ingenious gentlemen hop down stairs upon his hind legs', with some corn', which he had taken from the garret', in his fore paws': I dare say, the rats which you have been telling us about', conveyed the eggs down in the same manner."

"It is very likely they might'," said Mrs. Mills', "but I think it equally probable that the business was effected by combination; that is to say', that more than one was concerned in it, though I cannot say whether they performed it exactly in the same manner as Esop represents in his fable of the two rats and the egg. Since I have known the anecdote of my friend's eggs', it has more than once occurred to me that it is possible that the fable in Æsop might be founded on a fact. I am persuaded that all amimals have a language, or sign, by which they understand each other as far as it is necessary for their mutual benefit and preservation'; and that rats have a language, and act in concert', is evident from a curious anecdote that I will relate to you.

"A gentleman having a present of some Florence oil, the flasks were set in his cellar', in the bottom of a shallow box. The oil not being wanted for use', they remained there some time. The owner going one day, by chance, into the cellar, was surprised to find the wicker work, which inclosed the flasks, gnawed from the greater part; and, on examination, the oil was sunk about two, or two inches and a half, from the neck of each flask. It soon occurred to him that it must be the work of some kind of vermin'; and being a man of a speculative turn, he resolved to satisfy the curiosity raised in his mind. He accordingly found means to watch, and actually detected three rats in the very act'; but how, do you think, they managed to get at the oil'? You know the neck of the flask was long and narrow'; it required therefore some contrivance."

"Indeed it did`," said William'; "but, I dare say, the rats found out a better expedient for themselves than I could for them."

"I told you that three rats were engaged in the business," resumed Mrs. Mills. "One of these stood upon the edge of the box, while another, mounting his back, dipped his tail in the neck of the flask', and presented it to a third to lick. They then changed places'; the rat which stood uppermost descended', and was accommodated in the same manner with the tail of his companion' until it was his turn

to act the porter', and then he took his station at the bottom. In this manner the three rats alternately relieved each other', and banqueted upon the oil', until they had sunk it beyond the length of their tails."

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Well," said Clara', "if they were equal to such a contrivance', they could be at no loss how to convey their eggs to their burrows without breaking'; one may believe them capable of any thing'; but is the story really to be relied

on' ?"

"I had it from the mouth of the gentleman who was himself witness of the fact'; he was a man of character and observation, on whose veracity I can rely."

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Well," said William', "it is a most extraordinary story', but nothing can surprise me after puss and her chicken`; that exceeds every thing that I ever heard of."

"It was a singular circumstance'," said the lady', "but I think Mrs. Goodman told us that puss had just lost a litter of kittens."

“Yes, madam,” said the farmer's wife, who had been listening with silent attention to their discourse'," she had kittens a few days before', and my husband had drowned the whole litter."

"This circumstance, then," said Mrs. Mills', "accounts, in some measure, for an attachment that appears, otherwise', so foreign to the nature of the animal. We can find no difficulty in supposing that the instinct which nature had awakened in the cat, for the preservation of her own young, was, when deprived of its object', easily transferred to the chicken', on which it acted with equal force."

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Well," said William', "whatever might be the cause^, it was a droll sight to see puss march up the yard' with her feathered attendant'; it was worth riding five miles to see her."

LESSON XVI.

THE COTTAGER.

THERE was a laboring man who built a cottage for himself and his wife. A dark gray rock overhung it, and helped to keep it from the winds. When his cottage was finished, he

thought he would paint it gray, like the rock'; and so exactly did he get the same shade of color, that it looked almost as if the little dwelling sprung from the bosom of the rock that sheltered it.

After a while the cottager became able to purchase a cow. In the summer she picked up most of her own living very well. But in the winter, she needed to be fed and kept from the cold. Accordingly, he built a barn for her. It was so small, it looked more like a shed than a barn, but it was quite warm and comfortable. When it was done, a neighbor came in and said', "what color will you paint your barn'?" "I had not thought about that'," said the cottager. "Then I advise you, by all means, to paint it black'; and here is a pot of black paint, which I have brought on purpose to give you."

Soon another neighbor, coming in, praised his neat shed', and expressed a wish to help him a little about his building. "White is by far the most genteel color," he added'," and here is a pot of white paint, of which I make you a present."

While he was in doubt which of the gifts to use, the eldest and wisest man in the village came to visit him. His hair was entirely white, and every body loved him, for he was good, as well as wise.

