I have not told you that at first there had been some jealousy among the other birds on account of the superior beauty of the Bluebird's nest. When the Robins and the Bob-o-link family saw what an elegant carpet the nest boasted, they supposed Mrs. Bluebird would put on airs, and try to set herself up above the rest of them. But, on the contrary, she and her husband had always shown themselves so friendly and obliging that all this feeling had worn off, and nobody remembered whether their house was any better than anybody's else. I am sorry to say, however, that all the young Bluebirds had not inherited their parents simplicity and unpretending manners. Masters Tommy and Dicky Bluebird, to be sure, were as good-natured and simple-hearted as any birds need be; but Miss Phoebe, the younger sister, was not like them in that respect. Ever since she had discovered, in her little hops and flights about the trees in the neighbourhood, that her father's nest had a blue silk lining, she had tossed her little bill rather higher, and had refused several times to speak cordially to old friends of the family, who wore plain clothes, or did not live in desirable places. Her father and mother saw all this with grief; but affected not to notice it, hoping in time she would learn to be ashamed of such feelings.

One day in June, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird took a little journey to visit some old friends whom they had not seen since their marriage. The three young ones were left at home; and were told that they might fly down and get their dinners when they were hungry. Accordingly when the sun was in the middle of the sky, they flew down out of the nest. As soon as they alighted on the ground, they were surrounded by their neighbours, both old and young birds, who were hopping about, picking up their noon-day meal, and singing and chatting together. Tommy and Dicky joined heartily in the friendly greetings; but Phoebe stuck her bill in the air with a contemptuous expression, held herself aloof, and made herself

so disagreeable generally, that after a little while everybody ceased to make advances to her. Without being aware of it, she wandered away some distance from home, and found herself near the foot of a tree, where a very happy family of plainly-dressed birds were regaling themselves on a raspberry bush which hung thick with berries. They called on her very pleasantly to join them; but, when she saw how plainly they were clothed, she hardly answered their kind invitation. There is a proverb about pride that goeth before a fall, and Miss Phoebe found it fufilled in this case. Hardly had she passed the tree under which they were gathered, than a storm which had been approaching burst over her head. The rain came down in torrents, the lightning blinded her, and she was on the point of sinking down to die, when she heard the pitying voice of one of the bird family whom she had just passed, begging her to seek shelter in their nest till the storm was over. Very gladly she accepted this offer, though she had barely strength to reach the offered shelter. There, protected from the storm by the thick leaves, the birds wet feathers, and showed her such melted her silly little proud heart. Their nest was of the very plainest, without carpet, or down for lining, and their dresses of simplest brown. But after the rain was over, and the sun broke out, the father bird perched on the tree-branch, and burst out into such wonderful singing as Phoebe had never heard before. Not even her father could sing like that.

gently brushed her kindness as quite

That night, when she had returned home to her parent-nest, and was cosily tucked under her mother's warm wings, she told all her day's adventures, and confessed her foolish pride.

Her mother listened, and then said gently :

"The family you have met is the Thrush family, whose acquaintance is an honour to any bird. To be sure they have not as fine a nest as ours; but remember it was only

an accident which made ours so luxurious. And as to dress, my dear child, remember, as long as you live, that fine feathers do not make fine birds. ABBY SAGE.

ENIGMA XXIX.

What river's that, and where's it found
Which Pope says does with eels abound?
What Scottish lake, by high hills bounded
Is too with birch and oak surrounded?
What stream in Devon's said to run
Into the sea near Otterton?

And tell what bay, on Cuba's coast,
Is justly deem'd its pride and boast?
These sev'ral names will bring to view,
A Scotch reformer bold and true,
Who died in fifteen seventy-two.

KEY TO ENIGMA No. 27.

Pethor.

U r.
Lebanon.

Thyatira.

O phir.

W aldenses.

A malak.

Making the enigmatical word Pultowa. The following correspondents have answered correctly:-W. Brass, Bath; D. E. Carr, Felkington; J. T. S. King, Bottesford; II. Eggleshaw, Selston; A. Wigham, Langley; A. Bellingham, Hereford; F. Fullerton, Wooler; S. A. Wagstaff, Chesterfield; E. Smith, Bath; L. Brass, Bath; E. Carter, Bedford; and S. Harwood, Shutford.

THE OX.

THE Ruminantia, or animals that chew the cud, include the ox, sheep, and goats, deer, giraffe, and camels. They have a peculiar construction of stomach, which receives the fresh-gathered food, retains it for some hours, and then passes it back into the mouth to be re-masticated.

The Ox is spread widely over the earth, scarcely any country being without its peculiar breed. In this country, where it is our most useful domesticated animal, there are nearly as many breeds as counties, generally distinguished by the length or shape of their horns. There is the "longhorned breed" from Lancashire, the "short-horned " from Durham, the "middle-horned" from Devonshire, and the "polled," or hornless, breed. Each of these breeds has its particular value: some fatten easily, and are kept especially for the butcher; others give milk, and are valuable for the dairy. The best dairy cow is the Alderney, a small short-horned animal, furnishing exceedingly rich milk.

In some parts of England oxen are used to draw waggons, or to drag the plough. They are not so strong as horses, and their movements are much slower.

Formerly, the cruel sport of bull-baiting was much practised in England, and bull-rings, that is, large iron rings firmly fixed in the ground, may be seen in the market-place of many towns. The poor bull was fastened to the ring by a strong rope, and mangled by the repeated attacks of large and fierce dogs. Sometimes the rope did not prove strong enough to restrain his frantic struggles, and the tortured animal chased and scattered the terrified spectators. In Spain, bull-baiting is a very popular sport. The Spaniards do not confine the animal with a rope, but turn him loose into a large arena, where several men, armed with spears and darts, first goad him into madness, and then slaughter him. The death of the bull is, how