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The lonely Nest.

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earthy-looking soils I have observed a useful tinge of brown.

We cannot but admire the Providence which enables this bird so readily to drop upon the very spot where its nest is concealed, after soaring long up in the sky,-a nest which seems to have nothing to mark its position, and which a man may sometimes search for in vain, even though he may have marked the spot within a few yards. I was much struck with this last summer. I was climbing a mountain covered with short grass, a huge stack of turf, joining the Helvellyn range; a lark brushed up at my feet, and flew far away. Stooping down, I discovered a nest with five eggs.

How could she, thought I, find this warm little home again; this tiny hidden spot on the great mountain's breast, where for miles there was nothing but a monotonous green carpet, unbroken by bush or rock, not a path, landmark, or signpost to guide her back to her home? Nothing but the unerring instinct, unassisted by any sense, which God had given her for a guide! Sure, thought I, here is a little parable, without words, telling those who will learn, that though to all appearance the

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The unseen Guide.

helpless be deserted-and it would not be in man's power to show how they could be cared for again-yet the right comforter and protector will come, guided by a spirit whose ways we cannot explain, but only receive and bless.

POND-FISHING.

OUR grand salmon-killers turn up their noses at us, but we don't care. Look at those little boys coming home in full chatter after a half-holiday's catching sticklebacks. Most of their game, it is true, has died, from having been handed about too long for inspection; still, they have got one alive in a physic-bottle, poor beast!-probably as much perplexed as a mermaid would be in a water-butt; but its captors are happy as Scrope when he shot his biggest stag. Don't those boys recall your days of triumph when you caught sticklebacks?—when you took a worm, tied him round the waist with a thread, and let him down into the middle of a shoal? Didn't they bite, one at each end! It was not so much of a bite, though, as a shameless gobble. Often the worm, excusably enough, threw them off when they had got half an inch of him stowed away inside; but your stickleback is a bold feeder, and soon gets over a

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Catching Sticklebacks.

check. One at each end, the rest fussing about, and trying to help, the two lucky fellows persevere, and swallow on till their noses meet in the midst; then you gently lift them out, and draw them off their dinners, the worm doing the same service over and over again, till he grows limp and white.

From these early essays, to the finished diplomacy employed with shy, heavy carp, Pond-fishing has held its own as the favourite pursuit of thousands. Look at the floats in the tackle-shops, where a varnished pike swims in mid-air, like Mohammed's coffin between heaven and earth. Look at the floats, I sayfat, tapering, transparent. Do not they recall pleasant visions of the days you spent by the weedy moat, where the water-hen crept under the hollow bank, and the dragon-fly sat upon the bulrush? of the dark hole beneath the willow, where the conscious cork made circles in the still water, and then sailed sideways off, or sank with unequivocal decision? Talk of the small skill needed in any humble sport. I should like to see a deer-stalker catch moles. No, no! We grant you all the respect you ask, ye fly-fishers; but do not suppose every tench caught with a float is a fool, or that it is easy to fix a hook in his leather jaws, because

Picking up Worms on ye Lawn

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you hide it with a worm instead of a hackle. In the first place, worms are not all alike; and if you will listen for a minute, I will tell you how best to provide this first essential in pondfishing. Take a spade, you suppose. No such thing. Wait for a clear dewy night, and then, provided with a candle and a pot of moss, step quietly on to the lawn; there, as you hold the flame low down, you will see the subterraneous population of the soil taking the air. With the tip of his tail left inside his door, Mr. Worm stretches himself out at full length in the cool wet grass. Some, you see, are large, coarse, and dark; let them lie; they might be of use, if you wanted to catch eels, but to other fish they offer small temptation. Look again: there is a superior animal, made altogether of finer clay, and quickened with purer blood. Notice his form -head elongated, tail flat, colour pinky, with a dark line running down his back. Pick him up; he is the right sort. Yes, I thought so. You laid hold of his head, and he slipped through your fingers quick as thought, back into his hole. No-press his tail first just where it dips into the ground; then gently taking him by the body, he will lose his presence of mind and gripe of his threshold at

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