fox. Hearing the disappointed animal belie himself by saying the grapes were sour, the sparrow sagely replied, The grapes certainly do not look sour; I will taste them.' Finding the fruit all that could be desired, he gave a party and invited all his friends, when thus the grapes moralised: Admiration often works more harm to us than evil speaking.'

Of all the beasts of prey, we may safely say that the fox is the most cunning and sagacious, whether it exercises its wonderful craft in eluding its enemies or in obtaining its food. As the sun sinks behind the hills, and the lengthening shadows foretell the coming darkness, then Reynard creeps from out his lair to go in search of prey. Nothing comes amiss to this prince of poachers; rabbit warrens, poultry yards, game preserves, are alike suitable to his taste; and, when times are rather hard, and a dainty leveret, a plump pheasant, or a fat wild duck cannot be obtained, Reynard is quite contented to levy contributions upon anything that may by chance fall in his way. Foxes, so it has been said, sometimes visit the rocks at low tides and seize upon the shell fish; and they will readily devour small rodents, and even reptiles and insects in cases of extreme hunger.

Bell, writing of the fox, says, 'The obliquity and quickness of the eye, the sharp shrewd-looking muzzle, and the erect ears, afford the most unequivocal indications of that mingled acuteness and fraud which have long rendered it a by-word and proverb, for it is well known that this character of its physiognomy is not falsified by the animal's real propensities and habits.' It would be quite useless accurately to describe an animal so well known as our common British fox; one peculiarity is, however, worthy of remark: the pupils of the eyes are elliptical. Its voice is a sharp grating discordant yelp, not the least like that of a dog. There are stories innumerable relative to the fox's cunning.

Mr. St. John relates the following singular story of the craftiness of a fox:- Soon after it was daylight I observed a large fox come very quietly along the edge of the plan.

tation; he looked with great care over the turf wall into the field, and seemed to long very much to get hold of some of the hares that were feeding in it, but apparently knew that there was no chance of catching one by dint of running. After considering a short time, he examined the different gaps in the wall, fixed upon one which appeared to be most frequented, and laid himself down close to it in an attitude like that of a cat at a mouse-hole. In the meantime I watched all his plans; with great care he scraped a hollow in the ground, throwing up the sand as a kind of screen; every now and then, however, he stopped to listen, and sometimes to take a most cautious peep into the field. When he had done this, he laid himself down in a convenient posture for springing upon his prey, only occasionally reconnoitring the feeding hares. Several hares passed very near his place of ambush, still he took no apparent notice of them. Two at length came directly towards him, and, though he did not venture to look up, I saw, by an involuntary motion of his ears, that those quick organs had already warned him of their approach. Two hares came through the gap together, and the fox, springing with the rapidity of lightning, caught one and killed her immediately.'

This exactly tallies with a story recently told me by a personal friend of mine, who is an able and observant naturalist, of the proceedings of a fox which he recently watched during a moonlight night, A hare was crouched down in a furrow of a ploughed field; the fox spied her out, and creeping along the adjoining furrow, slowly and noiselessly drew nearer and nearer to the hare. Reynard only now and then ventured to peep over the ridge of the furrow, lest the hare should notice him; when sufficiently near, the poacher made a sudden rush, and seized the hare before she was at all aware of an enemy's presence.

I once, whilst fishing in a small trout river in Devonshire, observed a fox come down to the stream near to where I was standing; the animal was panting and breathing heavily, and otherwise exhibiting evidence of great distress.

