cow, and just as he cried out for the thirtieth time "stand still"" she got in a passion, and jerking up her hind leg, gave poor Claude such a kick in his empty stomach, that it was a mercy she didn't make a hole clean through him. Exhausted as he was from thirst and want of food, for since six o'clock that morning he had had nothing in his stomach but this kick, Claude fainted away with the pain, and lay stretched out on the grass as if he had been put there to dry.

"When a man owns such a beautiful cow as mine," thought Claude, "he is foolish to allow thirst to bother him. I have only to milk her, and drink my fill."

He tied his cow to the first tree he reached, and tucked up his sleeves ready to proceed to business, when he suddenly remembered that he had no cup or basin to receive the milk. Claude had been very well educated at an excellent evening academy, where day scholars were soundly grounded in English for twopence a week, and his mind was therefore rather lofty in its ideas. Consequently he turned with horror from the notion of drinking the milk from one of his boots. Neither did he approve of the idea of helping himself to the delicious beverage after the manner of the calf. At last, as he was too thirsty to be over-delicate, he determined to make use of his billy-cock hat. It was a very nice hat, and nearly new, for he had scarcely worn it more than a year. "It holds a good quart," he remarked, looking at it," and I can easily drink that, and more, if I have it!" Down he went on one knee, and placing his head against the cow's ribs, his hands begun to work as vigorously as if he were ringing church bells, instead of milking. But, alas! work as he would, not one drop could he obtain. The harder he toiled, the more restless became the

When Claude had sufficiently recovered, the butcher raised him from the ground, and said, "You've had a narrow escape of it, my friend?" Then Claude began to pour out his sorrows, telling the butcher how he came to be possessed of the cow, expatiating on the terrible thirst that attacked him, and ended by saying, "If I hadn't the luck of twenty cow-boys, she would have killed me."

Fortunately this butcher, being a plump man, was a martyr to thirst, and never journeyed to any distance without taking with him a bottle of ale. He generously handed it to Claude, saying, "Drink some of this home-brewed; it will put you all right again. As for getting any milk out of that cow, you might as well try to get eggs from hay-cocks. She is as old as the moon, and only fit to be killed for butcher's meat."

"Ah!" sighed Claude, "who would have imagined I could have been so deceived! Certainly it is a very great advantage to have at your command a huge animal who is fit for killing, and able to provide you with meat for more than a year to come, but unfortunately I do not know how to kill cows, neither am I fond of beef, either roast, boiled, or salted. Not that I am dainty-far from it; for instance, I consider pork the most delicious eating. What is better than a

good slice of fat bacon with a summer cabbage? Then, again, I could eat sausages from morning to night, and as for well-browned crackling, I prefer it to brandy-balls."

"Poor fellow!" said the butcher, sympathisingly; "you've been shamefully imposed upon. You ought to have told the man you couldn't eat beef. You're a nice-looking lad, and I pity you. I've taken a great fancy to you. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do for you; but, mind, I don't care about it, and merely desire to serve such a nice-looking lad. Since you're so gluttonous for pork, you may have my fat little pig, and I'll take your wretched old cow."

"It's a bargain!" shouted Claude, with delight. "I must indeed have been born under a lucky star to meet with such chances. I am very much obliged to you, and shall always be grateful if I live to be a hundred years old." Then he untied his cow, and handed her over to the butcher, who, in his turn, politely turned the little squeaking pig out of his wheelbarrow, and, tying a string to its hind leg, delivered it over to Claude.

Delighted with his new bargain, Claude, being no longer thirsty, walked along the road, driving the porker before him as proudly as if he were on the box-seat of a coach-and-six. He was quite pleased with himself for having shown so much tact and judgment. He modestly gave most of the credit of these excellent transactions to his great good luck. "What a fortunate fellow I am, to be sure!" he kept crying out, as he jerked at the string to urge on the little pig.

to get it back again. All the time it continued to grunt the most terrible abuse at Claude, whose arms ached with the jerks, as if he was holding on to the I chain of an electrifying machine. It became absolutely necessary to sit down and rest.

Then a ragged, naughty, gipsy-looking boy approached him, carrying under his arm a magnificent white goose, with a beak as red as sealing-wax. The ragged gipsy boy, as he hurried along, kept looking behind him, as if he was afraid of some one following him; but when he saw Claude, he stopped and wished him good-day.

Claude said is was a good day and a hot one, especially for driving little pigs who were stubborn, and wouldn't do as they were told. Then he began to tell the gipsy boy all the wonderful adventures he had met with since the morning, and the many scrapes from which his great good luck had delivered him. In his turn, the ragged gipsy boy informed Claude that he was carrying the lovely white goose to his father, whose birthday it was, and for whose dinner the delicious bird was to be roasted.

