table-eating animal whose food is neither concentrated nor easy to move. On the contrary, it is obtained with great labor in the first instance, and stored with no less toil after it is procured. The beaver lives during the winter on the bark of trees. As it is not safe, and often impossible, for the animal to leave the water when the ice has formed, it stores these branches under water, cutting them into lengths, dragging them below the surface, and fixing them down to the bottom with stones and mud. This is more difficult work than gathering hay. Birds, in spite of their powers of locomotion, suffer greatly from famine. Many species which could leave the famine area seem either deficient in the instinct to move, or unwilling to do so. Rooks, for instance, which are now known to migrate across the Channel and the North Sea, will hang about the same parish in bad droughts and suffer acutely, though they might easily move to places where water, if not food, is abundant. The frost famines mainly affect the insect-eating birds; and as these live on animal food, which would not keep, they could not be expected to make a store. But there is no such difference of possible food between birds which do make stores and birds which do not. Why, for instance, should the nuthatch and the Mexican woodpecker lay by for hard times while the rook does not? Domestic animals in this country are very properly guaranteed by recent leg islation against being left to starve by their owners. It is not often that the owner of any domesticated animal is so careless of his own interests as to do so when the creature is capable of work, or so inhuman if it is not. But instances do occur to the contrary. The law does recognize an implied right on the part of the animal to this exemption from the great curse of animal existence, if man has exacted from it a previous tribute in the form of work. But there is a borderland of animal domestication in which this implicit duty of man to beast is seriously neglected, partly because the work done by the animal is less obvious, though the animal is kept for the profit of man. There are great areas of new country in Argentina, the United States, and Australia where the raising of stock, whether sheep, cattle, or horses, is carried on without much regard to the limits set by famine in years of frost or drought. The creatures are multiplied without regard to famine periods, and no reserve of food is kept to meet these. Natural laws are left to work in bad times, and this "natural law" is death by famine. Consequently, at the present time we hear of multitudes of starving horses on the ranches of Oregon, and in Australia during a drought, or in Argentina after protracted drought or cold, sheep and cattle die by tens of thousands by the most lingering of deaths. There is something amiss here in the relations between man and beast which cannot be justified even on "business" grounds. Letters Delayed by Bees.-An unusual sight was witnessed at Cranbrook, in Kent, the other afternoon. A swarm of bees settled on a pillar-box at Frizley, and soon afterwards a second swarm lo. cated themselves inside the box, the whole colony following the queen through the aperture provided for letters. Every preparation was made for the capture of the swarm upon the ar rival of the rural postman to clear the letters; but, owing to the awkward position of the winged visitors, it was found impossible to hive the bees until night, when they were smoked and safely housed. Owing to this unusual incident, the letters posted before the bees took possession of the pillar-box were delayed for several hours.-St. James's Gazette. Paul Heyse. Tanslated for The Living II. THE POETRY OF GEORGE MEREDITH, Church Quarterly, III. AN UNNOTED CORNER OF SPAIN. 627 634 By . VI. THE TALE OF A GRECIAN Boy. By VII. THE NEW SAYINGS OF CHRIST. By M. VIII. A TRAPPIST MONASTERY IN NATAL. IX. BORDER ESSAYS, X. A POETIC TRIO, Gentleman's Magazine, Chambers's Journal, Athenæum, XI. THE EARLY RISING FALLACY, 1.ondon Standard, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE LIVING AGE COMPANY, BOSTON. 6-6 FOR SIX DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, THE LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, cr by post-office money order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of THE LIVING AGE Co. Single copies of THE LIVING AGE. 15 cents. IN NATURE'S WAGGISH MOOD.1 BY PAUL HEYSE. strange figure might beard and the Translated for THE LIVING AGE by Harriet subterranean passages and there se Lieber Cohen. It was a wild autumn night. A cruel fog seemed blowing from all four points of the compass at once. The streets were cleared of all pedestrians who had no urgent reason for being out-of-doors; sentinels had crept into their sentryboxes, policemen had found shelter in warm bar-rooms-their duties as cus todians of the peace always taking them away from their posts when such weather was abroad,--and yet in one of the suburbs of the provincial town there might have been seen, on this night in question, a tiny little figure walking as leisurely over the damp, oozy pavements as though the most cloudless of summer skies had lured him forth by its beauty. The distant observer would probably have taken the little piece of humanity for a child of three or four who had strayed from home and now, frightened and perhaps fearing punish ment, was wandering aimlessly in the dark and fog. Closer approach, however, aided by the flickering light from the corner street-lamp, would have shown that this was not the figure of a child. True, a pair of clear grey eyes looked out from under the broadbrimmed black felt hat, and a round, rosy-cheeked face emerged from the turned-up collar of a heavy brown overcoat, but the chin had a straggling growth of light brown beard, while crow's feet about the eyes and lines around the mouth, as well as the bold and resolute expression on the finely chiselled features, gave unmistakable evidence that the small personage had long since reached man's estate and that his stunted stature must have been caused by human mischance, or by nature with malice prepense. In his right hand the little man carried a stick whose ferrule end sounded a regular tick-tack on the plaster pave ment; the left bore a closed dark lantern, which strikingly