“The female breeds at all seasons, producing but one at a time. The young when first born are said to be fourteen feet long. The females are much smaller than the males. They are very remarkable for their attachment to their young, which they may be frequently seen urging and assisting to escape from danger with the most unceasing care and fondness. They are also not less remarkable for their strong feeling of sociality, or attachment to one another; and this is carried to so great an extent, that when one female of a herd is attacked or wounded, her faithful companions will remain around her to the last moment, or till they are wounded themselves. This act of remaining by a wounded companion, is called ‘heaving to,’ and whole ‘schools’ have been destroyed by dexterous management, when several ships have been in company, wholly from their possessing this remarkable disposition. The attachment appears to be reciprocal on the part of the young whales, which have been seen about the ship for hours after their parents have been killed. “The young whales, or ‘young bulls,’ go in large schools, but differ remarkably from the females in disposition, inasmuch as they make an immediate and rapid retreat upon one of their number being struck, who is left to take the best care he can of himself. I never but once saw them ‘heave to,’ and in that case, it was only for a short time, and seemed rather to arise from their confusion than affection for their wounded companion. They are also very cunning and cautious, keeping at all times a good look-out for danger. It is consequently necessary for the whaler to be extremely cautious in his mode of approaching them, so as, if possible, to escape being heard or seen, for they have some mode of communication with one another in an incredibly short space of time; the distance between them sometimes amounting to five, or even seven miles. The mode by which this is effected remains a curious secret.” THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT. The days are cold, the nights are long, The north wind sings a doleful song; Then hush again upon my breast; All merry things are now at rest, Save thee, my pretty babe! The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, The crickets long have ceased their mirth; There’s nothing stirring in the house, Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse; Then why so busy thou? Nay! start not at that sparkling light, ’Tis but the moon that shines so bright On the window pane bedropped with rain; Then, little darling! sleep again, And wake when it is day. [Illustration] Squirrels. [For Merry’s Museum.]