AN APPLE SONG.
he Autumn sunshine falls so warm,
So warm in the orchard green,
A golden tent is the apple-tree;
And under the leafy screen
Sits Rex, in the curve of a mossy bough,
As high as he can go,
Dropping the apples red and brown
To his Cousin Prue below.
Sweet Prue, knee-deep in the cool green grass,
Spreads wide her pinafore,
The ripe fruit falls in a golden rain,
By two, by three, by four;
With watchful eye and ready hand
She lets no apple fall—
As fast as Rex can throw them down
She catches one and all.
The blackbird on the topmost bough
Is singing loud and clear,
The children shouting at their task
It does him good to hear.
He watches them with his bead-black eyes,
And blither still he sings;
But clearer than dear blackbird's note
The children's laughter rings.
MORNINGS AT THE ZOO.
VIII.—IN THE FISH-HOUSE.
Of the Fish-house at the London Zoological Gardens it must be said that its contents are decidedly "mixed," for it is the home not only of a few specimens of the finny tribe, but also of some wading and diving birds, of a very curious amphibian, of a few shrimps, and of several of the beautiful flower-like sea-anemones. The collection, however, loses nothing in point of interest because of its varied character, and will repay a good deal more study than it seems to receive from visitors.
Some of the fishes are as common as the schoolboy's familiar friend, the minnow. Others, like the cat-fish and sea-horse, are rare—in England, at any rate. Then there are kinds known to every lover of angling, such as the perch an pike. Seldom has a popular name been so aptly bestowed as in the case of the pretty little sea-horses. In the upper half of their wee bodies they have all the equine look and bearing, but in the lower half there is a great falling-off in the likeness, excepting that both animals have tails. But the tail of the sea-horse is a most useful appendage. The tiny creature can twine it round marine weeds and vegetables, and by this means drifts along with the current into far distant seas and strange climes. To this cause the occasional discovery of foreigners upon British coasts has been ascribed. With regard to the name of the cat-fish, one must not be quite so particular. There is, on a cursory glance, enough of the appearance of pussy about the head of this curious animal to explain how the title came to be applied to it. It strikes one as being rather a morose and surly creature, an impression that is fully borne out when one learns that it will fight desperately when captured.