XXXIII.

THE WONDERFUL BİRD.

SIGNOR PASQUALINI, just arrived from the continent, announced to the inhabitants of a certain village his intention of amusing them, for one evening only, with a variety of entertaining exhibitions and performances, of unrivalled excellence and ingenuity; amongst these, the manœuvres of "THE LEARNED BIRD," and accomplished German bullfinch, were particularly specified, and largely described in his advertisement. What this bird could do, seemed not so much to be the question, as what it could not do so rare were its professed attainments. It could, for instance, go through the military exercise with a straw; bow to the company at the word of command; sing different tunes, when called for ; articulate some words; draw a triangle with its beak; and spell certain names by pointing to the letters with its claw.

Amongst the spectators of this entertainment were two lads, upon whom it made a strangely different impression. One of them having read the advertisement in the morning, had his imagination wrought upon all day by the glowing descriptions of Signor Pasqualini's hand-bill: it was not so much those attributes of the bird that were particularly specified, as the undefined intimations of its sagacity, over which his fancy hovered, and which inspired him with so much respect, that it is a question if he felt more veneration for the learning of the parish

schoolmaster, than for that of this gifted biped. Full of these expectations, when evening was come, Edward paid his willing sixpence, and entered with trembling eagerness from behind the curtain of green baize that formed the entrance of the show. As the company thickened, and various preliminaries appeared to be going on behind the scenes, his impatience increased to a degree that was almost painful. At length Signor Pasqualini made his appearance and his bow, and after sundry performances, not necessary here to specify, a cage with golden wires was introduced, out of which solemnly stepped the wonderful bird, and immediately hopped upon a perch that was raised for the purpose on the table. This bullfinch, as to its outward appearance, looked much more like other bullfinches than Edward expected. Indeed the hard discipline and solitary life to which its profession had subjected it, had rendered its plumage less glossy and brilliant, and its movements less natural and graceful than those of most of its species. Edward was a little disappointed at this; however, he concluded that its mental endowments would abundantly compensate for any external deficiencies. The first thing required of the hapless performer was to bow three times to the company. This Edward thought was not very gracefully done; indeed the poor little bird, though for some time accustomed to practise in private, had but newly been introduced at public exhibitions, and it appeared to be half frightened and half ashamed at performing before so large a company Some of its tricks were diverting enough;

but many mistakes and blunders were detected. When, for instance, it was required to point to the letters that spell King George, it stumbled upon the last word first, and thus produced only the inglorious name of George King. And when asked where it was that Lord Wellington gained his great victory, whether the bird replied Waterloo, or water gruel, could only be guessed by the question. Edward could not help laughing at this; yet on the whole he felt no small degree of disappointment, so much so as to be weary of the performance some time before it was over.

Very different was the impression made by the exhibition on another spectator above alluded to. This lad had not happened even to see the advertisement; moreover he had never in all his life heard of such a thing as a learned bird: he only stepped in as he was passing, attracted by the lights, with no idea of what nature the amusement was to be. When therefore the little performer commenced its operations, this boy felt as much pleasure and entertainment as the thing was capable of affording; he laughed out several times, and protested it was wonderful, really wonderful for such a little creature!" He observed indeed some failures and mistakes, but for these he made the most charitable allowances; because, as he said, "it was but a bird;' and because he had expected nothing.

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Such were the opposite effects produced by the came spectacle on these differently circumstanced observers; and yet, perhaps, both would agree, when they came to think about it afterwards, that

it was a prettier sight to see the sparrows and robbins hopping about in their natural haunts, in gardens and orchards, and pleasanter to hear their simple notes, than to stare at the performances of the most accomplished finch that ever exhibited.

MORAL.

But stay;-methinks before we part,
A moral may be heard ;—
A hint to many a sanguine heart
From this accomplished bird:
The truth imprest on every brow,

Where time has passed his noiseless plough.
Just thus from life, and what it yields,
Hope steals the zest away;

We never tread the Elysian fields,
Through which we thought to stray;
Of all the joys on which we seize,
The more we hope, the less they please.
Our pleasures rather seem to spring
From things too low that lie,
For fancy there to sweep her wing,
Or hope to glance an eye;
These humbler gifts, of all on earth,
Alone surprise us with their worth.

Reader, while eager hope arrays

In flowers the youthful year,
Think too what storms and rainy days

Will follow his career:

Expect these storms and clouds to lower

'Twill brighten every sunny hour.

XXXIV.

A CURIOUS INSTRUMENT.

A GENTLEMAN, just returned from a journey to London, was surrounded by his children, eager, after the first salutations were over, to hear the news; and still more eager to see the contents of a small portmanteau, which were, one by one, carefully unfolded and displayed to view. After distributing amongst them a few small presents, the father took his seat again, saying, that he must confess he had brought from town, for his own use, something far more curious and valuable than any of the little gifts they had received.—It was, he said, too good to present to any of them; but he would, if they pleased, first give them a brief description of it, and then perhaps they might be allowed to inspect it.

The children were accordingly all attention, while the father thus proceeded. "This small instrument displays the most perfect ingenuity of construction, and exquisite nicety and beauty of workmanship: from its extreme delicacy, it is so liable to injury, that a sort of light curtain, adorned with a beautiful fringe, is always provided, and so placed as to fall in a moment on the approach of the slightest danger. Its external appearance is always more or less beautiful yet in this respect there is a great diversity in the different sorts:-but the internal contrivance is the same in all of them, and is so extremely