Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Jessy and the Birds
 Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
 The Books and Writers of all...
 Little Ben Bute
 Baby's Turn
 Love God
 Puss and Her Mistresses
 Books and Writers of All Ages
 Tom, the Painter's Boy
 Part of a Girl's Life
 About Science
 Peep-Bo! and Bo-Peep!
 Essays for Children
 About Two Orphans
 The Strawberry Girl
 Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
 Sailor Jem
 Blackamoors and Little Blackam...
 Part of Girl's Life
 Frost and Snow
 Soldier Sammy
 Tom, the Painter's Boy
 The Magic Cranes
 The New King of the Beasts
 The Miller's Maid
 Reynard the Fox
 Parlour Magic
 Pony Play
 Pretty Sights
 Mr. Dreadnought
 Part of a Girl's Life
 Into the Cloisters
 In the Peep-Show
 Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
 Hush, Do Not Disturb Him
 Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
 A Shadow Show
 Old and Young
 More About Science
 Tom the Painter's Boy
 Little Mother
 Part of a Girl's Life
 The Fairy Procession
 Essays For Children
 The Millstone and the Filbert-...
 Mamma is Better
 Tom, the Painter's Boy
 Totty's Triumph
 Poor Little Mousey
 John Pounds and Ragged Schools
 Bunting Bob Brown
 Donald and Theme
 The Ambitious Waist Ribbon
 Jack and His Brothers
 Part of a Girl's Life
 Peter Potter's Wisdom
 Buy My Sweets
 Buy My Sweets
 Tom the Painter's Boy
 Spaniel and Monkey
 On the Alert
 Part of a Girl's Life
 May Be
 The Good Riddlemerees
 Macaulay's Armada Ballad
 Tinker and Clinker
 The Naughty Riddlemerees
 The Cockalorum Family
 Drowsy Head
 "Behold the Lamb of God!"
 Miss Waver
 The Babies and the Wolf
 The Kind Dog and the Cruel...
 The Cockalorum Family
 What Can and What Cannot Be...
 Pretty Puppies
 The Babies and the Wolf
 Boat, Kite, Balloon, or Pony
 The Heaven of the Northmen
 Part of a Girl's Life
 The Young Lulli
 A Canadian Winter
 Sam's Punch
 Essays for Children
 Cat and Owl
 The Thorn in the Finger
 The Church and the Parson
 Out of Curl
 Picture Riddles
 The Boy's Money-Box
 Blow, Blow, East Wind!
 The Wild Boar
 The Wild Boar
 The Emperor Charlemagne
 The Story of Hansel and Grethe...
 Parlous Magic
 Mr. Fairplay
 Doing the Sum
 Polly, What's O'Clock?
 Hansel and Grethel
 Writing a Letter
 I Want to be a Soldier
 The Alarm
 The Indian Hermit and the...
 Part of a Girl's Life
 Maggie's Father
 The Cockalorum Family
 Dress in Old Days
 Spring Flowers, Good-Bye!
 A Cup of Chocolate
 The Black Prince at Cressy
 Skyboots Abroad and at Home
 Sugarplum Land
 The Reindeer
 The Honey-Buzzard
 Wise Words
 About the "Iliad"
 Picture Riddles
 Tom the Planter's Boy
 Poor Rules
 Going out Hawking
 In the Woods
 Before the Scenes and Behind...
 Part of a Girl's Life
 The Childhood of a Patriot
 Old Rollingstone
 Do Make It Up!
 About Music
 Gay Doings
 The Princess and the Otter
 Sugarplum Land
 With the Blackaways
 The Life of a Stable-Boy
 Carry Pigeons
 Round the Table
 The Cuckoo-Clock
 The Kindergarten
 Question and Answer
 Getting Things by Rote
 Ships and Steamers
 Ceasar's Friends and Foes
 Archilles in the Battle
 "The Monkey Pays in Gambols"
 A World of My Own
 Tiglath Pileser
 The Cuckoo-Clock
 Day and Night
 Lizzy's Babies
 In the Post Office
 Round the Table
 The Sad Story of Spendid Fritz
 Sugarplum Land
 Tit for Tat
 Part of a Girl's Life
 Climbing Boys
 Dean Swifts Conjuror
 Playing with the Water
 Musical Miggs
 Little Ellie
 About Science
 The Cuckoo Clock
 The False Paradise
 Wise Words
 Hector and Achilles
 The Little Italian Girl
 A New Zealand Fairy Tale
 The Sad Story of Splendid...
 When History Began
 Bad Writing
 Jess and Jane
 The Cuckoo Clock
 Wise Words
 King Arthur and Sir Lancelot
 Mary Hay's Donkey; or, the Tempting...
 The Figure of Justice
 A Picnic Party
 More About Music
 Alf and His Toys
 The Cockalorum Family
 Owl; Eagle; Hawk
 My Magpie
 The Races of Men
 The Sleep-Seed
 The Crane's Revenge
 The Sleep Seed
 Swift Things
 An English Farm
 The Orphan Boy
 Winifred Waters
 The Pets
 The Early Life of a Poor Boy
 Picture Riddles
 "Mopsa, The Fairy"
 More About Spelling
 The Wasp
 Little Jamie's Shipmates
 Little Red Cap
 Another Reading about Chemistr...
 Di Do Dum
 In Italy
 The Early Life of a Poor Boy
 On Birthday Presents
 Little Red Cap
 The Pomp and State of Queen...
 The Cockalorum Family
 The Cuckoo Clock
 A Gallery of Birds
 Amabel and Lucilla
 In Norway
 Parent and Child
 More about History
 An Acrostic
 Baby's Victory
 More about Botany
 Wind and Smoke
 A Gallery of Animals
 The Early Life of a Poor Boy
 Tones and Semitones
 Won't You be Friends?
 The Remarkable Story of the Little...
 The Cuckoo Clock
 Caesar's Friends and Foes
 Essays for Children
 All in the Family
 All in the Family
 The Cuckoo Clock
 The Cockalorum Family
 The Blackaway Hoax
 Cradle Chimes
 Laid Low
 White and Red
 About Triangles
 Another Gallery of Birds
 The Retriever
 White and Red
 Essays for Children
 Slide and Ride
 Chirstmas Make-Believe in the Old...
 The Legend of St. Christopher
 Picture Riddles
 Christmas Day
 A Terrible Moment; or Naughty...
 The Story of Peep-Show-in-Peep...
 Back Cover

Group Title: The Peep-show : amusement and instruction for the young ; with 300 pictures and a coloured frontispiece.
Title: The Peep-show
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00035154/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Peep-show amusement and instruction for the young ; with 300 pictures and a coloured frontispiece
Physical Description: vii, 392 p. : ill. (some col.), music ; 25 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Strahan & Co ( Publisher )
M'Corquodale & Co ( Printer )
Kronheim & Co ( Lithographer )
Publisher: Strahan & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: M'Corquodale & Co.
Publication Date: [1877?]
Subject: Songs -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1877   ( lcsh )
Readers -- 1877   ( rbgenr )
Silhouettes -- 1877   ( gmgpc )
Bldn -- 1877
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Readers   ( rbgenr )
Silhouettes   ( gmgpc )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
General Note: Some illustrations are silhouettes; frontispiece lithographed by Kronheim & Co.
General Note: Contains index.
General Note: Contains songs and music.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00035154
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224447
notis - ALG4711
oclc - 61287536

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Title Page
        Page i
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Jessy and the Birds
        Page 5
    Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
        Page 6
    The Books and Writers of all Ages
        Page 7
    Little Ben Bute
        Page 8
        Page 9
    Baby's Turn
        Page 10
    Love God
        Page 11
    Puss and Her Mistresses
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Books and Writers of All Ages
        Page 14
    Tom, the Painter's Boy
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 18
    About Science
        Page 19
    Peep-Bo! and Bo-Peep!
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Essays for Children
        Page 22
    About Two Orphans
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The Strawberry Girl
        Page 25
    Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
        Page 26 (MULTIPLE)
    Sailor Jem
        Page 27
    Blackamoors and Little Blackamoor
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Part of Girl's Life
        Page 30
    Frost and Snow
        Page 31 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 32
    Soldier Sammy
        Page 33
        Page 34
    Tom, the Painter's Boy
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    The Magic Cranes
        Page 38
    The New King of the Beasts
        Page 39
    The Miller's Maid
        Page 40
    Reynard the Fox
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Parlour Magic
        Page 43
    Pony Play
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46 (MULTIPLE)
    Pretty Sights
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Mr. Dreadnought
        Page 49
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 50
    Into the Cloisters
        Page 51
    In the Peep-Show
        Page 52
        Page 53
    Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
        Page 54
        Page 55 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 56
    Hush, Do Not Disturb Him
        Page 57
    Memoirs of an Old Cock Sparrow
        Page 58
        Page 59
    A Shadow Show
        Page 60
    Old and Young
        Page 61
    More About Science
        Page 62
    Tom the Painter's Boy
        Page 63 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 64
    Little Mother
        Page 65
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 66
    The Fairy Procession
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Essays For Children
        Page 70 (MULTIPLE)
    The Millstone and the Filbert-Tree
        Page 71
    Mamma is Better
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Tom, the Painter's Boy
        Page 74
        Page 75
    Totty's Triumph
        Page 76
    Poor Little Mousey
        Page 77
    John Pounds and Ragged Schools
        Page 78
        Page 79 (MULTIPLE)
    Bunting Bob Brown
        Page 80
    Donald and Theme
        Page 81
        Page 82
    The Ambitious Waist Ribbon
        Page 83 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 84
    Jack and His Brothers
        Page 85
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 86
    Peter Potter's Wisdom
        Page 87 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 88
    Buy My Sweets
        Page 89
    Buy My Sweets
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Tom the Painter's Boy
        Page 94
    Spaniel and Monkey
        Page 95
        Page 96
    On the Alert
        Page 97
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 98
    May Be
        Page 99
    The Good Riddlemerees
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 103
        Page 104
    Macaulay's Armada Ballad
        Page 105
        Page 106
    Tinker and Clinker
        Page 107 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 108
    The Naughty Riddlemerees
        Page 109
    The Cockalorum Family
        Page 110 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 111
    Drowsy Head
        Page 112
    "Behold the Lamb of God!"
        Page 113
    Miss Waver
        Page 114
    The Babies and the Wolf
        Page 115
    The Kind Dog and the Cruel Crocodile
        Page 116
        Page 117
    The Cockalorum Family
        Page 118
    What Can and What Cannot Be Done
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Pretty Puppies
        Page 121
    The Babies and the Wolf
        Page 122
        Page 123
    Boat, Kite, Balloon, or Pony
        Page 124
        Page 125
    The Heaven of the Northmen
        Page 126 (MULTIPLE)
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 127
        Page 128
    The Young Lulli
        Page 129
    A Canadian Winter
        Page 130
        Page 131
    Sam's Punch
        Page 132
        Page 133
    Essays for Children
        Page 134
    Cat and Owl
        Page 135 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 136
    The Thorn in the Finger
        Page 137
    The Church and the Parson
        Page 138
    Out of Curl
        Page 139
    Picture Riddles
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142 (MULTIPLE)
    The Boy's Money-Box
        Page 143 (MULTIPLE)
    Blow, Blow, East Wind!
        Page 144
    The Wild Boar
        Page 145
    The Wild Boar
        Page 146 (MULTIPLE)
    The Emperor Charlemagne
        Page 147
    The Story of Hansel and Grethel
        Page 148
        Page 149
    Parlous Magic
        Page 150
    Mr. Fairplay
        Page 151 (MULTIPLE)
    Doing the Sum
        Page 152
    Polly, What's O'Clock?
        Page 153
    Hansel and Grethel
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
    Writing a Letter
        Page 158 (MULTIPLE)
    I Want to be a Soldier
        Page 159
        Page 160
    The Alarm
        Page 161
    The Indian Hermit and the Mouse
        Page 162
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 163
    Maggie's Father
        Page 164
        Page 165
    The Cockalorum Family
        Page 166
    Dress in Old Days
        Page 167 (MULTIPLE)
    Spring Flowers, Good-Bye!
        Page 168
    A Cup of Chocolate
        Page 169
    The Black Prince at Cressy
        Page 170
    Skyboots Abroad and at Home
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
    Sugarplum Land
        Page 174
    The Reindeer
        Page 175
        Page 176
    The Honey-Buzzard
        Page 177
    Wise Words
        Page 178 (MULTIPLE)
    About the "Iliad"
        Page 179
        Page 180
    Picture Riddles
        Page 181
    Tom the Planter's Boy
        Page 182 (MULTIPLE)
    Poor Rules
        Page 183
        Page 184
    Going out Hawking
        Page 185
        Page 186
    In the Woods
        Page 187
    Before the Scenes and Behind Them
        Page 188
        Page 189
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 190
    The Childhood of a Patriot
        Page 191 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 192
        Page 193
    Old Rollingstone
        Page 194
    Do Make It Up!
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
    About Music
        Page 198 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 199
    Gay Doings
        Page 200
    The Princess and the Otter
        Page 201
    Sugarplum Land
        Page 202
    With the Blackaways
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206 (MULTIPLE)
    The Life of a Stable-Boy
        Page 207
        Page 208
    Carry Pigeons
        Page 209
    Round the Table
        Page 210
        Page 211
    The Cuckoo-Clock
        Page 212
        Page 213
    The Kindergarten
        Page 214 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
    Question and Answer
        Page 218 (MULTIPLE)
    Getting Things by Rote
        Page 219 (MULTIPLE)
    Ships and Steamers
        Page 220
        Page 221
    Ceasar's Friends and Foes
        Page 222
        Page 223
    Archilles in the Battle
        Page 224
    "The Monkey Pays in Gambols"
        Page 225
    A World of My Own
        Page 226
    Tiglath Pileser
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
    The Cuckoo-Clock
        Page 230 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 231
    Day and Night
        Page 232
    Lizzy's Babies
        Page 233
    In the Post Office
        Page 234
    Round the Table
        Page 235 (MULTIPLE)
    The Sad Story of Spendid Fritz
        Page 236
        Page 237
    Sugarplum Land
        Page 238 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 239
        Page 240
    Tit for Tat
        Page 241
    Part of a Girl's Life
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
    Climbing Boys
        Page 246
    Dean Swifts Conjuror
        Page 247
    Playing with the Water
        Page 248
    Musical Miggs
        Page 249
    Little Ellie
        Page 250
    About Science
        Page 251
    The Cuckoo Clock
        Page 252
        Page 253
    The False Paradise
        Page 254
    Wise Words
        Page 255 (MULTIPLE)
    Hector and Achilles
        Page 256
    The Little Italian Girl
        Page 257
        Page 258
    A New Zealand Fairy Tale
        Page 259
    The Sad Story of Splendid Fritz
        Page 260
        Page 261
    When History Began
        Page 262 (MULTIPLE)
    Bad Writing
        Page 263 (MULTIPLE)
    Jess and Jane
        Page 264
        Page 265
    The Cuckoo Clock
        Page 266 (MULTIPLE)
    Wise Words
        Page 267
    King Arthur and Sir Lancelot
        Page 268
        Page 269
    Mary Hay's Donkey; or, the Tempting Thistle
        Page 270
    The Figure of Justice
        Page 271 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 272
    A Picnic Party
        Page 273
        Page 274
    More About Music
        Page 275
    Alf and His Toys
        Page 276
        Page 277
    The Cockalorum Family
        Page 278
    Owl; Eagle; Hawk
        Page 279 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 280
    My Magpie
        Page 281
    The Races of Men
        Page 282
    The Sleep-Seed
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286 (MULTIPLE)
    The Crane's Revenge
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
    The Sleep Seed
        Page 290
    Swift Things
        Page 291 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 292
        Page 293
    An English Farm
        Page 294
    The Orphan Boy
        Page 295
    Winifred Waters
        Page 296
    The Pets
        Page 297
    The Early Life of a Poor Boy
        Page 298 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 299
    Picture Riddles
        Page 300
    "Mopsa, The Fairy"
        Page 301
        Page 302
    More About Spelling
        Page 303 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 304
    The Wasp
        Page 305
    Little Jamie's Shipmates
        Page 306
        Page 307
    Little Red Cap
        Page 308
        Page 309
    Another Reading about Chemistry
        Page 310 (MULTIPLE)
    Di Do Dum
        Page 311 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 312
    In Italy
        Page 313
    The Early Life of a Poor Boy
        Page 314
    On Birthday Presents
        Page 315 (MULTIPLE)
    Little Red Cap
        Page 316
        Page 317
    The Pomp and State of Queen Elizabeth
        Page 318
        Page 319 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 320
        Page 321
    The Cockalorum Family
        Page 322
    The Cuckoo Clock
        Page 323
        Page 324
    A Gallery of Birds
        Page 325
    Amabel and Lucilla
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
    In Norway
        Page 329
        Page 330
    Parent and Child
        Page 331 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 332
        Page 333
    More about History
        Page 334
    An Acrostic
        Page 335 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 336
    Baby's Victory
        Page 337
    More about Botany
        Page 338
    Wind and Smoke
        Page 339 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 340
    A Gallery of Animals
        Page 341
    The Early Life of a Poor Boy
        Page 342
    Tones and Semitones
        Page 343
    Won't You be Friends?
        Page 344
        Page 345
    The Remarkable Story of the Little Boy Who Was Too Fond of Swimming
        Page 346 (MULTIPLE)
    The Cuckoo Clock
        Page 347
        Page 348
        Page 349
    Caesar's Friends and Foes
        Page 350
    Essays for Children
        Page 351
        Page 352
    All in the Family
        Page 353
    All in the Family
        Page 354 (MULTIPLE)
    The Cuckoo Clock
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
    The Cockalorum Family
        Page 358
    The Blackaway Hoax
        Page 359 (MULTIPLE)
    Cradle Chimes
        Page 360
    Laid Low
        Page 361
        Page 362
    White and Red
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
        Page 366 (MULTIPLE)
    About Triangles
        Page 367 (MULTIPLE)
    Another Gallery of Birds
        Page 368
    The Retriever
        Page 369
    White and Red
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
    Essays for Children
        Page 374
    Slide and Ride
        Page 375
        Page 376
    Chirstmas Make-Believe in the Old Times
        Page 377
        Page 378
        Page 379
    The Legend of St. Christopher
        Page 380
    Picture Riddles
        Page 381
        Page 382 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 383
    Christmas Day
        Page 384
        Page 385
    A Terrible Moment; or Naughty Matty
        Page 386
    The Story of Peep-Show-in-Peep-Show
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text





Y.I. I

The Bldwin Library

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Amusement and Inzstruction for the Young







( ,HE literary matter contained in the present volume of PEEP-SIow may be
classified under the following heads :-


conducted with the greatest simplicity, and including names as diverse as those of
Homer, Sir John Maundeville, George Herbert, Dryden, Tennyson, Miss Ingelow,
Miss Rossetti, Mr. Robert Buchanan, Mr. Matthew Arnold, Mr. Coventry Patmore,
Mr. George Mac Donald, Mr. G. A. Simcox.

