picking the poor boy's brains that way; but the time will be yet, when you'll be glad to come to his knee, for it is he that will have the vestments, and not the first nor the last, plase God, that got them through my instructions. Pathrick, sir, next Sunday, when you go up to the big house as you always do, mind me, sir, never, open yer lips to the mistress or the young ladies but in Latin-Greek's too much for them, you understand me, unless they should ask you to give them a touch of it out of feminine curiosity, knowing you have the advantage of being my pupil; but no vulgar tongue out of your head, mind that; and when you go into the drawing-room, make yer bow with yer hand on yer heart in the first position, like an Irishman." Under all his pomposity of manner there was much sterling good-the old schoolmaster never would accept of any remuneration from a "fatherless child," and consequently had an abundant supply of widows' children in his seminary. "What does it cost me," he would say, "but my breath? and that's small lossdeath will have the less to take when my time comes-and sure it will penetrate to many a heart, and give them the knowledge that I can't take out of the world with me, no more than my other garments." In less than a year, Patrick had become his teacher's right hand; he was not only his "first Latin," but in a fair way to become his first Grecian; and the only thing that tormented the worthy schoolmaster was, that Patrick was no hand" at "mathematicks." He wrote frequently to his mother, and sometimes heard from her; but at last came the mournful intelligence that he could see her no more. She had perished of fever -one of those dreadful fevers that finish the work commenced by starvation, had taken her away from present care, and denied her all participation in the honours she anticipated for her son. The news crushed the heart of the poor scholar; and with it was mingled not only sorrow for the departed, but a deep anxiety on account of his little blind sister. "The neighbours, he said, “will, I know, keep her among them-a bit here, a sup there 66 and give her clothes enough for summer; but my dread is that she'll turn to begging, and that would be cruel to think of my poor little blind Nelly*!" "Where are you going this evening, Patrick ?" inquired the old schoolmaster, as his favourite pupil was leaving, having bade him his usual respectful good-day. "I promised Mrs. Nowlan, Sir, I'd go up there and read a bit with the boys to help them with you." "Well," observed Mr. O'Leary, "never mind that now; I want to discoorse you this evening." "Thank you, sir," he replied with a heavy sigh, hanging his hat on the same peg that supported the Domine's greatcoat "but the throuble has moidered my head-I'm afraid I'm not equal to much to-night, sir." 1 "Ah!" said the old man; "learning's a fine thing, but there are things that ruin it intirely—in vulgar phase, that bother it. Sit down, Patrick, and we'll see if for once the master and his pupil -the old man's and the young one's thought's go the same way." Patrick did as "the master" desired. "Tell me," inquired the Domine, resting his elbows on his knees,-"tell me, did the news you got, poor fellow, determine you on doing anything particular ?” "It did, master, it did; God help me, and look down upon and bless you, and every one that has been kind and good to me!" "What have you determined? or have you brought your resolution to a point ?" "I have, sir. It's a hard parting-but the little girl, sir-my poor blind sisterthe lone darling that never wanted sight while she had her mother's eyes-the little darling, sir; the neighbours are all kind, all good, but they can't be expected to take for a continuance the bit out of their own mouths to put it into hers— that can't be expected-nor it shan't be; I mean to set out for home on Monday, sir, plase God, and be to that poor blind child mother and father, and brother. * A poor scholar never considers himself a beggar, nor is he ever so considered-he travels for his learning; and this bare fact entitles him to respect and assistance-it is regarded in the light of a pilgrimage, but not beggary. She is all of my own blood in the world now, I can't make her heart as dark as her eyes. Thanks be to the Almighty, I have health and strength now, which I had not when I left home-health, strength, and knowledge: though," he added in a tone of intense sorrow, "that knowledge will never lead me to what I once hoped it would." "What do you mean ?" inquired the old schoolmaster: "Expound," "My heart, sir, was set, as you know, on making my way to the altar; but His will be done! I was too ambitious; I must work to keep Nelly-she must not starve or beg while I live upon good men's hearts: we are alone in the wide world: instead of learning, I must labour, that's all; and I'm sure, sir, I hope you won't consider the pains you have taken with me thrown away: you have sown the good seed; if the rock is barren, it is no fault of yours; but it is not barrenwhy should I deny the feelings that stir within me ?" He could not proceed for tears; and the old man pushed his spectacles so violently up his forehead as to disturb his wig. "What's to ail the little girl," said Mr. Devereux at last, "to live, as many have done before her—in forma puperis? Sure —that is, of a certainty, I mean, you found nothing painful in stopping a week at Mrs. Rooney's, and a month