together at a little distance, and then begin a set of frolics of their own; dancing fantastically about, or butting, as in jest, against each other. The whole affair is a regular game of romps, such as a merry group of children will occasionally be allowed to enjoy just before going to bed. It is highly amusing to witness it, and to trace the resemblance it bears to human doings; which is sometimes carried so far, that a single mamma will be seen looking on close by, apparently rather happy at the idea of the young folks being so merry, but anxious also that they should not behave too roughly; otherwise she must certainly interfere.

That there is merriment, genuine, human-like merriment, in many of the lower animals, no one can doubt that has ever watched the gambols of the kid, the lamb, the kitten, or dogs. But there is something to be observed in these sports still more human-like than mere sport. The principal of makebelieve, or jest, as opposed to earnest, can be discerned in many of their merry-makings. A friend of mine observed a kitten. amusing itself by running along past its mother, and giving her a little pat on the cheek every time it passed. This must have been done as a little practical joke. The cat stood it for a time very tranquilly; but at last, appearing to get irritated by the repetition of such absurd behavior, she gave her offspring a blow on the side of the head that sent the little creature spinning to the other side of the room. The kitten looked extremely surprised at this act of mamma, as considering it very ungracious of her not to take the joke in the way it was meant.

The sense of duty is another of the human-like characteristics of animals, and one of those best known. A Newfoundland dog once lived with a family in one of the Southern States of the American Union, which had rescued one of its master's daughters from drowning. The family had occasion to proceed in a schooner for the city of St. Augustine; they had embarked, and the vessel was swinging off from the pier, when the dog was missed. To quote a newspaper narrative, “They whistled, and called, but no dog appeared: the captain became

impatient, declared he would wait no longer, gave the order, and the craft swept along the waters, with a spanking breeze, and was soon a quarter of a mile from the shore. The girl and her father were standing at the stern of the vessel, looking back upon the city, which they had probably left forever, when Towser was seen running down to the edge of the wharf with something in his mouth. With a glass they discovered that it was his master's pocket handkerchief, which had been dropped on the road to the vessel, and which he now recollected, with some compunctions of conscience, he had sent his four-footed servant back to look after.

"The dog looked piteously around upon the bystanders, then at the retreating vessel, and leaped boldly into the water. His master immediately pointed out the noble animal to the captain, and requested him to throw his vessel into the wind, until the dog could near them. He also offered a large sum if he would drop his boat, and pick him up; told him of the manner in which he had preserved his daughter's life, and again offered him the price of a passage if he would save the faithful creature. The girl joined her entreaties to those of her father, and implored that her early friend might be rescued. But the captain was a savage: he was deaf to every appeal of humanity; kept obstinately on his course; and the better animal of the two followed the vessel, until, his strength exhausted, and his generous heart chilled by despair, he sank among the more merciful billows."

Animals sometimes form peculiar attachments for certain individuals of our species. Such a predilection was once the means of deciding very amusingly a case before a court of justice. It was a Dublin police office, and the object of dispute was a pet parrot, which had been stolen from a Mr. Davis, and sold to a Mr. Moore. The plaintiff, taking the bird upon his finger, said, “Come, old boy, give me a kiss," which the parrot instantly did. A youth in the defendant's interest remarked that this proved nothing, as the parrot would kiss any body. "You had better not try," remarked the plaintiff. Nevertheless the young man asked the parrot to kiss him.

Poll advanced as if to give the required salute, but seized the youth's lip and made him roar with pain. This fact, and the parrot's obeying the plaintiff in several other requisitions, caused it to be instantly ordered into the possession of its original owner.

Human foibles, too, are participated by animals. The dog, I grieve to say, is capable of both envy and jealousy. A gentleman, calling one day upon Dr. Gall, at Paris, found that most original observer of nature in the midst of birds, cats, and dogs, which were his pets. "Do you think,” said he, turning his eyes to two beautiful dogs at his feet, which were endeavoring to gain his attention, " that these little pets possess pride and vanity, like man?" "Yes," said the other, "I have remarked their vanity frequently. We will call both feelings into action," said he. He then caressed the whelp, and took it into his arms.