There are of course miscellaneous readings which it might be hard to classify,
but these headings will be found to cover most of the printed matter.

Many of the readings are distinctly religious in character.

There are some largely (or widely) printed readings for the very young indeed;
but it may safely be claimed for the present volume that eight-tenths of the matter is so
written, that a child of seven who has been taught to read can go through it without
stumbling if not absolutely without having to spell a single word. In these
eight-tenths of the printed matter, long sentences of many clauses have been avoided
even more than long words. Where longer words than usual are admitted, it will be
found that they are usually words in very common use, to which the ear is a guide.
The only exception occurs in two or three pieces of nonsense called "The Professor's
Album," founded upon a well-known children's game in which odd and often long words
make half the fun.

Great pains have been taken to keep the reading not only simple but free from
awkward rhythm, or collocation of letters. Few, if any, cases will be found in which

iv PRF E

words clash as they do, for instance, in Rebecca Ann; or in which too many gutturals or
sibilants come close together. Even such phrases as in this respect; these circumstances;
that thistle, have been shunned as much as possible. Thousands of instances might be
mentioned, in which the nicest care has been taken to make the reading run smoothly.

Beside the prose matter and the verse selected from good writers, old and new,
there is a fair quantity of ORIGINAL VERSE.

Even so slight and simple a book as this has, of course, been put together on
certain principles. The first and chief has been that in reading provided for the young
it is the heart and the imagination which have the first claim upon us, and that these
must be, at lowest, innocently and simple-heartedly cared for. It will not do to say that
Literature for the young should, most of it, be Arcadian in spirit, but certainly the topics
should most of them be thought or dreamt or felt over again, as in Arcadia before they
are written of.

Vice and crime, as vice and crime, are all but absolutely shut out by the laws of
good Literature for the young,-indeed by the laws of good Literature in general. There
are of course forms of writing, as there are forms of speech, in which, such things as theft
and drunkenness may be mentioned to young as well as old ; but those forms are, speaking
broadly, outside of Literature.

As to form, the general rule followed has been that faults which should exclude
writing from good Literature for adults should even more strictly condemn things written
for children. The reason of the increased stringency is obvious,-writing for the young
is educational. In a Magazine for grown persons many matters of disputed opinion or
disputed taste may be and are admitted, because the reader is judge, and very various
things should be allowed their chance of taking a favourable verdict. With Children's
Literature all this is changed. The fact that children are pleased with certain writing,
proves by itself only this, that those writings contain some of the elements they are
expected to contain. But so do half-ripe apples; of which children will greedily eat, to
their hurt. Even well-taught children will be found relishing rhymes which are trash,
if they have one or two of the desired qualities; and while a few conscientious writers
have been trying to raise Verse for Children to the rank of a fine art and keep it there,
it has been degraded by slovenly and unstudious pens till it is safe to say that the
presumption against the literary fitness of any given piece of child's rhyme in print is a
million to one. Far better, infinitely better, is narve and rude doggrel (indeed this is
sometimes good for them) than "clever" verse full of Brummagem sentiment or
Brummagem nonsense.

One or two of such of the fairy tales as are neither original nor quasi-original, are




altered; not for any reason of fantastic modern sentiment, or superfine morality, but
because the form of the story as given in Grimm (or elsewhere) is clumsy or really
horrible. For instance, the end of Snow-White and Rosy-Red (in which the jealous
queen dances herself to death in red-hot shoes) has been altered (p. 374) ; and this altera-
tion made it necessary to alter the beginning-where the key-note is struck. The reader
will judge whether-which is the test-he would have supposed, unless he had been told,
that the story had been retouched.

With regard to the Essays, it is a curious fact that some persons who would
unhesitatingly set a child to read a sermon will think an essay "too heavy" for it. But
it must be clearly understood that these papers are not intended to be thrown at children's
heads, or made task-reading. They are for the common use of old and young, teacher
and taught. There must be few families in which the young people do not sometimes
ask such questions as these:-

Is it right for me to pretend to be pleased with people when I am not ?" (Essay
on page 22).
"What is the meaning of a strong will ?" (Essay on page 134).
"What is moral courage? What is liberty of conscience ?" (Essay on page 374).

And when children ask such questions, it may be a help to have the key-note of
the answers struck in plain print and very simple language.

As to the part Science should take in the reading of the very young, that must
necessarily be a very small one. Whether it should or should not have any, may still be
considered an open question. But at least such easy readings as those upon Music,
Botany, Chemistry, and Geometry can scarcely do harm.





Achilles in the Battle ... ... ... ... ... ... 224
Acrostic, An ... ... ... .. ... 335
Alf and his Toys ... ... ... ... 276
Amabel and Lucilla. By Matthew Browne 326
Ambitious Wai t-ri')bon, The. By Matthew Browne ... 83
Andromache for Hector, Tie Grief of 331
Apple-Woman, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 87
Babies and the Wolf, The. By Lisbeth G. Seguin ... 115 122
Baby's Victory ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 338
Bad Writing ... ... ... 263
Beavers. By N. O. Rees ... ... ... ... ... ... 135
Before the Scenes and Behind them. By Barnaby Blount ...188
"Behold the Lamb of God By Matthew Browne ... ... 114
Betrothal, The. BE Barnaby Blount ... ... ... .. 238
Birds playing at Soldiers ... ... ... ... ... 235
Birthday Presents, On. By Old Wiseacre ... ... ... 315
Black Prince at Cressy, The. By the Librarian... ... ..170
Iblackamoors and Little Blackamoor ... ... ... ... 28
Blackaway Hoax, The. By tie Under-Showman ... ... 359
Blackaways, With the. By the Under-Showman ... ... 203
Boat, Kite, Ba;loon, or Pony. By Jessie Forrester ... 124
Books and Writers of all Ages, Thile. By Matth 'w Browne 7 14
Boy's Money-Box, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 143
Botany, About. By H. Hurdis ... ... ... ... ... 338

Caesar's Friends and Foes. By Mrs. George Cupples ... 222 350
Canadian Winter, A. By 0 l'ayne ... ... ... ... 130
Carry ing Pigeons. By O. Payne ...... ... ... ... 210
Caught! By J. Wight .. ... .. .. ... .. 218
Charades. By tile Under-Showman ... ... ... 362 382
Chemistry. By I H. Hurdis ... ... ... ... ... 302 310
Children, Essays for. By Matthew Browne-
1. On being always Kind ... ... ... ... ... 22
2. Ditto ditto ... ... ... ... ... 70
3. About having a Strong Will ... ... ... ... 134
4.: On letting People Alone ... ... ... ... ... 351
5. Moral Courage and Persecution ... ... ... ... 374
Christmas Make-believe in the Old Times. By Matthew
Browne ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 378
Christmas Trees. By Barnaby Blount ... ... ... .. 383
Cburch and the Parson, The. By the Librarian... ... .. 138
Climbin'g Boys. By E. R. White .. ... ... ... ... 246
Cobbett's (\Xilliam) Early Days. By N. 0. Rees ... ... 266
Cockalorum Family, The. By the Author of Lilliput
Legends ... ... ... Ino 118 166 278 322 358
Crossing the Road. By N. Rees ... ... ... ... ... 110
Cuckoo Clock, The. By Ray Mylne 212 230 252 266 291 323
339 347 355
Cup of Chocolate, A. By N. 0. Rees ... ... ... ... 170
Dean Swift's Conjuror. By O. Payne 247
Deer ... ... ... ... ... 18
Di Do Dun ... ... ... ... ... ... 311
Difficult 'ITling, The .. ... ... .. 335
"Do make it up!" 195
Donald and Plhemie. By lMrs. George Cupples ... 82
Dreadnought, Mr. By N O. Rees ... ... ... 50
Dress in Old Days, By the Librarian 16
Early Life of a Poor Boy, Tie ... ... ... ... 298 314 34Z
Earth, Thle, as it ia and as it Was. By the Author of "Lilliput
Lectures ... ... ... ... .. ... ... 206
Eleanofa. By the Librarian ... ... ... ... ... ... 204
Emperpr Clharlemagne, lie. By the Librarian ... ... ..147
English Farm, An. By the Librarian ... ... ... ... 294
Fairplay, Mr. By Barnaby Blount ... ... ... 151
Fairy Procc vision, The... ... ... ... ... 67
False Paradie, The. By the librarian ... ... 254
Family, All in the. By Max Lester 354
Flats and Sharps. By tile Fiddler ... 354
Flowers ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 277
Flute, The 63
Forsaken Merman, The. By Matthew Browne ... 230
Fox, Goose, and Corn, The ... ... ... ... 107
Getting things by Rote. By Old Wiseacre ... ... ... 219
Girl's Life, Part of a. By Bridget Blount. Fourteen Chapters.
2 i8 30 42 50 66 86 98 127 146 163 190 242
Glass under the Hat, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 219
Going out Hawking. By S. Killick ... ... 186
Good Riddlemerees, The ... ... ... 100
Grapes, Tile. By Old Wiseacre ... ... ... 335

Hares Fighting ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 3
Heaven of the Northmen, The. By the Librarian 126
Hector and Achilles ... 256
Hee-haw! By O. Payne 74
History, About. By the Author of" Lilliput Lectures' 334
Honey-Buzzard, The. By Jessie Forrester 178
House Lamb, The 311
" Hush Do not Disturb him!" By S. Penrose... . 58

"I want to be a Soldier." By Janet Maclagan ... . 159
Iliad, About the. By the Librarian 179
Indian Hermit and the Mouse, The. By the Fabulist ... 162
Industrious Frog, Tlhe... ... ... ... ... ... 22
Italy, In. By Max Lester ...... . 314
Jack and his Brothers ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 85
Jack and the Seven Golden Beauties. By the Author of
"Lilliput Legends" ... ... ... ... ... ...90
Jack-in-the-Box. By Grace Conway ... ... .. 46
John Pounds and Ragged Schools. By E. R. White ... ...78
Justice, The Figure of... ... ... ... ... ... ... 271

Kind Dog and the Cruel Crocodile, The ... ... ... ...116
Kindergarten, The. By E. Roy White ... ... ... ...214
King Arthur and Sir Lancelot. By Matthew Browne ... ... 268
King Olaf and the Ghost of Odin. By the Librarian ... ..199

Lady and the Falcon, The. By Matthew Browne ... ...310
Laid Low. By E. R. White ... ... ... 362
Legend of St. Christopher, The. By the Fabulist ... 380
Life of a Stable-Boy, The. By N. O. R1ees ... ... .. 207
Lighted Candle, The, and the Green Spectacles... ... ...366
Little Ellie. By M. B. .......... ........ 251
Little Italian Girl, The. By George Harper ... ... 258
Little Jamie's Shipmates. By Mrs. George Cupples ... ..306
Little Mother. By N. 0. Rees ... ...... 66
Little Red Cap. By S. Killick ... ... ... 308 316
Lizzy's Babies. By Sarah Selman ... ... ... ...... 234

Macaulay's Armada Ballad. By Matthew Browne ... ...1o6
Maggie's Father. By Matthew Browne ... ... ... ...164
Magic Cranes, The. By Jessie Forrester ... ... ... ... 38
Mahogany. By George Harper ... ... ... ... ...102
Mary Hay's Don-key. By Mrs. George Cupples ... ... ...270
Meeting in the Street ... ... ... ... ... ... ...271
Millstone and tile Filbert Tree, The. By S. Killick ... 70
Mohammed. By tie Librarian 223
" Mopsa the Fairy." By Matthhw Browne ... ... ...301
Music, About. By thle Fiddler ... ... ... ... 198 275
Musical Animals, About ... ... ... ... ... ...263
Musical Miggs. By S. Penrose ... ... ... ... .. 250
My Magpie. By O. Payne ... ... ... ... ... 282

Napoleon and the Huntsman's Son... ... ... ... ...151
Naughty Riddlemerees, The... ... ... ......... 109
New King of the Beasts, The. By N. O. Rees ... ... ... 39
New Zealand Fairy Tale, A. By the Librarian ... .... ...259
Newspapers. By Matthew Browne ... ... ... 55 71
Norway, In. By the Librarian ... ... ... ... ...330

Old Cock Sparrow, Memoirs of an. By Mary E. Atteridge 6 10
26 46 54 58
Old Elm Tree and the Cobbler, The. By Mary Whitton ...191
Old Fritz and his Pets. By Carl Fngel ... ... ... ... 107
Old Rollingstone. By Barnaby Blount. .. ..... 194
On the Alert. By S. Golding ... ... .. 98
Orphan Boy, The. By H1. Hurdi ... ... ... ... ...295
Ostrich Hunt, An. By S. Killick ... ... ... ... ... 55
Out of Curl. By Barnaby Blount ... ... ... ... ...139
Owl-Eagle-Hawk ... ... ... ... ... ... ...279

Parent and Child ... ... *** ** ... ...331
Parlour Magic ... ... ... .... 43 70 150 I67
Patient Elephant, The. By S. Golding ... ... ... 87
Patriot, Tie Childhood of a. By the Librarian... .... ..191
Peep-bo and Bo-peep ... *... ... ... ... ... 20
Peep-Show, In the ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 52

INDEX. vii

Peep-Show-in-Peep-Show, The Story of. By the Peep-Shine-
Shadow-Showman ... ... ... ... ... .. 387
Pet Humming-Bird, A. By the Librarian ... .. ... 346
Pets, The. By Jessie Forrester ... ... ... ... ... 298
Pic-nic Party, A. By Matthew Browne ... ... ... ... 274
Picture Riddles. By Old Wiseacre.... .. ...... 140 381
Plants and Botanists. By H. Hurdis ... ... ... 31 338
" Polly, what's o'clock ?" By S. Peters ... ...... 154
Pomp and State of Queen Elizabeth, The. By the Librarian... 318
Pony Play ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 44
Poor Puss. By N. O. Rees ... ... ... ....... ... 183
Post-Office, In the ...... ... ......... ... 234
Princess and the Otter, Tile. By Jessic Forrester ... ... 202
Professor's Album, The. By the Under Showman ... 214 303
Proverbs. By S. Killick ... ... ... .. 286
Puss and her Mistresses ... ... ... ... ... ... 12
Puzzles ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 79

Races of Men, The. By the Author of Lilliput Lectures"... 282
Reindeer, The. By Isaac Maulden... ... ... ... ... 175
Retriever, The. By N. O. Rees ... ... ... ... ... 370
Reynard the Fox. By P. Day ... ... ... ... ... 42
Round tie Table. By Matthew Browne ... ... ... 210 235

Sad Fate of the Greedy Wild Duck, The. By Mrs. George
Cupples ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. 102
Sam's Punch. By Janet Maclagan ... ... ... ... ... 32
Science, About. By H. Hurdis ... 19 62 142 251
Shadow Show, A ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 60
Ships and Steamers. By S. Killick... ..... .. ... 220
Sleep-Seed, Tie. By S. Pope ... ... ... ... 283 290
Slyboots Abroad and at Hlone. By Barnaby Blount ... ... 171
Soldier Sammy. By Mrs. George Cupples ... ... ... 34
Spaniel and Monkey. By Barnaby Bl.nt ... ... ... 95
Spelling. About. By O. Payne ... ... ... ... 182 303
Spring Weather. By M. B. ...... ... .... ... ... 158

Story of Hansel and Grethel, Tie. By the Author of Lilli-
put Legends" ... ... ... ... ... ... 148 154
Strange Nurse, The ... ... ... ......... ... 279
Strawberry Girl, The. By Bob Cherry ... ... ... ... 26
Sugarplum Land. By H. L. Synnot... 174 178 202 218 238

Telling the Clock. By E. R. White ... ... ... ... 286
Terrible Moment, A. By Mrs. George Cupples ... .. ... 386
Thanksgiving ... ... ... ... ...... ... ... 335
"The Monkey pays in Gambols." By R. Kames ... ... 226
Three Graces, The, the Nine Muses, and tie Oranges ... ... 71
Tiglath Pileser. By the Librarian ... ... ... ... ... 227
Tit for Tat. By M. Pope ... ... ... ......... 242
To tell at what Hour a Person intends to Rise ... ... ... 126
Tom, the Painter's Boy. By Max Lester. Seven Chapters 15 35
63 74 94 142 183
Tones and Semitones. By the Fiddler ... ... ... ... 343
Triangles, About. By H. Hurdis ... ... ... ... ... 307
Two Orphans, About By Grace Conway... ... ... ... 23

