monuments which are spread through the country, and from the more durable records of popular superstitions--is different in some particulars which have been supplied to us by other writers.

According to Cæsar, the Druids taught that the soul of man did not perish with his perishable body, but passed into other bodies. But the language of other writers, Mela, Diodorus Siculus, and Ammianus Marcellinus, would seem to imply that the Druids held the doctrine of the immortality of the soul as resting upon a nobler principle than that described by Cæsar. They believed, according to the express statement of Ammianus Marcellinus, that the future existence of the spirit was in another world. The substance of their religious system, according to Diogenes Laertius, was comprised in their three precepts to worship the gods, to do no evil, and to act with courage. It is held by some that they had a secret doctrine for the initiated, whilst their ritual observances were addressed to the grosser senses of the multitude; and that this doctrine was, the belief in one God. Their veneration for groves of oak and for sacred fountains was an expression of that natural worship which sees the source of all good in the beautiful forms with which the earth is clothed. The sanctity of the misletoe, the watchfires of spring and summer and autumn, traces of which observances still remain amongst us, were tributes to the bounty of the All-giver, who alone could make the growth, the ripening, and the gathering of the fruits of the earth propitious.

The sun and the moon regulated their festivals, and there is little doubt formed part of their outward worship. An astronomical instrument found in Ireland is held to represent the moon's orbit and the phases of the planets. They worshipped, too, according to Cæsar, the divinities of Greece and Rome, such as Mars and Apollo; but Cæsar does not give us their native names. He probably found ascribed to these British gods like attributes of wisdom and of power as those of Rome, and so gave them Roman names. Other writers confirm Cæsar's account of their human sacrifices. This is the most revolting part of the Druidical superstition. The shuddering with which those who live under a pure revelation must regard such fearful corruptions of the principle of devotion, which in some form or other seems an essential part of the constitution of the human faculties, produced this description of Stonehenge from the pen of a laborious and pious antiquary, Mr. King:-'Although my mind was previously filled with determined aversion and a degree of horror, on reflecting upon the abominations of which this spot must have been the scene, and to which it even gave occasion, in the later periods of Druidism, yet it was impossible not to be struck, in the still of the evening, whilst the moon's

pale light illumined all, with a reverential awe at the solemn appearance produced by the different shades of this immense group of astonishing masses of rock, artificially placed, impending overhead with threatening aspect, bewildering the mind with the almost inextricable confusion of their relative situations with respect to each other, and from their rudeness as well as from their prodigious bulk, conveying at one glance all the ideas of stupendous greatness that could well be assembled together.' And yet the determined aversion and degree of horror thus justly felt, and strongly expressed, might be mitigated by the consideration that in nations wholly barbarous the slaughter of prisoners of war is indiscriminate, but that the victim of the sacrifice is the preserver of the mass.

If the victims thus slain on the Druidical altars were culprits sacrificed to offended justice, the blood-stained stone of the sacred circle might find a barbarous parallel in the scaffold and the gibbet of modern times. Even such fearful rites, if connected with something nobler than the mere vengeance of man upon his fellows, are an advance in civilization, and they are not wholly inconsistent with that rude cultivation of our spiritual being which existed under the glimmerings of natural impulses, before the clear light of heaven descended upon the earth.

SIMPLE PROPORTION.

(1) If 75 yards of calico cost £25, what would 150 yards cost? (2) If the cost of 72 loads of hay be £190, what would be the cost of 96 loads?

(3) How much will 28 yards of velvet cost, if 16 yards cost £7 10s. 6d.?

(4) Find the value of 12 sacks of potatoes at the rate of £2 12s. 6d. for 8 sacks.

(5) What will be the cost of 176 sheep at the rate of £330 for 132 sheep?

It is often remarked, what impudent birds are London sparrows! and not without reason. Born and bred in the bustle of the town, they must either live and jostle with the crowd, or look

down from the housetops and die of hunger. Naturally enough, they prefer the former; and every one of our London readers will, we are sure, testify to the cool intrepidity with which this familiar bird will pounce upon a bit of bread or some other tempting morsel, which happens to catch his eye upon the pavement, and with what triumph and exultation he bears it off to his mate seated on some window-sill or coping-stone above, or followed, perhaps, by three or four disappointed companions who were a moment too late in seizing the spoil. Then for her nest-while other birds must select their own accustomed spots, the similar tree or bush, the same materials, &c., the sparrow, like a bird who knows the world, is everywhere at home, and ready to establish himself wherever chance may happen to place him. If he lives remote from towns and cities and the habitations of men, a tree answers his purpose, and a comfortable nest he will there build, with the rare addition of an arched top into the bargain, which possibly he may have learned from that knowing bird, the magpie. In default of a tree or a house, a chink in a rock or a hole in a wall suits him; but, after all, the nooks and eaves of buildings are his favourite resorts; accordingly, in London, where he has his choice, he will often select droll places. Amidst the carved foliage of the capital of some Corinthian column, a projection of straws, with now and then a feather, announce a nest in preparation.