After lapping the water thirstily and greedily, it

crept beneath the bushes and scrambled along under the bank for quite a hundred yards, or perhaps more, until it reached a stick which crossed the stream from bank to bank. The stick was so small that I never for a moment imagined an animal so large as a fox would attempt to cross the river upon it; but, to my astonishment, slowly and cautiously the frightened animal made its way along this dangerous bridge, and landed safely on the opposite side. Not a moment too soon for its own safety, for the hounds were rapidly hunting along upon its track. On they came, but failed to make out the scent farther than where the fox had left the field to go under the bank. The huntsman never imagined the fox had crossed the river, for the hounds swam over at the spot where the fox had lapped the water, but as there was no scent on the opposite bank they swam back again. After making a wide cast, the huntsman called off the hounds and went away. I did not tell him what I had seen, because I thought the poor fox fairly deserved my protection. Now it would have been far easier for the fox to have swum straight across the stream, and a greater saving of time, than taking a difficult course under the river bank and making a hazardous crossing upon a small pole. I thought at the time, and I am still of the same opinion, that its instinctive natural cunning prompted it to adopt the expedient I witnessed, as being the most likely means to throw the hounds off the scent, and so increase the chances of escape.

Many instances are recorded where foxes under the influence of extreme terror have feigned death, and have suffered themselves to be dragged about, without showing any sign of life, until the danger had ceased, when they scampered away unscathed. That the preyer should be more cunning than the preyed on is an essential law of nature; but of all predatory animals the fox certainly has by far the largest share of inherent craftiness.

"
THE SEA.- Quarterly Review.'

ON the surface of this globe, there is nowhere to be found so inhospitable a desert as the 'wide blue sea.' At any distance from land there is nothing in it for man to eat; nothing in it that he can drink. His tiny foot no sooner rests upon it, than he sinks into his grave; it grows neither flowers nor fruits; it offers monotony to the mind, restless motion to the body; and when, besides all this, one reflects that it is to the most fickle of the elements, the wind, that vessels of all sizes are to supplicate for assistance in sailing in every direction to their various destinations, it would almost seem that the ocean was divested of charms, and armed with storms, to prevent our being persuaded to enter its dominions.

But though the situation of a vessel in a heavy gale of wind appears indescribably terrific, yet, practically speaking, its security is so great, that it is truly said ships seldom or ever founder in deep water, except from accident or inattention. How ships manage to get across that still region, that ideal line, which separates the opposite tradewinds of each hemisphere; how a small box of men manage to be buffeted for months up one side of a wave and down that of another; how they ever get out of the abysses into which they sink; and how, after such pitching and tossing, they reach in safety the very harbour in their native country from which they originally departed, can and ought only to be accounted for, by acknowledging how truly it has been written, 'that the Spirit of God moves upon the face of the waters.'

It is not, therefore, from the ocean itself that man has so much to fear; the earth and the water each afford to man a life of considerable security, yet there exists between these two elements an everlasting war, into which no passing vessel can enter with impunity; for of all the terrors of this world, there is surely no one greater than that of being on a lee-shore in a gale of wind, and in shallow water. On this account, it is natural enough that the fear of land is as strong in the sailor's heart as is his at

tachment to it; and when, homeward bound, he day after day approaches his own latitude, his love and his fear of his native shores increase as the distance between them diminishes. Two fates, the most opposite in their extremes, are shortly to await him. The sailor-boy fancifully pictures to himself that in a few short hours he will be once again nestling in his mother's arms. The able seaman better knows that it may be decreed for him, as it has been decreed for thousands, that in gaining his point he shall lose its object-that England, with all its virtue, may fade before his eyes, and,

'While he sinks without an arm to save,

His country blooms, a garden, and a grave!'

ARAB HORSES.-St. Pierre.

THE Arabs manage their horses by means of kindness and caresses, and render them so docile that there are no animals of the kind in the whole world once to be compared with them in beauty and in goodness. They do not fix them to a stake in the fields, but suffer them to pasture at large around their habitation, to which they come running the moment that they hear the sound of the master's voice. Those tractable animals resort at night to their tents, and lie down in the midst of the children, without ever hurting them in the slightest degree. If the rider happens to fall, his horse stands still instantly, and never stirs till he has mounted again. These people, by means of the irresistible influence of a mild education, have acquired the art of rendering their horses the first coursers of the universe.

The whole stock of a poor Arabian of the desert consisted of a most beautiful mare. The French consul at Said offered to purchase her, with an intention to send her to his master, Louis XIV. The Arab, pressed by want, hesitated a long time, but at length consented, on condition of receiving a very considerable sum, which he named. The consul, not daring without instructions to give so high a