"University." By the Librarian ... ...... ... ..... 366

Wasp, The. By Janet Maclagan ... ..... ... .. 306
What Can and what Cannot be Done. By H. Hurdis ... ... 119
When History Began. By the Author of Lilliput Lectures" 262
White and Red. By thle Faulist ... ... ... ... 363 370
Wild Boar, The. By S. Killick ... ... ... ... ... 146
Wise W words ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 178 267
Wise Words from the East ... ... ... ... ... ... 126
With the Blackaways. By the Under-Showman ... ... 203
"Won't you le Friends?" ... ... ... ... ... ... 344
Woods, In the. By Matthew Browne ... ... ... ... 187
World of my Own, A. By EIarnaby Blount ... ... 226 319
Writing a Letter. By L. Morion ... ... ... ....... 158

Young Lulli, The By George Harper ... ... ... ... 130



Alarm, The. By A. Whistler 162
Baby's Turn ... ... ... ... 10
Bunting Bob Brown. By A. Armistead ... ... 80
"Buy my Sweets." By A. Drake ... ..... ... 90
Cat and Owl 135
Cat by the Fender, The 255
Child's Petition, A ... ... ... ... 3
Cloisters, Into the 51
Cold and W arm... ... ... ... ... ... ... 102
Crane's Revenge, The... ... ... ... ... 287
Doing tie Sum ... ... ....... ... ... 152
Fabulist, The 291
Fox's Invitation, The ... 271
Frost and Snow... ... ... ... ... ... ... 31
Furrier and Currier ... ... ... ... 143
Gone! ... 322
Guilt. By the Author of Lilliput Lectures" .. 48
Hen and Men 315
Jeremiah the Cobbler... ... ... ... ... ... 311
Jessy and the Birds. By A. Armistead ... ... 5
Lazy Pussy ... ... 102
Little Boy who was too fond of Swimming, The 346
Love God! By the Author of Lilliput Lectures" ... 11
Mary's Birdie ... ... ... ... 83
May Be ... ... ... . 99
Minnie's Luck. A Charade ... ... ... ... 39 43
Nonsense... ... ... .. .. ... ... ... 319
Num bers ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 75
Old and Young. By the Author of Lilliput Lectures " 61
Palace, To the ... 79
Peter Potter's Wisdom 87
Playing with the Water. By A. Whistler ... 248
Poor little Mousey. By A. Whistler 77
Praise and Love. By the Author of Lilliput Lectures" 214
Prophet, Words of the... .. ....... 367
Pretty Puppies. By A. Drake 122
Pretty Sights ... ... ... 47
Question and Answer .. ... ... ... ... ... 218
Rose and Snowdrop. By M. B. ... ... ... ... 110
Rhymes ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 151 307 309
Sad Story of Splendid Fritz, The ... ... ... ... 236 260
Sailor Jem. By Grace Conway 27
Sculptor, The ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 255
Slide and Ride ... ... ... ... ... 375
Sparrow, The ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 262
Spider's Web, The ... ... ... ... 83
Thorn in the Finger, The 138
Tinker and Clinker ... 107
Totty's Triumph. By A. Wlitler... ... ... ... 76
Waver, Miss ... 114
When the Bloom is on the Plum ... ... ... 359
W ind and Smoke ... ... ... ... ... 359
Wise Words 255
Wonderful John. By Janet Maclagan ... ... 23


Words by the Author of "Lilliput Levee;" Music by T. CRAMPTON.

Autumn ... 328
" Blow, bow, East Wind" .. ... 144
Christmas Day ... 384
Cradle Chimes .................... 360
Day and Night ... .. ... ... .... ... .. 232
Drowsy Head ... 112
Gay Doings ... ... . 200
Jess and Jane ... ... 264
Little Ben Bute ... ... ... ... ... 8
Mamma is Better ... ... ... 72
Miler's Maid, The 40
"Spring Flowers, Good Bye" 168
Winifred Waters 296

viii INDEX.


Achilles in the Battle ... ... 224
Alarm, The ... ... 161
Alf and his Toys 276
Andromache for Hector, Tihe Grief of 332
Angel's Fare 383
Awaking, The ... ........ 289
Baby's Triumph ... ..... ... 337
Baby's Turn ... ... ... ... ... ... 9
Bathers, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 359
Beavers ... ... ........... ... 136
Before the Scenes ... ... ... ... ... 188
Behind the Scenes ... ... ... ... ... 189
" Behold the Lamb of God ... ... ... 113
Betrothal, The ... ... ..... 240
Blackamoors ... ... ... ... ... 28
Blackaways, The ... 204 205 244 245 285 333 352
Bo-peep ... ... ... ... ... ... 21
Boat, Kite, Balloon, or Pony ... ... ... 124 125
Bunting Bob Brown ... ... ... ... ... .. 80
" Buy my Sweets ... ... ... ... ...89
"Can he Fly ?" ... ... ... ... ... ...120
Carrying Pigeons ............ ..... 209
Caught! ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...217
Cobbler in the Elm Tree, The ... ... ... ..192
Cockalorum Likeness, A ... ... ... ..392
"Come here, Don!" ... ... ...... ... .. 1
Company of tie Fish, The ... ... ... ... ..345
Crane's Revenge, The 288
Cuckoo Clock, The ..212 213 229 232 253 292 293 324
340 348 349 356 357
Cup of Chocolate, A ... ... ... ... ... ..169

Dick's Pocketful ... ... ... ... ... 193
"Do make it up" ... ... ... ... ... 196
Doing the Sum ... ... ... ... ... 152
Donald and Phemie ... ... ... ... ... .. 81
"Don't Disturb Him" ... ... ... ... .. 57
Dreadnought, Mr. ... ... ... ... ... .. 49

Fairy Herald, The ... ... ... ... ... 53
Fairy Procession, The ... ... ... 68 69
Family, All in the ... ... .... ... ... 353
Favourite of the Princess, The ... ... ... ..201
Flowers ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .277
Fox's Invitation, The... ...... ... ... .272

Gallery of Animals, A ... .. ... 341
Galleries of Birds ... ... ... ... 325 368
Going out Hawking ... ... ... ... ... 185
Gone! ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 321
Good Riddlemerees, The ... ... ... ... 100
Grapes, The ... ... ... ... ... 336
Guilt ... ... ... ... ... .. ... 48

Hansel and Grethel ... ... ... 148 49 156 157
"Hasten to the Concert" ... ... ... ... 197
Hector and Achilles ... ... ... ... ... 256
Hee-Haw ... ... ... ... ... ... 73
"Her Grace ... ... ... .. ... ... 105
"Here they are again!" ... ... ... ... .197
Honey Buzzard, The ... ...... ... ... .177
House Lamb, The ... ... ... ... ... ..312
House of Linnaus, The ... ... ... ... ..32

Italy, In ...... ... .................. 313

Jack and his Brothers ... ... .... ... 84 85
Jack and the Seven Golden Beauties ... 92 93
Jack-in-the-Box 45
Jessy and the Birds ... ... 5
John Pounds ... ... ... ... 78

Kind Dog, The, and the Cruel Crocodile ... 116
King Arthur and Sir Lancelot ... 268

Laid Low... .............. 361
"Lie down, Bouncer!" 265
Linnaan Museum, The 32
Little Blackamoor ... ... ... 29
Little Italian Girl, The ... ... 257
Little Mother ... ... ... 65
Little Red Cap ... ... ... 308 309 316 317

Maggie's Father ... . 164 165
Magic Cranes, The .. 37
Mary Hay's Donkey ... 269
"Mopsa the Fairy " 301
Musical Miggs ... 249
My Magpie . 281

Naughty Riddlemerees, The 109
New King of the Beasts, The 39
Norway, In ... ... 329

" Oh! the Pretty Horses!" 208
Old Cock Sparrow, An 6 10 11 26 27 59
Old Fritz and his Pets ... 108
On the Alert ... 97
Ostrich Hunt, An ... 56
Patient Elephant, The ... ... ... 88
Peep-bo! ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 20
Peep-Show-in-Peep-Show ... ..387 388 389 390 391
Peep-Show Porter, The ... ... ... ... 52
Pets, W ith the ... ... ... ... ... 297
Picnic, At the .... ... .. ... .... ...... ..273
Picture Riddles... ... 101 117 140 141 181 300 381
Playing at Soldiers ... ... ... ... ... 160
Playing with the Water ... ... ... ... 248
"Polly, what's o'clock ?" ... ... ... ... 153
Pony Play ............... .... 44
Poor Little Mousey ... ... ... ... ... 77
Poor Puss... ... ... ... ... ... ... 184 199
Pretender, The... ... ... ... .... ..... 385
Pretty Puppies ... ... ... ... ... ... 121
Professor's Album, The ... ... ... ...216 304
Puss and her Mistresses ... ... ... ... 12 13

"Really, your Dancing strikes me Dumb !" ... 231
Reindeer, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 176
Retriever, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 369
Reynard the Fox ... ... ... ... 41

Sad Fate of the Greedy Wild Duck, The ... ... 104
Sam's Punch ... ... 132 133
Shadow Show, A ... ... ... ... ... 60 61
Ships and Steamers ... ... ... ... .. 220 221
Sleep-Seed, The... ... ... ... ... ... 284
Slide and Ride ... ... ... ... ... ... 376
Slyboots Abroad and at Home ... ... ...172 173
"So you caught them at it, did you ... ..... 327
Soldier Sammy... ... .. ... ... ... ... 33
Soldiers at Church ... ... ... ... ... 128
Spaniel and Monkey ... ... ... ... ... 96
Splendid Fritz ... ... ... ... 236 237 260 261
St. Christopher ... ... ... ... ... 380
Stag, A ... ....7... 17
Stand-up Fight, A ...... .... 4
Star in the East, The ... ... ... .. 377
Strange Nurse, The 280
Strawberry Girl, The ... .... ... ... 25

" The Monkey pays in Gambols ... ... ... 225
Thetis comforting Achilles ... ... ... ... 180
Thorn in the Finger, The ... ... ... ... 137
Tiglath Pileser ... ... ... ... ... ... 228
Tit for Tat ... ... ... ... ... ... 241
Tom, the Painter's Boy ... ... 16 36 64
Totty's Triumph ... ... .. 76
Two Orphans ... ..... 24

Wasp, The ...... ...... .... ... 305
W ater Sylphs, The ... ... ... ... ... 53
"We must draw the line somewhere ... .. 263
What the Stork brought ... ... ..... 233
White and Red... ... ... ... 364 365 373 373
Whispering Angel, The ... ... ...... .295
Wild Boar, The... ... ... ... ... ... ...145
" Won't you be Friends?" ... ... ... ... 344
World of mv Own. A... ... ... ... ... 320

Young Violinist, The ... ... .. ... 129


"Come Here, Don!"



I AM going to write out some of the things
that happened to me in my girlhood, and
some of the things that I came to know about
my friends and about other people, and about
animals, and about the town and the country,
and church and chapel, and all sorts of things.
Some of the things that happened to me were
sad and painful, but the greater part of them
were pleasant, and my childhood was as
happy as that of most children.
It does not matter much where I begin, so
I will begin with some four-footed friends,-
dogs and cats. I did not have much to do
with some sorts of dogs, as you may suppose.
I never had anything to say to a bulldog or
to hunting dogs; but what a pretty sight I
used to think it was when I was down in the
country and I happened to see a fine bright-
eyed dog that I knew, named Don," fetch-
ing his master's whip for him. "Come here,
Don, come here and he did look beautiful;
I can see him now, half buried in the tall grass
and wild flowers, and looking the picture of
kindness and intelligence. Poor Don! he
came to a bad end, of which I will some day
tell you, perhaps.
When I was a girl I knew some cases in
which the life of cat and dog was not at
all what people mean when they speak of
cat-and-dog life. I knew a yard dog named
Grumpy, and at the same place there was
a cat named Sandy. And these two were
very particular friends. They were both of
the colour of a brown loaf. Grumpy, the dog,
had hair like a door-mat, a make-believe sort
of tail, and funny short legs. The legs were
not so highly baked as his back, and the hair
looked as if it had been worn off by a great
deal of walking. He was not a beauty, but
Sandy was very proud of being noticed by
him, and would scarcely play with any common
cats, she thought such a deal of herself for
being Grumpy's friend.
Grumpy had a large kennel, and you might
often see him and Sandy fast asleep in it
together; but when it rained, Sandy was
always made to step outside and sit across the
doorway, to keep the rain out while old
Grumpy sat inside, which he did not often do
at other times. This was hard on Sandy, but
he was a sturdy tom-cat and did not seem to
mind it. For what we know, Grumpy made it
up to him in some way that only friendly cats
and dogs can understand.
Cats and dogs have to get older like human

beings, and one day Sandy was missing.
Grumpy did not appear to take much notice
all day, but in the evening he made off into the
fields to look for his friend. He was missing
all night, to the great surprise of his master
and mistress, and the children, of whom I was
one. The next morning we saw Grumpy two
fields off from the house with the cold corpse
of Sandy in his mouth. He was dragging it
home a little way at a time, and then sitting
down to rest. Sandy had gone away in order
to die alone, as I am told cats always do.
Grumpy did not appear to understand Sandy's
death, but dragged him to the kennel and put
him inside, though it was raining. He then
crouched down before the kennel, with his nose
between his fore-paws, to watch; every now
and then going inside, fumbling at the dead
Sandy with his paw, and giving a whine of
distress. For many days-which is a long
time for a dog-Grumpy used to go about
looking miserable, with his head down, and
his tail between his legs.
Grumpy never, to my knowledge, formed an
attachment for any other cat, but used to hunt
the rest of them, as dogs usually do.
I knew another dog-and-cat couple. The
dog's name was Dash, and the cat's name
was Lights. Puss was of a stay-at-home dis-
position, and used to spend most of her time
before the kitchen fire, with now and then a
walk on the tiles for variety and refreshment.
Dash was a very roving sort of dog, and used
often to dine with a friend of his, who lived at
a dog's-meat shop a few streets off. Pussy
used to patronize him very much, but he never
seemed to care much for her.
After a long day out on the prowl, Dash

would make a rush to the kitchen fire to get a
warm. Lights always showed herself pleased
to see him. She would rouse from her cat-
sleep, lift herself on her tore-paws, purring all
the while, and now and then giving him little
fond bites on the shoulder. Dash used to
submit, but in a way which showed that it
was the fire he wanted and not pussy's friend-
ship. He would very soon shake himself
free, and take the best place on the rug before
the fire.
But pussy's fondness or sense of duty was
not satisfied with giving Dash a welcome and
making room for him in the cosiest corner.
After he had settled himself for a snooze, she
would purr about him and look him all over
in search of splashes of mud and dirt. These
she would set to work to lick off, as Dash lay
stretched before the fire. She used to rest
her fore-paws on his body, to make herself



---- --


tall enough, and so take out one splash of
mud after another, shaking them out of her
own mouth with great disgust.
Even this was not so funny as the behaviour
of Dash in one respect. If nobody was in the
room, and if he thought there was no one to
see him, he took it all quietly. But if he found
he was watched, he used to show that his pride
was hurt by pussy's attentions, and would
either get up and go away, or growl and
move about, as much as to say, Pray don't
suppose I like all this nonsense-I only let her
do it because it pleases her." This was very
mean of Dash, because when he thought he
was not watched, it was plain that he enjoyed
it. He would burrow his nose into pussy's soft
fur, or even reward her with a lick.
While he was out one day, his friend Lights
had a family. The next time she saw him
she went to the dark cupboard where they lay,
fetched out her kittens one by one, and laid
them on the rug before him, as much as to
say, "What do you think of thal? Dash was
very much surprised and puzzled. He sniffed
at the kittens, and began to turn them over
with his paws. This greatly offended Lights,
who evidently thought that the mere sight of
anything so beautiful as her kittens ought to
have been enough for him; so she growled
and spat and gave him a scratch down the
side of his face, which astonished him more
than the kittens had done. Then he went away
to make himself comfortable somewhere else.
But, not long after this, he took an opportunity
of going to the dark closet when the mother
was away, and there nosed them over to his
heart's content. Now, the kittens that he woke
up were not so clever as they ought to have
been: they thought it was mother, and they
fastened on him in such a way that he was
more surprised than ever, and made a very
hurried escape from the closet. This seemed
to satisfy his curiosity, for he never afterwards
took the slightest notice of the kittens, and
puss and he began their old style of life again;
she making his toilet for him when he came
home at night, and he taking it as it came,
just as he used to do. BRIDGET BLOUNT.
(To be continued.)


PAPA.-Perhaps you did not know that
hares will fight? but they will.
JANE.-I suppose you mean that they will
fight each other, papa ? most animals do that

PAPA.-No, I did not mean that; they will
fight other animals also.
MAMMA.-Yes, it is wise in any of us to
run for it when the odds are against us, and
there is no law of God and no voice in our own
consciences to bid us stand up and fight.
Bon.--I wonder what those hares in the
picture are fighting for ?
JANE.- I think I know. One of those hares
is a bully, and has been and knocked down the
one we see on his back. The sister of the one
that got knocked down went home and told
her big brother, and he came out to see.
When he got to the place he found the bad,
rude hare, was going to kick the hare that
was down. He said-" No, you shan't." Then
the bad, rude hare, said-" Won't I? you'll see,
I'llfighl you first, though." Then, of course,
the big brother was obliged to stand up for
the little brother and serve out the hare that
was a bully.
BoB.-And the sister is there at the back,
looking on. How nervous she seems.
APPA (smiling).-I don't think that is quite
the true story, Jenny, but it will do.
BOB (eagerly).-Then what is the true story,
papa ?
MAIMMA.-Wait till you are old enough to
find out for yourself.
BOB.-I wish I was older !
MAiMMA.-Don't be in a hurry, you will
all get old quite fast enough I and the older
you get the more you will have to work, and
the more care you will have on your minds.
(The canary in the cage strikes up a song.) Good
little bird Sing away,,and put idle thoughts
out of our heads !

