and loftier animal life, first clearly taught in the myth of Chiron, and in his bringing up of Jason, Esculapius, and Achilles, but most perfectly by Homer, in the fable of the horses of Achilles, and the part assigned to them, in relation to the death of his friend, and in prophecy of his own. There is, perhaps, in all the "Iliad," nothing more deep in significance there is nothing in all literature more perfect in human tenderness, and honor for the mystery of inferior life than the verses that describe the sorrow of the divine horses at the death of Patroclus, and the comfort given them by the greatest of gods. RUSKIN.

THE WAR HORSE.

Sir Robert Clayton, a British cavalry officer, says of some war horses which had been humanely turned out to perpetual pasture, that while the horses were grazing on one occasion, a violent thunderstorm arose; at once the animals fell into line and faced the blazing lightning under an impression that it was the flash of artillery and the fire of battle.

PEGASUS IN POUND.

Once into a quiet village,

Without haste and without heed,
In the golden prime of morning,
Strayed the poet's winged steed.

It was Autumn, and incessant

Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,

And, like living coals, the apples

Burned among the withering leaves.

Loud the clamorous bell was ringing
From its belfry gaunt and grim ;
'T was the daily call to labor,
Not a triumph meant for him.

Not the less he saw the landscape,
In its gleaming vapor veiled;
Not the less he breathed the odors
That the dying leaves exhaled.

Thus, upon

the village common,

By the school-boys he was found; And the wise men, in their wisdom, Put him straightway into pound.

Then the sombre village crier,
Ringing loud his brazen bell,

Wandered down the street proclaiming
There was an estray to sell.

And the curious country people,

and old,

Rich and poor, and young
Came in haste to see the wondrous

Winged steed with mane of gold.

Thus the day passed, and the evening with vapors cold and dim;

Fell,
But it brought no food nor shelter,

Brought no straw nor stall, for him.

Patiently, and still expectant,

Looked he through the wooden bars, Saw the moon rise o'er the landscape,

Saw the tranquil, patient stars;

Till at length the bell at midnight

Sounded from its dark abode,

And, from out a neighboring farm-yard,
Loud the cock Alectryon crowed.

Then, with nostrils wide distended,
Breaking from his iron chain,
And unfolding far his pinions,
To those stars he soared again.

On the morrow, when the village
Woke to all its toil and care,
Lo! the strange steed had departed,
And they knew not when nor where.

But they found, upon the greensward
Where his struggling hoofs had trod,
Pure and bright, a fountain flowing
From the hoof-marks in the sod.

From that hour, the fount unfailing
Gladdens the whole region round,
Strengthening all who drink its waters,
While it soothes them with its sound.

H. W. LONGFellow.

THE HORSE.

Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot, from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey; it is a theme as fluent as the sea ; turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all; 't is a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on;

and for the world (familiar to us and unknown), to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him. Henry V. Act 3, Sec. 7.

FROM "THE FORAY."

Our steeds are impatient! I hear my blithe Gray!
There is life in his hoof-clang, and hope in his neigh ;
Like the flash of a meteor, the glance of his mane
Shall marshal your march through the darkness and rain.
WALTER SCOTT.

ON LANDSEER'S PICTURE, "WAITING FOR

MASTER."

The proud steed bends his stately neck

And patient waits his master's word,
While Fido listens for his step,

Welcome, whenever heard.

King Charlie shakes his curly ears,
Secure his home, no harm he fears;

Above the peaceful pigeons coo

Their happy hymn, the long day through.

What means this scene of quiet joy,

This peaceful scene without alloy !

Kind words, kind care, and tender thought
This picture beautiful have wrought.

Its lesson tells of care for all

God's creatures, whether great or small,
And they who love "the least of these,"
Are sure a loving God to please.

Our Dumb Animals.

THE BIRDS.

THE WATERFOWL.

Whither, 'midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,

Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,
The desert and illimitable air,

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned,

At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere;
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end;

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Some o'er thy sheltered nest.