Three little stars in silent sky, Three little brooks, subdued and quiet, How calm and sacred seems this place, What peace sweet innocence doth bring, O Shepherd, from thy sun-lit home, Where lives that flock which ne'er can roam, BEZA. THE SATIN BOWER-BIRD. It is a singular thing to find a bird building a kind of playground, without reference to its nest, but merely for amusement. The Bower-bird has this curious habit. It builds a kind of bower of thin twigs, interwoven so as to meet above, forming a kind of tunnel. The entrance of this bower is decorated with any brilliant article that the bird can find, such as shells, bones, and feathers of several parrots, some feathers being stuck in among the twigs, and others strewn at the entrance. Mr. Gould, who first brought this curious bird before the public, says, "The propensity of these birds to pick up and fly off with any attractive object, is so well known to the natives (of Australia), that they always search the runs for any small missing article, as the bowl of a pipe, &c., that may have been accidentally dropped in the brush. I, myself, found at the entrance of one of these a small neatly worked stone tomahawk, of an inch and a half in length, together with some slips of blue cotton rags, which the birds had doubtless picked up at a deserted encampment of the natives. For what purpose these curious bowers are made, is not yet, perhaps, fully understood: they are certainly not used as a nest, but as a place of resort for many individuals of both sexes, which, when there assembled, run through and around the bower in a sportive and playful manner, and that so frequently, that it is seldom entirely deserted." LOUIS NAPOLEON'S ESCAPE FROM HAM. MANY years ago Louis Napoleon made a ridiculous attempt to seize the French throne. He tried to effect a landing at Boulogne, thinking that the appearance of the nephew of the first Napoleon would, by the mere magic of his name, arouse all France in his favour. He did land, but as a prisoner; and he was sent to the citadel of Ham, a strong French fortress. After his escape, detailed below, he found his way to England, and spent some years here as a refugee. On the breaking out of the French Revolution, in 1848, he returned to France, and was elected President of the Republic. In a short time he aspired to the throne; the days of the Republic were numbered; and, by a clever manœuvre called the coup d'état (pronounced koo' de eta), which means a stroke of policy, a violent measure of State in public affairs, he was proclaimed Emperor. On the whole his reign has been one of prosperity; and profiting by the errors of his uncle, he has lived on terms of amity with the English people. M. Vermorel has just published a book about the men of 1851. It contains a very curious letter, which, though not new, will be read with interest. It was addressed to the editor of the Progres du Pas de Calais by the present Emperor of the French, and gives an account of his escape from the fortress of Ham :-"My dear Monsieur Degeorge, -My desire to see my father once more before his death has led me to embark on the boldest adventure I ever attempted; one which taxed my courage and resolution far more than Boulogne and Strasburg, for I was determined not to subject myself to the ridicule which attaches to those who allow themselves to be captured in a costume not their own, and 1 could not have endured another failure. But here are the details of my escape. You know that the fortress is kept by a force of 400 men, who supplied a body guard.of 60 men who were stationed as sentries within and without the fortress; moreover, the gate of the prison was kept by three gaolers, two of whom were constantly on duty. It was, therefore, requisite to pass these in the first place, then cross the inner yard, under the windows of the commander's lodging; then pass a wicket where an orderly and a sergeant were constantly on duty, supported by a gate-keeper, a sentry, and a guard of thirty men. Having resolved not to tamper with any of these people, I was naturally compelled to assume a disguise. Now, as several of the rooms in the part of the building which I occupied were being repaired, it was easy enough to procure a workman's dress. My good and worthy Charles Thelin got me a blouse and wooden shoes. I cut off my moustaches, and took up a plank on my shoulder. On the Monday morning I saw the workmen coming to their work at six in the morning. As soon as they commenced operations, Charles Thelin, to get them out of my way, took them into a room to have something to drink, and invited one of the keepers to join them, whilst Dr. Conneau was chatting with the others in my room. However, I had hardly emerged from my bedroom when I was hailed by one of the workmen, who took me for one of his comrades; at the foot of the stairs I came plump on one of the keepers, but escaped by putting the plank before his face, and I reached the courtyard holding the plank as a screen between myself and all whom I met. On passing before the first sentinel I let my pipe fall, but I stopped to pick up the pieces. I then met the officer of the guard, but he was reading a letter, and did not perceive me. The soldiers at the gates seemed astonished at my dress, the drummer especially; he turned round to look at me several times. However, the guard opened the door, and I found myself outside the fortress. I was here met by two workmen, who looked at me steadfastly. I changed the plank and put it on my other shoulder, but they appeared so curious that I thought I should not be able to escape them, when I heard one of them say, 'Oh, it's Berthond.' Once outside, I walked in the direction of St. Quentin. A little while after, Charles, who had retained a cab, joined me, and we arrived at St. Quentin. I traversed the town on foot, having taken off my blouse. Charles had obtained a post-chaise, under pretext that it races at Cambrai. We arrived without obstacle at Valenciennes, where I took the railway. I had obtained a Belgian passport, but nowhere was I asked to show it. During this time Conneau, always so devoted, remained in the was for the |