alled vividly to remembrance those of other days, a
consoling portion of the Words of Him who brought life and immortality
to light. She then rose, wiped away a tear, silently pressed his hand,
and withdrew.

Horace called the next morning, but did not receive the expected charge.
During the silence of the night, Richard Clifton had ceased to be an
inhabitant of earth.

(To be continued.)

[Illustration]

INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF AUDUBON.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "TOM OWEN, THE BEE HUNTER."

NO department of natural history presents a more pleasing view than
ornithology. All the associations connected with it are beautiful and
inspiring. It takes its votary into the green fields and dark forests,
leads him to the mountain tops, and furnishes excitement among the quiet
retreats of the sequestered valley. Upon the feathered race have been
expended the richest adornments of nature. There are no precious metals,
no choice gems, no rare flowers, no rainbow tints that cannot find a
rival counterpart in the plumage of birds; and to this transcendent
beauty are added a varied, but always attractive form, a physiognomy
expressive of love, of power, of unshrinking bravery. They have also
voices almost human in their tones; voices that are associated with
every pleasing recollection of innocence and youth because of their
sweetness--and voices that startle because of their ferocity.

The habits of birds present examples of well-regulated, of almost
Christianized society. They are married, and are given _to_ marriage;
they set up a comfortable establishment, which is the result of their
own industry. They provide plentifully for their offspring, and educate
them in the way they should go, and when they are old they never depart
from it. The birds rise early to procure food, and retire with the
setting sun; as husbands they are gallant, as wives loving. All that
they do, or say, or look may be said to interest and form universal
theme for admiration. Birds rejoice in creation. In the solitary
fastnesses and eternal solitudes where the eye of man never penetrates
or his mind worships, the voice of the bird is heard caroling forth
praise. And what in the wide world is so hearty in its nature, or so
guileless, as the singing bird? How often has its innocent voice
awakened conscience in the mind of the depraved or reproved the
complaining spirit! Who can hear the caroling even of the tiny wren
without catching