‘I don’t wonder at it, ma’am, I’m sure,’ replied
the civil shopman. ‘It so happens that an owl
was sent up from the country this morning in a
basket of poultry. Ah, here he is!’ he said, bringing
out from under the counter a fine specimen of the
white or barn owl.

‘There, sir,’ he said; ‘now I put the owl beside
the ptarmigan, you see the difference: don’t you ?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said the boy. ‘The owl’s héad is much
larger; then he has got a sharp, hooked beak, and
great strong claws, besides having a good deal of
yellow about him, while the ptarmigan is as white
as snow, all except some feathers in the tail; and
its beak is short, and it has blunt claws.’

‘One thing, you see, they both have in common,’
said the shopman; ‘they both have what I call
trowsers. I mean, their legs are covered with feathers
down to their toes.’ :

‘So they are!’ exclaimed the lad. ‘Some birds,
like cocks and hens, have bare legs, I know. Per-
haps that is the reason they are so fond of standing
upon one leg, and tucking the other up into the
feathers.’

‘These ptarmigan, or white grouse, have only just
been unpacked,’ said the poulterer; ‘and I wish you
could have seen the package opened. It came from
Norway ; and although the birds had been killed,
I dare say, six or eight weeks, you see they are
quite fresh and good.’

‘Oh, do tell me all about it!’ said the boy.

‘Well, sir, I believe, when winter comes the
country-folk of those parts, that is, the wild hills
and forests of Norway and Sweden, catch a won-
derful lot of these ptarmigan in nooses; for, if you
notice, not one of these has any marks of shot or
blood about it. Shot birds, they say, do not keep
so well, so are eaten in that country, and only the
snared ones are sent to England. Well, the first
thing to be done after they are caught is to let
them freeze till they areas hard asa brick. Just
feel this bird ; you see, it’s like a stone, for it is only
just unpacked and it has not had time to thaw yet.’

‘So it is! What a clever way of making them
keep !’

‘Well,’ continued the shopman, ‘when they are
thoroughly frozen these packing-cases are got ready
and lined with goat-skins ; the frozen birds are then
neatly laid in layers till the box is full, the goat-
skins are then brought right over the top, so as to
keep out any warmer air, and then they are sent off
by steamer to England. But here’s another thing
to notice ; you see,’ he said, stretching out the bird’s
wing, ‘that the pinion, or tip of the wing, has been
cut off.’ .

‘So it has,’ said the boy. ‘ What for, I wonder?’

‘You may examine all the ptarmigan in the shops,
and you will be almost sure to find they have all been
served the same way. The fact is, these pinions,
which are the longest and prettiest feathers of the
whole wing, are cut off before the birds are sent
into the market, as ornaments for ladies’ and chil-
dren’s hats; and are worth, I believe, five pence
a-piece.’

The lady now rose to go, gratefully thanking the

|
|
poulterer for his kindness in giving her son so much |
interesting information about the ptarmigan.

‘Oh, mother,’ broke out the lad, when they were
outside the shop, ‘what a kind shopkeeper !’

‘Yes, indeed,’ she replied. ‘How pleasant it is .
to meet with such true kindness and civility. I am
sure you have learned a great deal from him; and
just that sort of information, too, which you could not
find in books. Any work on natural history will tell
us all about these birds in their native haunts ; their
change from summer to winter plumage, their habits,
and the like: but none of them tell us how they
pass from their native mountains to the London
shops.’

 

 

HEROISM.

(* the 31st of March, 1876, John Chiddy, a quarry-
7 man employed on the Great Western Railway
at Corsham, near Bath, saw that a large stone had

 

fallen upon the metals along which the ‘ Flying Dutch-.
man,’ then in sight, was rushing at the rate of fifty
miles an hour. Without a thought of the risk he
ran, Chiddy rushed to the spot and 1ifted the stone
off the line, and a terrible satastrophe was thus
averted ; but the poor man lost his life in the act.
The buffer of the engine caught him, and he was
killed in an instant. He left a widow and seven
children, and his case being a peculiarly hard one,
some gentlemen in Bristol took it up. The Company
when applied to denied their liability, and the pas-
sengers whose lives were saved by Chiddy’s heroic
conduct subscribed only a few pounds, A public
appeal was then made, resulting in the raising of
between four and five hundred pounds. With part
of this a neat six-roomed cottage has been built near
the scene of the occurrence, and this, with half an
acre of garden-ground, was publicly presented to
the widow.

TOWN AND COUNTRY.
a ladies of fashion, great lords of renown,
163)

 

You'll never tempt me with your life in the
town.
To think how you squander your beautiful Junes;
Chained down to hot pavements and crowded sa-
loons !

Your curtains of damask, though costly and fair,
Do but make a lad tender, and keep out the air;
Your carpets have travelled from Yezd or Tokat,
But are not so sweet as an honest rush mat.

I pity you much, Miss ; your cheeks are so pale;
But suppers at midnight will tell their own tale:
The pleasures you aim at are purchased too dear,

| Would you buy your joys cheaply, come out to me

here,

I’m a nursling of Nature, and fed by her sweets,
She shows me the way to her choicest retreats ;
Through mosses and heather I follow the rill,
And I daintily feast at the top of the hill.

Come here, heavy-eyed one; pale beauty, up hither;
In the close air of fashion your graces must wither.
Come, wash in this fountain, its virtues are rare

 

For the pallor of sickness, the wrinkles of care!
G. 8.0.