Or dash it through the dusty trees,
Like driving summer rain.

O, blessed be the Croton !

It gives us endless fun,

To make it jump and splash about,
And sparkle in the sun.

And the fountains, in their beauty,
It glads our hearts to see-
Ever springing up to heaven,
So gracefully and free.

Fast fall their sparkling diamonds,
Beneath the sun's bright glance,

And like attendant fairies,

The brilliant rainbows dance.

White and pure their feathery foam,
Under the moon's mild ray,

While twinkling stars look brightly down
Upon their ceaseless play.

XXX. THE VULTURE OF THE ALPS.

IN the mountainous parts of Switzerland there are found birds of prey of the vulture species, called lammer-geiers,* which grow to great size, and are very strong and fierce. They were formerly more numerous than they are now. They are able to take up in their claws and carry off a well-grown lamb or kid; and some of them can do the same with a sheep or goat. One of them once snatched up a butcher's dog, and conveyed it to a lofty rock, where it quietly devoured it. As a peasant † was once driving his beasts to water, one of these birds pounced suddenly upon a goat. The man seized a cudgel, and attacked the robber, endeavoring to rescue his prey from him. A single combat ensued, in which the bird, turning sharply round, beat its antagonist so severely with its wings, that he was obliged to run away, and the victorious vulture bore off its trembling victim.

He

The vulture is not always successful in securing its prey, and one of them was once vanquished in its own element. seized upon a fox, and carried it off into the air. The fox, however, stretching out its head, succeeded in seizing his captor by the throat, and biting it through. The vulture fell dead to the earth; and Master Renard went home, well satisfied with his exploit, and no doubt remembered for the rest of his life his journey through the air. If he could have told his story to his brother foxes, what a hero he would have been!

These ferocious birds have occasionally seized upon children. Once, a child of three years old had been taken by her parents to a haymaking in the mountain, and set down on the ground, close to a shed. The child soon fell asleep, and, covering her face with a large straw hat, the father went to his work. When he shortly afterwards returned with a bundle of hay,

* Lammer-geier, literally, a vulture of the lambs. The g in this word is pronounced hard, and the ei like i.

Peasant, a laboring man living in the country.

the little girl was nowhere to be found. Long and vainly he searched for her; but meanwhile a peasant was proceeding by a lonely path on the mountain, when suddenly he heard the cry of a child. Following the direction of the sound, he perceived a vulture take flight from a neighboring eminence, and hang for some time over the abyss. He hastened to the spot, and found the child on the extreme edge of the precipice. Only her left arm and hand, by which she had been seized, were injured; but she had lost cap, shoes, and stockings in her passage through the air. She lived to an advanced age; and her story is recorded in the church register of the village where she lived.

A peasant boy, only eight years of age, was once engaged in looking after some cattle, in a pasture among the mountains. He lived in a solitary hut, and was the only person in it, as the Swiss train their children very early to this occupation. He perceived two young vultures at no great distance, on the ledge of a low rock. Tempted by the prize, he drew silently close behind the rock, and suddenly grasping them in his arms, took possession of both birds, in spite of the most determined resistance.

He was yet struggling with his prey, when, hearing a great noise, he saw, to his no little terror, the two old birds flying rapidly towards him. He ran with all his speed to the hut, and closed the door just in time to shut out his pursuers. The boy afterwards spoke of the terror he suffered during the whole day, in his lonely dwelling, lest the old vultures should force an entrance; as, being powerful birds, they would in their fury have ended his life. They kept up the most frightful cries, and strove with all their might to break down the barriers of the frail hut, which was loosely built of single logs, and find some way to rescue their offspring. But the young peasant kept his prey, being well aware of its value; the government paying about four dollars and a half for every vulture

killed.

As night approached, he saw his pursuers, tired with their

useless efforts, leave the hut, and watched their flight to the lofty, though not distant precipice; and as soon as the darkness had set in, he again grasped the two young birds in his arms, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him down the mountain, to the nearest village; often looking back, lest the parent birds should have seen him, and fancying he heard their cries at every interval. He arrived in safety, however, at the hamlet,* not a little proud of his prize.

XXXI.-THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.

ROSCOE.

COME take up your hats, and away let us haste
To the butterfly's ball and the grasshopper's feast;
The trumpeter gadfly has summoned the crew,
And the revels are now only waiting for you.

On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood,
Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,
See the children of earth and the tenants of air
For an evening's amusement together repair.

And there came the beetle, so blind and so black,
Who carried the emmet, his friend, on his back;
And there was the gnat, and the dragonfly too,
With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.

And there came the moth, in his plumage of down,
And the hornet, with jacket of yellow and brown,
Who with him the wasp, his companion, did bring;
But they promised that evening to lay by their sting.

And the sly little dormouse crept out of his hole,
And led to the feast his blind brother the mole;

And the snail, with his horns peeping out from his shell,
Came from a great distance the length of an ell.

* Hamlet, a small village.

A mushroom their table, and on it was laid
A water-dock leaf, which a table cloth made;
The viands were various, to each of their taste,
And the bee brought his honey to crown the repast.

There, close on his haunches, so solemn and wise,
The frog from a corner looked up to the skies;
And the squirrel, well pleased such diversion to see,
Sat cracking his nuts overhead in the tree.

Then out came the spider, with fingers so fine,
To show his dexterity on the tight line;

From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung,
Then as quick as an arrow he darted along.

But just in the middle, O, shocking to tell!
From his rope in an instant poor Harlequin † fell;
Yet he touched not the ground, but with talons outspread,
Hung suspended in air at the end of a thread.

Then the grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring;
Very long was his leg, though but short was his wing;
He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight,
Then chirped his own praises the rest of the night.

With step so majestic the snail did advance,

And promised the gazers a minuet to dance;

But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head,
And went to his own little chamber to bed.

Then as evening gave way to the shadows of night,
Their watchman, the glowworm, came out with his light;
Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see,
For no watchman is waiting for you and for me

*Viands, any thing to eat.

† Harlequin, a character in a play, who is very active, and leaps about.