you from the world's report. You have got laurels; beware then of erring. In a word, deport yourself like the Bijou-the jewel-of the canary birds, as you certainly are."

All this time the bird seemed to listen, and, indeed, placed himself in the true attitude of attention, by sloping his head to the ear of the man, and then distinctly nodding twice when his master left off speaking; and if ever nods were intelligible and promissory, these were two of them.

"That's good," said the master, pulling off his hat to the bird. "Now, then, let us see if you are a canary of honor. Give us a tune." The canary sang.

"Pshaw! that's too harsh; 'tis the note of a raven, with a hoarseness upon him: something pathetic." The canary whistled as if his little throat was changed to a lute.

"Faster," says the man,-"slower-very well-what a plague is this foot about, and this little head? No wonder you are out, Mr. Bijou, when you forget your time. That's a jewel-bravo! bravo! my little man!”

All that he was ordered or reminded of did he do to admiration. His head and foot beat time-humored the variations both of tone and movement; and "the sound was a just echo of the sense," according to the strictest laws of poetical, and (as it ought to be) of musical composition.

“Bravo! bravo!" re-echoed from all parts of the dining-room. The musicians declared the canary was a greater master of music than any of their band.

"And do you not show your sense of this civility, sir?" cried the bird-catcher, with an angry air. The canary bowed most respectfully, to the great delight of the company.

His next achievement was going through the martial exercise with a straw gun, after which, "My poor Bijou," says the owner, "thou hast had hard work, and must be a little weary: a few performances more, and thou shalt repose. Show the ladies how to make a curtsey." The bird here crossed his taper legs, and sunk and rose with an ease and grace that would have put half our subscription assembly belles to the blush.

"That will do, my bird! and now a bow, head and foot corresponding." Here the striplings for ten miles round London might have blushed also.

"Let us finish with a hornpipe, my brave little fellow: that's itkeep it up, keep it up."

The activity, glee, spirit, and accuracy with which this last order was obeyed, wound up the applause (in which all the musicians joined, as well with their instruments as with their clappings) to the highest pitch of admiration. Bijou himself seemed to feel the sacred

thirst of fame, and shook his little plumes, and carolled an Io plan, that sounded like the conscious notes of victory.

"Thou hast done all my biddings bravely," said the master, caressing his feathered servant: "now, then, take a nap, while I take thy place."

Hereupon the canary went into a counterfeit slumber, so like the effect of the poppied god, first shutting one eye, then the other, then nodding, then dropping so much on one side, that the hands of several of the company were stretched out to save him from falling; and, just as those hands approached his feathers, suddenly recovering and dropping as much on the other. At length sleep seemed to fix him in a steady posture, whereupon the owner took him from his finger, and laid him flat on the table, where the man assured us he would remain in a good sound sleep while he himself had the honor to do his best to fill up the interval. Accordingly, after drinking a glass of wine, in the progress of taking which he was interrupted by the canary bird springing suddenly up to assert his right to a share, really putting his little bill into the glass, and then laying himself down to sleep again, the owner called him a saucy fellow, and began to show off his own independent powers of entertaining. The forte of these lay chiefly in balancing with a tobacco pipe, while he smoked with another; and several of the positions were so difficult to be preserved, yet maintained with such dexterity, that the general attention was fixed upon him.

While the little bird was thus exhibiting, a huge black cat, which had been no doubt on the watch from some unobserved corner, sprang upon the table, seized the poor canary in its mouth, and rushed out of the window in despite of all opposition. Though the dining-room was emptied in an instant, it was a vain pursuit; the life of the bird was gone, and its mangled body was brought in by the unfortunate owner in such dismay, accompanied by such looks and language, as must have awakened pity in a misanthrope. He spread himself half length over the table, and mourned his canary bird with the most undissembled sorrow.

"Well may I grieve for thee, my poor little thing!-well may I grieve! More than four years hast thou fed from my hand, drank from my lip, and slept in my bosom! I owe to thee my support, my health, my strength, and my happiness. Without thee, what will become of me? thou it was that didst insure my welcome into the best companies! It was thy genius only made me welcome! Thy death is a just punishment for my vanity: had I relied on thy happy powers all had been well, and thou hadst been perched on my finger, or lulled on my breast, at this moment! But, trusting to my own talents, and glorifying myself in them, a judgment has fallen upon

me, and thou art dead and mangled on this table! Oh, Bijou! my dearest, only Bijou! would I were dead also!"

