so much, that the desire to discover more of them was always uppermost in the people's minds. In reply to their inquiries, Flowing-Water one day said, with a sigh, “I know but of one other giant in this island, and he is a truant son of my own. His mother is not of the waterfamily, but the fire-spirits; and he has always taken to her relations more kindly than to mine." Watson inquired if he was a powerful workman. "Yes," said his father, "he

can do more than I and Wind together; but the difficulty is to clutch hold of and confine him, for he is just the reverse of Wind, he will work only when imprisoned. Then, he differs from both of us by being such an unconscionable eater; only he eats nothing but coals or wood, which he devours burning hot; and the more you give him the better he will work,-only, as I said before, he must be cooped well up, and you must see his prison walls are strong enough."-" But where can we find a prison large enough to enclose a giant?"-"As to that, keep your mind easy," replied Flowing-Water, "he can be squeezed into a very small compass; and the smaller the space in which you confine him, the harder he will work to get out, for he works only with a view to freedom; for he is as fond of liberty as Wind is.”

At length, Watson found this third giant,—but in a way and place he little expected. He was one day boiling water in a kettle on the fire, when suddenly the lid flew off, and a figure rose out of the kettle, and escaped through the chimney. This, Watson soon concluded to be the giant he was in quest of, and he thereupon began to consult with himself, and devise what was to be done to prevent his escape and bind him to his service. At length, he stumbled upon a large brass pot with a small aperture, which had been cast aside, and he thought if he tried

experiments with it, he would find a clue to help him out of his difficulty.

Accordingly, next day, the brass vessel was put on a fire, with water in it; and as soon as the water began to boil, Steam (for that was the young giant's name) slowly rose out of the boiling water, and tried to escape by the little door. It was not long before Watson, much meditating, perceived that if, by means of pipe, cylinder, and piston, which we have already described, he could catch him at the moment of escape, he would be his master. "We have you now!" shouted Watson, as the idea flashed upon him; "and we shall hold you fast." Steam, being thus fairly captured, soon came to terms with his master, and offered to do almost any sort of work to which he could be set. "Heat is my element," said he; “and if you but keep me scalding hot, I will do what you bid me. I will drive your mills, weave your webs, and do your carrying by land or water, with greater speed and deftness than either father or uncle, or both united." Nor was this an empty boast, but a sober promise, founded on the clearest estimate of his abilities, of the trustworthiness of which the prosperity, not of that colony alone, but every other, is this day witness.

By the help of Water, Wind, and Steam, man has been able to overcome many difficulties otherwise impossible, and the willingness with which they do his bidding is one of the many proofs of man's superiority, which, however, he can only maintain by consulting their mind as well as his own, and doing with them as they will do with him.

THE HORNED OWL.

IN the hollow tree, in the old grey tower,
The spectral Owl doth dwell;

Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,
But at dusk he 's abroad and well!

Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him,
All mock him outright by day;

But at night, when the woods grow still and dim,
The boldest will shrink away.

Oh! when the night falls, and roosts the fowl,
Then, then is the reign of the Horned Owl.

And the Owl hath a bride who is fond and bold,
And loveth the wood's deep gloom;

And with eyes like the shine of the moonstone cold,
She awaiteth her ghastly groom:

Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings,
As she waits in her tree so still,

But when her heart heareth his flapping wings
She hoots out her welcome shrill !

Oh! when the moon shines and dogs do howl,
Then, then is the reign of the Horned Owl.

Mourn not for the Owl, nor his gloomy plight!
The Owl hath his share of good,

If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight,
He is lord in the dark greenwood!
Nor lonely the bird nor his ghastly mate,

They are each unto each a pride;

Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate, Hath rent them from all beside !

So, when the night falls and dogs do howl,
Sing, Ho! for the reign of the Horned Owl!
We know not alway

Who are kings of day,

But the king of the night is the bold brown Owl!

A LESSON OF FAITH.

"SEE these little eggs of mine," said a Butterfly to a quiet Caterpillar, who was wriggling lumberingly along a cabbageleaf; "I don't know how long it will be before they come to life, and I feel very sick and poorly; and if I should die, who will take care of my baby butterflies? Will you, kind, mild, green Caterpillar? But you must mind what you give them to eat, Caterpillar !—they cannot, of course, live on your rough food. You must give them early dew, and honey from the flowers; and you must let them fly about only a little way at first; for, of course, one can't expect them to use their wings properly all at once. Dear me! it is a sad pity you cannot fly yourself. But I have no time to look for another nurse now; so you will do your best, I hope. Dear! dear! I cannot think what made me come and lay my eggs in a cabbage-leaf! what a place for young butterflies to be born upon! Still you will be kind, will you not, to the poor little ones? Here, take this gold-dust from my wings as a reward. Oh, how dizzy I am! Caterpillar, you will remember about the food".

And with these words the Butterfly closed her eyes and died; and the green Caterpillar, who had not had the opportunity of even saying Yes or No to the request, was left standing alone by the side of the Butterfly's eggs.

"A pretty nurse she has chosen, indeed, poor lady!" exclaimed she," and a pretty business she has left on my hands! Why, her senses must have left her, or she never would have asked a poor crawling creature like me to bring up her little dainty ones! Much they'll mind me, truly, when they feel the gay wings on their backs, and can fly away beyond my reach whenever they choose! Ah! how silly some people are, in spite of their painted clothes and the gold-dust on their wings."

However, the poor Butterfly was dead, and there lay the eggs on the cabbage-leaf; and the green Caterpillar had a kind heart; so she resolved to do her best. But she got no sleep that night, she was so very anxious. She made her back quite ache with walking all night long round her young charges, for fear any harm should befall them; and in the morning she says to herself—

"Two heads are better than one. I will consult some wise animal upon the matter, and get advice. How should a poor crawling creature like me know what to do without asking my betters ?"

But another difficulty remained-whom should the Caterpillar consult? And she thought, and thought, till, at last, she thought of the Lark; and she fancied, as he went up so high, and looked down upon so much, he must be very clever, and know a great deal; for to go up very high (which she could never do) was the Caterpillar's ideal of perfect glory.

Now, in the neighbouring corn-field there lived a Lark, and the Caterpillar sent a message to him, to beg him to come and talk to her; and when he came she told him all her difficulties, and asked him what she was to do to feed and rear such delicate little creatures.

"Perhaps you will be able to inquire and hear some