with the Driscols, and so on, and every one glad to have you." "God reward them! Yes, sir, that's thrue; and of late I've given the children, wherever I was stopping, a lift of the learning; but poor Nelly has no right to burden any one while my bones are strong enough to work for her-and she SHALL NOT!" children, not a hair in the differ. All belonging to me, glory be to God! are well to do in the world; and a blind child may be a bright blessing. Go, boy, go, and lead the blind girl here. I won't give up the honour and glory of my seminary because of an afflicted colleen. When you go to Maynooth, we'll take care of her; my grandchildren are grown too wise, and I'll be glad to have a blind child to tache poems and things that way to, of the long winter evenings, when I'm lonely for want of the lessons; so now no more about it. She'll be all as one as the babby of my old age, and you'll be Father Pat, and maybe I'd have the last blessed sacrament from yer hands yet." And so had; for this is no romance. The blind child was led by her brother to the old schoolmaster's dwelling. Many of the neighbouring poor said, "God reward you Misther Devereux, ye'r a fine man;" but the generous act excited no astonishment; generosity of character is so common amongst the peasantry, that it does not produce comment-they are in the constant habit of doing things and making sacrifices which, if done long ago, would have been recorded as deeds of heroic virtue; but there are no village annals for village virtues; and at the time the schoolmaster's generosity made little impression on ourselves, simply because it was not rare, for near him lived a poor widow, who, in addition to her own three children, fostered one whom the wild waves threw up upon the shore from a wreck; and another who took three of her brother's orphans to her one-roomed house; and another, who nourished the infant of a beggar who died in her husband's barn, at the breast with her own baby. The old schoolmaster is dead; but "And how dare you say that to my face, before he died, he had, as we have said, Patrick O'Brien ?" screamed the school- the desire of his heart. A blind sister master, flinging his wig right on the nose lives with "the soggarth" to this day, of a respectable pig, who was poking it and he is respected as all deserve to be over the half-door intended to keep in the who build their own fortunes bravely and little children, and to keep out the pigs. boldly, and having laid a good foundation, "How dare you-in your pupilage-say are not ashamed of the labour that wins 'she shall not?' I say she shall! She the highest distinction a free-born man shall burthen me.-I say you shall go for gan achieve. her, and bring her here, and my old woman will be to her as she is to her own grand THE AFFECTIONS. THE very first lesson which you should teach your child should be the just value of your affections, since it is through their medium, chiefly, that you can hope properly to influence his obedience; and without securing his obedience, it is idle to expect that you can train him properly in his ways of life. You are to teach him this lesson, by a careful discrimination between right and wrong, in your consideration of his conduct. You are to permit no misconduct, however trifling in itself, to pass without due notice; it must be promptly checked to be effectually conquered. Error is like that Genius in the Arabian Tale, who, though his bulk, when unconfined, reached from earth to heaven, could yet squeeze himself into the com. pass of a quart pot. It is surprising from what small beginnings most monsters grow. The first lesson which the boy learns from this observant discrimination is the value which you yourself set upon your affections. He soon sees that they are valuable-only to be acquired upon certain terms, and for a certain consideration. You have nothing to do but to prescribe the terms-to declare the conditions. You may make your affections cheap or dear, at your own pleasure. If too cheap, he will not value them; if too dear, he will despair of procuring them. The true principle by which to determine the conditions for securing them, is the simple one of always doing justice. If he deserves praise, praise him; if he merits blame, do not withhold it. In neither case be immoderate, for a boy seldom deserves any great degree either of praise or blame. The terms of your favour you are to unfold to him, not by set lessons, but by your habitual conduct; and he will find it easy to comply with reasonable conditions in order to secure those affections, which, moved as they are by inflexible justice, he will soon discern are beyond all price. This principle is one of the most obvious of every-day experience. We see it in the public thoroughfare, at all hours, at every turning. Affections are moral rewards! They are to be given," like money, very sparingly, and not till you have carefully inquired whether they be due or not. They are to be given to justice, not to partiality. The ill-advised and lavish affection of the parent, like indiscriminate charity in the highways, soon makes the receiver wasteful of the treasure he receives. Besides, when the parent has been giving because of his blind love, what has he left himself to bestow, when the child deserves, and when it is the parent's duty to reward? It is from this profligacy of bounty that children become capricious in moral judgment, perverse