As near as the spirit of his disordered mind can be transfused, such was the language and sentiment of the forlorn bird-catcher, whose despairing motion and frantic air no words can paint. He took from his pocket a little green bag of faded velvet, and drawing from out of it some wool and cotton, that were the wrapping of whistles, birdcalls, and other instruments of his trade, all of which he threw on the table "as in scorn," and, making a couch, placed the mutilated limbs and ravaged feathers of his canary upon it, and renewed his lamentations.

It is needless to observe that every one of the company sympathized with him; but none more so than the band of musicians, who, being engaged in a profession that naturally keeps the sensibilities more or less in exercise, felt the distress of the poor bird-man with peculiar force. It was really a banquet to see these people gathering themselves into a knot, and, after whispering, and wiping their eyes, depute one from amongst them to be the medium of conveying into the pocket of the bird-man the very contribution they had just before received for their own efforts.

Having wrapped up their contribution, they contrived to put it into the poor man's pocket. As soon as he became aware of what they had done, he took from his pocket the little parcel they had rolled up, and brought with it, by an unlucky accident, another little bag, at the sight of which he was extremely agitated, for it contained the canary seed, the food of the "dear lost companion of his heart."

There is no giving language to the effect of this trifling circumstance upon the poor fellow; he threw down the contribution money that he had brought from his pocket along with it, not with an ungrateful, but a desperate hand. He opened the bag, which was fastened with red tape, and taking out some of the seed, put it to the very bill of the lifeless bird, exclaiming, "No, poor Bijou! no; thou canst not peck any more out of this hand that has been thy feedingplace so many years-thou canst not remember how happy we both were when I bought this bag full for thee! Had it been filled with gold, thou hadst deserved it!"

It shall be filled-and with gold," said the master of the house, "if I could afford it."

The good man rose from his seat, which had been long uneasy to him, and, gently taking the bag, put into it some silver, saying, as he handed it to his nearest neighbor. "Who will refuse to follow my example? It is not a subscription for mere charity; it is a tribute to one of the rarest things in the whole world; namely, to real feeling, in this sophistical, pretending, parading age. If ever the passion of love and gratitude was in the heart of man, it is in the heart of that

unhappy fellow; and whether the object that calls out such feelings be bird, beast, fish, or man, it is alike virtue, and-ought to be rewarded." S. J. PRATT

CCXVI.-PICTURE WRITING.

IN those days said Hiawatha,

"Lo! how all things fade and perish!
From the memory of the old men
Pass away the great traditions,
The achievements of the warriors,
The adventures of the hunters,
All the wisdom of the Medas,
All the craft of the Wabenos,

All the marvelous dreams and visions
Of the Jossakeeds, the Prophets!
Great men die and are forgotten,

Wise men speak; their words of wisdom
Perish in the ears that hear them,
Do not reach the generations
That, as yet unborn, are waiting
In the great, mysterious darkness
Of the speechless days that shall be!

"On the grave-posts of our fathers
Are no signs, no figures painted;
Who are in those graves we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.
Of what kith they are and kindred,
From what old, ancestral Totem,
Be it Eagle, Bear, or Beaver,
They descended, this we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.
Face to face we speak together,
But we cannot speak when absent,
Cannot send our voices from us
To the friends that dwell afar off;
Cannot send a secret message,
But the bearer learns our secret,
May pervert it, may betray it,
May reveal it unto others."

Thus said Hiawatha, walking
In the solitary forest,

Pondering, musing in the forest,
On the welfare of his people.
From his pouch he took his colors,
Took his paints of different colors,
On the smooth bark of a birch tree
Painted many shapes and figures,
Wonderful and mystic figures,
And each figure had a meaning,
Each some word or thought suggested.

Gitche Manito the Mighty,

He, the Master of Life, was painted
As an egg, with points projecting
To the four winds of the heavens.
Everywhere is the Great Spirit,
Was the meaning of this symbol.

Mitche Manito the Mighty,
He the dreadful Spirit of Evil,
As a serpent was depicted,
As Kenabeek, the great serpent.
Very crafty, very cunning,
Is the creeping Spirit of Evil,
Was the meaning of this symbol.

Life and Death he drew as circles,
Life was white, but Death was darkened;
Sun and moon and stars he painted,
Man and beast, and fish and reptile,
Forests, mountains, lakes, and rivers.
For the earth he drew a straight line,
For the sky a bow above it;
White the space between for day time,
Filled with little stars for night time;
On the left a point for sunrise,
On the right a point for sunset,
On the top a point for noontide,
And for rain and cloudy weather
Waving lines descending from it.
Footprints pointing towards a wigwam
Were a sign of invitation,

Were a sign of guests assembling;
Bloody hands with palms uplifted

Were a symbol of destruction,
Were a hostile sign and symbol.