weary of tormenting this little family. A
violent shower of rain fell. The nest being
exposed, by the close clipping of the ivy
leaves, the drugget got sopped, the rain half
filled the nest, and the gardener found the
four little ones lying motionless in the water.
Once more, they were taken away, dried near
the fire, and placed in the nest of another
bird fixed in a tree opposite the ivy. The
parent birds in a few minutes occupied the
nest, and never ceased their attentions until
the brood were able to fly, and take care of
themselves.

The story we have already related of
Diedrik Müller's lion, is surpassed by
another of a similar kind, which we take to be
about the best lion-story that zoological
records can furnish.

A hunter, in the wilds of Africa, had seated
himself on a bank near a pool, to rest, leaving his
gun, set upright against a rock, a few feet behind
him. He was alone. Whether he fell asleep,
or only into a reverie, he did not know, but
suddenly he saw an enormous lion standing
near him, attentively observing him.
Their eyes met, and thus they remained,
motionless, looking at each other. At length
the hunter leaned back, and slowly extended
his arm towards his gun. The lion instantly
uttered a deep growl, and advanced nearer.
The hunter paused. After a time, he very
gradually repeated the attempt, and again
the lion uttered a deep growl, the meaning
of which was not to be mistaken. This
occurred several times (as in the former
case), until the man was obliged to desist
altogether. Night approached; the lion
never left him the whole night. Day broke;
the lion still was there, and remained
there the whole day. The hunter had
ceased to make any attempt to seize his gun,
and saw that his only hope was to weary
the lion out by the fortitude of a passive
state, however dreadful the situation. All
the next night the lion remained. The
man, worn out for want of sleep, dared not
to close his eyes, lest the lion, believing him
to be dead, should devour him. All the
provision in his wallet was exhausted. The
third night arrived. Being now utterly
exhausted, and having dropped off to sleep,
several times, and as often come back to
consciousness with a start of horror at finding he
had been asleep, he finally sunk backward,
and lay in a dead slumber. He never awoke
till broad day, and then found that the lion
was gone.

On the question of "best" stories of animals,
there are so many excellent stories of
several species that the superlative degree
may be hard to determine. Setting down
the above, however, as the best lion-story,
we will give what we consider to be (up to
this time) the best elephant-story. In one of
the recent accounts of scenes of Indian warfare
(the title of the book has escaped us,
and perhaps we met with the narrative in a
printed letter), a body of artillery was described
as proceeding up a hill, and the great
strength of elephants was found highly
advantageous in drawing up the guns. On the
carriage of one of these guns, a little in front
of the wheel, sat an artilleryman, resting
himself. An elephant, drawing another gun,
was advancing in regular order close behind.
Whether from falling asleep, or over-fatigue,
the man fell from his seat, and the wheel of
the gun-carriage, with its heavy gun, was
just rolling over him. The elephant comprehending
the danger, and seeing that he
could not reach the body of the man with
his trunk, seized the wheel by the top,
and, lifting it up, passed it carefully over
the fallen man, and set it down on the other
side.

The best dog-story— though there are a
number of best stories of this honest fellow—
we fear is an old one; but we cannot forbear
telling it, for the benefit of those who may
not have met with it before. A surgeon found
a poor dog, with his leg broken. He took
him home, set it, and in due time gave him
his liberty. Off he ran. Some months afterwards
the surgeon was awoke in the night by
a dog barking loudly at his door. As the barking
continued, and the surgeon thought he recognised
the voice, he got up, and went down
stairs. When he opened the door, there stood
his former patient, wagging his tail, and by his
side another dog—a friend whom he had
brought—who had also had the misfortune to
get a leg broken. There is another dog-story
of a different kind, told by Mr. Jenyns, which
we think very amusing. A poodle, belonging
to a gentleman in Cheshire, was in the habit
of going to church with his master, and sitting
with him in the pew during the whole service.
Sometimes his master did not come; but this
did not prevent the poodle, who always
presented himself in good time, entered the pew,
and remained sitting there alone: departing
with the rest of the congregation. One Sunday,
the dam at the head of a lake in the
neighbourhood gave way, and the whole road
was inundated. The congregation was therefore
reduced to a few individuals, who came
from cottages close at hand. Nevertheless,
by the time the clergyman had commenced
reading the Psalms, he saw his friend the
poodle come slowly up the aisle, dripping
with water: having been obliged to swim
above a quarter of a mile to get to church.
He went into his pew, as usual, and remained
quietly there to the end of the service. This
is told on the authority of the clergyman
himself.

A hungry jackdaw once took a fancy to
a young chicken which had only recently
been hatched. He pounced upon it accordingly,
and was carrying it off, when the
hen rushed upon him, and beat him with
her wings, and held him in her beak, until the
cock came up, who immediately attacked the
jackdaw, and struck him so repeatedly that he