and wanton in disposition. From this they grow up preferring wrong to right; or, rather, practising the wrong quite as commonly as the right, from an absolute incapacity to perceive the difference between them. SENSE OF SMELL IN ANIMALS. AUDUBON Concealed the carcase of a hog, deep ravine in one of the southern states of in the month of July, at the bottom of a America, where corruption is almost instantaneous; several vultures passed over the spot without perceiving it, although the effluvium was so strong, that Audubon found it unbearable at a distance of forty yards; but the dogs soon winded it, and consumed a great portion of the flesh. Dogs, like pigs, scent truffles in the earth, had them mixed in their food, seek for and such as know their taste, from having them and scratch them up with avidity. Cats are attracted by the smell of valerian, and rats by essential oil, particularly by rhodium. Animals in general perceive their most dangerous enemies by the smell, and thus a fox will not go near its earth for many days if a terrier has been in it. by their lambs, which run hither and thiSheep, when fresh shorn, are not recognized ther, attracted by the well-known bleat, in confusion at not seeing the accustomed form till they identify it by the smell. Bloodhounds, if put on a scent, will follow it with unerring certainty; if of a man, through the crowd and confusion of a market town; and if of an animal, particularly may have taken shelter, without being a wounded one, into the herd in which it baffled by the scent of the surrounding beasts. The Lapwing (Vanellus cristatus). Is a bird whose history is fraught with interest, whether we regard its form, its habits, or its economy. It is a handsome bird; the general colour being black on the back, richly glossed with green and brown metallic reflections; the under parts are white, and a small and elegant crest depends from the back part of the head. It has great power of wing, and runs with amazing celerity; even the young, as soon as they quit the shell, being exceedingly difficult to run down. The first warm shower after the winter's frost brings up the earthworms in large numbers to the surface of the pasture lands, and the peewits and golden plovers which have passed the winter by the seaside, and at unfrozen swamps, return in vast numbers to the marshes. Here they may be seen busily running along the grass, with quick and vigilant motions. They are, however, very transient visitors at any particular spot; a district that has swarmed with them one day, being quite destitute of them the next. The whole tribe of vermivorous birds are furnished with a beautiful provision for securing their prey. The roof of the mandible is furnished with a series of sharp projections disposed at a slight angle towards the mouth, by which the egress of the slippery prey is effectually prevented. At this season of the year vast numbers of these birds are captured in nets, principally by means of "stale" or stuffed birds. They may, however, be brought down by a skilful imitation of their voice, when, as they generally fly in tolerably compact bodies, great execution is done amongst them with the gun. It is, however, during the period of incubation that these birds are principally interesting. They build in large communities, generally in some swamp in the marshes, or in the boggy ground in some rugged upland. Their nests are built on the hillocks that abound in those spots, and the eggs, four in number, are in "a regular quatrefoil, or cross." The eggs are much sought after, and numbers are sold in London under the name of "plovers' eggs." So numerous are the nests in some districts, that the writer has known as many as sixteen or seventeen dozen eggs collected in one morning by a couple of boys in a small swamp. As soon as an intruder enters the swamp, the parent birds rise in a body, and commence a series of the most interesting actions. They begin by wheeling around his head, uttering faint cries like the "mew" of a young kitten, followed by their well-known note of "pee-wit," the first note being uttered very slowly. As soon as they have obtained a certain altitude, they fall as if wounded, descending nearly to the ground. The nearer one approaches their nest, the more clamorous do they grow. If a dog be with the spectator, their movements are still more remarkable. They flutter and tumble along the ground as if "wing-broken," and generally manage to lead the intruder a dance over the morass, till he be at a sufficient distance from the nest, when they mount on the wing and fly off, leaving him gazing in astonishment. There is a statement made about the Lapwing striking the ground with its feet, to bring the worms to the surface; but though related by some of the first writers on natural history, it is open to great suspicion. These birds are frequently kept in private gardens, where they are highly serviceable, destroying the insects and worms injurious to vegetation. Their beauty renders them great favourites, and they sometimes become so far domesticated, as to take up their station by the kitchen fire, living on terms of familiarity with the dog and cat. NEW SPECIES OF SILKWORM. Captain Hutton, in the Universal Review for October, relates the discovery of a new species of Silkworm, whose hardiness of constitution (able as it is to resist frost and damage, either in the egg or worm state, and in the open air,) might make it a profitable and practicable thing for us to grow our own silk, either in England, or in the higher regions of Hindostan.