EASTER DAY.

OH! day of days! shall hearts set free
No" minstrel rapture" find for Thee?
Thou art the Sun of other days:
They shine by giving back thy rays.

Enthroned in Thy sovereign sphere
Thou shedd'st Thy light on all the year :
Sundays by Thee more glorious break,
An Easter Day in every week.

And week-days, following in their train,
The fulness of Thy blessing gain,
Till all, both resting and employ,
Be one Lord's day of holy joy.

Then wake, my soul, to high desires,
And earlier light Thy altar fires :
The world some hours is on her way,
Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day.

Oh! joy to Mary first allow'd,

When rous'd from weeping o'er His shroud,
By His own calm, soul-soothing tone,
Breathing her name, as still His own!

Joy to the faithful Three renewed,
As their glad errand they pursued!
Happy who so Christ's words convey,
That He may meet them on their way!

So is it still to holy tears,

In lonely hours Christ risen appears :
In social hours, who Christ would see,
Must turn all tasks to Charity.

Keble (Christian Year).

THE PASSENGER PIGEON.

"MR. LAWSON said, mamma, that there was a pigeon in America, called the passenger-pigeon, flocks of which are seen in such great numbers, as to darken the air. Do not you think that he must have made a mistake? You know, mamma, there must have been thousands and thousands of pigeons flying almost close together, to have hidden the light."

"Indeed, Charles, I should have thought it very improbable," said Mrs. Long, "had I not read several accounts of the wonderful flights, by observers whose word cannot be doubted. A celebrated naturalist, Mr. Audubon, describes one flight alone to consist of many millions of birds. He was once travelling in America, when he attempted to number the flocks that passed over his head, by making on a card a pencil dot for every flock, but this he found was impossible flock followed flock so quickly. The air became darkened, though the sun was shining brightly at the time, and this prodigious flight of birds continued for three days! Now, as these are the pigeons that fly a mile in a minute, the number that passed in those three days must have been far greater than either you or I can imagine."

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Oh, mamma, where could they all have found food? I think the farmers must have been quite frightened."

"The corn-fields do not suffer as you suppose, Charles," said Mrs. Long, " for the passenger-pigeon feeds principally on beech-mast, that is, the seed of the beech; and there are immense beech forests in America. The passenger-pigeon affords excellent food, and has sometimes been almost the only provision of whole armies. They are killed not only for food, but for the sake of their fat, which, when melted, is used by the Indians instead of butter, and, in some parts of America, by the Americans also."

"How do the people kill them, mamma? Do the pigeons fly low?"

"Sometimes, and they can then be easily shot, or knocked down with sticks. They are also caught in large nets stretched on the ground, a tame pigeon being employed to entice them to enter. But they are generally procured in large numbers in a different way. The inhabitants know that they roost in the forest, and bring up their young there. The pas

senger-pigeon builds the same kind of nest as our ring-doves, but lays no more than a single egg at one hatch. The pigeons will occupy whole forests of forty miles in extent, while engaged in rearing the young birds, and the ground becomes covered with branches of trees, broken down by the weight of the birds clustering so closely together. When the people imagine that the first breed is nearly fledged, they move in large parties to the neighbourhood of those forests, which the birds are known to frequent, taking with them waggons, axes, beds, cooking utensils, and sometimes their children. The noise in the woods at that time is so great as to terrify the horses, and it is with difficulty that one person can be heard by another, except by bawling in his ear. The men with their axes cut down the trees that seem to be most crowded with nests, and contrive so, that as they fall, they may knock down other trees. The tumult of the pigeons' wings sounding like thunder, mixed with the frequent crash of the timber, is described as truly wonderful.

"Then, besides these sounds, there are the cries of eagles, buzzards, and hawks, which sail about in great numbers, and seize the young from their nests as they like; and the delighted grunt of herds of hogs which are feeding on the broken eggs and the young birds, that have fallen from their nests. One tree will often produce above a hundred nests, and the young birds are almost one lump of fat, so that in a short time a very large quantity of oil is obtained."-From the Parents' Cabinet.

THE SERIOUSNESS OF THE HOUR OF PRAYER.

"You are too noisy, my children," said Gertrude. "When any thing good happens to you, think of God, who gives us all things. If you do so, you will never be wild and boisterous in your joy. I am always glad to share in your happiness, myself, dears; but when people are loud and violent in their joy, or their sorrow, evenness of temper and inward peace are lost. There is no happiness without a quiet, peaceful, and glad heart. Therefore we must always keep God before our eyes. Your morning and evening prayers are on purpose that you may never forget Him. For no one who prays to God, and thanks God for all, can be either extravagant in joy, or without comfort in sorrow. We must always endeavour, particularly at the hour of prayer, to keep ourselves quiet and untroubled. When you thank your father for any thing sincerely, you are not noisy and riotous. You don't say much, but throw your arms round his neck; and when you are very grateful, the tears come into your eyes. It is the same towards God. If you really feel his loving-kindness, and your hearts are truly thankful, you will not make a great noise and talking about it but the tears will come into your eyes, when you think how merciful He is towards you. Do you see, children, the good of praying is to keep our hearts in a thankful state towards God and man: and whoever prays as he ought, will do what he ought, and be dear to God and man, as long as he lives."-PESTALOZZI.

A SICK CHAMBER.

EVERY Woman of sense and observation will soon discover the necessity of keeping a sick chamber well ventilated and fumigated'. Many people imagine, that if a disorder is not infectious, this precaution is

unnecessary; not considering that a healthy person could not continue in the same apartment long together, especially with a fire night and day, without rendering the atmosphere unwholesome; and that the diseased are peculiarly susceptible of bad air, which contributes greatly to retard their recovery. When the weather will permit, the doors and windows of a sick room should be opened daily, for a few minutes, and a free current admitted, provided it be not suffered to blow upon the patient, who will also be much refreshed, as well as his attendants, by having a hot iron put into vinegar and carried round the chamber; and if slips of lemon peel are strewed upon the bed, it will have a very agreeable effect. That a change of linen must be dangerous, is a prejudice now entertained by the vulgar only; cleanliness can do harm in no case: if linen be well aired, it can scarcely be changed too often; and by these means, rooms, in which the sick have been confined many months, have been kept as sweet and fresh as any other apartment.-Mrs. Taylor.

Let us both bridle our tongues, and put away inhumanity; and let us stretch forth the hand to give alms, and not with money only, but with words also; let us relieve such as are in need;-that we may both escape the punishment for reviling, and may inherit the kingdom which is for blessing and almsgiving, by the grace and love towards man of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might for ever and ever. Amen. - St. Chrysostom (and of Hom. 35, on St. Matth.).

1 To ventilate is to let in plenty of fresh air; to fumigate is to get rid of bad smells by the smoke or vapour of various

substances.