I SEND these lines to you, because
My life is full of faults and flaws:
Both at my work and at my play,
In what I do, and look, and say;
I know I sometimes am not good;
I make mistakes, sometimes I'm rude,
Sometimes I'm cross, sometimes I'm slow,
And sometimes, when I do not know,
I vex you. Well, I send this letter
To say I'm trying to be better;
Your kindness can make every task
Easier; and that is why I ask
That you will try to overlook
My faults at work, and play, and book.







LITTLE JESS walked out to play,
All upon a summer's day:
Jess liked walking,
Jess liked talking,
All upon a summer's day.

Little Jess said to the birds,
"When you sing you use no words;
What's the matter ?
You should chatter,
Oh! you pretty singing-birds.

" Pretty blackbird, pretty linnet,
Talk to me this very minute

Let me hear you,
Standing near you-
Pretty thrush, will you begin it ?"

But no song-bird in the nation,
Would begin a conversation;
Birds for singing,
Bells for ringing,
All things in their place and station.

Jessy's little tongue is plenty,
Jessy talks enough for twenty;
Please, good linnet,
Don't begin it-
Jessy talks enough for twenty.




"I" *-~

- ~.


I AM an old sparrow now. Two ragged
feathers are all that is left of my tail, and
my claws are long, and rough, and horny.
But I am a happy old bird for all that, and
even if I were to be snowed up next week, or
if one of your prowling cats were to spring
from behind the chimney-pot and claw me
this very moment, I would say with my very
last squeak, "I've had a happy long life."
Being in momentary danger from stones
and cats, I think it only right to leave a
record of my experience for my children and
grandchildren. My children, I may mention,
are fine plump birds, that live at the cab-
proprietor's round the corner and feed amongst
the hens in the stable-yard. My grand-
children I hear chirping on the area railings
ever so far down below me. I myself have
perched on the corner of a chimney-stack, and
there is plenty of soot going about; but I am
accustomed to it by this time, and am as black
as all respectable town sparrows should be.
My earliest recollection is of my four bro-
thers, small downy little things with no
perceptible tails, weak legs, heads always
bobbing about, and eyes like black beads.
We all lived together, huddled up in the cosiest
way imaginable, in a round warm nest. Its
sides were so high that we could not possibly
tumble out; and even when we were squab-
bling over bits of food, and one of us, his
shaky legs slipping the wrong way, fell down
flat-even then the nest was so softly lined
with feathers and straw that he could not be
hurt, but would jump up at once and begin to
fight again, talking louder than ever.

Talking-that reminds me !-the moment
the light appeared in the sky each morning,
even before we had light enough to keep our
claws out of each others' eyes, we all woke up,
and all woke hungry. Tweet, twitter-
cheep, twitter !" and we began stirring about,
knocking against each other, and striking our
open beaks against the sides of the nest for
very hunger. We were all hatched the same
day, so for a long time I could not make out
how it happened that one of us grew and fat-
tened almost twice as fast as the rest. This
big brother of mine was a terribly voracious
fellow. I must tell you what he did to me
once, and what we did to him. Of course he
woke with the dawn, and woke hungry as we
did; but his voice-oh, such twitters, such
screeches! They were nearly as loud as all
of ours together. Papa did not make half
so much noise when he came to look down at
us, perched on the edge of the water-spout.
Our nest was stuffed in under the corner of a
roof just behind the spout.
Well, one morning my big brother woke
even more hungry than usual, screeched louder,
and trotted about the nest flapping his bits of
wings in all our faces. That same morning-
I don't mind saying it now, it's such a long
time ago-I woke in a bad temper. Don't
blame me until you think of all a poor nestling
in my place has to undergo-his coat of
feathers not thinking of growing yet, the
down on his back very soft and thin, and no
less than four hard beaks pecking away at him
every minute, four hungry voices shrieking into
his ears, and claws treading on his in quick


I .

PE-SHO W __7

succession. As if all this was not bad enough,
before I knew what I was doing, or had time
to run away, my big brother opened his beak
(the widest, horniest beak among us), and
took into it my fat, velvety left leg. Oh!
how I screeched and ran away, and he fluttered
after me, holding on hard, all round the nest.
I do not know when he would have let me go
had not mamma appeared, having a long
worm dangling above us. I had barely time
to see how very long it was, when I beheld
my big brother stretch up his neck and
swallow it, head, tail and all. Off flew mamma
to find more food for us. We waited, twitter-
ing louder than ever. Then papa flew down
on the edge of the nest, flapping his wings
and struggling; he was almost choked by a
great greasy-looking brown worm. Flutter-
ing and chirping we all ran up the side of the
nest. But the biggest of us had the longest
and strongest legs, so he reached the top first,
and picking, and pecking, and swallowing,
and choking, had the whole worm eaten up
before any of us could get near him.
(To be continued.)

N chapters of PEEP-SHow, under this
heading, some account will be given of
the writers and writings of all nations, so
far as they are commonly read in Europe
and America.
Some persons are much more fond of books
than others are. Many can remember best
what they hear or see, and they do not much
like to sit down and study; but there are very
few who do not like to read sometimes. When
we are ill, or lonely, or sad from any cause
whatever, we are so much the better off if we
are fond of reading and have books.
From the beginning of the world-or, at
least, from the first of the times when men
could write-the best and wisest and kindest
thoughts of men and women have been written
down. Sometimes those thoughts are of the
kind that make you laugh, sometimes they
make you feel very much for the pain that
others have to bear in this world; sometimes
they are the wise thoughts of men who have
been through much trouble, and now want to
help others to get through their troubles;
sometimes they are one thing and sometimes
another thing; but most of the books that are

carefully kept in libraries are worth reading
for the good they do us.
You will notice that I have said the books that
are carefully kept in libraries. These are what
are sometimes called standardor classical books;
we will have these two words fully explained
by-and-bye, but just now we will only say a
little about their meaning. When we have
lived a little while in the world we find that
men and women differ very much in their
power of doing things well. Some do things
much better than others. There are good
workmen, for instance, and bad workmen;
people who can talk about things in such a
way as to make us glad to listen, and people
who usually talk in such a way that we do not
much care whether they talk or not. In about
the same way, there are thousands of people
who write what gets put into books, but only a
few who write what good judges are pleased
with. The books made by the good writers
are thought a great deal of, and they get taken
care of, and kept in libraries for hundreds and
thousands of years. If it is found that people
keep on liking these books, they are called
standards or classics.
Of course there are books which are care-
fully kept in libraries, not because those who
wrote them were wise, or good, or skilful, but
for other reasons. Perhaps they happen to
tell us something which we otherwise should
not know. If I could get hold of some letters
written by my great-grandmother or great-
grandfather, I should like to read them out of
curiosity, though they might not be wise or
clever or even full of good thoughts. But this
we will say more about in another chapter.
If a child, before it has learned to read, or
even to talk, could see all the work there was
before it in learning to do these things what
would it think ? It would be frightened, and
say, "I shall never be able to do it." Yetwe
all learn to speak and read. In much the
same way a young person who can read and
write, looking at a large library, might fancy
it was almost impossible ever to read so many
books in such a way as to remember much
about them. But when we are older, supposing
we read a great deal ourselves, we soon come
to understand how one head can remember
what is in hundreds and thousands of books.
This is what we shall be able to make out
better after having been through the very
short and easy account of the chief books and
writers of all ages and nations which will be
contained in some of the following numbers of





Words by the Author of Lilliput Levee." Music by T. CRAMPTON.
Allegretto con spirit.

uc-,- ~ t 9 a -r-
AND O lit tie Ben Bute Had a flute, flute, flute, And
2. He could not play well, So the notes rose and fell, Too tie,
PIANO. 3. Then peo ple to the lad Said 0 this is ve ry bad! Our

went a- bout the world in a knick-er-bock-er suit; Down, up and down, And
too te, too- tie too, with a twirl and a squeak; The wind, puff, puff, Was
ears you soon will split with your toot, toot, toot; Is there no one with in reach, What

-------- -- i--- --

___-- a --- -~--
-4 A4
round a bout the town He played and he played, too tie toot, toot, toot!
for- ty times e nough,Thathe sent into the flute from his cheek, cheek, cheek.
no one! who will teach Little Bute how to play upon the flute, flute, flute?

Too-tle-too, too-tie-too, too-tie, too-tie, too-ev! f p
___ _-- .---- B ...... --n _-__

I. II.
Little Ben Bute He could not play it well,
Had a flute, flute, flute, So the notes rose and fell,
And went about the world in a knickerbocker suit ; Tootle, tootle-too, with a twirl and a squeak;
Down, up and down, The wind, puff, puff,
Round about the town, Was forty times enough,
He played and he played tootle-too, toot, toot That he sent into the flute from his cheek, cheek,
STootle-too, tootle-too-ey cheek.
Tootle-too, tootle-too-ey !
Then people to the lad
Said, This is very bad !
Our ears they are splitting, with your toot, toot, toot;
Is there no one within reach-
What, no one who will teach
Little Bute how to play upon the flute, flute, flute ? "
Tootle-too, "- .- -/ Y !



i'ii' ii

: 'I

;I iI'l;I )I lj ';i '
i I 'I'i!r':1

"4,'i f

u i- l




I'' ii
I; I'

JI ,
("' ', i,






--- I


lcr ---




C OME, then, this is Baby's turn
Nothing here her lips to burn;
Neither gristle, crust, nor bone-
This is Baby's, Baby's own.

Baby sits and eats in state;
Mind I-or down goes Baby's plate,
And her mug with all the drink;
Baby is too young to think-

That is, about mugs and platters,
Table-cloths, and such like matters;
But of course she thinks at times,
And she will not mind our rhymes.

(Continued from p. .)


OH, the greedy bird I Just then, and only
then, it dawned on me how our brother
had grown so plump while we were all so thin
and little. Until he was satisfied, no one had
the smallest chance of even smelling a bit of
breakfast. He was always first in the scramble
up the side of the nest. He kicked us down
with his long sharp claws, if we were keeping
close after him. I knew it all then, and bobbing
my knowing head about, looked down at my
sore leg with a vengeful chirp.
We had not long to wait before our bird-
mother came again. This time she bent over
towards the spot where one of my little
brothers was struggling up, and slipped the
morsel into his beak; but, before he had time
to close his beak upon it, a great sharp bill

(belonging, I need not say, to our greedy
brother) was thrust right into it, and the worm
was gone.
"The poor little bird that had been robbed
stood next to me. I whispered in his ear-
"He eats up everything; that's why he is so
strong and plump."
My little brother nodded.
"Let him run up for the next piece," I went
on. "Let him, and then--" I gave him
a gentle push with my downy shoulder, and
the little fellow understood me.
Again one of our parents held out a worm
to us. Again that voracious fellow ran up
the side of the nest. On we pressed close
after him. I touched the claw of the wronged
nestling with mine, and both together we gave
a push, pretending that we were only trying
to get the worm. We gave a push, I say, and
something light and round fell off the edge of
the nest, and went spinning and whirling
down, down, down to-I don't know where it
went to-but we were never troubled with our
big brother again.
A little time after this we were taught to fly.
I was the first to flutter up to the edge of the
roof just above us. In a day or two the others
were able to get up and down easily, and then
our mother, throwing out her wings and
springing away, showed us how she flew
down towards the street. What a strange
sensation it was the first time I followed her,
trying to steer myself about with my most un-
manageable tail, and to support myself with
my weak flapping wings. However, I did
learn to fly, and so did all my brothers. Then
we went away to live where we liked about
the streets, picking up what we could-in fact,
we went to seek our fortunes.
My recollection of this period is not clear,
but some days must have gone by before I
found myself with one of my brothers in a
place where there was a road with a wall on
one side, and on the other a hedge, with
vegetable gardens and trees beyond. I
suppose we were in the outskirts of the town.
When we reached this place we both flew
down on the road, and began hopping about
looking for food. Everything was quiet and
still; no one was in sight; of what should- we
be afraid ? But all at once there came run-
ning through a gap in the hedge what I know
now was a boy. My idea of him then was
that he was a gigantic black monster, far too
terrible for a poor sparrow's powers of de-
scription. We were only young birds, re-
member; it took us some time to shake out our
wings to fly; and even when we rose, we could



not go far. Before we had time to think what
this monster was, or where he came from, he
had stooped, spread out his hands, and shut my
unfortunate brother in between them. And
then, in a moment, the little thing, fright-
ened nearly to death, was safe in his pocket,
and he kept his left hand across the opening.
Of course I did not stay on the ground to
watch all this. As soon as I saw what he
was doing, I looked round for a place of
safety, and flew to one of the lower branches
of a tree where another bird was perched. I
thought myself quite secure there, but his
right hand was free yet, and, seeing where I
had taken refuge, he picked up a stone and
sent it flying after me. On it came breaking
the leaves away before it. It struck the other
bird and down he fell. That was how I
learned not to think myself safe from those
wicked boys even in a tree.
The moment the bird was knocked down I
flew away again, and went further up the
road, to hide, this time, among very high
branches. From this point I could see down
into a large garden where the earth was
all furrowed. In some of the furrows were
great, burly cabbages, in others rows of young
vegetables of a fresh, green colour, peeping
from the brown soil. But directly below me
was a part of the garden in which nothing
whatever was growing. In that barren corner,
more sparrows than I could count were hopping
about, picking something out of the earth. I
was on.the point of flying down to take my
share of the feast whatever it might be, when I
beheld a sight that made me tremble so, that
I could scarcely keep my hold of the branch.
Not ten yards from the spot where the birds
were feeding, stood-not a boy, though that
would have been bad enough-but a great
tall man, wearing a sky-blue coat and a
cocked hat, and having his arms folded.
I chirped loudly, wildly, to warn them of
their danger; but not one of them looked up
or paid the least attention to me. They went
on eating exactly as before, under the very
eyes of that tremendous man. He would
surely stone them or put them in his pockets.
What should I do ? I waited, chirping my
very loudest. Stupid birds! why did they not
hear me? And at last one of them, more
obstinate than the rest, went hopping and
picking along the very next furrow behind the
man. I hesitated no longer. Down I flew to
save him at all risks, when--oh! it was a
terrible sight-he flew up, twittering with glee,
and perched on top of the man's cocked hat.
I was too much horrified by his audacity and

foolhardiness to remain a moment longer; but
as I turned, flying away again, all the birds
chirped to me to come back.

,To b con-in E-d.)
(To be continued.)

"SEE that thou love thy God, the LORD,
With all thy soul and heart;"
I wonder, when they speak the word,
Who will this love impart?
" Love God! "-I read it day by day,
Since I to read began ;
Oh, mother, if I knew the way I
Ah! tell me how I can.
I have not seen Him with my eyes,
Or heard Him with my ears;
My heart will not go up the skies,
And hears but what is near.
The sun shines down the airy gulf,
And warms to flowers the sod;
And, dear one only God Himself
Can teach the love of God.
But all the love you feel for me,
And father, and the rest,
God made; and made that love to be
A temple in your breast.
He knows the path, He knows the door,
And all He hates is Sin;
His house it is, keep clean the floor,
And He will enter in.





.- -. ..
'; ...- %-i .. ..1: ; ^ . S-.. d

'.-_-- _-, ,..* ..* -..'f .- _=. u*


THIS is a good little girl, and you
see how busy she is, and how
careful she is. She has put on a pina-
fore to keep her frock clean, and her
hair is in a net, all nice and close, so
that she can go easily about her work.
Why, I declare, she is sweeping the
room. She is handy for her age; and
look, how well she holds her broom.
Sweep, sweep, sweep. Well, there is
not much dust, after all. That is
because this busy little maid sweeps the
room so often, the dust has not time to
"Dear me, here comes one of pussy's .
kittens. No, pussy, you may play with A.
the ball, but you must not play with my
little broom; it stops me. How can I
sweep properly if you come bobbing
about like that? Wait till you have to
sweep a room yourself, and then you will
know better. But, there now cats only
lick themselves, they never sweep rooms.
Yes, I see your mother and your -
brother are looking at you, pussy, and,
I dare say, they think- it is very clever.
But it is easy to stop work, or to make it
hard for other people to do it; the thing is
to do the work yourself. Well, you do seem
to enjoy the fun. I wish I was a kitten. No
I don't; what would papa and mamma say ?
How they would miss me! I wonder whether
I should miss myself? If I was turned into a
kitten, should I remember being a little girl ?

-- ~

If I did, I know I shouldbe very sorry. Why
I could never speak then. No, nor laugh.
Cats and dogs never smile. It would not be
nice to be able to say nothing but mieauw I
And, besides, how could I live on mice, and
gnaw bones ? It is much better to be a little
girl. There! there is mamma calling me
How funny it would be if I could only say





mieauw / Yes, mamma, I am coming; I was
only sweeping the floor a little, and kitty-
witty was playing with my broom. Go away,
kitty-witty; can't you keep quiet ? I think a
cat looks nice when it is quiet in somebody's
lap; it seems so happy then. Purr, purr



away, with its eyes half shut. Purr away,
puss, I like to see you enjoy yourself inyour
way, but I shall enjoy myself in my way. Do
you think I want to catch mice ? No, I want
to read, and work, and sing, and sit at table
with mamma, and kiss her, and be good."


