are now in their second childhood is regarded a burden too grevious to be borne, while all, of a similar character, extending through years of our own first childhood, is forgotten. How easily are past favors forgotten among us-but not among storks!

The stock is easily tamed; and though it has somewhat of a grave and even mournful visage, it is, nevertheless, a very friendly bird. It is neither shy nor savage, but mild and courteous in its disposition. It may be easily trained to reside in the yard or in the garden, which it keeps clear of insects and reptiles. In some countries they are a very favorite domestic fowl. "They are so common in Holland as to build anywhere on the tops of houses, where the inhabitants provide boxes for them to make their nests in, and are careful that the birds suffer no injury, always resenting this as an offence committed against themselves. Storks are also common at Aleppo, and in plenty at Seville, in Spain. At Bagdad hundreds are said to be seen about the houses, walls and trees.' As domestic fowls they are very fond of children, even joining in their childish frolics and imitating them. Dr. Herman tells us "that he saw a tame one in a garden where the children were playing at ‘hide-and-seek,' and that it ran its turn when it was touched, and so well distinguished the child whose turn it was to pursue the rest, as to be perfectly on its guard."

The stork is a migratory bird. Those in Europe and Asia, in autumn sail for Egypt, Lybia, the marshes of Barbary and the southern regions in general, where they bear a second brood, and enjoy a second summer. The mode of their flying is thus described by Milton:

"Part loosely wing the region, part, more wise,

In common. ranged in figure, wedge their way,
Inteligent of seasons, and set forth

Their airy caravan, high over seas

Flying, and over lands, with mutual wing
Easing their flight."

There is something peculiar in the mode of their setting out on their ærial journey. "For about the space of a fortnight before they pass from one country to another," says Dr. Shaw, "they constantly resort together, from all the adjacent parts, in a certain plain; and there forming themselves, once every day, into a dowwanne, or council, according to the phrase of these eastern nations, are said to determine the exact time of their departure, and the place of their future abodes." To this, Thompson, the poet of the Seasons, thus alludes:

"The stork assembly meets; for many a day
Consulting deep and various, ere they take
Their arduous voyage throuh the liquid sky.
And now their route design'd their leaders chose,

Their tribes adjusted, clean'd their vigorous wings,
And many a circle, many a short essay,
Wheel'd round, in congregation full

The figured flight ascends; and riding high

The ærial billows, mixes with the clouds."

This habit of the stork is a wonderful provision of a kind Providence, and is so alluded to by Pope

"Who bids the stork, Columbus-like, explore

Heavens not its own, and worlds unknown before;
Who calls the council, states the certain day,
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?"

When all the preliminaries are arranged they start away in the night. A certain writer (Bellonius,) says, that when they are preparing to start away the tardy stork that comes last to the place of general rendezvous is killed upon the spot as a warning to loiteres! They go away about the last of August, and return about the middle of March.

They are very sensitive, and easily anticipate the least change of the season which adumbrates the coming winter. This explains the allusion in Scripture

They know by mere instinct, even better than sinners with reason, when to move so as to escape approaching danger. "We have alreadie seene," says an old writer (Holinshed's Conquest of Ireland,) "the storks and swallows as also the summer birds are come, and with the westerlie winds are gone againe !" This promptness of the stork to migrate at the proper time has given rise in the East to some very pointed sayings, of which we may say again, "Men may be taught by looking at them." Roberts informs us that if a husband is fond of roving from his house, and remaining too long in other places, his wife says, "The storks know their time and place, but my husband does not know." Again: "In the rain neither roker nor other birds will depart from their nestlings; but my husband is always leaving us.' In regard to an unworthy son, the parent says, "Ah! my wicked son! would that he, as the stork, knew his appointed time and place!"

When they leave for warmer climates, they fly very high and very fast. This may explain the expression "the stork in the heaven." Also the allusion to the two mystical women in Zachariah v, 9, who "had wings like the wings of a stork."

Where they are in a tame state, as we have seen, they generally build upon the tops of houses. They also, in some places, build in the ruins of old walls or forsaken buildings, or deserted towers. A traveler tells us, that "at Persepolis, or Chilmanar, in Persia, the remains of the pillars serve them to build on, every pillar having a nest on it." In Palestine, however, where the roof of the houses were flat, they build their nests on light trees, and prefer the fir-tree.

This bird exercises great prudence in the selection of a place for its nest, and in its entire construction. Paxton says: "The stork chooses the site of her dwelling with much care and intelligence; she combines her materials with great art, and prosecutes her plan with surprising exactness. After the structure is finished, she examines it on all sides, tries its firmness and solidity, supplies any defect she may discover, and with admirable industry, reduces with his bill an unsightly projection, or ill-adjusted twig, till it perfectly corresponds with her instructive conception of safety, neatness, and comfort." When the nest is once finished, it is its home, not only for the whole season, or for a part of it, as is the case with most of birds, but year after year it returns to the nest, as to its house.