But some London sparrows aspire still higher, one pair having actually built in the lion's mouth, over Northumberland House, at Charing Cross. A still more extraordinary place was pitched upon by a north-country couple. A coal vessel from Newcastle put into Nairn, in Scotland, and while there two sparrows were frequently observed to alight on the top of the vessel's mast, while the vessel remained in port. This occasioned no great surprise to the crew; but, after putting to sea, the two sparrows were seen following the sloop, and, having come up with her, resumed their posts at the top of the mast. Crumbs of bread were scattered upon the deck with the view of enticing them down, of which they soon availed themselves; and after eating heartily, again returned to the mast-head. By the time the vessel had been two days at sea they became much more familiar, and descended boldly for the purpose of feeding. The voyage was a long one, lasting for some days; when, on reaching the river Tyne, to which they were bound, the nest, with four young ones, was carefully taken down, and being put, in the presence of the old birds, into the crevice of a ruined house on the banks of the river, they continued to rear their brood.

While thus upon the subject of young sparrows, we may direct attention to the very rapid growth of their feathers in

hot weather. On the 9th of August a young one was taken from a nest, with neither down nor feathers upon it, the rudiments only of plumage being visible under the skin, on the back of the head, and along the back; on the side of the wings the shafts of the quills had just pierced the skin. Eight days after, another young one was taken from the same nest, covered with feathers, and able to make some use of its wings. Another circumstance is worthy of notice. The old ones had adapted the food to their powers of digestion. The stomach of the first was weak, and filled almost entirely with insects, only one grain of wheat and a few of sand being found. In the second the gizzard was become vastly more muscular, and contained nine grains of wheat, whole, besides some smaller pieces, the remains of several beetles, and some larger gravel stones.

A sparrow is not only bold with regard to men, but still more so, on particular occasions, towards other birds. On the edge of a certain lawn grew a close thick bush. On this lawn, amongst others, the blackbird used to come and forage for worms. One day a person happened to be looking at a blackbird in the act of making off with a prize, when a sparrow, darting from the thick bush, instantly assailed the blackbird, and compelled him to drop the worm, of which he took immediate possession. So singular a circumstance induced the observer to look out now and then, when blackbirds came, and he frequently saw the same piratical practice adopted by the sparrow, who thus, by keeping watch in his bush, was enabled to enrich himself on the labours of the larger bird. But, notwithstanding this unfavourable feature in his character, he has been known to act with great consideration and kindness to birds requiring his good offices. In the 'Naturalist's Magazine we find the following story in point :- A lady, living in Chelsea, was extremely fond of birds, of which she kept a considerable number in cages. Amongst others she had a canary, which was a particular favourite; but the loudness of his note often obliged her to put him outside of her window, in some trees which were trained up in front of her house. One morning, during breakfast, when the cage was there placed, a sparrow was observed to fly round about it, then perch upon the top and twitter to the bird within, between whom and itself a sort of conversation seemed to ensue. After a few moments he flew away, but returned in a short time, bearing a worm or small grub in his bill, which he dropped into the cage, and immediately flew away. Similar presents were received day after day, at the same time, by the canary, from his friend the sparrow, with whom at length he became so intimate that he very often received the food thus brought into his own bill from that of the sparrow. The circumstance attracted the

notice of the lady's neighbours, who often watched these daily visits; and some of them, to try the extent of the sparrow's kindness, also hung their birds out at the window, when they found them also fed; but the first and longest visit was always paid by the sparrow to his original friend the canary.

Though thus intimate and social with his own kind, it was observed that this sparrow was exceedingly shy and timid with respect to human beings; for, though many were witnesses to the above, they were obliged to keep at a distance, and use great caution, otherwise he immediately flew away. This attention was carried on throughout the summer, and extended to the beginning of autumn, when the visits entirely ceased, whether intentionally on the part of the sparrow, or that he met with some accident, could not be ascertained.'

That they will attend to their young far beyond the usual period, in case of necessity, the following anecdote will prove, though we believe many, if not most birds, will do the same under similar circumstances. The experiment may be easily tried, by slightly tying the wings of young birds, when nearly fledged, or confining them by a thread to the bottom of the nest, taking care not to injure them. A pair of sparrows, which had built in the thatched roof of a house, were observed to continue their regular visits to the nest long after the time when the young birds ought naturally to have taken flight. This unusual circumstance continued throughout the year; and, in the winter a gentleman who had all along observed them, determined on finding out the cause. He therefore placed a ladder, and, on mounting found one of the young ones detained a prisoner by means of a string, or scrap of worsted, which formed part of the nest, having become accidentally twisted round its leg. Being thus disabled from procuring its own living, it had been fed by the continued exertions of the parents.

An unfortunate sparrow, who had also been made prisoner in his own nest, met with a very different fate, being actually killed, instead of preserved, by the over-zealous kind attentions of his mate. The case occurred in the spring of 1818, in Surrey. The pair were in search of a place for building their nest; and the male bird, finding a tempting hole among the tiles of the roof, got into it; unfortunately, he became entangled in the broken mortar, and could not force his way back. The female saw his situation, and after flying backwards several times, twittering, and apparently in great distress, attempted to pull him out. Several birds were attracted by the accident, and came fluttering round, but were beaten off by the hen sparrow. She then redoubled her own efforts to get him out, and seizing his beak above the nostrils with her own beak, pulled it so hard that she killed him. She did not appear,