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WHAT is a poet-laureate in this country ?
This seems a simple question; but it
is not very easy to answer. We can guess
why laurel has been used for crowns of honour
for poets; for the laurel is an evergreen, and
the fame of a great poet may be said to be
ever green-to last for ever. And we know
that in ancient Greece the laurel was sacred to
Apollo, who was the god of poetry. We also
know that, in old days in England, when
young men at college wrote good poems,
they were crowned with laurel, and called
laureates. Besides this, we know that in old
times kings, and great chieftains, and very rich
men in general sometimes had men about
their courts or households to compose poems
and sing them to the harp; just as they had
men to make fun for them. The singers or
harpers were called minstrels; the jesters
were called fools; and sometimes one person
was both fool and minstrel. Then in the
reign of Edward IV. we find a man named
John Key paid by the king and called a poet-
laureate. There have been several poet-
laureates since then, and they have all received
some special payment. The first man who
held the office had 1oo a year and a great
cask of wine from the king's own wine-cellar;
but it is the honour, not the pay, that has
made some poets wish to be made laureates.
Yet some very bad poets have had the honour,
and only a few good ones. The best have
been John Dryden, Thomas Warton, Robert
Southey, William Wordsworth, and Alfred
Tennyson, who is now living. It used. to be
the business of the poet-laureate, in return for
his pay, to write a poem of the kind called
"Ode" on every birthday of the king; but this
has now been done away with. The poet-
laureate in our days writes what he likes; and
that is the only true way of writing poetry.
Poetry, or other beautiful head-work, cannot
be forced like hand-work, or copying, or book-
keeping. There must be great care and pains
taken,-nothing that is very good comes with-
out labour,-but the best part of every poem
comes as the flowers blossom and the winds
Mr. Alfred Tennyson, who is now the poet-
laureate to Queen Victoria, is one of the
finest poets that ever lived. He is the son of
a clergyman, and has a brother a clergyman,
who is also a very fine poet. Mr. Alfred

Tennyson has been writing poetry and print-
ing it for about forty years now. He has
written a great number of small poems, some
of which any child can understand; for
instance, "The Lord of Burleigh." Besides
the short poems, Mr. Tennyson has written
long ones: these are called "In Memoriam,"
"The Princess," "Maud," and "Idylls of
the King."
In most of Mr. Tennyson's poems there are
things which the young cannot understand,
because they have not lived long enough to
have certain thoughts and feelings, and to
know certain things. But he has also written
a great deal that is very simple indeed. Here
is a very plain piece of poetry:-
There the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls;
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad;
An abbot on an ambling pad.
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad;
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad."
The sentence, as it is put here in PEEP-SHOW,
for shortness, is not finished, but anyone can
see what it means, and it is a very pretty
Mr. Tennyson's little song about "The
Owl" has pleased a great many very young
children :
"When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round;
And the whirring sail goes round
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
When merry milk-maids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits."
Here is the lullaby of a mother, sung to
her baby while father is out at sea. It is
from "The Princess :-"
"Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea;
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea !
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
"While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
"Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon ;
Father will come to his babe in the nest;
Silver sails all out of the west
Under the silver moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep!"




JUAN DE PAREJA, a slave, and the
colour-grinder of Velasquez, had the
good fortune to please Philip IV., when that
monarch came one day to the master's studio,
and he got his freedom given to him; he could
himself paint pictures. But Tom, the English
painter's boy, of whom I am going to tell
some adventures, could not paint-he had
no genius; at least he had no genius of the
kind that pleased his master. Perhaps, in
God's eyes, everybody has a genius for some-
thing. Indeed, I am not sure Tom could
even be called the painter's boy-he was the
son of the painter's landlady. The painter
rented a room on the second floor of her house
for a studio, or room to paint in, and he had
his bedroom on the same floor for convenience.
The manner in which the light falls through
the window is a great point with painters,
and the "light" on the first floor, in this
crowded spot, happened to suit him better
than the light on the second floor. However,
his sitting room was on the second floor, and
he was by no means so poor as some young
painters are. Tom used to run on errands,
and do odd jobs in the studio for him, but he was
himself not an artistic boy, though very good-
tempered, and ready to make himself useful.
As is often the case with good-tempered
fellows, Tom was, as people say, always "on
good terms with himself," and he had a cheer-
ful, hearty way of talking to people, even
strangers of higher station, and greater age,
and greater talents,-a way of talking which
some persons used to think off-hand, and take
offence at. Station is not, of itself, any reason
for treating others with more respect than
custom teaches us to use; but age, talent,
or goodness, is. Well, Tom in his good-
humoured way, used to be very free with his
master, and would sometimes ask about the
pictures, and the things in the studio, questions
which were not very clever, and which used to
vex his master. You know a painter is,sure
to get a good many odd things together in his
studio-perhaps old-fashioned lace, and velvets,
and jack-boots, and swords, and helmets, and
busts, and flowers, and guitars, and all manner
of lumber-only it is not lumber, because he
uses it to draw from. I suppose you would
call a Florence oil flask, or a broken old
Windsor chair, or a brown stone jug, lumber,
if you saw such things in a sitting-room, but

a painter might very well want to draw either
of them, or all of them.
One day Tom's master, as we will call him,
happened to come in just as Tom was polishing
up a rusty old shield with all his might. The
good-humoured grin with which he caught
his master's eye was a caution.
Confound it, Tom I cried the young painter,
all in a passion, I wanted that shield with
the rust on it,-I wish you'd mind your own
business!" Here Tom's face fill, but not for
long-he was such a jolly sort of boy.
"Why, what's the use of it, please, sir ? "
says Tom.
Use ? says the painter-"now, it's of use
for a blockhead to see his face in." Tom
looked in with a grin, but did not see the joke.
"I can easily make it rusty again," says
Get out ".says the painter, as if he would
kick him downstairs on the spot.
One time it happened that the painter had
a great coil of rope in to paint from. A
short time after he had done with it, and
pitched it aside, he came into the room and
found Tom making nooses with it. Tom had
been very talkative of late, and in his good-
tempered, easy way, very rude. That very
morning, the painter had been telling him, in
a hasty way, just as Tom was brushing his
coat for him, that all the colours mixed together
made white.
"I don't believe that," said Tom, smiling
from ear to ear, and brushing away at the
Tom," said his master severely, you're
a born duffer. When a person who is older
than you are, and knows more, tells you a
thing that doesn't appear likely, you should
ask him how it is, not tell him to his face that
it can't be."
This was good advice, not only for Tom,
but for many other young people-indeed, for
some old people. But never mind that just
now. Tom's master dropped in to catch him
tying wonderful knots with the coil of rope.
Hallo, Tom he cried, "You're at it
again! leave my rope alone, will you ? "
Tom obeyed, but said-" What's it for, sir;"
-and he grinned his usual grin.
"For? said his master, in a passion at
the stupid, easy-going question, "don't you
know that rope's-end is for a fool's back ?
Here, take it! and he chucked it after him
as poor Tom made a bolt.
(To be continued.)













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IS there any animal more beautiful than a
stag? It is graceful, swift, and does not
hurt you unless you meddle with it. And yet
no creature has been more hunted than the
stag. In old times to kill the king's deer was
as bad a crime as killing a man, and even
more certain to be punished. There were
hounds kept on purpose to hunt the stag;
these were called stag-hounds. There were
two reasons, at least, why the stag was so
much hunted. First, it runs very fast, and
swims beautifully-it has been known to swim
ten miles-so it makes what is called fine
sport. Besides that, its flesh is good food-
it is called venison. Then the horns of the
stag make a fine ornament. A stag usually
has about ten branches in his horns. But a
stag has been known to have as many as
thirty-three in one antler. The mother stag
is called a hind. She has no horns, and is a
most beautiful creature. The stag is never
quite at home with man; and, as it is both wild
and graceful, poets have been very fond of
writing about it.


W HEN I was a girl of eight years old,
I had a long illness. London was a
much airier place then than it is now. The
house we lived in was well built and healthy,
and not far from the fields; but still it was
thought better that I should be sent into the
country for a little while. I will call the place
to which I was sent, Northfields. I had there
a middle-aged bachelor cousin, who was a
farmer. He had an elderly couple in his
house; the wife was his housekeeper, while
her husband was a sort of factotum, who
looked after the gig, and the carts, and the
farm servants. This couple had no children.
My father and mother, or one of them, used
to come down frequently by the coach, to have
a look at me and stay a night or two. I can
tell you I had a pleasant time of it, except
that I wanted to see more of papa and mamma
and my only brother.

The house to which I was sent, stood in the
middle of a large garden, full of trees. Most
people would call it over-grown with trees, and
too shaded to be pleasant; but it was just
what I liked then-indeed it is just what I like
now; only when I saw it in later years, I used
to fancy it had a rather sad look with it, as if
it would complain of being left too much to
itself. While I was there, there was nobody
to care much for it.
In the summer, at the time I went to the
farm-house, the two drawing-rooms (as they
were called), were filled with last year's fleeces.
I suppose you know that the fleece of a
sheep is not like hair, but fells together, and
is put aside by the farmer, till it is taken away.
But I may here tell you what you may perhaps
not know-namely, that the wool of the wild
sheep is not near so thick, and does not felt so
much as that of the domesticated sheep.
However, the wild sheep has pretty long hair
at the end of its wool.
The windows of both these drawing-rooms
opened on to the lawn, and I looked wistfully
in. Carts came, and one of the rooms was
emptied of the fleeces. I had then what all
children enjoy-a large empty play-room,
opening into a garden, with no carpet to wipe
my feet for!
The housekeeper was called Mother Spicks-
ley. She was a constant wonder to me; for
though very kind to me, she was a scold--the
first scold I had ever seen. Her husband was
the chief person that she scolded; he was a
little, stiff-backed man, who used to take it as
it came, till his master called him away, or
till his wife made a sudden dash into the
garden, to speak to me, as if butter would not
melt in her mouth: "Well, miss; to be sure
you du look happy this morning." 1 suppose
my father used to tip her now and then, in
order to make her attentive to me; and I was
too simple to know the difference between
bought kindness, and kindness that was not
paid for. Very likely, too, her having no
children of her own, made her think more ot
other people's.
Mother Spicksley never looked quite clean
to me, as a child, but I now suppose this must
have been her complexion, as everything about
her was clean, and her master was as par-
ticular as old bachelors usually are, or are
said to be. It seemed to me as. if she always
wore the same gown of dark blue cotton, with
a neckerchief of many colours, which came
down in a three-cornered way very tight, and
was pinned at the waist behind and before. I
seem to remember her with her sleeves always



tucked up above her elbow, exactly to the
same place. Her brown, sinewy arms were
patterned with bruises and scratches, which
always looked as if they had just been done.
But she never seemed to know how they came,
and was very much puzzled when I used to
ask her. She was the most withered old
creature I ever saw, and nobody could ever
remember her being different. Her master
was, to her, the best and finest gentleman that
ever lived. She would say "Did you ever
see nahr-a-one sit a horse as he du, naow ?
He minds naught how it pulls and rears."
(To be continued.)

IN PEEP-SHOw some of the slides in the SHOW
are to be scientific. Of course we shall
have nothing difficult in our SHOW; but quite
young children may learn something about
such things, and even be amused by it. Let
us, then, see what we can do. But, before
going to any particular science, such as
Botany, or Chemistry, or Mathematics, we
will have a few words about what science is.

We hear and read a great deal about
science now-a-days, and some people speak
of it, and really seem to think of it, as if it
were something new. But there has been
science in the world ever since men began to
look about them and turn things to use. The
first man that thought of a wheel to turn upon
an axle under some sort of carriage had
science, and he did a very great thing. It
was just the same with the first man that
found out how to make water turn a wheel.
There is no mystery about science. It all
comes out of noticing, and then putting things
together in your mind, so that you can tell
what will happen when certain things are done
or not done. The first person who thought
of trying whether water, falling from a height,
would turn a wheel, was clever, and he had
some science. The person who found out how
to reckon the exact quantity and fall of water
wanted to turn different kinds and sizes of
wheels had more science, though he may not
have been so clever as the person who invented
a water-wheel. Perhaps not so clever as the
man who found out how to make a wheel,
going one way, turn another wheel so as to
make it go another way. Of course we are
now supposing that different persons found
out these different things. It most likely was

We were saying just now that perhaps the
man who found out how to reckon the power
of falling water was not so clever as the man
who first thought of a water-wheel. When
certain things are positively found out, so that
they can be put down clearly, and be rightly
called Science, it does not always take great
ability to put these things together and make
some fresh use of them. Almost everybody
can help to make more Science of some kind.
"When we want to gain what is called a
scientific knowledge of any subject, a large
part of what we do is nothing more than
finding out exactly in what ways certain things
agree, and in what ways they differ. A great
deal of this knowledge may seem useless even
when we have got it; but we must not jump
at ideas of that kind. Now, we will just for a
moment use two long words out of books on
Botany. There are a very large number of
plants which botanists have put together
under one name, because they are alike in
certain ways and unlike in other ways, and
these plants (which I now speak of) they
have agreed to call Ranunculacee. Every man
who knows anything of the science of plants
knows what you mean when you say a plant
is of the kind called by that name. And
he at once knows something else-he knows
it is very likely poisonous. Again, there are
a large number of other plants called Crucreera,
and every botanist knows that when a plant
can be rightly called by that name, it is very
likely to be eatable (the turnip is one of the
Crucferae). Now, observe: the root of the
aconite and the root of the horse-radish are
so much alike (though after all they are
different to an attentive eye) that people have
been killed by eating aconite for horse-
radish. Well, the aconite is one of the
Ranunculacec and is a deadly poison, while
the horse-radish is one of the Cruciera, and
is an eatable root.
Science tells us a great many things we
should not expect. I suppose there is scarcely
a child that reads PEEP-SHOW, who would not
give a wrong answer, at first, to the question-
If two balls of iron, one weighing ten pounds,
and the other weighing five pounds, were let
fall from the balcony round the Monument,
which would reach the ground first ? You
are almost sure to say, the heaviest ball. But
no, they would both reach the ground at the
same time. We shall see by-and-bye how
very useful it is to know even a simple thing
of this kind.


V .-


I ONCE heard a great big man say he
wished he was not too old to play at
peep-bo ; it was such fun : and it is fun so
long as you mind you do not knock your
heads together; at least, you must not
knock them very hard, especially if any of
the players are very young. Well, when
we play at peep-bo we usually do take
care not to knock heads, and for a very

good reason. What reason? Why, when
two knock their heads together, it is not
only one that gets the pain, it is two. If
you knock my head, I knock yours. If
you have a blue bump where the knock
was, I have a blue bump too: that is
fair. But it is better to have no bumps;
and, though it is all right not to mind a
little pain, it is better to have no pain. It
is nice that peep-bo is such an easy game.
You can play it almost anywhere, and the



youngest child can be pleased with it.
Yes, and the oldest child can be pleased
with it, in pleasing the youngest. I have
never had better fun and heartier laughs
than I have had playing at peep-bo.
Bo-peep is, we may say, another thing.
Just as when we play at peep-bo, we must
mind and not knock our heads together,
we must mind, when we play at bo-peep
in a glass, that we do not break the glass.
Have you ever noticed how differently

I different birds and other dumb creatures

behave when they see themselves in a
glass ? Some are much frightened at the
image, some do not care for it, and some
get into a passion and fly at it. It is a
curious thing to see how different the
images of things look in a glass, and yet
the images are like the things themselves.
Perhaps we will try and make that out
some day, under the head of Science, in
another number of PEEP-SHOW.



22 PEEP-Silo w.

THIS is a very difficult subject, but if we
attend to it, and think a little, we shall
be able to make it out pretty well. -
I daresay many young people feel as I
used to do about this subject when I was a
child. I used often to be told by my parents
to be kind and polite to people whom I
did not like, and I used to say, or to think
when I did not dare to say it,-" But I don't
like this person, and why should I pretend to
like him? I might as well tell an untruth at
once." That was what I used to think, and
I am sorry to say I was often rude to people,
some of whom did not deserve rudeness.
Now, it is not right to say (as I have
heard said, and read in books) that we must
sometimes put on kind feelings, and pretend
to be pleased with people when we are not.
We must not pretend at all. We must not
say more than we feel. We must not ask
people to come and see us if we do not want
them. We must not make them think we like
their company when we do not like it. If they
have behaved badly, we must not pretend we
do not care about it. If I am not glad to see
a person, it is very wrong of me to say, I
am glad to see you." There is a great deal
of this sham or false politeness going on in
the world; and it does very great harm. It
hurts the hearts and consciences of those who
pretend; and it hurts the hearts and con-
sciences of those to whom the pretence is
made. If I say to a person whom I dislike,
" I am glad to see you," and put on a sweet
smile, it is very likely he will see through me,
and know that I am only pretending. Then
he will most likely pretend again, and we two
shall come to like each other much worse
instead of better. But if we do succeed in
deceiving another by our pretence, we do him
harm in another way. He is entitled to
know how we feel towards him, if we have
anything to do with him. How often have I
seen harm done in the way I now mean !
There is a very striking case in the life of
Franklin. A poor, false man pretended to
feel muchnmore kindly towards Franklin than
he did, and behaved as if he would do almost
anything forhim. But he did nothing for him,
and Franklin was put into much difficulty
through this man's smiles and smooth words,
and might have been driven to starvation.
But, though we must by no means put on
pleased and flattering ways to others, when
we do not feel pleased in our hearts, it is quite

another thing to be rude to them. It is very
seldom, indeed, that we have a right to show
a person all the dislikes we may happen to
feel. We have that right, if at all, only in
cases of such bad conduct, that our anger
and dislike, shown on the spot, are, so far as
we can judge, the only way of showing that
we love the right and dread and abhor the
wrong. The cases in which a child has the
right to show this kind of feeling to older
persons are very rare indeed. When we are
so young, we are liable to make very gross,
stupid mistakes in judging of others. We
are apt, for instance, to like people with
smooth, pretty faces, and to dislike those
whose faces show, by wrinkles, or a sad, grave
expression, or in some other way, that they
have worked hard and had much trouble.
We need not pretend to like older people,
who appear to us unpleasant; but that is
quite another thing.
As to young people, there are cases, though
not many, in which one young person may
have a right to show dislike and anger, on
the spot, to another young person. If a boy
saw another boy torturing a bird, or a dog,
or any other creature that could feel, it would
be both natural and right to be both angry
and disgusted, and to show it. As it might
be right to protect the tortured creature by
main force, it might even be right to come to
blows in such a case. But these things do
not often happen, and what we want to-know
just now is the rule that is to guide -, when
we have unpleasant feelings towards others,
and yet must not be rude. How, or why,
must we be kind to all, and yet avoid pre-
tence ? This, as I have said, is a difficult
question-at least it is one over which a great
many mistakes have been made-and we will
go into it carefully in another essay.

