readily take to a plantation of tall trees, though it be close to a house; and this is commonly called a rookery. They will even fix their habitations on trees in the midst of towns.

F. I think a rookery is a sort of town itself.

Mr S. It is; a village in the air, peopled with numerous inhabitants; and nothing can be more amusing than to view them all in motion, flying to and fro, and busied in their several occupations. The spring is their busiest time. Early in the year they begin to repair their nests, or build new ones.

F. Do they all work together, or every one for itself? Mr S. Each pair, after they have coupled, builds its own nest; and, instead of helping, they are very apt to steal the materials from one another. If both birds gó out at once in search of sticks, they often find at their return the work all destroyed, and the materials carried off. However, I have met with a story which shows that they are not without some sense of the criminality of thieving. There was in a rookery a lazy pair of rooks, who never went out to get sticks for themselves, but made a practice of watching when their neighbours were abroad, and helping themselves from their nests. They had served most of the community in this manner, and by these means had just finished their own nest; when all the other rooks in a rage fell upon them at once, pulled their nest in pieces, beat them soundly, and drove them from their society.

F. But why do they live together, if they do not help one another?

Mr S. They probably receive pleasure from the company of their own kind, as men and various other creatures do. Then, though they do not assist one another in building, they are mutually serviceable in many ways. If a large bird of prey hovers about a rookery for the purpose of carrying off any of the young ones, they all unite to drive him away. And when they are feeding in a flock, several are placed as sentinels upon the trees all round, to give the alarm if any danger approaches.

F. Do rooks always keep to the same trees?

Mr S. Yes; they are much attached to them; and

when the trees happen to be cut down, they seem greatly distressed, and keep hovering about them as they are falling, and will scarcely desert them when they lie on the ground.

F. I suppose they feel as we should if our town was burned down, or overthrown by an earthquake.

Mr S. No doubt! the societies of animals greatly resemble those of men; and that of rooks is like those of men in a savage state, such as the communities of the North American Indians. It is a sort of league for mutual aid and defence, but in which every one is left to do as he pleases, without any obligation to employ himself for the whole body. Others unite in a manner resembling more civilized societies of men. This is the case with the beavers. They perform great public works by the united efforts of the whole community, such as damming up streams and constructing mounds for their habitations. As these are works of great art and labour, some of them probably act under the direction of others, and are compelled to work whether they will or not. Many curious stories are told to this purpose by those who have observed them in their remotest haunts, where they exercise their full sagacity.

F. But are they all true?

Mr S. That is more than I can answer for; yet what we certainly know of the economy of bees, may justify us in believing extraordinary things of the sagacity of animals. The society of bees goes further than that of beavers, and in some respects beyond most among men themselves. They not only inhabit a common dwelling, and perform great works in common, but they lay up a store of provision, which is the property of the whole community, and is not used except at certain seasons and under certain regulations. A bee-hive is a true image of a commonwealth, where no member acts for himself alone, but for the whole body. Evenings at Home.

"COME," said Robert to Frank, "there is Trusty lying beside the fire, asleep; let us go and waken him, and he

7

will play with us."—"O yes, do let us," said Frank. So they both ran together, towards the hearth, to waken the dog.

Now there was a basin of milk standing upon the hearth, and the little boys did not see whereabouts it stood. As they were both playing with the dog, they kicked it with their feet, and threw it down; and the basin broke, and all the milk ran out: and, when the little boys saw what they had done, they were very sorry and frightened. Robert spoke first. "So we shall have no milk for supper to-night," said he, and sighed." No milk for supper! why not," said Frank, "is there no milk in the house?"-" Yes; but we shall have none of it: for do not you remember, last Monday, when we threw down the milk, mother said we were very careless, and that the next time we did so we should have no milk for supper."- -" Well, then," said Frank, " we must do without it, that's all; we will take more care another time: come, let's run and tell mother. You know she bid us always tell her directly when we broke any thing.""I will come just now," said Robert, "don't be in such a hurry, Frank-can't you stay a minute?"-So Frank staid; and then he said, "Come now, Robert."-But Robert answered, " Stay a little longer, for I dare not go yet. I am afraid.”

