Harry calculated, that " as soon as possible," might perhaps be to-morrow; but to his surprise and joy, this evening, as they were going to tea, in came a large parcel, directed to him. It had been brought by Dame Peyton's daughter, who had been to the castle, and had returned by the short cut, along the mountain path. It had been put into her hands, she said, by Lady Digby, her ladyship's own self, who charged her to come up and deliver it directly, not to leave it at the gatehouse till morning. She thought, that is, her ladyship thought, the young gentleman would sleep the better for having it before he went to bed.

"How very kind," cried Lucy; "and what a nice parcel! so neatly tied up too, with a bow knot, and directed in such a pretty hand!"

Harry allowed her the honours, or the pleasures, of unpacking the parcel.

But at this moment the whizzing of the tea urn passing by warned them, that this

was no time for covering the tea-table with paper, packthread, and books.

So wonderfully was Harry improved, in the power of turning his thoughts from his own speculations to what was going on round about him, that three minutes after he had seated himself at the tea-table, he perceived a new guest, a tame bulfinch. It belonged to the housekeeper, who had the care of this cottage, and having by this time grown familiar with the present inhabitants, Bully sat quite at his ease, perched upon the sugar-tongs, singing in his own praise his evening song of pretty bully! pretty bully! bully, bully, bully! pretty, pretty bully!

Lucy was anxious that his jet black eyes should be admired, and his soft black shining velvet cap and tippet, and his dove-coloured back and flame-coloured or carnation-coloured breast. All these Harry admired to her heart's content,

except that he could not in conscience allow the breast to be flame colour, or carnation colour either. In his secret soul, he thought it more of a brick-dust hue. But this he was aware would not be a pleasing observation, therefore without sacrificing his sincerity, he maintained a prudent silence on this point, and turned as soon as he could from the graces of Bully's person to those of his mind.

"What a confiding little creature he is! Though I am almost a stranger, he does not fly away even from me," said Harry.

As he spoke, he approached nearer and nearer to the bird, holding a bit of cake between his lips. This was rather a bold advance, and so did Bully feel it. When Harry's face came quite close under his parrot beak, Bully hopped sideways a pace or two, and drew himself up in silence, keeping his beak closed; then turning his head many times quickly from side to side, he looked out from his protuberant little eye, suspiciously watching and listening at once. Harry kept his position steadily;

and Bully, directing his eye askance upon him, seemed pleased with his observations, made up his mind, took his part decidedly, hopped upon Harry's wrist, and, to Lucy's delight, began picking the crum of cake from his lips. He then flew away with a fragment of almond, to eat in peace his own way; and he finished it on the hearthrug, within an inch of the dog, who was lapping his saucer full of milk; into which saucer Bully scrupled not to dip his beak and sip. Harry having never before seen dog and bird on such good terms, pointed them out to Lucy with some surprise. This led to her telling him much more extraordinary instances, some of which she had read, and others which she had heard, of friendships formed between creatures, usually supposed to be natural enemies. At one anecdote, though from high authority*, Harry demurred. A bird had been brought up along with a certain cat, with whom it eat, drank, and lived upon the

* Miss Aikin's "Juvenile Correspondence."

best terms, till one day the cat suddenly flew at the bird, caught it up in her mouth, and carried it out of the room-to eat it, as every body thought, and as Harry could easily have believed; but it seems that puss carried the bird off to protect it from another cat, a stranger, who had entered. the room at the instant, and from whose evil propensities, of which she was well aware, she had thus saved her little friend and protegé.

"And can you believe this," said Harry, "of a cat? I could believe it of a faithful dog, but not of a selfish, treacherous cat!"

Harry had, as Lucy observed, taken up the common prejudice, that cats are all false and treacherous. Her experience had led her to form a better opinion of the feline race; and she pleaded for them, that this anecdote was too well attested to be doubted. This led to many other anecdotes, pro and con; and to some observations upon evidence, and the reasons why we should or should not believe ex