SUESTION. There was a well 30 feet deep,
and at the bottom a frog anxious to get
out. He got up three feet per day, but
regularly fell back two feet at night. Required,
the number of days necessary to enable him to
get out?
Answer. The frog cleared one foot per day,
and at the end of 27 days he would be 27 feet
up, or within three feet of the top, and the
next day he would get out. He would there-
fore be 28 days getting out.






W HEN Johnny had breakfast, 'twas break-
fast time-
Wonderful John, wonderful John !
When Johnny wrote verses, he wrote in
Wonderful John, wonderful John I

When Johnny had dinner, he ate a meal-
Wonderful John, wonderful John /
When Johnny was poorly, he bad did feel-
Wonderful John, wonderful John I

When Johnny went walking, he used his feet-
Wonderful John, wonderful John!
When Johnny was tidy, Johnny was neat-
Wonderful John, wonderful John I

When Johnny was angry, he felt vexed-
Wonderful John, wonderful John!
When Johnny was puzzled, he felt perplexed-
Wonderful John, wonderful John

Johnny will live for the whole of his life-
Wonderful John, wonderful John I
Till Johnny gets married he won't have a
Wonderful John, wonderful John /


M RS. MARTI.NDALE was a widow lady,
with children of her own. One autumn,
early in that beautiful season of the year, she
went into the country with a daughter and a
son, partly for health's sake and partly for
the sake of gathering flowers. She was very
fond of botany, and used to put the flowers
she gathered into what is called a horlus siccus,
-that is, a dry garden, made out of a book,
in which the leaves and flowers were kept
dried, fastened down on paper, and marked
with their names. I believe the readers of
PEEP-SHOW will shortly find more about
making a hor/us siccus in the pages of that
Mrs. Martindale soon came to hear of a
little girl and her brother who had just lost
their father, and she was very kind to them.
It did not seem so at first, but it soon turned
out that she was a true friend. As is too
commonly the case with those who g-t into
trouble and have not been taught better, these
two children, and indeed their mother, almost
begged of the richer people in the neigh-

bourhood. The boy and girl, when they met
her on her flower-rambles, would bob their
heads, and duck, and curtsey, and pretty
nearly ask right out for money. Mrs. Mar-
tindale saw how it was, and at first she simply
passed by them, saying, Good morning, my
dears," in reply to their bow and curtsey.
But after a day or two she thought in her
heart, "It is now time to help the poor little
lambs, as well as to teach them a lesson." So
when they met her that morning, and stared at
the case she carried with her to put flowers
in, and the bunch of weeds she had besides;
she said, gently, "Would you like to look at
some of my flowers, my dears? "
"Yes, lady; we should, please, lady;" said
the two children, bowing and bobbing.
"Then will one of you carry my case for
me, and one of you my flowers, and come
home with me ?" said the lady. "But are
you sure your mother does not want you? "
Oh yes, lady, she never wants us when
she be at her cleaning up," said the girl,
So the little orphans trotted home with the
lady. At first they walked behind her, but
Mrs. Martindale was too good, and knew too
well what God wishes of us, to let her fellow-
creatures walk behind her unless there was
some good reason for it, (as there might be
in town, with a man-servant); so she made
one walk on one side and one on the other,
and they were soon in pleasant conversation.
When they got into the cottage which
Mrs. Martindale had rented for the season,
she said to them, Now you are my guests-
ah, you don't understand !-well, now I am
your hostess; and besides, you have carried
my things for me-will you have some cold
meat pie?" Of course they said yes, and
Mrs. Martindale went into the kitchen with
them and gave them such a feed-is not that
a vulgar word ?-such a feast as they had
seldom had before in all their little lives.
When they got home, they did not wantthe
dinner their mother had got ready, so that
was saved for their mother's supper; and
besides, they were all the stronger for the
good meal they had had.
From that time, Mrs. Martindale began to
take opportunities of teaching these young
people to be useful to her. Sometimes they
did little errands; sometimes the girl did
house work; sometimes they fetched in plants
and flowers for her; sometimes they carried
the japanned flower-box to or from the house
of a neighboring lady, who also was fond of
botany. And as Mrs. Martindale of course




24P2~P il v

paid them a little for their small services, they
earned money instead of begging for it. There
was one thing more, that was also very good
for them-they learned good manners, and they
learned to take pleasure in flowers and plants,

'~-- .~~E~jp"; ,J-

and to feel how good knowledge is, and to
take care of small things, and to do things
nicely. There was one other lesson which
Mrs. Martindale managed to mix up with all
these others, and that was, that we should

.-- __- -_ -.
-.... --: - --_--.: -,,,- : L- .. '

think of pleasing God in all we do, and not others in this way, instead of merely giving
merely when we are in a place of worship, or them money or making them presents, and so
saying our prayers, or paying special attention saving ourselves the trouble of thinking any
to religious subjects. more about them I
How much better it is to help and teach GRACE CONWAY.





iLi :'I
rraef-'i, -r-.




F-Ii P "'




.--**- '

26 ~~_ P E-SOW


"NOBODY can say which is the nicest of
all fruits. Some will have it that the
pine-apple is, but then have they tasted the
mangosteen ? The mangosteen is the fruit of
a tree that grows in Java, Ceylon, and the
Spice Islands, and it is said to be the most
delicious of them all. However, we are most
of us well content with strawberries or rasp-
berries. In the first volume of PEEP-SHOW
there were these lines about different kinds of
A strawberry red and ripe
Is considered as good as a snipe,
Or any manner of game,
And a raspberry pretty much the same.
Blackberries are styled
Common, you know, and wild:
They are wild like the fishes,
But really they are most delicious.
The bravest of knight-errants
Might very well fight over currants
To decide which of 'em was right,
The black, the red, or the white;
But really in my opinion
They are all of the same dominion,
And all three alike proper I
Therefore, when I have a copper,
I mean a spare penny,
I am ready for all or any ;
So let us have no disputes
About the niceness of the fruits.
That is all right and proper, but what a
shame to be talking so much about fruit when
there is this beautiful girl holding the straw-
berry to us "You cannot eat the little girl."
Is that what you said? 0, fie! The little
girl is to eat, not to be eaten.- Let her have
as many strawberries as will do her good:-
We will eat according to our wealth
As many as are good for our health,
No more, for fear of physic-
Not even if we live at Chiswick
Or Evesham, or any place around,
Where market.gardens abound.
But of all sorts of fruit, I- repeat,
As many as are good we.will eat.




(Continuedfrom page I.)

"YOU little stupid !" the other birds said,
"come and help us to eat up the
farmer's seed. Scratch a little; it's all along
the furrows."
The man I I twittered, bobbing my head.
about every way, for fear he might run round
and come behind me while I was talking.
"Man I" they cried out all together. "He
is only a scarecrow to frighten us away. But
he stands in the sunshine, and there's a nice
ridge on the top of his hat, so we go and sit
there when we are tired."
What could I do but stay and eat with such
wise birds ? And, true enough, the man stood
there all day watching us, but never stirring
so much as a finger; and when we were
thirsty we made bold to go and have a drink
while we perched on his arms, for the rain-
water had lodged in the long hollow between
them and his chest.
During the spring I had many a good meal
in that garden. Indeed the seeds were so
sweet, and so many knew where to find them,
that I don't think much grew there that season.
In summer food was abundant everywhere,
but what I liked best of all, was to get into a
garden and hop along by the strawberry
borders, poking my heading among the leaves
to pick at the ripe juicy fruit. Autumn
followed with plenty of berries in the hedge-
rows, but then came winter-my first winter
-and a trying time it was. Th- ground, was




hard as iron, and covered inches deep with
snow. The palings and trees were whitened
with frost, and icicles hung from the eaves of
the houses. I scarcely knew where to turn
for food, and every night I was almost frozen
to death. But hunger and frost were not the
worst dangers I had to encounter. I will tell
the story of the greatest fright I ever got-and
I have had a good many frights in my time.
I tell it for the benefit of all unwary birds,
especially my children at the cab proprietor's,
and my grandchildren on the area railings.
I was spending the winter, as I have said,
in the suburbs of the town. Along the broad
winding roads the houses stood apart, each in
its own garden. But now the tops of the
walls, and their roofs and window-sills were
white. One morning I awoke later than
usual. I had been sleeping with my head
under my wing, in a small dark hole beneath
the eaves of a coach-house. Wondering
where I should look for my breakfast, I stole
out to see how the weather was going. It
was a fine morning, that is, the sun was
shining, and the snow lay thinner on the
ground. Away I flew, looking down into the
gardens as I passed over them.
On the lawn before a handsome villa, I
noticed something black upon the ground. I
flew down to find out what it was, and seeing
that it did not stir, hopped nearer and nearer
to it. Only the extreme tips of the grass ap-
peared around me, and wherever I went I
left a line of claw-prints, of course, on the
snow. Before me was a thing that looked
like a basket turned upside down-a small
basket loosely made of black twigs. One
side was raised a few inches from the ground


.l_ _^--,
S, ^ ^ ...'. .. .

I *, :. ---I- ,

*. ,, ,. .'. .
,, __ ,-

and kept up by a slight support. I peeped in.
Beautiful bread-crumbs were underneath,
enough to satisfy, not one, but three hungry
birds like me. I took two or three hops up
and down, looking at the food to assure
myself that it was really bread-crumbs, for
how they came to be there piled in such a
dainty heap I could not imagine. When I
felt certain that this was no dream, but positive
and real good-fortune, I went straight in un-
derneath the little openwork dome of twigs.
But I had a tail then-a tail that I was very
proud of-and, sad to relate, this unwieldy
tail of mine knocked down the little support
that kept up the basket, and there I was fast
in prison with all the bread-crumbs about
(To be continued.)


SAILOR JEM come home from sea,
Did you have plum-cake for tea,
And are you glad as glad can be ?
At your mother's house last night,
Did they dance till near daylight ?
Oh, I heard them shake the floor
As I passed your cottage-door,
When the fiddler was at work;
Yes, I heard him, like a Turk !
Did.you sing "Ben Bolt" or not,
"Rule Britannia," Jem, or what ?
I have heard from lass and lad,
What a supper, Jem, you had
Well, I wish that it was me
That had just come home from sea!

Ha, ha, ha I says Jem, look here;
I had been away two year,
And the supper and the dance
Were as good as a romance!
Bless you, though," says Jolly Jem,
Don't you think I care for them,
That is, not so very much,
Though I like plum-cake and such.
Care for what, then ? Come, you know,
Sister Bess and Brother Joe,
(Sister Bess has grown so tall),
And my mother most of all.
What! you wish that you was me?
Wait till you have been to sea.
Hark the old gal's calling I Ysl
(Bless her spectacled old nose !)
Coming, mother coming Bess '
So says Jem, and off he goes.





A -J

L ITTLE Blackamoor is a boy whom I dare
say you never heard of, but you can
now read about him. One day his sister
showed him a lot of pictures of Blackamoors,

or people nearly black, like those which you
see here. These people came from South
Africa, and you see there are men and women
too. What do you think of that way of


"- '\




!k .,t
..."i.i'UI' ..' k



dressing the hair, with two great horns stand-
ing up ? and how do you like those queer
caps? If you know French you can say
coffures. But a Hottentot woman would not
know the difference between coifure and head-
What do you think Little Blackamoor went
and did, after looking at the pictures? He
toddled into cook's part of the world, at the

other end of the house, and said to himself,
"Now, I will be black all over, like a blacka-
moor." That was a bright idea, for a little
boy of his size. He had all his clothes on at
the time, but he made a beginning with his
little hands. He rubbed them all round one
of the stew-pans till they were nice and
black-I mean till they were black, for, of
course, they were not nice. But he admired

i .' -, *-, _
1- ',.
^*SSSi^ *

them very much indeed. He looked at them
again and again, and thought, "Hooray!
Now I have hands like a blackamoor's!" and
he went and showed mamma, and said,
" Please, mamma, I want to be a blackamoor,
real; how does this look ?" Then mamma said,
" If you want to be a real blackamoor, you
must take off all your clothes, and the maid
must blacklead you all over, and shine you up

properly. If you look at a real blackamoor,
you will see his skin shines. But Jane is too
busy to attend to you to-day, my dear, so go
and wash your hands." So he went off very
easy in his mind, and to-morrow he had for-
gotten all about it. We will call him Little
Blackamoor, because we must not mention
names in public.



-:--'5-- - -
_- -_ --

=: : ,l .,'1- .

-- .:_.


MY greatest pleasure was to be taken
by my cousin round the farm before
breakfast, when he set the men to work.
Sometimes he put me before him on horseback,
and sometimes we walked through the long,
dewy grass, in the fresh cool morning, when
it seemed to me that there were more insects,
more birds, and more flowers, than at any
other time. When it was found out that I
might catch cold in these morning excursions,
from getting my shoes and stockings wet, I
was in very great trouble. I passionately
objected to giving up the pleasure, and my
father's eyes twinkled when I asked him if I
might not have a pair of boots like my cousin's.
To my immense delight, I was measured for
a pair of leather boots like his to a button,
and hugely thick.
At the side of the garden, separated from
it by a hedge of laurel and guelder rose
bushes, began a lovely lane of more than a
mile long, which ran up to a grand park. On
each side of this lane was a massive plantation
of firs, pines, and beeches; there were copper
beeches in great plenty, and these made the
light green of the others look more beautiful
by their rich dark shadows; while the firs
kept guard, with a look that seemed to me
as if it would be stern if it were not for the
smile of the bright green summer growth of
new leaves, topping the old ones, which had
helped the snow to look more lovely.
To stand and watch the way this lane ran
was one of my great delights while I was
at this farm-house; it took one or two little
pitches, and then galloped suddenly up-hill
to the park, with a burst of triumphant trees
at the top, as if it had won a race.
At the Park Lodge, there was a little girl
named Alethea, of all names in the world. It
is a Greek name, meaning Truthful, and I was
very fond of Alethea, and of a beautiful dog
they had there. She and I used to go out
and gather blackberries together, and then
help to make a blackberry pie. For many
years, I kept as keepsakes one curl off Alethea's
head and one curl off the dog's back. Dear
me, Alethea, I wonder how Time has used
you all these years !
One of the barns on the farm was half
empty. My cousin and my father had a
swing made for me, and fixed to the centre
beam of the roof. I assure you that that barn,
with the swing in it, was a delicious place,
especially when it rained, for the motion of

the swing made up for the lost running about,
and you had air and shelter all at once. You
can swing in so many ways too I I used to
be very fond of rocking gently, paddling on
the floor of the barn with two sticks for oars,
to make it feel like a boat. But one day, as
I was swinging very high, I got pitched out
on to the top of the wheat in the full part of the
barn, and the swing went down, leaving me
like a sparrow on the house-top, alone, only
without the wings; it seemed to me a very long
time, indeed, before a man came by with some
cows, and let me down.
As I was supposed to be too fond of reading,
and was to take particular care of my eyes
just then, it was thought a first-rate thing
that there were no books at this farm-house.
But, at last, I fished up from somewhere a
volume about the "Wonders of the World,"
and other odd matters. There was something
in it about the Wandering Jew, and it suddenly
struck me one day (after reading for the
hundredth time about caverns, and balloons,
and the Colossus of Rhodes), that Mother
Spicksley must be related to the Wandering
Jew. I read through the volume again, in
order to settle this point; but there was not a
word about it, so I concluded that there was
a much better book of curiosities somewhere,
if I could but find it.
One afternoon when Alethea and I had been
out for a ramble with her little spaniel dog,
we came up to our house-gate just as a
smart-looking lad was coming the other way.
I cannot remember positively, but should say
that he must have been about fourteen or
fifteen years old, and tall and forward for his

age; or he might have been older, and indeed
I fancy he must have been. He wore a straw
hat, and was dressed in dark velveteen, I think.
He had with him a great retriever dog, and
he looked on pretty good terms with himself.
As soon as he caught sight of us girls he
kissed his hand to us, with a bow, and threw
a little bunch of flowers which he had in the
buttonhole of his coat. Whether it was meant
for my friend Alethea or for me I did not
know, for just at the moment out popped Mrs.
Spicksley by the side-gate, and begun at him,
just as she was in the habit of doing to her
husband. What she said was not easy for me
to catch, because she talked so fast, but I could
make out that she called him a "Sahcy young
varmin," and told him to make himself "skarce"
(scarce,-only she made the vowel broad). He
then kissed his hand to her, with a bow
and smile, and walked off in a manner which
he plainly meant to be very grand and




graceful, but he was half laughing all the
time. Mother Spicksley let my friend and me
in, scolding at the boy in velveteen all the
while, and the very pins at the top of her cap
seemed to bristle with rage. Her cap was a
sort of half mob-cap, and she used the ribbon
that went across the top in a way of her own.
Some people stick odd pins about their dresses
in one place, and some in another. Mother
Spicksley stuck hers in this ribbon-pins, pins,
pins, oh, no end of them; they made quite a
coronet. But, of course, she did not mean
that; and you might almost have fancied that
the pins stuck in her head and made her ill-
tempered. On second thoughts, I do not
know that I ought to say she had a really bad
temper; but she had crabbed ways, and that
is nearly as awkward for other people.
( To be continued.)