Little boys, I advise you never be afraid to tell the truth; never say, 66 stay a minute," and "stay a little longer;" but run directly and tell of what you have done that is wrong. The longer you stay, the more afraid you will grow; till, at last, perhaps, you will not dare to tell the truth at all. Hear what happened to Robert. The longer he staid, the more unwilling he was to go to tell his mother that he had thrown the milk down; and at last Frank went without him in search of his mother.

Now, whilst Frank was gone, Robert was left in the room by himself; and all the while he was alone, he was thinking of some excuses to make to his mother. He said to himself, "If Frank and I both were to say that we did not throw down the basin, she would believe us, and we should have milk for supper! I am very sorry Frank would go to tell her about it." Just as he said this to

himself, he heard his mother coming down stairs. ho!" said he to himself, "and so Frank has not met her, and cannot have told her; so I may say what I please." Then this cowardly boy determined to tell his mother a lie. She came into the room; but when she saw the broken basin and the milk spilled, she stopped short, and cried, So, so, what a piece of work is here-who did this, Robert ?"- "I don't know, ma'am," said Robert, in a very low voice." You don't know, Robert !-tell me the truth-I shall not be angry with you-I would rather have you break all the basins I have, than to tell one lie ;-I ask you, Robert, did you break the basin ?" "No, ma'am, I did not," said Robert, and he coloured as red as fire." Then where's Frank ?-did he do it ?"

"No, mother, he did not," said Robert; for he was in hopes that when Frank came in, he should persuade him to say that he did not do it.- "How do you know," said his mother, "that Frank did not do it?"-" Because because-because, ma'am," said Robert, hesitating as liars do for an excuse, " because I was in the room all the time, and I did not see him do it."-" Then how was the basin thrown down? if you have been in the room all the time, you can tell." Then Robert, going on from one lie to another, answered, "I suppose the dog must have done it."- "Did you see him do it ?" said his mother." Yes," said this wicked boy. "Trusty, Trusty," said his mother, turning round, "Fie! fie! Trusty; get me a switch out of the garden, Robert; Trusty must be beat for this."-Robert ran for the switch, and in the garden he met his brother; he stopped him, and told him in a great hurry all that he had said to his mother, and begged of him not to tell the truth, but to say the same that he had done." No, I will not tell a lie," said Frank, "what! and is Trusty to be beat! He did not throw down the milk, and he shan't be beat for it. Let me go to my mother."-They both ran towards the house. Robert got first home, and he locked the house-door, that Frank might not come in. He gave the switch to his mother. Poor Trusty, he looked up as the switch was lifted over his head; but Just as the blow HE could not speak to tell the truth.

"Let us

was falling upon him, Frank's voice was heard at the window. 66 Stop, stop! dear mother, stop!" cried he, as loud as ever he could call, Trusty did not do it—I and Robert did it; but do not beat Robert."in, let us in," cried another voice, which Robert knew to be his father's voice; for his father always whipped him when he told a lie. His mother went to the door and unlocked it." What's all this?" cried his father as he came in; so his mother told him all that had happened. "Where is the switch with which you were going to beat Trusty?" said their father. Then Robert, who saw by his father's looks that he was going to beat him, fell upon his knees, and cried for mercy, saying, "Forgive me this time, and I will never tell a lie again.”—But his father caught hold of him by the arm; "I will whip you now," said he, " and then I hope you will not." So Robert was whipped till he cried so loud with the pain that the whole neighbourhood could hear him." There,” said his father, when he had done, " now, go without supper: you are to have no milk to-night, and you have been whipped. See how liars are served."

Then turn

ing to Frank, "Come here and shake hands with me, Frank you will have no milk for supper, but that does not signify; you have told the truth, and have not been whipped, and every body is pleased with you. And now

I'll tell you what I will do for you,-I will give you the little dog Trusty to be your own dog; you have saved him a beating, and I'll answer for it you'll be a good master to him. To-morrow I'll go to the brazier's and get a new collar made for him: from this day forward he shall be called after you, FRANK! And, wife, whenever any of the neighbours' children ask you why the dog TRUSTY is to be called FRANK, tell them this story of our two boys: let them know the difference between a liar and a boy of truth!" MISS EDGEWORTH.

A WALK IN THE COUNTRY.

"WELL, Robert, where have you been walking this afternoon?" said Mr Andrews to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday.