16 John Bachmcm. 



rising from the still surface, near the opposite bank, 

 a round, dark head, with soft, lustrous brown e3'es, 

 glancing timidly around ; then another little head 

 appears, and losing all fear in the certainty of 

 safety, the beayers boldly gambol and play up and 

 down, to and fro, upon the stream ; till, their recrea- 

 tion over, they settle down to their business in 

 a sober way. This change of action, discovers to 

 the looker on, the little John Bachman, an un- 

 finished beaver-dam, encroaching into the quiet 

 brook. So our young naturalist studies the habits 

 of the beaver. Suddenly the stillness of the evening 

 is broken by the distant sound of a bell. Every 

 beaver stops his work, and raises his head. We see 

 a disapj)ointed look steal into the watcliing eyes, 

 that peep througli the willows on the bank ; the 

 young enthusiast would rather lose his supper, than 

 the opportunity of delightful observation. Again, 

 and louder sounds the clear bell : it is the pra^yer- 

 bell ; the boy leaps to his feet; the little masons 

 disappear with loud tlappings of their trowel-lik(- 

 tails: and j)rest(), tlie scene has changed to the 

 farm-housi', where the early evening meal has 

 already ended. It is tlie tlianksgiving liour, and 

 the household kneels to seek, as the last united at-t 

 of the day, Divine protection. 



"The loving mother has sayed the boy's su[)p('r 

 and gives it to him, but not without the well 

 merited rehuke for absence from the evening meal. 

 Then the father turns to his paper and his pipe ; 

 the mother gives permission, and John is off like an 



