enerous action within the space of three months. The sons
separated, and at the appointed time presented themselves before him.

The eldest son said, 'Father, during my absence I had in my power all
the riches and fortune of a person who entrusted them to me without any
security of any kind; he asked me for them, and I returned them to him
with the greatest honesty.'

'You have done, my son,' replied the father, 'only what was your duty,
and I should die of shame if you were capable of doing otherwise, for
honesty is a duty; what you did was just, but not generous.'

It was now the second son's turn, and he spoke thus: 'I was on the banks
of a lake, when, seeing a child fall in, I threw myself in, and with
great danger to myself drew him out. I did it in the presence of some
countrymen, who will testify to the truth of it.'

'Well and good,' replied the father, 'but there is only humanity in that
action.'

At last came the turn of the third son, who spoke thus: 'I found my
mortal enemy, who had strayed during the night, and was sleeping on the
edge of a precipice in such a manner that the least false movement on
waking would have thrown him over. His life was in my hands; I was
careful to wake him with precaution, and drew him out of danger.'

'Ah, my son!' exclaimed the father, overjoyed, embracing him, 'without
doubt you deserve the ring.'

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

II.--TIME WITHOUT A CLOCK.

'The stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed times,' says the Bible,
and the turtle-dove, the crane, and the swallow to this day 'observe the
time of their coming.' What a wonderful law is theirs! They need not
learn it, for it is born in them. Migratory birds know not only the need
for their journeys, but the fixed times for them. It has been thought
that the rules of their airy road have been handed down from generation
to generation, but this is not always true. Nothing is positively known,
except that the travellers are in search of food or quiet nesting-places,
when they move from land to land.

As the time draws near for birds of passage to travel, they seem to know
it by an inward restlessness; they long to be away--they know that delay
is dangerous, and, so strong is the longing to be gone, that migratory
birds kept back by accident or wilful cruelty, often die of the desire
to go. The young cuckoo never survives an attempt to detain him. A poor,
wild goose, with a lame wing, was seen b