enhanced his gnome-like appearance. A long gray 1 Copyright by The Living Age Company. curely hide their mysterious treasures from the eyes of men. The dark lantern, however, served a much more modest purpose; for, during his nocturnal rambles as often as the little night-bird would meet a creature of ordinary size, who naturally at once fell to wondering what the child was doing out in the street at such an hour, he would press his finger on the round door of the lantern and hold the light aloft so that it would fall full on his own face; then at a glance from those clear grey eyes, that looked as though they knew quite well what they were about, the inquisitive observer would pass on, reserving his pity for a more needy object. With the guards and policemen he seemed to be on familiar terms, and they would call out cheerily in passing: "Good evening, Mr. Hinze," whereupon Mr. Hinze would as cheerily return the salutation in a thin, high-pitched voice that was very earnest and resolute withal. Then he would proceed leisurely on his contemplative way, from time to time swinging his stick in the air and giving an occasional lunge with it as though he were a young student practising the tierce and carte with no one near to criticise. This inhospitable night, however, he had wandered for an hour in and out of street and side street, meeting no other living creature except a masterless dog, Who, wet and shivering, had brushed up close to him for some human comfort. The emptiness of the street did not seem to oppress him; on the contrary he would stand in revery before some halfbuilt house, or gaze long and intently at one of the gaudy, pretentious villas with balcony and terrace; then he would fall into a murmured soliloquy, give a low shrill whistle, that might have come from the lungs of a mouse, and move quietly on his way. It struck twelve from a neighboring church-tower as the noctambulist turned into one of the broader thoroughfares where the street-lamps made a more imposing display-the streaming sidewalks absorbing and reflecting their had never chanced upon; and as though the kobold were stretching out his hand to throttle him, the bird trembled in every limb and again its hoarse cries grew loud and fierce; then, retreating from the attack as far as his narrow quarters allowed, and fearing that the next instant the elfin hand would be around his throat, he uttered a despairing angry scream and with outstretched wings and threatening beak flew violently against his importunate and obnoxious visitor. light in truly magnificent fashion. Im- he stared amazed. Such a kobold he mediately before him rose an ancient building, its doorway a mass of sculptured stone. Upon the topmost step of the flight lay a black object that excited his curiosity. He stepped closely up to it and beheld a large raven, evidently an inmate of the house, belated, and forced, for fear of worse, to sleep on the door step. The thick beak was buried under its wing, and the approach of footsteps had not roused the bird, so heavy was its sleep. At a sharp flash from the dark-lantern, however, it raised its head in angry fashion and stared at the curious figure before it. "Good evening, old gentleman," said the intruder in his high-pitched voice. "You have not selected the most agreeable resting-place for your slumbers. True, a wise man preserves an inward peace in foul weather as in fair, and the lofty position you have chosen proves that you consider yourself above those lowly ones whose feet are chained to earth. But your black coat-I trust you'll take no offence is somewhat worn and threadbare; the wind is whistling through the seams. Take my advice and find a warm corner under the church roof, or pay a friendly visit to your cousin Madam Owl. Why are you glaring so viciously at me with those sharp eyes of yours and using your beak in such an ugly fashion? I am treating you with all due respect; in fact, if you have no prejudice against suca young people as myself, I should be happy to have your friendship. You please me uncommonly well, Mr. Von Corax. Here is my hand. Take it. You will not? Well, then, permit me to stroke your highly respectable and ancient beak. Please hold still. I myself have had a rather ill-omened life, so you see we are distantly related." During this address the human mite stepped closer and closer to the large bird and extended his hand in purest amity. The raven listened to the overture of peace in growing alarm and, with ruffled feathers and hoarse screams, fluttered back into the deep recess of the doorway. In his long and meditative life he had seen many strange things among the children of men, but at this friendly countenance The manikin had but time to dodge with head and shoulders, and hold his lamp aloft. Again the age-worn eyes were blinded, and again the bird drew back-for an instant only, then with a new access of fury he assailed his foe afresh and drove him backward, step by step, down the long flight. The object of his wrath was determined to conciliate him if possible, for at every step of his retreat he tried to pacify the irate bird, repeating that it was merely a misunderstanding, that he never would have addressed him had he guessed his choleric disposition. His words seemed to madden the bird the more, and he was beginning to fear that he must use his stick in defence when the approach of a third party suddenly brought the encounter to an end. For, during the struggle, around the corner came a figure who, to the casual wayfarer presented a much more questionable and alarming appearance than the odd little man with the lantern. The newcomer was a very giant in height and breadth. For cloak he wore a horse blanket, a hole cut in the middle served for the head to pass through, and leathern straps fastened it about the waist. His bushy hair stood out on both sides below a round, grey cap that was fastened under the massive chin by ear-caps, and his tremendous feet encased in hobnailed shoes thundered along on the sidewalk. Slowly, but with prodigious strides, the giant approached the scene of the strange combat, but so deeply was he absorbed in thought that he would have passed the contestants as indifferently as a cat and dog quarreling in the street, had not the fast revolving lantern first thrown the old |