THE wild winds blow;
White falls the snow.;
Down comes Jack Frost,
As sly as a ghost
Or a thief in the night,
And freezes the white:
Walk forth, and under,
Like minnikin thunder,
The snow on the ground
Crackles around.

IN the first of the chapters about Science,
something has already been said about
plants, and the science of Botany. There is a
great deal to be learnt about plants which
comes under the head of what is called Vege-
table Physiology, and not what is commonly
called Botany. Botany itself-the science
which puts plants in what are called orders
and classes-is a science in which the most
industrious may find plenty to learn; but every
one may learn a little of it, and be all the
better for the knowledge.
We all know what plants are, and most of
us love them for their beauty. Whether we
look at the common green grass, or at a
simple moss, or at a great branching
tree, or at a vine or creeper, or a fine
Bower, it is always the same; plants are
beautiful, and the closer we look at them
the better worth looking at we find them to be.
But besides this, human beings and plants
have much to do with each other. Some
plants we eat, in the leaf, the fruit, the root,

or otherwise; and other plants help to feed
the animals which yield us food. The cow,
the sheep, and thegoat, for instance, eat grass,
and they give us their milk and flesh to
nourish us. But even that is not all. The
earth is warm where it is covered with grass.
The quantity of rain which falls has a great
deal to do with the quantity oftrees. Where
certain plants grow, it is said that certain dis-
eases will not come,-for instance, some
people say that there are fevers which never
come near where the sunflower grows in
good quantities. We have a great deal to
learn in these matters; but it is believed by
some learned men that flowers which smell
sweetly give out something which helps to
keep people well and in good spirits. Again,
animals of all sorts, including human beings,
give out from their bodies something called a
gas, which they cannot take in again, by
breathing it or otherwise, without hurting
themselves. Plants take up this gas into their
bodies, and are the better for it. They also
give out from their bodies, under the light of
the sun, some of the very gas that we want
for breathing.
Although mankind have studied the plants
in all ages, it is surprising how long it was
before what might easily have been known
about them was put into order by any one.
A learned Scotchman, and our own country-
man Ray-the name often turns up in books
of Natural History-were nearly the first real
botanists. Then came the great Linnaeus.
Linnaeus-which is the Latin way of writing
Linnd-was a Swede, and was the son of a
very poor country clergyman. His father
wanted him to be a clergyman also, but young
Linne made so little way in Latin and Greek,
that his father, who was sad and perhaps
angry about it, was going to apprentice him
to a shoemaker. But it got to be known that
the lad was very fond of studying plants, and
knew, perhaps, more about them than any one
else in all Sweden, young as he was; and at
last he was taken notice of and helped by
those who could put him in the way of being
useful and of finding time for study. At last
he did very well, and became the greatest
naturalist in Europe. Everybody knows the
anecdote of his falling on his knees and giving
thanks to God for joy when he first saw an
English common covered with furze (or gorse)
in flower. In another chapter there will be
something to say about the way in which
Linnmeus arranged plants, and the way in
which other naturalists have arranged them
since his tinm. H. HURDIS.

_ ____ _




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SOLDIER SAMMY. slap, but
/ONLY a halfpenny for three shots; come "this is y
Along, my little masters, I can see you you'll do t
have all got very steady eyes in your heads, you will m
and will hit the centre of my-target every he added,
time, for certain." they'd emp
This was what old Alec Brown kept calling You may
to the little boys who were just coming out of when he h
school. eye with g
"There's a boy, now," he went on, point- target, an
ing to Sammy Armitt, a boy with a very bag of nu
bright pair of blue eyes and a Scotch cap on successful
his head, "I'm sure if he were only to try, "Ah, ah
he'd half empty my nut bag, that he would." "you have
Sammy drew himself up and looked very a greedy I
proud, I do assure you, for he was so pleased "I didn't
to think old Alec should praise him, rather "and I'd h
than Dick Spence, who was a year older than Me she
Sammy, and taller too. You see Alec was a story! it's
sly old rogue, and guessed that Sammy had a half
would be more likely to have a halfpenny in what I cou
his pocket, for he was very nicely dressed, "Well,
and had good strong boots on his feet, while mind lettin
poor Dick had none at all, and his clothes mind, you
were very shabby. Sammy stept boldly up can't let
to the stall, and lifting the gun, held it up to beforehand
his eye in a most knowing manner, so as to To the
take a steady aim at the target, fired the
"A little higher up, if you please, young target thr
master," said old Alec; "now, once, twice, doubt hav
thrice, and"-snap went the trigger, and bang Alec had r
went the gun, nearly knocking Sammy over; very prov
for you must know he had never fired a gun when Alec
in his life, and privately, let me tell you, he also.
was a little afraid of it. Now Sa
"Well done, well done," cried old Alec, home, and
pulling the arrow out of the first circle, hold a halfpenn
the gun a little higher up, and you will send it at the fair,
into the centre." and moth
Sammy's sister, who was standing beside talks with
him, being a gentle little girl, was very much with it the
afraid he would shoot himself, and tried to "I don'
draw him away; but this only made him more got some
anxious to go on, and besides, Dick had for my shc
laughed at him for not firing straight. So awa7
"Don't, Mary," he said, "I'm going to be pennies o0
a soldier, you know, and I must learn to stand. I
shoot." old man t
Again he fired, but instead of hitting any playing sc
of the circles, he very nearly fired right into his own
Kate Smith's face. Kate was a very strong ceited, an
girl and had a quick temper, and more than end. Ve
once had given both Sammy and Dick a away at
good whipping when they had thrown stones halfpenny
at her. She now laid. down her large basket from his s
and was coming round to give Sammy a good he had bu

Alec interfered and frightened her

little master," he said to Sammy,
our last chance; it's to be hoped
betterr this time, or a poor soldier
ake, I can tell you; but after all,"
with a sly wink to Dick, "perhaps
loy you to fire round a corner."
be sure Sammy was very indignant
eard this, and fixed his gun to his
great care; but again he missed the
d fired this time straight into the
ts Alec had for rewards to the
my fine little fellow," cried Alec,
an eye after the nuts. That's bad;
oy seldom makes a good soldier."
want no nuts," said Sammy stoutly,
ave hit it if Dick hadn't shaken me."
ike you," said Dick, "oh, what a
only you that can't fire. If I only
"penny to spend, I'd soon show you
Id do."
young master," said Alec, "I don't
g you have a try, just for fun; only
needn't look into my nut-bag, for I
you have any unless you pay up
astonishment of every one Dick
irrow right into the centre of the
'ee times running, and would no
e done it a fourth time, too, if
lot taken the gun away. This was
king to Sammy, more especially
Refused to let him have a shot free

.mmy had a little wooden bank at
in it he had two new pennies and
y. He was keeping them to spend
where he was going with his father
er very soon, and he had often long
Mary about what he would buy
t care," cried stupid Sammy, "I've
pennies in my bank, and will pay
y he ran home, and after getting his
it of his bank, he returned to Alec's
don't think it was very fair of the
"o coax and flatter poor Sammy into
" much, but you see it was partly
fault for being so vain and con-
d so determined to beat Dick in the
ry sad to relate, he stood and fired
klec's target till not only his last
was spent, but one he borrowed
sister Mary, in the vain hope that if
It one chance more he would hit the


centre of the target. Whether it was that his
eye was tired, or his hand shaky, or his heart
in too much of a flutter, I can't say, but do
what he could, poor little Sammy never once
managed to hit the centre of the target. He
didn't even get any of the nuts due to him,
for he couldn't bear to hear Dick's laughter,
so he,ran away as fast as he could, and never
paused till he found himself in his own room.
He tumbled into bed at once, and there his sister
found him. She was a sweet little girl, and
managed to console him at last by offering to
share her sixpence with him, the one she had got
from her Aunt Polly as a birthday present.
Sammy, of course, couldn't help being comforted
by such a kind little sister, and he declared he
would never fire any more guns all his life;
and as for Dick Spence, he would never speak
to him again, no, never. It was a great pity
that old Alec and his shooting-booth ever
came near the village, for Dick and the other
school-boys made all sorts of fun of poor
Sammy, and for years after they called him
nothing else but Soldier Sammy," and, when
they wanted to be extra provoking, always
added with his rick-stick, stick, and gun."
Many a good cry poor Sammy had, and
really he was sorely punished for his pride
and conceit.

"WTHAT came of this rope we shall see in
good time. But you may be sure Tom
did not hang himself with it-O, fie!-or do
anything cruel to any one else, or to any
living creature. He was a good-natured
hoy, as well as a good-tempered boy. There
is a great difference between being good-
tempered and being good-natured. It is a
fine thing to be both.
When Tom played off a joke, it was not an
unkind one. Though lie was in some ways
not a bright, clever boy, he would have too
much sense to dress himself up like a ghost to
frighten another child, or any stupid trick of
,hat sort; or to take away a person's chair
lily from behind. Things of this sort some-
Iimes tend to great mischief. I knew a man
who had his siine hurt for life through missing
his seatwhen a rude, thoughtless boy had taken
away his chair from behind him. And almost
:my doctor will tell you of cases in which
either young or old have been made silly for
all their days, or very much hurt in some way,
by a fright got up for "a practical joke," as
people call it. I knew of a little ii-1l whose

brother, one Christmas time, thought it would
be fine to scare her a little by putting on a
white sheet and holding a candle in his hand
at the door of the bedroom. He only made
an ugly face, and said, "Boh, boh, gals I
boh!" or something of that kind, in a voice
meant to be dreadful; but his sister fell down
in a fit when she saw him. She was taken to
the hospital, and had St. Vitus's dance after-
wards, poor thing, for as long as I knew of
her, which was for a good many years.
One day Tom's master, coming into the
studio, found Tom playing at being a painter.
He had got his mother's spectacles on, and
was seated in the artist's chair, with his thumb
stuck in the palette, the maulstick in one hand
and a brush in the other. Tom had taken a hat
off the painter's lay figure, and had put it on
Carlo the dog, who was begging ever so
prettily, just as the master came upstairs,
rather cross. He was cross because he had
just had one of his pictures very much found
fault with by somebody who knew little more
about pictures than poor Tom himself. Poor
Tom was as little abashed as usual, and only
grinned. Not a step did he budge, though
he had on one of his master's slippers, which
was very rude of him.
"Now then, Tom," says his master, "what
are you up to there ?"
"I'm going to be a painter, please sir,"
said Tom; "and I was trying how it felt."
And he laughed at his own cleverness.
His master was rather taken aback by this
address, and only stared at him for a moment,
and then said, gravely:-
"I say, Tom:-You can never be a good
painter unless you practise snowballing first."
"Snowballing?" said Tom, almost won-
dering whether this could be serious. But
he was very simple-hearted.
Yes; I practised snowballing myself when
I was a youngster, and now I'm a painter."
Tom went to the window and found it had
just begun to snow.
0, sir, there ain't snow enough yet."
"WVell, then, wait till to-morrow," said the
artist. "I dare say it'll snow in the night.
Now, cut your stick."
Away went Tom, and next day having
nothing particular to do, and his master being
out, he was glad enough to find that it had been
snowing heavily during the night. Off he
went into the streets to do something towards
making himself a painter. It is not often that
a snowball really hurts anybody, and Tom had
not thought what a bother it is for a grown-up
person, very busy perhaps or full of trouble, to





be plagued with such things. Just as a
policeman and a gentleman, whom Tom was
,in too much haste to look well at, were passing
near, he threw a great big snowball that
went thud against the gentleman's shoulder.
"You young scamp said the gentleman,
turning round-and Tom saw it was his
master-who now burst out laughing. But
the policeman came up, looking as black as
thunder, and collared Tom.
"Now then, I've seen you before," said the

"Oh !" said the policeman, giving Tom a
little shake; that's it, is it ?"
"Yes," said Tom, grinning, "and I didn't
mean to hit him."
"Then who did you mean to hit?" asked
the policeman, laughing.
This put Tom in spirits again. He looked
round, and saw there was not a soul near but
the policeman. His master had gone down
the nearest turning.
"Please, sir," said Tom, "I only meant to
hityou with the snowball."

policeman. "What are you up to? Come
with me to the station-house."
Tom was rather frightened, but he grinned
as usual.
Please, sir, I was only learning to paint."
"Learning to paint" said the policeman,
"you're a natural."
"No, I ain't no natural. It's my master as
I hit with the snowball, and he's a artist, and
he told me that was the way to begin to learn

This was too much for the policeman, who
now went off laughing.
You are a natural," said he, giving Tom a
little shake at parting, and letting him go.
Tom ran off like lightning.
Or else you're an imperent young beggar,"
shouted the policeman after Tom, turning
back to shake his fist at him. "Don't you let
me ketch you snowballing again, that's all."
It was very good counsel, and Tom
minded it.

(To be continued.)







I~ Su-

- 4

*- J-* I
- "- -. ,. ",,~l

.s, 1i~
)- I


'tQ: .-









IT often happened in the days of fairy
godmothers that there was jealousy
between the fairies who were friends of the
family. There was once a gardener who had
a son named Baldwin, and one of his fairy
relatives was angry at not being invited to
the christening, while another fairy relative
was the child's godmother. This was an old
fairy, and she liked little boys to be Dirty,
Mischievous, and Rich. She promised the
parents of young Baldwin that as long as
they did not put him into a bath she would
stand his friend and would see that when he
was a man he had heaps of money. "Above
all things," says she, "mind he does not go
near the Round Bath which you and your
wife know so well. It may not hurt others,
but there is a spell upon the water which will
be dangerous to your son Baldwin."
The other fairy, who was young, liked boys
to be Clean, Clever, and Kind, and then she
said they would do very well in the world,
whether they were rich or not. The parents
promised never to put Baldwin into a bath,
and so he grew up both dirty and fond of
The young fairy, though she hated dirt and
did not trouble herself much about seeing
people rich, took a fancy to little Baldwin, and
set herself to work to outwit the old fairy.
She used to come and persuade the parents to
sprinkle him from the rose of a watering-pot,
or to set him under the mouth of a spout
sometimes in order to make him cleaner.
"The cleaner he is," said the young fairy,
"the more clever he will be, and the less
mischief he will do." There is a great deal
in this, and I know that to have my hands
dirty always makes me feel naughty.
One time when there had not been any
rain for a long time, so that little Baldwin
had not had a good wash lately, what do
you think he did? He got hold of the
great clippers that they sheared the sheep
with and cut off one of the ears of his poor
father's donkey. His father and mother both
cried about it, and said: "Oh, that the spell
could be broken I You see all they had to
do was to give him a bath, and then the
spell was broken, but they were so fond of
thinking that he would be rich that they
would not. One day he found a big bottle
of something to drink. He did not know what
it was, but he thought perhaps he could do
some mischief with it. So he went and
poured it into a tank of water where he had
seen the cranes come to drink. Now what

was in the bottle was a sleeping mixture, and
when the cranes had had a drink of that
water they all went to sleep. This made
Baldwin laugh very much: and he said,
"Now for some fun!" So he took the cranes
up one by one, as many as he could, and
hung them into his belt by the neck. Well, a
crane is about four feet high, and you may be
sure the weight was so great that he could
not have walked with them round his waist if
he had tried. But suddenly they woke up, and
flew away into the air with him. They had
not flown far when they all woke, and their
struggles broke the clasp of little Baldwin's
belt, and down he came, head first, plump
into the round bath that the old fairy had said
he was never to be put into. When his father
who came running up in a great fright, had
taken him out, he began scolding him, but
suddenly the young fairy stood before them,
"Do not be angry," said she, "it is all for
the best. Your little Baldwin's godmother
has no power over this pool, and she wanted
to keep him away from it because she knew
that whoever was dipped in its water would
for ever after want to be clean. See what has
happened! You havi niot put little Baldwin
into a bath, and so she 1 ist keep her promise
and make him rich when he grows up : and yet
he will now always want to be clean, so he will
come here and'bathe of his own accord."
But," said the father, "his godmother told
us the water was dangerous."
"That is only her artfulness: and see I
those cranes are my birds, and I have laid a
spell upon them. When Baldwin wants to
learn to swim let him take one of my cranes
by the neck, and go boldly into the water, and
the crane will bear him up, and he will swim
like a dolphin."
All this came true, and Baldwin and his
father and mother thanked the good young
fairy very much. Young Baldwin was now
the cleanest boy that ever lived, and he also
grew to be both clever and kind. When he
came to be a man his old fairy godmother
was bound by her promise to give him ever
so much money, for fairies cannot break
promises. But it made her very angry indeed
to see him make a kind use of his riches, and
help good people with it. It made her still
more angry to see him go about building
places for baths. And on every bath that
Baldwin made for people to make themselves
clean in, the good young fairy laid a spell,
which made every one who bathed in it, grow
both clever and kind. JESSIE FORRESTER.