"It's a nice bird," said Claude.

"It'll be nicer when the sage and onions are in it," remarked the gipsy boy.

"The feathers are beautiful, too!" continued Claude; "are there enough of them to stuff a pillow?"

Plenty and the best of it is, they're all white, and will therefore require no cleaning,” replied the ragged boy. "Just feel how heavy she is! twelve pounds, if she's an ounce! They've been fattening her for more than a month. When we roast this bird, she'll flood the place with gravy. Do you like gravy ? "

"I'm looking at your pig," said the gipsy boy, gazing attentively at the animal washing its nose in a pool of dirty water. "I don't like the story about that butcher and the wheel-barrow. In the

CELESTIAL PHENOMENA OF THE MONTHS.

FEBRUARY.

"That starr'd Ethiope queen, who strove
To set her beauties' praise above

The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended."
MILTON.

MEN, in all ages, have regarded national calamities as the consequence of national crimes. This the Scriptures teach. When, also, the light of true religion gleamed faintly, and imaginary deities were substituted in the place of Him who is Lord of all, history speaks concerning expiatory sacrifices offered by star or idol worshippers, wherewith to propitiate whatever fancied being had become an object of divine honour.

The history of Andromeda offers a case in point. Much, too, of valuable information with regard to ancient manners may be gleaned from its various incidents, and some important lessons from considering the antagonist principles that bore sway in the minds of those whose names are inscribed among the stars.

First, then, is Cassiopea, wife of Cepheus, king of Ethiopia, and mother of Andromeda first mentioned, because her reckless pride gave occasion for the calamities that threatened to overwhelm her home and country. The age in which she lived pertains to remote antiquity; it forms an era in the history of mankind, on account of the Argonautic expedition, conjectured to have taken place twelve hundred and sixty-three years before the coming of our Lord, and in which King Cepheus bore a distinguished part. Those who are interested in comparing events will find that this important expedition occurred at least a century before the conquest of Egypt by the Shepherd Kings, whose great oppression rendered the name of shepherd an abomination to the natives of the country, and caused, in after years, the sons of Jacob, whose trade had been about cattle from their youth, to dwell in the land of Egypt. Saul and David had then no place in history; neither was Rome built till at least seven hundred years after; and as regards the land in which we dwell, its inhabitants were equally uncivilized and ferocious, tattooed like the dwellers in New Zealand, and mostly clothed with the skins of animals.

Authentic History can, therefore, throw but little light on the period of which we speak; but Poesy-" celestial maid!"—and

her twin sister, Legend, have much to tell concerning it.

Cassiopea, say they, was a proud and capricious dame: she boasted of her beauty, and depreciated that of Juno and the Nereides-sea-nymphs who dwelt chiefly in the Egean Sea, and often danced in choruses around their father, Nereus.

"Is not my beauty greater far than those ?"

Thus spake the queen-"Nereides though they be:

Pale nymphs that haunt where'er the streamlet flows,

Or ride in sea-shells o'er the briny sea." The Nereides heard, and they prepared for vengeance.

The

Morning rose in beauty; the sun came forth from his glorious canopy of clouds; and the rippling waves of the ancient sea broke in gentle murmurs on the shore. Damsels went forth to their pleasant labours by fountain side, or to gather the goldentinted oranges and citrons that hung in clusters beside the fields of pulse. king was in his hall of state, the queen presiding with her ladies at their looms; there was peace within the city, and gladness in the country: when suddenly the sky was overcast, and a loud, bustling, unusual kind of wind drove the dust in clouds.

"I cannot see to go on with my embroidery," said the chief lady, whose office it was to superintend her younger companions; "we must all wait till the sky is clear again." And thus saying, she folded her hands together, and looked towards the heavens.

The firmament, however, darkened more and more; and presently a messenger came in haste to say that the river had broken its bounds. Onward came the waters, rolling over their ancient limits; fields were inundated, and cottages swept away; while the terrified inhabitants rushed tumultuously into the city, which stood on rising ground; but presently the streets were overflown, and the whole population fled with one accord to a considerable eminence, which the torrent had not yet gained.

That eminence was crowned with a temple of exceeding beauty, and shaded by an olive grove. Jupiter Ammon, under the name of Osiris, was worshipped there, symbolic of the sun, and representing the principle of light and heat; his altars were not, like those of other pagan deities, stained with the blood of human victims; his sacrificial offerings were goats, sheep, and white bulls. Even in this early period men had turned from the adoration of the true God, and