he makes is to open and shut his upper shell. There are not many towns in England in which oysters are not a common article of sale, and in London the day in which they begin to be in season is quite a holiday to the children in the streets you can scarcely go down any street without seeing a pile of them built up in the form of a little grotto, with sometimes a lighted candle in it; and one of the boys who has been so clever as to build up the oyster shells is sure to accost you with "Pray remember the grotto!" We can well imagine what a number of men must be employed to procure all the oysters sold in London and elsewhere. But we may often be inclined to wonder where all these oysters come from, and how it is that we can get so many, year after year, without using up the whole stock. There are, as we have said, vast beds in various parts of our coast, and it is calculated that one oyster contains 1,200,000 eggs; so that a single oyster might furnish enough to fill 12,000 barrels.

If you were to be told of rare kinds of fishes and shells of uncommon beauty, you might be inclined to think that these were indeed treasures, but you would scarcely think that fish sold at three or four for a penny deserved the name. But the riches of the sea, like the riches of the land, are really made up of its most common productions. The most delicate and costly shell has been procured, probably, by the labour of two or three men, and but one can enjoy it; but those common fish which, like herrings, sprats, and pilchards, are sold for a mere trifle in every town in our land, furnish the means of living to thousands of fishermen, and form part of the food of tens of thousands both of rich and poor.

The Dutch are so well aware that the wealth of their country is owing, in great measure, to their herring-fisheries,

that it is a common saying among them, that Amsterdam, their principal town, is built upon herring-bones.

Herrings, like many other fish, live during a great part of the year in the deep water, where the fishermen cannot get at them; but at certain seasons of the year they come near the shore in astonishing numbers.. Between 300,000 or 400,000 barrels of herrings are sometimes cured in a single year in Great Britain alone, besides those which are sold while fresh; and 10,000 hogsheads of pilchards have been taken on shore in one port in a single day.

Mackerel are caught in the same way, and also in very large quantities; and in some parts of England the season of mackerel fishing is looked forward to by the inhabitants as the harvest of their year.

The fisheries of cod, salmon, and many other fish, are a source of wealth in various ways to hundreds and thousands of men. To describe them would require a volume, but we must not omit to mention the largest of all the inhabitants of the sea, the whale, which is also one of the most valuable from it we get sperm oil and whalebone. Whales are caught in the icy seas of the north and south, and the capture of them is a work of considerable danger.

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Whales are not really fish; in some ways they are like fish, and in some ways like beasts.

They suckle their young, and therefore belong to the order of animals called mammals. Porpoises, which are often found in the seas around England, belong to this class.

Herrings, like many other fish, live during a great part of the year in the deep water, where the fishermen cannot get at them; but at certain seasons of the year they come near the shore in astonishing numbers.

All the day long in the corn-field so weary,
Father has toiled in the heat of the sun;
Now the great bell from the farmyard rings cheery,
Telling the time of his labour is done.

Far in the west streaks of crimson are shining,
Where the last sunbeam is just out of sight,
Slowly and brightly, I watched it declining,

Through the old elm-tree, all golden with light.

Soon will the night come, the darkness will gather
Over the fields, and the trees, and the leaves;
And the round moon will shine brightly where father
Reaped down the harvest, and bound the brown sheaves.

Beasts have lain down where the bright dew-drops glisten,
Birds have gone home to their roosts long ago;
Only the bat brushes by as I listen,

Or the black-beetle hums drowsy and slow.

Lay the white cloth for his coming, dear mother,
Set out his chair where he likes it to be;
Close at his side you shall stand, little brother;
Baby shall sit like a queen on his knee.

From the hard hand that has laboured so truly,
Toiling and straining that we might have bread
We'll take the sickle that did its work daily,

Leave it to-night with the spade in the shed.

We'll hang around him with smiles and caresses,
Make him forget, as we climb on his chair,
Toil that has wearied and care that oppresses,
All but his home and his little ones there.

From the hard hand that has laboured so truly,
Toiling and straining that we might have bread;
We'll take the sickle, that did its work daily,
Leave it to-night with the spade in the shed.

Willie's father was a builder, and one day he gave his little boy permission to go with him to a piece of ground, on which a house was to be begun that very day. Here they found the workmen busy with large heaps of stones and bricks and lime. Willie's first question was, "Where do they all come from ?"

Father. The stones and lime were brought from quarries, which are deep pits. The bricks are made of clay, baked in a brick-kiln.

Willie. Why is that man pouring water on the lime? It smokes as if it were on fire.

Father. Yes; he is preparing the lime for mortar. The

other man is mixing sand and water with lime into a paste; that is the way to make mortar.

While his father was busy, Willie walked up to some masons, who were at work with hammers and chisels, chipping stones; and after looking at them for a little while, he saw they were doing this to make them the right shape. Presently he asked

"Do you dress all the stones used in this way ?

Mason. No; only those which are to be placed at the corners and the doors.

Willie. Are the small pieces of any use?

Mason. Some of them are used to fit the large stones firmly into their places; but many of them are useless. Willie went back to his father again.

Willie. Why are those men digging, papa?

Father. They are making the foundation. If the loose earth were not taken away, the foundation would not be secure, and the walls would not stand well. They are going now to lay the stones; watch them for a little.

Willie watched, and saw how carefully they fitted in the stones, leaving a space on one side for a door. Then he wanted to know the name of the masons' tool for spreading mortar.

Father. That is a trowel. The mortar is used to fasten the stones together. It is quite soft now, but soon it will become as hard as the stones.

Willie. Do all the men take a part in building the walls? Father. No, Willie, a great deal of time would be lost if every mason had to fetch stones and mortar for himself; so a number of men, called labourers, bring them stones and mortar, to save their time and strength for their own work.