66

"Mark that mother's offended

pride," said he, as he walked quietly across the room to her mat. Do 66 think she will come if I call her?" you "O, yes," answered his friend. "Not at all." He made the attempt, but she heeded not the hand she had so earnestly endeavored to lick but an instant before. "She will not speak to me today," said Dr. Gall.

An anecdote was lately given in a newspaper, which would show animals to be even capable of a sense of equity; but perhaps there is some exaggeration about it. A gentleman, visiting a menagerie * in Penrith, found there a fine lioness with two cubs. While he was observing her, the keeper handed in a sheep's head to the cubs, which instantly began to quarrel over it, as if each desired exclusive possession of the prize. In the midst of the turmoil, the lioness rose, and advanced, and with two well-directed cuffs, sent them cowering into the corners of the den. She then lay down, and deliberately divided the spoil into two equal parts, assigned one to each of her young ones; after which, without taking a morsel to herself, she retired and lay quietly down again.

*Pronounced me-nar'zhe-re.

LIII. ENCOUNTER BETWEEN AN EAGLE AND

A SALMON.

LIFE IN THE WOODS.

I HAVE often been struck with the singular attachment hunters sometimes have for some bird or animal, while all the rest of the species they pursue with deadly hostility. About five hundred yards from Beach's hut stands a lofty pine tree, on which a gray eagle has built its nest annually during the nine years he has lived on the shores of the Raquette. The Indian who dwelt there before him says that the same pair of birds made their nest on that tree for ten years previous; making in all nineteen years they have occupied the same spot, and built on the same branch.

One day, however, Beach was near losing his bold eagle. He was lying at anchor, fishing, when he saw his favorite bird, high up in heaven, slowly sweeping round and round in a huge circle, evidently awaiting the approach of a fish to the surface. For an hour or more, he thus sailed with motionless wings above the water, when all at once he stopped and hovered a moment with an excited gesture, then, rapid as a flash of lightning, and with a rush of his broad pinions, like the passage of a sudden gust of wind, came to the still bosom of the lake. He had seen a huge salmon trout swimming near the surface; and plunging from his high watchtower, drove his talons deep in his victim's back. So rapid and strong was his swoop that he buried himself out of sight when he struck; but the next moment he emerged into view, and, flapping his wings, endeavored to rise with his prey.

But this time he had miscalculated his strength; in vain he struggled nobly to lift the salmon from the water. The frightened and bleeding fish made a sudden dive, and took eagle and all out of sight, and was gone a quarter of a minute. Again they rose to the surface, and the strong bird spread out his broad dripping pinions, and, gathering force with his rapid blows,

raised the salmon half out of water. The weight, however, was too great for him, and he sank again to the surface, beating the water into foam about him. The salmon then made another dive, and they both went under, leaving only a few bubbles to tell where they had gone down.

This time they were absent a full half minute, and Beach said he thought it was all over with his bird. He soon, however, reappeared, with his talons still buried in the flesh of his foe, and again made a desperate effort to rise. All this time the fish was shooting like an arrow through the lake, carrying his relentless foe on his back. He could not keep the eagle down, nor the bird carry him up; and so, now beneath, and now upon the surface, they struggled on, presenting one of the most singular yet exciting spectacles that can be imagined. It was fearful to witness the blows of the eagle, as he lashed the lake with his wings into spray, and made the shores echo with the report. At last the bird thinking, as they say west, that he had "waked the wrong passenger," gave it up, and loosening his clutch, soared heavily and slowly away to his lofty pine tree, where he sat for a long time sullen and sulky, the picture of disappointed ambition. So might a wounded and baffled lion lie down in his lair and brood over his defeat. Beach said that he could easily have captured them, but he thought he would see the fight out.

When, however, they both staid under half a minute or more, he concluded he should never see his eagle again. Whether the latter in his rage was bent on capturing his prize, and would retain his hold, though at the hazard of his life, or whether in his terrible swoop he had stuck his crooked talons so deep in the back of the salmon that he could not extricate himself, the hunter said he could not tell. The latter, however, was doubtless the truth, and he would have been glad to have let go long before he did.