When the cottager had told him the story of the pots of paint, the old man said', "he who gave you the black paint, is one who dislikes you, and wishes you to do a foolish thing. He who gave you the white paint, is a partial friend, and desires you to make more show than is wise. Neither of their opinions should you follow. If the shed is either black or white, it will disagree with the color of your house. Moreover, the black paint will draw the sun, and cause the edges of your boards to curl and split ;-and the white will look well but for a little whilé, and then become soiled, and need painting anew. Now, take my advice, and mix the black and white together."

So the cottager poured one pot into the other, and mixed them up with his brushes—and it made the very same gray color which he liked, and used before upon his house.

The man had, in one corner of his small piece of ground, a hopvine. He carefully gathered the ripened hops, and his wife made beer of them, which refreshed him when he was warm and weary. It had always twined round two poles, which he had fastened in the earth to give it support.

But the cottager was fond of building, and he made a little arbor for it to run upon, and cluster about. He painted the arbor gray. So the rock and the cottage, and the shed and the arbor, were all of the same gray color, and every thing around looked neat and comfortable, though it was small and poor.

When the cottager and his wife grew old, they were sitting together in their arbor at the sunset of the summer's day. A stranger, who seemed to be looking at the country, stopped and inquired how every thing around that small habitation happened to have the same shade of gray.

"It is very well it is so'," said the cottager',-" for my wife and I, you see, are gray also. And we have lived so long, that the world itself looks old and gray to us now."Then he told him the story of the black and white paint, and how the advice of an aged man prevented him from making his little estate look ridiculous when he was young.

"I have thought of this circumstance," said he, "so often', that it has given me instruction. He who gave me the black paint, proved to be an enemy'; and he who urged me to use the white, was a friend. The advice of neither was good. Those who love us too well are blind to our faults-and those who dislike us, are not willing to see our virtues. One would make us all white-the other, all black. But neither of them are right. For we are of a mixed nature, good and evil, like the gray paint made of opposite colors. If, then, neither the counsel of our foes, nor that of our partial friends, is safe to be taken', we should cultivate a correct judgment, which, mixing both together', would avoid the evil and secure the good."

LESSON XVII.

THE HEEDLESS GIRL.

MRS. Seaford was exceedingly fond of her children. On going out to pass the evening at some distance from her own house, she one day said to them', "My dears', amuse yourselves together, but do not be rude': let me not, on my return', have any complaint against you, Rosalind', nor against you, Ameliá. You have both a little task to learn against the

morning'; so, before you go to play', each of you must finish it. George has already begun his' part; Edwin must go and complete his lesson; and then both may come here and play with their sisters."

The children were in reality very good': they played at several games'; they made no noise', nor entered into any quarrels'; every thing was in the best order'; and they would have passed the evening very happily', if little Rosalind, on entering her papa's room', had not committed a sad fault.

Rosalind was pretty', gentle', and amiable`; but she was so extremely heedless', that she thought little of what she said', and still less of what she did. Having occasion to look for something in a closet in her father's library, she lighted a candle', but forgot to extinguish it when she found the object of her search'; indeed, she thought so little of the matter', that she actually left this lighted candle on a table among several letters', and a large heap of papers.

It was not till a quarter of an hour after this, that Rosalind, smelling something burning', recollected having left the candle in the next room', and immediately ran to find it.

Alas! what was her fright when she opened the door"! The candle had fallen on one side and communicated the flame to the papers', and these had set fire to the table'; so that poor little Rosalind, on opening the door, was completely enveloped in smoke.

She cried out loudly': immediately her brothers and sisters, as well as the servant, hastened to her', and seeing the flames, they all at once exclaimed', "The house is on fire"! Alas! the house is on fire!"

If any one had the presence of mind to fetch some water', the fire might at this time have been quenched'; for there was nothing yet on fire except the table and the papers. But the fright had so alarmed the spirits of every one, that they thought of nothing'; they only wept, and cried'," Oh! what a misfortunè! We are lost!"

Whilst they were thus lamenting, the fire spread rapidly to the curtains, the drawers, and the wainscot', and presently all the room was in flames. The neighbors who saw the fire ran and sounded the bells'; an engine was brought, and a great crowd gathered.

The tumult now was dreadful'; on all sides, people were crying out', "Fire! fire! Water"! water!"-"Here is the fire," said the neighbors, we must knock at this house."