THE RAVEN. 173 



" The insect that with pu-ny wing 



Just flits along one summer's ray, 

 The floweret that the breath of spring 



Wakes into life for half a day, 

 The smallest mote, the slenderest hair, 

 All feel our common Father's care. 



" E'en from the glories of his throne 



He bends to view our -wandering ball ; 



Sees all, as if that all were one, 

 Loves one, as if that one were all, 



Rolls the swift planets in their spheres. 



And counts the sinner's lonely tears," 



The raven is a bird of much sagacity, thoug-h some- 

 times chargeable with no httle mischief. Some years 

 ago there was one at an inn on the road between Brixton 

 and Ashbourn which had been taught to call the poultry 

 when they were fed, and that with much success. It 

 would not be easy to imagine how far the ability thus 

 attained was, on one occasion, carried. At this place 

 the passengers by one of the coaches used to stop for 

 dinner, and at the time referred to, the usual prepa- 

 ration was made, the cloth being laid, and the knives 

 and forks, spoons, mats, and bread, all being placed in 

 due order. But when the coach was about arriving, 

 and dinner was being carried on, what was the surprise 

 of the attendants on discovering that all of them were 

 gone ! Not one was left. The mystery was, however, 

 soon unravelled. The room-door of the dining-room 



