Poll advanced as if to give the required salute, but seized the youth's lip and made him roar with pain. This fact, and the parrot's obeying the plaintiff in several other requisitions, caused it to be instantly ordered into the possession of its original owner.

Human foibles, too, are participated by animals. The dog, I grieve to say, is capable of both envy and jealousy. A gentleman, calling one day upon Dr. Gall, at Paris, found that most original observer of nature in the midst of birds, cats, and dogs, which were his pets. "Do you think," said he, turning his eyes to two beautiful dogs at his feet, which were endeavoring to gain his attention, "that these little pets possess pride and vanity, like man?" "Yes," said the other, "I have remarked their vanity frequently. We will call both feelings into action," said he. He then caressed the whelp, and took it into his arms. "Mark that mother's offended

pride," said he, as he walked quietly across the room to her mat. "Do you think she will come if I call her?” “O, yes,” answered his friend. "Not at all." He made the attempt, but she heeded not the hand she had so earnestly endeavored to lick but an instant before. "She will not speak to me today," said Dr. Gall.

An anecdote was lately given in a newspaper, which would show animals to be even capable of a sense of equity; but perhaps there is some exaggeration about it. A gentleman, visiting a menagerie * in Penrith, found there a fine lioness with two While he was observing her, the keeper handed in a sheep's head to the cubs, which instantly began to quarrel over it, as if each desired exclusive possession of the prize. In the midst of the turmoil, the lioness rose, and advanced, and with two well-directed cuffs, sent them cowering into the corners of the den. She then lay down, and deliberately divided the spoil into two equal parts, assigned one to each of her young ones; after which, without taking a morsel to herself, she retired and lay quietly down again.

* Pronounced me-nar'zhe-re.

LIII.

ENCOUNTER BETWEEN AN EAGLE AND

A SALMON.

LIFE IN THE WOODS.

I HAVE often been struck with the singular attachment hunters sometimes have for some bird or animal, while all the rest of the species they pursue with deadly hostility. About five hundred yards from Beach's hut stands a lofty pine tree, on which a gray eagle has built its nest annually during the nine years he has lived on the shores of the Raquette. The Indian who dwelt there before him says that the same pair of birds made their nest on that tree for ten years previous; making in all nineteen years they have occupied the same spot, and built on the same branch.

One day, however, Beach was near losing his bold eagle. He was lying at anchor, fishing, when he saw his favorite bird, high up in heaven, slowly sweeping round and round in a huge circle, evidently awaiting the approach of a fish to the surface. For an hour or more, he thus sailed with motionless wings above the water, when all at once he stopped and hovered a moment with an excited gesture, then, rapid as a flash of lightning, and with a rush of his broad pinions, like the passage of a sudden gust of wind, came to the still bosom of the lake. He had seen a huge salmon trout swimming near the surface; and plunging from his high watchtower, drove his talons deep in his victim's back. So rapid and strong was his swoop that he buried himself out of sight when he struck; but the next moment he emerged into view, and, flapping his wings, endeavored to rise with his prey.

But this time he had miscalculated his strength; in vain he struggled nobly to lift the salmon from the water. The frightened and bleeding fish made a sudden dive, and took out of sight, and was gone a quarter of a minute. rose to the surface, and the strong bird spread out his broad dripping pinions, and, gathering force with his rapid blows,

eagle and all Again they

raised the salmon half out of water. The weight, however, was too great for him, and he sank again to the surface, beating the water into foam about him. The salmon then made another dive, and they both went under, leaving only a few bubbles to tell where they had gone down.

This time they were absent a full half minute, and Beach said he thought it was all over with his bird. He soon, however, reappeared, with his talons still buried in the flesh of his foe, and again made a desperate effort to rise. All this time the fish was shooting like an arrow through the lake, carrying his relentless foe on his back. He could not keep the eagle down, nor the bird carry him up; and so, now beneath, and now upon the surface, they struggled on, presenting one of the most singular yet exciting spectacles that can be imagined. It was fearful to witness the blows of the eagle, as he lashed the lake with his wings into spray, and made the shores echo with the report. At last the bird thinking, as they say west, that he had "waked the wrong passenger," gave it up, and loosening his clutch, soared heavily and slowly away to his lofty pine tree, where he sat for a long time sullen and sulky, the picture of disappointed ambition. So might a

wounded and baffled lion lie down in his lair and brood over his defeat. Beach said that he could easily have captured them, but he thought he would see the fight out.

When, however, they both staid under half a minute or more, he concluded he should never see his eagle again. Whether the latter in his rage was bent on capturing his prize, and would retain his hold, though at the hazard of his life, or whether in his terrible swoop he had stuck his crooked talons so deep in the back of the salmon that he could not extricate himself, the hunter said he could not tell. The latter, however, was doubtless the truth, and he would have been glad to have let go long before he did.

LIV.-KITTEN GOSSIP.

WESTWOOD.

[From a volume of poems recently published in England by M. Westwood.]

KITTEN, kitten, two months old,
Woolly snow ball, lying snug
Curled up in the warmest fold
Of the warm hearth rug,
Turn your drowsy head this way.
What is life? O kitten, say?

"Life," said the kitten, winking her eyes,
And twitching her tail, in a droll surprise
"Life? O, its racing over the floor,
Out at the window, and in at the door,
Now on the chair back, now on the table,
'Mid balls of cotton, and skeins of silk,
And crumbs of sugar, and jugs of milk,
All so cosy and comfortable.

It's patting the little dog's ears, and leaping
Round him and o'er him while he's sleeping,

Waking him up in sore affright,

Then off and away, like a flash of light,
Scouring and scampering out of sight.
Life? O, it's rolling over and over

On the summer-green turf and budding clover,
Chasing the shadows as fast as they run,
Down the garden paths in the midday sun,
Prancing and gambolling, brave and bold,
Climbing the tree stems, scratching the mould.
That's life!" said the kitten two months old.

Kitten, kitten, come sit on my knee,
And lithe and listen, kitten, to me.

One by one, O, one by one,

The sly, swift shadows sweep over the sun;
Daylight dieth, and kittenhood's done.
And, kitten, O, the rain and the wind!
For cathood cometh, with careful mind,
And grave cat duties follow behind.
Hark! there's a sound you cannot hear;
I'll whisper its meaning in your ear:

Mice!

(The kitten stared with her great green eyes, And twitched her tail in a queer surprise :)

Mice!

No more titbits, dainty and nice;
No more mischief, and no more play;
But watching by night and sleeping by day,
Prowling wherever the foe doth lurk
Very short commons and very short work.
And, kitten, O, the hail and the thunder!
That's a black cloud, but a blacker's under.
Hark! but you'll fall from my knee I fear,
When I whisper that awful word in your ear:

R-r-r-rats!

(The kitten's heart beat with great pit-pats, But her whiskers quivered, and from their sheath Flashed out the sharp, white, pearly teeth.)

R-r-r-rats!

The scorn of dogs, but the terror of cats,
The cruelest foes and the fiercest of fighters;
The sauciest thieves and the fiercest biters.
But, kitten, I see you've a stoutish heart;
So, courage! and play an honest part;