or butting, as in jest, against each other. The whole affair is a regular game of romps, such as a merry group of children will occasionally be allowed to enjoy just before going to bed. It is highly amusing to witness it, and to trace the resemblance it bears to human doings; which is sometimes carried so far, that a single mamma will be seen looking on close by, apparently rather happy at the idea of the young folks being so merry, but anxious also that they should not behave too roughly; otherwise she must certainly interfere.

That there is merriment, genuine, human-like merriment, in many of the lower animals, no one can doubt that has ever watched the gambols of the kid, the lamb, the kitten, or dogs. But there is something to be observed in these sports still more human-like than mere sport. The principal of makebelieve, or jest, as opposed to earnest, can be discerned in many of their merry-makings. A friend of mine observed a kitten amusing itself by running along past its mother, and giving her a little pat on the cheek every time it passed. This must have been done as a little practical joke. The cat stood it for a time very tranquilly; but at last, appearing to get irritated by the repetition of such absurd behavior, she gave her offspring a blow on the side of the head that sent the little creature spinning to the other side of the room. The kitten looked extremely surprised at this act of mamma, as considering it very ungracious of her not to take the joke in the way it was meant.

The sense of duty is another of the human-like characteristics of animals, and one of those best known. A Newfoundland dog once lived with a family in one of the Southern States of the American Union, which had rescued one of its master's daughters from drowning. The family had occasion to proceed in a schooner for the city of St. Augustine; they had embarked, and the vessel was swinging off from the pier, when the dog was missed. To quote a newspaper narrative, "They whistled, and called, but no dog appeared: the captain became

impatient, declared he would wait no longer, gave the order, and the craft swept along the waters, with a spanking breeze, and was soon a quarter of a mile from the shore. The girl and her father were standing at the stern of the vessel, looking back upon the city, which they had probably left forever, when Towser was seen running down to the edge of the wharf with something in his mouth. With a glass they discovered that it was his master's pocket handkerchief, which had been dropped on the road to the vessel, and which he now recollected, with some compunctions of conscience, he had sent his four-footed servant back to look after.

"The dog looked piteously around upon the bystanders, then at the retreating vessel, and leaped boldly into the water. His master immediately pointed out the noble animal to the captain, and requested him to throw his vessel into the wind, until the dog could near them. He also offered a large sum if he would drop his boat, and pick him up; told him of the manner in which he had preserved his daughter's life, and again offered him the price of a passage if he would save the faithful creature. The girl joined her entreaties to those of her father, and implored that her early friend might be rescued. But the captain was a savage: he was deaf to every appeal of humanity; kept obstinately on his course; and the better animal of the two followed the vessel, until, his strength exhausted, and his generous heart chilled by despair, he sank among the more merciful billows."

Animals sometimes form peculiar attachments for certain individuals of our species. Such a predilection was once the means of deciding very amusingly a case before a court of justice. It was a Dublin police office, and the object of dispute was a pet parrot, which had been stolen from a Mr. Davis, and sold to a Mr. Moore. The plaintiff, taking the bird upon his finger, said, “Come, old boy, give me a kiss," which the parrot instantly did. A youth in the defendant's interest remarked that this proved nothing, as the parrot would kiss any body. "You had better not try," remarked the plaintiff. Nevertheless the young man asked the parrot to kiss him.