with his youngest sister, in spite of every remedy which skill could apply.

During the three days of Francesco's illness, his birds flew incessantly round and round his bed; "some," says the Abbé Reperonci (an Italian, who recounts his story,) "lying sadly upon his pillow, others flitting backwards and forwards above his head, a few uttering brief and plaintive cries, and all, in fact, taking scarcely any nourishment during his sickness."

Dying as he was, the affectionate child could not avoid being sensible of the attachment of the little companions whom he had instructed with so much care. He never once betrayed any uneasiness for himself; but often and bitterly did he weep for his mother, and exclaim from time to time, "alas! who, when I am gone, will support my desolate mother, or tend my neglected birds ?"

None of his feathered favourites manifested on his decease such real and inconsolable grief as Rosoletta. When poor Francesco was placed in his coffin, she flew round and round it, and at last perched herself upon the lid. In vain they several times removed her, she still returned, and even persisted in accompanying the funeral procession to the place of graves,

During his interment she sat upon an adjoining cypress, to watch where they laid the remains of her friend; and when the crowd had departed, she

forsook the spot no more, except to return to the cottage of his mother for her accustomed food, Whilst she lived, she came daily to perch and to sleep upon the turret of an adjoining chapel, which looked upon his grave; and here she lived, and here died, about four months after the death of her beloved master.

The tomb of Francesco is yet to be seen in Sassari; and the burial-ground where he lies, is still called "the Cemetery of the Little Fowler."

SAILOR BOY.

WHEN the frigate La Tribune was wrecked off Halifax, in November, 1798, the whole ship's crew perished, with the exception of four men, who escaped in the jolly boat, and eight others, who clung to the main and fore-tops. The inhabitants of the place came down in the night opposite to the point where the ship struck, and approached so near as to converse with the people on the wreck. The first exertion which was made for their relief, was by a boy of no more than thirteen years of age, from Herring Cove, who ventured off in a small skiff by himself, about eleven o'clock the next day. With great exertions, and at extreme risk to himself, he ventured to approach

the wreck, and backed in his little boat so near to the fore-top as to take off two of the men, for the boat could not with safety hold any more. He rowed them triumphantly to the Cove, and had them instantly conveyed to a comfortable habitation. After shaming, by his example, older persons, who had larger boats, the manly boy put off again in his little skiff; but with all his efforts he was unable to reach the wreck a second time. His example, however, was soon followed by other boats of the Cove; and by their joint exertions the whole of the remaining survivors were saved.

THIS is the month, and this the happy morn,
Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King,
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring;
For so the holy sages once did sing,

That he our deadly forfeit should release,
And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.

That glorious form, that light unsufferable,
And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,

Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council table
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,

He laid aside; and, here with us to be,

Forsook the courts of everlasting day,

And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.

Say, heavenly Muse! shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the infant God?

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
To welcome him to this his new abode,

Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod,
Hath took no print of the approaching light,

And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?

See, how from far, upon the eastern road,
The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet:
O! run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;

Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,
And join thy voice unto the angel quire,

From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.

THE WOOD-MOUSE.

D'YE know the little Wood-Mouse,

That pretty little thing,

That sits among the forest leaves,
Beside the forest spring?

Its fur is red as the red chestnut,
And it is small and slim ;
It leads a life most innocent
Within the forest dim.

'Tis a timid, gentle creature, And seldom comes in sight;

It has a long and wiry tail,

And eyes both black and bright.