-Times, Oct. 1859. BIRMINGHAM NOTES. October 17. Wild Geese in two separate flocks, flying very low, in a wedge-shape, passed over our town, their noise was distinctly heard; there must have been about 80 or 100 in number. They are always considered harbingers of severe weather. On the 21st we had our first fall of snow, and the intense cold and violent storms would seem to justify the belief. Proofs of the unusual cold were given by the fact, that several coveys of partridges were met with in the towns of Newcastle and Shields, and the nearer approach of the small birds to our dwellings. October 19. Upwards of twenty healthy chrysalids of the Death's Head Hawk Moth (Acherontia Atropos), were exhibited at the Birmingham Natural History Association, all obtained in Worcestershire. Can any reader testify to the hybernization of this moth ? November 6, a solitary Heron flew over the town, doubtless, on its way to the heronry at Warwick Castle. Gold Crests are very numerous in this locality, and the arrival of the Fieldfare was noticed at the above date. A beautiful specimen of White's Thrush has been obtained by Mr. Tomes, near Stratford-onAvon. For a most interesting account of this rare bird, we refer our readers to No. 4 of that valuable work now publishing, the Ibis, by Sclater.G. R. T. BLOOD SPOTS IN BREAD. The red stains which exceptionally appear in bread long exposed to a humid atmosphere, were regarded by the superstitious of the middle ages, as spots of blood. Their presence in consecrated bread has more than once given rise to bloody persecutions of heretics, to whom it was imputed that they had thus chosen to desecrate and insult the sanctuary. Ehrenberg first scientifically examined these spots at Berlin. The red globules which he saw, he proclaimed to be monads, and he named them in his infusorial system monas prodigiosa. These monads of Ehrenberg more perfect microscopic investigations have announced to be vegetable cells. M. Schieff, of Berlin, after several failures in attempting to produce these quasi blood spots, by exposing bread to the humidity of the atmosphere, has succeeded in the air of Paris, during the rainy latter days of August. The patches were developed both in the exterior and in the interior. He has submitted them to careful miscroscopic examination. He finds the masses to be composed of round or oval vegetable globules, more or less altered in shape, by pressure, of brightened colour, like blood-globules, with a thin colourless, or faintly green envelope. They have all the character of the confervoid growths, and the filamentous developments are complex, and well seen. Thus science solves a spurious miracle by demonstrating a veritable wonder. We need not cease to admire, because we begin to understand. This confervoid growth is to the full as demonstrative of creative power as the priestly juggle of colour which has been cailed a miracle. Nos admirarum sed non cum deside vulgo.-Lancet. BRUTE INSTINCT AND HUMAN WIT. Dr. Hooker, in describing the ascent of the Himalayas, says, "that the natives, in making their paths, despise all zigzags (like the ancient Romans, by the way), and run straight lines up the steepest hill faces; while 'the elephant's path is an excellent specimen of engineering-the opposite of the native track-for it winds judiciously." CEYLON INSECTS. 333 Owing to the combination of heat, moisture, and vegetation, there are myriads of insects in Ceylon. There are "walking leaves," those which lay eggs like seeds; "walking-sticks," which attain the length of several inches, Ants of all kinds and capacities, swarm in overwhelming numbers, consuming everything which comes in their way, from the contents of your cupboard up to kyanized timber. They clear your portmanteaus, tunnel through your rows of books, and, as they never sleep, achieve extraordinary results in a single night. Ticks lie in wait for you in the jungle, and treat you as their natural burrowingground.-Tennent's Ceylon. THE SALAMANDER. The menagerie of the Jardin des Plantes has just been enriched by the reception of a fine specimen of the Salamandra Maxima, or large salamander of Japan. This reptile has been sent by M. de Codrika, French Consul-General in the Dutch East Indian colonies, as a present from M. Pompe Van Meedervoot, Physician to the Dutch Government at Japan. Up to the present time, there have been only two living specimens in Europe; one at Leyden, and the other at Amster. dam. This salamander, which has only been known to Europeans since the tour of discovery made in Japan, by M. de Siebold, lives in the mountain valleys of the Isle of Niphon, between the 34th and 36th degrees of N. latitude. It resides in the rivulets and lakes formed by the rains, at a height of from 4,000 to 5,000 feet above the level of the sea. This reptile arrived in Paris from Batavia, after a voyage of two months; and, although it suffered alittle during the passage, it appears now in excellent health. It is about twenty-seven and a half inches in length, and, when full-grown, will be about three feet.-Medical Times. ECCENTRIC BIRDS. At a meeting of the Zoological Society, held on the 22nd of November, 1859, Dr. Hamilton exhibited some specimens of young pheasants, in which several peculiarities were observed. These |