No doubt because of its many pious qualities the ancients associated the mystic with this bird. They were so much venerated by the ancient Thessalonians, that he who killed a stork, had to expiate the crime by his own death! The Mahommedans account it profane to kill, or even to molest a stork. And, among the Turks, those who own a house where storks have nested, are supposed to receive great blessings from heaven, and to be free from misfortune.

Here we must close. We have formed a kind of friendship with this bird, and our heart lingers as we are about to bid it adieu. We believe verily, they are true, those beautiful and peculiar words of Coleridge, in the Ancient Mariner :

RURAL SCENES AND PASTIMES AMONG THE GREEN MOUNTAINS.*

READER, if thou art, or ever hast been young, thou knowest well that rural scenes (providing thy taste hath not departed thee) are thy delight. If they be as thy dwelling place, thou dost rejoice in their serene presence, and dost feel within thee their mysterious power, although unable, perchance, to tell what that power is or whence it comes.

If, on the contrary, thy lot, like mine, be cast in some populous city, where the hum of voices but sadly mocks the whispering of leaves, and where the hoarse engine is a poor substitute for the whistling plover, to wake thee in the morning, how invariably dost thou show the instincts of thy nature in that eager relish of whatever art, with the assistance of nature, has made rural there in the way of gardens and parks.

-When I had written thus far upon this subject, selected with the hope of awakening in thee some pleasing fancies, which might lead thee to look more frequently upon the smiling face of nature with a kindred expression, who should come into my room but Yorick-this was his familiar name in other days-the cherished friend and schoolmate of my past delectable residence among the Green Mountains. His was an open heart that enjoyed the company of hills and groves as well as that of schoolmates; and I venture to say, there was not a flower that bloomed or a bird that sang for miles around that old plaster'dt school-house which he did not know and love. To him I appealed immediately, as a proper judge in the matter which was engrossing my mind. "Natie," said he, answering my appeal with a smile, "you know that my boyhood has been conversant with rustic fields; you know, that, in the spring-time of my life, I have read with you from groves and hills and running brooks the pastoral poesy of nature, and you know too that I can never forget the delightful emotions which were then awakened,

* This chain of mountains extends through the interior of Vermont, separating the valleys of the Connecticut River and Lake Champlain. They are clothed with perpetual verdure and hence have received their name, and given the same in French, to the state through which they run.

†This term is universally used, in Vermont, with nearly the same significance as rough-cast.

and which even now thrill in my bosom as I recall them. At present even I delight to read, in order to rejuvenize myself, "Ike Walton," and the "Brothers," that sad, but sweet pastoral of Wordsworth, and no longer ago than yesterday I read, under the spell of past recollections, the "Gentle Shepherd" of Ramsay, your especial delight, until I really sighed to return again to those rustic fields, those groves and running brooks where we once wandered together in our childhood, and felt those strong and lasting impressions which nature in her freedom then made upon our hearts."

Would that you could have heard him, after having concluded this warm testimony of gratitude to nature and the rustic muse, as with trembling voice, he repeated from Burns:

After this old familiar friend had left me, and before I ceased to hear the tap of his cane upon the stairs-(I forgot to mention before, that, through his passionate fondness for skating, he had brought upon himself a lameness, temporary I trust, and had used on this account for some time a cane, which in his strange conceits he was wont to call "my Uncle Toby;" before this accident he was as active as a roe)-I found myself in a mood of deep meditation. What lasting impressions, thought I, recalling the remarks of my friend, do rural scenes, and especially those whose prominent characteristics are mountains, make upon the young heart, and how little are the young themselves encouraged to cherish them or appreciate their worth. There are exceptions to this, I know, for I remember well how, every spring, Mother used to make a little wreath of willow leaves and flowers, those "weeds of glorious feature" and put it on the head of little Hellie, and tell her to love the flowers and trees, which in the spring-time clothe themselves with such beauty in praise of God. But, to continue my meditation, will not these scenes have a moulding influence in the formation of their character, which will make itself felt throughout their whole life? Can it be possible that the serenity which always pervades them, where every thing seems to be at peace with itself, will not at some time enter into the soul and awaken moral sensibilities there, especially if that soul has been trained in the "nurture and admonition of the Lord?" Cannot the emotions at least, which they awaken, be so sanctified to God as to become powerful motives to devotion? To the pure in heart, the voice of nature, as we penetrate into the solitudes, where she works in her own quietness and freedom, is the voice of God.