WHAT DIFFERENT KINDS OF LIVING CREATURES ARE

MADE FOE.

"PRAY, papa, ," said Sophia, after she had been a long while teased with the flies, that buzzed about her ears, and settled on her nose and forehead, as she sat at work-" Pray what were flies made for ?"

"For some good, I dare say," replied her Papa.

S. But I think they do a great deal more harm than good, for I am sure they plague me sadly; and in the kitchen they are so troublesome, that the maids can hardly do their work for them.

P. Flies eat up many things, that would otherwise corrupt and become loathsome; and they serve for food to birds, spiders, and many other creatures.

S. But we could clean away everything that was offensive, without their help; and as to their serving for food, I have seen whole heaps of them lying dead in a window, without seeming to have done good to anything.

P. Well, then: suppose a fly capable of thinking; would he not be equally puzzled to find out what men were good for? This great, two-legged monster," he might say, "instead of helping us to live, devours more food at a meal than would serve a whole legion of flies. Then he kills us by hundreds, when we como within his reach; and I see him destroy and torment all other animals, too. And when he dies, he is nailed ap in a box, and put a great way under ground, as though he grudged doing any more good after his death than when alive." Now, what would you answer to such a reasoning fly?

S. I would tell him he was very impertinent for talking so of his betters; for that he and all other creatures were made fcr the use of man, and not man for theirs.

P. But would that be telling him the truth? You have just been saying that vou could not find

out of what use flies were to us: whereas, when they suck our blood, there is no doubt that we are of use to them.

S. It is that which puzzles me.

P. There are many other living creatures which w call noxious, and which are so far from being useful to us, that we take all possible pains to get rid of them. More than that, there are vast tracts of the earth where few or no men inhabit, which are yet full of beasts, birds, insects, and all living things. These certainly do not exist for his use alone. On the contrary, they often keep man away.

S. Then what are they made for ?

P. They are made to be happy. It is a manifest purpose of the Creator to give being to as much life as possible, for life is enjoyment to all creatures in nealth and in possession of their faculties. Man surpasses other animals in his powers of enjoyment, and he has prospects in a future state which they do not share with him. But the Creator equally desires the happiness of all his creatures, and looks down with as much benignity upon these flies that are sporting around us, as upon ourselves.

S. Then we ought not to kill them, if they are ever so troublesome.

P. I do not say that. We have a right to make a reasonable use of all creatures for our advantage, and also to free ourselves from such as are hurtful to us. So far, our superiority over them may fairly extend. But we should never abuse them for our mere amusement, nor take away their lives wantonly. Nay, a good-natured man will rather undergo a little inconvenience, than take away from a creature all that it possesses. An infant may destroy life, but all the kings upon earth cannot restore it. I remember reading of a good-tempered old gentleman, that, having been a long time plagued with a great fly, that buzzed about his face all dinner-time, at length, after many efforts, caught it. Instead of crushing it to

death, he heid it carefully in his hand, and opening the window, "Go," said he; "get thee gone, poor creature; I won't hurt a hair of thy head; surely the world is wide enough for thee and me."

S. I should have loved that man.

P. One of our poets has written some very pretty lines to a fly, that came to partake with him of his wine. They begin,—

S. How pretty! I think they will almost make me love flies. But pray, papa, do not various animals destroy one another?

P. They do, indeed. The greatest part of them live only by the destruction of life. There is a perpetual warfare going on, in which the stronger prey upon the weaker, and, in their turns, are the prey of those which are a degree stronger than themselves. Even the innocent sheep, with every mouthful of grass, destroys hundreds of small insects. In the air we breathe, and the water we drink, we give death to thousands of invisible creatures.

S. But is not that very strange? If they were created to live and be happy, why should they be destroyed so fast?

P. They are destroyed no faster than others are produced; and if they enjoyed life while it lasted, they have had a good bargain. By making animals the food of animals, Providence has filled up every chink, as it were, of existence. You see these swarms of flies. During all the hot weather, they are continually coming forth from the state of eggs and maggots, and, as soon as they get the use of wings, they roam about, and fill every place in search of food. Meantime, they are giving sustenance to the whole race of spiders; they maintain all the swallow tribe, and contribute greatly to the support of many other

small birds; and even afford many a delicate morsel to the fishes. Their own numbers, however, seem scarcely diminished, and vast multitudes live on till the cold weather comes and puts an end to them. Were nothing to touch them, they would probably become so numerous as to starve each other. As it is, they are full of enjoyment themselves, and afford life and enjoyment to other creatures, which, in their turn, supply the wants of others.

S. It is no charity, then, to tear a spider's web in pieces, in order to set a fly at liberty.

P. None at all-no more than it would be to demolish the traps of a poor Indian hunter, who depended upon them for his dinner. They both act as nature dires them. Shall I tell you a story?

S. yes-pray do.

P. A venerable Bramin, who had never in his days eaten anything but rice and milk, and held it the greatest of crimes to shed the blood of anything that had life, was one day meditating on the banks of the Ganges. He saw a little bird on the ground picking up ants as fast as he could swallow. "Murderous wretch," cried he, “what scores of lives are sacrificed to one gluttonous meal of thine!" Presently a sparrow-hawk, pouncing down, seized him in his claws, and flew off with him. The Bramin was at first inclined to triumph over the little bird; but, on hearing his cries, he could not help pitying him. "Poor thing," said he, "thou art fallen into the clutches of thy tyrant!" A stronger tyrant, however, took up the matter; for a falcon, in mid-air, darting on the sparrow-hawk, struck him to the ground, with the bird lifeless in his talons. "Tyrant against tyrant," thought the Bramin, "is well enough." The falcor. had not finished tearing his prey, when a lynx, stealing from behind a rock on which he was perched, sprang on him, and, having strangled him, bore him to the hedge of a neighbouring thicket, and began to suck his blood. The Bramin was atten

tively viewing this new display of retributive justice, when a sudden roar shook the air, and a huge tiger, rushing from the thicket, came like thunder on the lynx. The Bramin was near enough to hear the crashing bones, and was making off in great terror, when he met an English soldier, armed with his musket. He pointed eagerly to the place where the tiger was making his bloody repast. The soldier levelled his gun, and laid the tiger dead. "Brave fellow!" exclaimed the Bramin. "I am very hungry," said the soldier, "can you give me a beef-steak? I see you have plenty of cows here.' "Horrible!" cried

the Bramin; "what! I kill the sacred cows of Brama!" "Then kill the next tiger yourself," said the soldier.

TRUE HEROISM.

You have read, my Edmund, the stories of Achilles, and Alexander, and Charles of Sweden, and have, I doubt not, admired the high courage, which seemed to set them above all sensations of fear, and rendered them capable of the most extraordinary actions The world calls these men heroes; but, before we give them that noble appellation, let us consider what were the motives which animated them to act and suffer as they did.

The first was a ferocious savage, governed by the passions of anger and revenge, in gratifying which he disregarded all impulses of duty and humanity. The second was intoxicated with the love of glory-swollen with absurd pride-and enslaved by dissolute pleasures, and, in pursuit of these objects, he reckoned the blood of millions as of no account. The third was unfeeling, obstinate, and tyrannical, and preferred ruining his country, and sacrificing all his faithful followers, to the humiliation of giving up any of his mad projects. Self, you see, was the spring of all their conduct; and a selfish man can never be a hero. I will give you two examples of genuine heroism, one