ROOKS.

CAW caw 1 cawl. How busy the rooks are in the tallelms | Let us watch them, as we rest a while on this log of wood that lies so temptingly in the sunshine ; while the thrush and blackbird are singing from amid the budding trees, and the lark's glad note resounds from the clear air above us ; while beneath extends a gently sloping hill, dotted over with sheep and little frisking lambs, a joyous, rippling brook winds amid the meadows. Cawl caw caw In and out they fly amid the elmsl hard at work, as bus as bees. See they come laden wit bits of stick and hay,+aye, and with nice warm wool, which some old sheep had left upon the hedge-row. Now they set to work;—we could not make that nest if we tried—then off again for fresh supplies. By-and-bye little heads will peep out of those nests, and little beaks will be opened for the food that the father rook has been seeking, while the gentle, loving mother stayed quietly at home, keeping her nestlings warm. Off they fly! But see, one rook stays behind. Has he finished his nest ? Let us watch him. No, no, but he is a lazy fellow, and would rather steal than work 1 See, he waits until the rooks are at a safe distance, then flies from tree to tree, from nest to nest, helping himself; here to a little twig, there to a bit of wool. How famously his work gets on 1 and what a capital plan he thinks it ! Caw caw caw What a commotion and chatter! Cawl caw caw All the rooks are talking at once. Ah! they have found out the theft, and see how quickly they surround the culprit. But there is law and justice among the rooks, and the thief may say what he can for himself. Listen! that old rook with his solemn “caw" is the judge, and now they are quiet. No more talking all at once; but first one, and then another, gives his opinion, and

then again the judge; while the thief stands in the midst in a great fright, for he knows by this time what he has to expect. wo they let him go free, do you think? Not they ! No sooner is the public meeting over, than with a loud caw, caw, caw, caw, cawl they fly upon his stolen goods, and quickly pull his nest to pieces. Lucky for him if he escape so easily; for I have heard of rooks holding a court-martial upon some luckless offender, flying upon him, and with their beaks piercing him to death. Well, the rooks have their nests to build; and we too have our appointed work. Let us up, and be doing. H. M. B.

A WISE AFRICAN CHIEF.

THE following is the concluding portion of a letter addressed to his tribe and the traders therewith by the chief of the Basutos in Africa:—“Further, the law which I issued on the 8th of November, 1854, I renew this day, that people may be reminded of it, and conform themselves to it. That law runs as follows:—“The brandy of the Whites was unknown to Matie and to Motlomi, and to the ancestors of the tribes as far back as Monaheng. And Mokachane has attained to an old age, drinking only milk and water; for intoxicating liquors do not become a good judge. Drink brings in contention; it deviates the judgment; it cannot uphold the town. The brandy of the Whites is fire. Therefore, let it be known that it is not lawful to sell it amongst the Basutos; and any man who brings it, whether he be black or white, to sell it to the tribe, exposes himself to its being spilled on the ground. And that is all.—I am, MosHESH, 4, his mark, Chief of the Basutos.'”

“THE PAPER BOY.”

No matter whether it rains, hails, or snows—if the wind be north-east or altogether easterly—the newsman's boy, or, as he is generally called, “the paper-boy,” may be seen either trudging before, or facing the bitter blast. The paper-boys of the suburbs of London are commonly lads between the ages of nine and fourteen. In general, each belongs to some poor widowed room-keeper, or perhaps the child rises from some underground cellar like little Jack James, the very model of all the paper-boys that I have known. ittle Jack has been little Jack, to my certain knowledge, for the last five years; during which period he has not grown two inches. His mother kept a mangle somewhere in Little Chelsea, and this mangle might be heard creaking and groaning beneath your feet as you passed the damp and broken steps that led to her dwelling. A sheet of paper was wafered against the top pane of a window on a level with the street; and on this sheet was written —“Mangling done here by my mother —Jack ames.” Jack always stopped to look at this specimen of his penmanship as he passed it on his return home on Sunday afternoons; the only time, alas ! that he could see it : for he left his den before daylight, and never got back to it until long after nightfall. In the morning he came softly up these broken steps, lest he should disturb his mother; and he often paused and tried to look through the dim window to see if she were sleeping; then he thrust his hands as deep as he could into his pockets, nestled his face into the red worsted “comforter” that was round his neck, and trudged off to his work, sometimes beguiling his way with a low murmuring whistle, which showed that his acquaintance with “Rule Britannia” and “The Prairie Flower” was not of a very intimate

kind, though he had some remote notion of how the tune went.

Frequently he is not only obliged to distribute the papers in his master's neighbourhood, but has to tramp into the Strand or Fleet Street for them, through the mist and mud and misery of a §. fog or a mid-winter frost, and by the time he gets back with his weighty burden the morning is pretty far advanced.

You may always recognise Jack by the huge bundle of papers which he carries under his arm, and by his rabbit-skin cap strapped beneath his chin in winter, and the ears rather carefully tied back in summer with a piece of black knotted tape, by his looking rather more important than other boys, and idling rather less— though even the paper-boy will linger at a confectioner's window or stop before a print-shop.

I once discovered Little Jack staring at a paper-kite with evident astonishment and pleasure; when I asked if he had ever had one he shook his head, and said, “he sometimes saw one in the air, but he never had no time for play.”

3. goes about his work like a man of business; he shouts “Paper 1" before he rings the gate-bell, and gives, for his size, a good pull; then he repeats it, and cries “Pa-per!" again ; for servants do not often answer the bell very quickly so early in the morning. They often say, “It's only the paper-boy! he can wait;” and if he rings again he is pretty sure of a sharp reproof, “What a hurry you're in, indeed you want to make up for the time you spend in leaping over the {. /* This hint makes Jack hang

is head, for if he has a weakness that tempts him to loiter, it is that he is certainly fond of leaping over a post, or sometimes laying a hand on it, and swinging round it. Mrs. S. C. Hall.