There are several species of warblers which are very skilful in the formation of their nests, but we do not recollect to have met with anything more remarkable in this way than the nest of a species of grosbeak found in one of the Asiatic islands.
Nest of the Grosbeak.
It is shaped somewhat like an inverted bottle, with a long neck, through which the bird passes up to the snug and downy little chamber above. The nest consists of soft vegetable substances, basketed and sewed together in a very wonderful manner. But the strangest part of the story is to come—the whole is suspended on the leaf of a plant! How the bird could have built the nest in this position, it is not easy to say, but we have many evidences that instinct makes that easy to birds, which is difficult to the industry and ingenuity of mankind.
The Secret.—“Mother,” said a girl of ten years of age, “I want to know the secret of your going away alone every night and morning.” “Why, my dear?” “Because it must be to see some one you love very much.” “And what leads you to think so?” “Because I have always noticed that when you come back you appear to be more happy than usual.” “Well, suppose I do go to see a friend I love very much, and that after seeing him, and conversing with him, I am more happy than before, why should you wish to know anything about it?” “Because I wish to do as you do, that I may be happy also.”
“Well, my child, when I leave you in the morning and the evening, it is to commune with my Savior. I go to pray to him—I ask him for his grace to make me happy and holy—I ask him to assist me in all the duties of the day, and especially to keep me from committing any sin against him—and above all I ask him to have mercy on you, and save you from the misery of those who sin against him.” “Oh, that is the secret,” said the child; “then I must go with you.”
The Logue Family.—The crier of a country court was upon a certain occasion required to go to the court-house door, and, as is usual in the absence of a witness, call out for Philip Logue, one of the sons of Erin, who was summoned in a case then pending. The man of the baton accordingly, stepping to the door, sung out at the top of his voice, “Philip Logue!” A wag of a lawyer happening to be passing the door at the time, whispered in his ear, “Epilogue, also.” “Epi Logue!” sung out the crier. “Decalogue,” said the lawyer in an under tone. “Dekky Logue!” again sung out the crier at the top of his voice. “Apologue,” whispered the lawyer. “Appy Logue!” reiterated the crier, at the same time expostulating with the lawyer—“You certainly want the whole family of the Logues!” “Prologue,” said the persevering lawyer. “Pro Logue!” rung through the halls of the court-house, from the stentorian lungs of the public crier, attracting the attention of everybody, and shocking the dignitaries on the bench themselves, who, not understanding the cause of his vociferousness, despatched the sheriff, with all haste, to stop the constable from further summoning the family of the Logues.