way to the hen-house alone. He opened the door with the utmost care and gentleness, expecting some wonderful sight: he put in his headpeeped this way and that—nothing was to be seen but Chanticleer roosting in state, surrounded by his speckled dames. "What could my mother be thinking of!" exclaimed Harry: "she never intended to send me here to look at a parcel of fowls roosting quietly on their perches: a thing that happens every night, and is perfectly natural besides. I suppose some of the servants have taken away the curious contrivance she spoke of, and I shall go and ask her to inquire about it."

Mrs. Beaufoy was sitting on the sofa, when Harry returned to tell her of his disappointment. "There was nothing to be seen in the hen-house but the fowls at roost; and I wish you would be so good as to inquire where they have put that curious thing you sent me to examine."

"You have seen it, Harry, as you see a thousand other things, without being sensible of its ingenuity. We are every where surrounded by the contrivances of an Artist infinitely superior to the watch-maker; but his works are so various, so delicate, and so perfect his skill is so constantly and silently employed, that we are apt to overlook things which, if we examined them, would fill us with astonishment."

"In this case there was nothing to examine, I assure you, mamma. I looked into every corner of the hen-house, and there was nothing to be seen but the sleeping fowls. It must have been taken away."

“No, Harry; the fowls were there and asleep : that is what I sent you to see. And now, will you tell me why, when the fowls were asleep, they did not fall off their perches?"

"Because they are birds, mamma; and you know it is the nature of birds to sleep in that posture."

"But you may have observed that it is the nature of sleep to suspend all bodily power and motion. When your brother fell asleep in my lap yesterday, with the whip he is so fond of in his hand, you saw his little fingers gradually relax their hold, till at length the favourite whip fell upon the carpet. I showed you how limp and powerless his joints and limbs were. But a sleeping bird appears to balance himself with the strength and dexterity of a rope-dancer. How is this to be accounted for ?"

"I suppose that sleep does not suspend the bodily powers of birds. They can fly, and we cannot; so that our nature need not be a rule for theirs."

They have wings, and we have not; therefore the difference of our powers in that respect is sufficiently accounted for. But birds and men stand in equal need of sleep to recruit the bodily powers when fatigued by exertion. The suspension of those powers is the means of obtaining refreshment; and the poor bird would be sadly tired in the morning, if any effort of his own was necessary to support his balance during the night. This difficulty has been conquered by the skill of

that wonderful Artist who constructed the machine we call a bird: a machine infinitely more curious and complicated than a watch, and far more worthy of your attentive examination."

mamma.

That great Artist is invisible, you know I cannot see him at work, and I cannot understand his machines, as you call animals; but I think it is a very strange term applied to living creatures."

"Did you ever see the person who made my watch, Harry; or even any other watch-maker, at work?""

"No, mamma."

"Then the invisibility of the artist is no objection to your examining and understanding his works. I suppose you have no doubt of this "watch having been made by somebody."

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Certainly not all those wheels and pinions must have had a maker, and a very clever one too."

"You objected to the word machine being applied to living creatures; but since their power of motion depends upon mechanical contrivances placed in their bodies to answer that purpose, as the wheels and pinions are placed in certain parts of the watch to produce a similar effect, I cannot see any impropriety in calling animals, machines. Examine their construction, my dear Harry: observe how nicely every part is adapted to the end in view, and you will then feel a much stronger sense of the goodness, power, and wisdom of the great Artificer who contrived them.”

"If I look into the hen-house every night, mamma, I shall understand no more of the matter than I do now."

"Very true my dear.

You may there see what will excite your curiosity, but we must take other means to gratify it."

Mrs. Beaufoy then rang the bell, and said to the servant who answered it, "Tell the cook to bring up one of the fowls that hang in the pantry. Harry looked surprised. "Dead fowls cannot go to roost!" said he.

Mrs. Beaufoy smiled. "Then you are of opinion that death destroys voluntary power in birds as well as in men, though you doubt whether it may not be the nature of a bird to balance itself on a perch while it is fast asleep." "Certainly mamma. Death must destroy voluntary power in every thing.'

The cook now made her appearance, with a fowl in a dish, and a countenance expressive of still greater surprise than that of her young mas"Did you please to see this fowl, ma'am:

ter.

it is quite fresh."

"I believe it is, Betty; but put the dish on the table, and bend up the legs of the fowl as if you were going to truss it."

"Shall I step down and cut the claws off first, ma'am."

"O, no: that would quite spoil our experiment. I wish this fowl to be trussed with its claws on. Stand here, Harry, and observe, carefully observe what happens."

"O, mamma,'

move!"

"cried he, "they move, they

"What moves, Harry?"

"The claws of the fowl, mamma; though Betty did not touch them! When she bent up the legs, the claws closed of their own accord, just as if they had grasped the perch. But it is dead-quite dead. I never saw any thing so wonderful!"

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La, Sir!" said Betty, "it is not wonderful at all: they always does so."

"You may take it down stairs now, Betty: Harry has seen what I wished."

When they were again alone, Mrs. Beaufoy thus resumed the conversation : "Are you of Betty's opinion, that a thing is not wonderful if it happens frequently."

"Oh no mamma! I am sure it is very wonderful for a dead bird to move its feet in that manner. Can you explain it ?"

"It certainly could not be owing to any exertion of voluntary power; but it may easily be accounted for by a contrivance in the mechanism of the animal. You observed that, when the legs of the fowl were pushed up towards the body, the claws contracted immediately."

"Yes, mamma; but what then?"

"It is exactly what happens when birds go to roost. They assume that posture in order to sleep, and their claws then forcibly contract and grasp the perch. This is not effected by the choice of the bird, but by the tension or pulling

B