- .".. A


W HAT is the new king of the beasts ?
Can it be the Unicorn ?
"The Lion and the Unicorn
Went fighting for the crown,
The Lion beat the Unicorn
All through the town."
That was clever of the Lion, and when I was
little, I used to wonder how ever he did it,
when the Unicorn had such a long, sharp
horn, and might, if he had been wide awake,
have poked the Lion's eyes out. But, of
course, as the fight went on, the people in the
town could not stand the noise and fuss, so
they gave the two beasts nice things to go
away and settle it somewhere else:-
"Some gave them white bread,
Some gave them brown,
Some gave them plum-cake,
And sent them out of town."
Yes, I dare say they gave the plum cake
to the poor Unicorn because he had got the
worst of it-just to comfort him for being
defeated. But, dear me, what of that? If
the Lion was strong enough to beat the Uni-
corn-in spite of that big horn-the Lion was
strong enough to take the plum cake away
and eat it all himself.
But was he strong enough, or did the
Unicorn beat ? Why, we have always heard
that the lion is the king of beasts I Still, all
that we hear is not true, and I daresay when
you have looked at a true tiger, if you have
seen one, or at a stuffed tiger, or when you

have read stories about beasts, you have
sometimes fancied the tiger was stronger
than the lion; only you have not liked to say
so, because you had always been told the lion
was the king of beasts.
Well, you were right if you did fancy so.
The lion is neither so strong, nor so brave
as he has been made out to be. It is settled
by clever men, who understand such things,
that the tiger is the strongest of all beasts of
prey. He is about one third stronger than a
lion; that is to say, if we call a lion as strong
as sixty, then a tiger is as strong as ninety.
So, if strength does it, the tiger is the king
of the beasts and not the lion. Perhaps the
Lion, after all, did not beat the Unicorn.
Shall we go and take away the four lions
from the pedestal of the Nelson Monument,
and put up four tigers instead? No, that
would be a shame; we will stick to our old
friends, and hope for the day when stone lions
will be good enough to do all the fighting
there is to be done in the world. Nobody
could bear to think of the British Tiger, and
we have only put a lion on our flag, because
we believed the lion to be a great-hearted,
generous beast, as well as the very strongest
of them all. By-the-bye, he is quite strong
enough, and what with his teeth, and what
with his claws, and his jaws, and his muscles,
and his legs, I hope neither you nor I will
ever meet one, all alone, anywhere.

"NT OW you have said your lessons well,
W My Minnie, run and play
Down in the gay and pleasant field,
But first hear what I say.
Though you will see the berries red
All hanging on the tree,
My first, my love, you must not do,
Now, Minnie, promise me 1"
Her word did little Minnie give
(Scarce four years old was she);
And though she saw the berries red
So tempting on the tree,
Yet she has kept her promise well,
Nor touched a single one;-
My second is an article
Which we will let alone.
All through the garden Minnie ran,
And o'er the green grass plat;
But, slipping on the gravel walk,
She on my third fell flat.
Her cries and sobs papa soon heard;
He raised her as she lay:
And, now she rides my whole, her tears
Are quickly dried away.
[The solution will be given in No. 6.]






Words by the Author of Lilliput Levee." Music by T. CRAMPTON.

S-.- -.- -u --< -- e--0- 0

S. 0 haveyou seen the Miller's Maid, As brown as a-ny bcr ry ?The mill goes roundin shine and shade, And the
3. I met the Miller's Maid there once,Tho'ma-ny times I missed her:She laugh'd,she call'dme lit tie dunce, And

a _4.--.-- -C----_-__--__-_-_^ -----

Mill-er's Maid is mer ry. Blow wind go wind; The Mill- er's Maid is mer ry!
so I up and kiss'd her. Sweet maid, fleet maid, She ran, but I had kiss'd her!

2. 0 do you know the pret -ty lane? The dai-sies dot the edg es, The sweet wild rose blows there a- main, Ard
4. She ran,she laugh'd,the Miller's Maid, As brown as a ny her ry; She runs, she laughs, in shine and shade Tho

so do the black-he ry hdg s. Fair re lne, With daa sies at the ed g e -nes
sweet lit -tile maid is so mer ry. Go mill; you know, mill, The Mill era's Maid is mer ry

I. 3.
Shave you seenow the Miller's Maid ? I met the le Miller's Maid there once ,
As brown as any berry? Though many times I missed her;
The il l goer'ses round in shin browne and as a nyshade, She laughed,s, in she called me little and shade
And the Miller's Maid is merry'. And so I up and kissd her.

0 do you ktnow the pretty lane? She ran, she laughed, the Miller's Maid,

And so do blackberry hedges. The Miller's Maid is merry:
Fair lane, rare lane, Go, mill ; you know, mill,
With daisies at the edges 1 The little maid is merry!
An od bakeryhde. h ile' ad smry




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!MJZ~~I11 jrSII?

1iii -6.


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THE fox is a well-known animal, and most
of us have ideas about his cunning, his
odour, and the smell that he sometimes has.
We say, as red as a fox, as sly as a fox, and
so forth. One of the very oldest story-books in
Europe is called Reynard the Fox." It is,
perhaps, thousands of years old, but it has
been well known in German for hundreds of
years, and it was one of the first books printed
in England by William Caxton.
The fox, though so well-known, is very
seldom seen by Londoners and others who
live in cities. I did once see a young fox
under a man's arm in the street, and very
funny he looked, with his bushy tail, sharp
long snout, and blinking eyes. Foxes go
about by night in search of prey, and they
have eyes suited to that sort of work. They
kill and eat small animals of nearly all kinds;
but they are great enemies to poultry and
eggs. They would long ago have been all
killed in this country if it were not that some
think it good fun to hunt them, so that they are
kept alive in many places just that there may
be some to hunt. Foxes are very swift and
very clever at turning corners and hiding.
It is hard to believe all the stories that are
told about their artfulness. It is scarcely
possible to catch foxes in traps, they are so
cunning. It is said that they have been seen
swimming about among water-fowl with turf
in their mouths to deceive the fowl. A fox
has been seen to go limping very slowly up
towards a hare, with his head down, pretending
to be eating clover. Of course, when he gets
near enough he pounces on the hare.
Foxes are very clever at pretending to be
dead. When a fox is caught in a hen-roost
he will sometimes lie down and give no signs
of life, and let himself be dragged about like a
lump of stone or bit of wood. He is then only
waiting a chance to run away-he thinks you
will leave him for dead, and up he jumps, and
scampers away.
Foxes are among the wildest of animals.
Take them as young as you will, you can
hardly ever tame them. They burrow deep
in the earth and live in holes. When the
hunters have run them to their holes, and set
traps all round for them, they seem to know
all about it, for they have been known to stay
inside their burrows for days, rather than
come out and run the risk of being caught.
If there is any creature in our country which
it is fair to hunt, it is one like the fox, which
does all the mischief it can. P. DAY.

THE farm-house at which I was staying
stood facing a winding road that led to
the village. The back windows looked over
the farm-yard and stack-yard, and beyond that
was the pretty lane of which I have spoken,
leading to park and woodland. Though Mrs.
Spicksley was such a tart, brisk woman, she
was timid in some things, but her ways ot
putting the house in order and making it what
she thought safe, used to surprise poor little
me. Her master had sometimes to attend
markets a long way off, and his coming home
on horseback was often a late thing. Mrs.
Spicksley and her husband were not allowed
to sit up for him, and she used to put the door
key into a hole under the door-step. Of
course her master knew the place. She used,
also, to open one or two unused bedroom
doors, and put a lighted candle in a huge
candlestick in such a place that the light
streamed down the road in front, and also on
to the stack-yard and barns. This, she told
me, was to make thieves and other bad people
think that somebody was on the watch. It
struck me that it might also help them to see
their way in, but I did not dare to speak any-
thing so dreadful. I did, however, ask whether
nobody had ever happened to find the key?
"No, my dear," said Mrs. Spicksley-
"nahr a one, essept "-she always said essept
for except-" nahr a one essept the Dandy
The Dandy," said I, "who is the Dandy?"
Him as throwed the flowers at you and
Miss Thea. A sahcy young varmin! I used
allis (always) to putt that key in the lorril-
hid away inside the lorril, the Portiguee one,
but that by (boy) found it out one night, and
tuk it away. Howsomever, he got a hidin' as
he won't forget when master ketched him. A
sfihcy young varmin! Don't go and take
no notice on him, my dear. Good gells never
notices rude bys."
At first I supposed that the Dandy had got
that name given to him because he was a
dandy; but that was not the case. In those
days what we now call a velocipede went by
the name of a dandy-horse, and this young
fellow had one given to him by an uncle. It
came home late one night-too late for him
to try it, which was a great trouble to his
mind. It was fine summer weather, very hot,
and what did he do but get up the next morn-
ing at day-break, and take his dandy-horse
out for an airing. He intended to be back in



* good time, before any one else was up, and
started for his ride with nothing on but his
night-shirt, a cap, and a pair of shoes. When
he had tried his horse and got a little used to
the trick of riding it, he found he liked the
exercise, and the time passed away very
quickly. As it happened, it was a washing
day, and a very busy day in general at his
father's farm, and men andwomen were coming
from all round about to assist. The place was
all alive, in fact, before he had got near home
with his dandy-horse. These men and women
labourers had never seen such a thing before;
and, of course, they had never seen a fellow
riding one in a night-shirt before breakfast.
He came on at a good spanking pace, and
the women were so frightened that they
screamed. The pigs ran and squealed, the
hens cackled, the cocks crew, the dogs barked,
the men hilli-hooed and jumped about; and,
of course, when the truth of it was known,
the lad was pretty well made game of about
it. This happened not long before I went to
stay at Northfields, and since then he had
been called "the Dandy."
Most of the bed-room doors in the better part
of my farm-house opened into a large square
landing, and I used greatly to enjoy this light-
ing-up when my cousin was away at market.
There was. something about it that made me
feel creepy, and I had never yet been close to
any real danger, so I did not feel /oo creepy.
One hot night when I did as I often had
done before, jump out of bed to have a peep
at the light, and at the back windows, I saw
more light than usual-a dancing light
that came across the stairs. I was not sur-
prised at first, and went right up to one of
the windows to see how the trees looked, as I
often did. Ah, the trees did look, that night!
I saw how dreadfully beautiful those fir-trees
could show when lit up with something besides
moonlight. At first, I thought to myself,
Oh, what a dreadful storm!-who ever saw
such lightning before ? But it was no storm.
Another look showed me a sight which I shall
never forget as long as I live. All the fresh
wheat stacks standing together in the yard
were in danger, and two of the largest of
them were flaring away ever so high. Yes,
there was a fire in our farm-yard; and there
was the beautiful wheat which I had seen cut
and carried and stacked-was it all going to
be burnt ? A great many thoughts can pass
through the head in less time than a moment;
and when we see anything dreadful, it often
happens that our first thoughts are not those
which might be expected to come into the head

of a frightened person. The thought that I
can now most plainly remember having at
once was, what a shocking waste it would be
if all that wheat were to be burnt. But there
were the flames, leaping and forking out of
the stacks, and if the fire went on, it would
not be very long before the flames came up
to the outhouses, and from there they might
flap at the panes of the very window where I
stood. In a moment I stood there with my
tongue tied with fright, but all of a sudden I
caught sight of a figure running between the
stacks, and knew the face. I ran to Mr.
Spicksley's window, and rapped, and called,
" Oh, Mrs. Spicksley, Mr. Spicksley the
Dandy, the Dandy! The stacks are on fire! "
(To be continued.)

GET a small round box, about one inch
deep, the bottom of which will exactly
fit a shilling. Line the box with any dark-
coloured paper (crimson, for instance), and
paste some of it on one side of the coin; so
that when the coin lies in the lower part of
the box it shall look like the real bottom of
the box. This shilling is to be hidden in the
hand, and before performing the trick you
should hide some shillings singly about the
room, in places known to yourself--such as in a
book, or slipper. Having borrowed a shilling,
you dexterously place it on one side and use
instead of it the papered one. Then, putting
it into the box, ask all who are present to be
sure they have seen it go in. When the lid
is on, shake the box up and down. The noise,
of course, betrays the metal. Now say
"Presto!"-- command it to disappear, and shake
the box from side to side. As the shilling is
made to fit exactly, of course no noise is
heard; in fact the coin seems to be gone; in
proof of which you open the box, and display
the inside. The paper on the coin conceals
it. Now, while you direct the audience to
look into a book or a pair of slippers for the
missing shilling, the papered coin can be
slipped out, and the box handed round for the
company to look at; but, of course, nothing
will be found in it.
This simple trick may be repeated two or
three times with the greatest success.

The answer to Ihe Charade, "MINNIE'S LUCK,"
in No. 5, is, of course, the word "Pickaback."




POOR little foal, come here. Yes, he smells
the clover I have got in my hand. Lie
down, Dash, don't bother him. But I say,
pony, don't bite me. No, no, ponies do not
often bite, I think. He likes clover, not little
girls' fingers. But then he might do it by
accident. See how he likes the clover. When
he gets bigger and stronger, I should like to
ride on his back. Gee up, Dobbin! gee up!

little. Crack, crack, goes the whip; bow-
wow, goes the dog; and how excited he is.
Gee-up, gallop crack-crack bow-wow!
Now they are off. Dash's hair stands up,
and so does the little boy's, and the little girl's
flies behind her. Playing at horses is a nice
game on a fine cool morning.
Now, I wonder what would happen if horses
knew how strong they were, and took it into

But stay-Dobbin is such a very old-fashioned
name. I shall call him Diamond. Here,
Diamond, will you have some more clover?
You are not very strong on your legs yet, and
besides there is no saddle, so I cannot ride
you yet.
And here, I declare, is some more pony
play. I have played at horses myself, and
once I ran against a wall and hurt myself, a

their heads to drive human beings about,
just as human beings drive them about. Oh,
but the horses never will; they never can;
but we must be kind to them all the same.
We must feed them properly, and mind their
stables are clean, and we must not work them
too hard. They are very pretty creatures;
they do a great deal of good, and they very
seldom do any harm at all.




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P r
" r66



THERE was a man with a beard and long
hair, and he used to go about with a
sort of night-cap on. He looked very fierce,
I can tell you. He used to pass by the win-
dow when Cissy and Bella were looking out.
Cissy was too old to be frightened at him, but
Bella was little, and did not like to see him.
He is an ugly man," said little Bella, "and
I don't want him. Cissy, put him away for
me; he frightens Bella."
Just then Cissy's aunt bought her a hand-
some Jack-in-the-Box. When Cissy lifted
the lid and looked at him, she saw he was
very much like the man that went by the
window and that Bella did not like to see.
Bella used to call him Boguey-Man. Well,
Cissy said to herself, "Now, I will have a bit
of fun with Bella," and she went and said,
Bella, look here; I have shut up Boguey-Man
in this box."
"But he is too big; he can't get in," says
"Oh," says Cissy, who had thought it all
over, "I have been reading in fairy-books, and
I found out how to make him small, and here
he is."
Bury him in the gren," said Bella, "now
you have got him fast.'
But wouldn't you like to see him first ?"
said Cissy.
Then Bella considered for a moment and
said, "Are you sure you have got him tight ?"
"Oh, yes," said Cissy, "he is stuck fast to
the bottom of the box. It is all magic. I
read it in the 'Arabian Nights.' "
So Bella said, "Then I should like just to
look at him for once, and then you must bury
him in the garden by the side of the kitten
.that died."
Well, Cissy touched the lid--back it went
with a spring and a click, and up jumped
"Boguey-Man !" shouted Cissy very loud,
and Bella was nearly frightened at first; but
she knew he was fast to the bottom of the
box, as Cissy had told her. When Cissy saw
the queer face Bella made, she laughed very
much, and then explained to her all about it
Then Bella said, "You must not bury him."
And they had lots of fun over him many and
many a time. As for the man with the beard
and cap that used to go past the window
sometimes, he was only a foreigner, who made
toys himself; and of course he was not buried in
the garden by the side of the kitten. I shouldn't
wonder if he made that very Jack-in-the-Box
now; should you ? GRACE CONWAY.




(Continuediromi pjae 27.)
WELL, there I was in the trap. I fluttered
round and round it, beating my breast
and wings against its roof and sides, and thrust-
ing my little head out between the twigs; but
I could only get my head out, nothing more.
Feeling that it was a hopeless case, I made
the best of it, and as I had plenty of time and
nothing else to do, I ate every crumb of the
bread. Then I popped my head out again
through one of the narrow chinks.
What was this coming across the lawn,
leaving long lines of round prints on the
snow ? My heart beat against my breast,
thump! thump thump! as if it was ready at
any moment to burst out through the feathers
I well knew what it was, as it came on step
after step, paw after paw-a great, grey,
prowling tom-cat.
I tried to think that it was not a hopeless
case after all. Perhaps he was not coming
towards my prison. He might not see it;
and even if he did, why should he guess that I
was inside? Ah! I know better now than
to think cats are such fools when they, too,
are looking out for their breakfasts, and a fat
young sparrow is not far off.
Yes, he was coming towards my prison.
One minute more and he was outside it-
only the twigs between him and me. And
very well he knew who was inside when he
pricked up his brown pointed ears, and,
crouching on the ground, shook his sleek
shoulders from side to side, and gathered his
soft paws under him, as if he would spring
through the slender bars, and catch and kill
me without further parley. Then he stretched
forward his head, smelling the side of the
trap, smelling all over it for a long time;
and when a bunch of his long, white, wiry
whiskers slipped in through one of the chinks,
I could keep still no longer crouching in my
corner. I fluttered about, wildly chirping,
screeching in my terror.
Up leaped Tom, and putting a large paw
at each side of the trap, thrust in his claws-
he could get in nothing more-now at one
side, now at the other. I fluttered backwards
and forwards, sometimes falling down ex-
hausted, to rise again in a moment; but still
to whichever side I flew there were the claws
Clutching at me, sharp and hooked. Once
they caught my tail-my handsome tail!-
and pulled out a bunch of feathers.
Puss became tired of this before I did.
He walked two or three times round the trap,


smelling along it where it touched the ground.
Then he raised his head, stretched out one
paw, curving it a little at the top so as to
make a pliable hook, and clawing one of the
twigs he raised the whole piece of basket-
work ever so little from the ground. He
was ready for a spring, but so was I. When
it rose at his side, where he expected me to
pop out, it rose also at mine, and away I
flew from under it, never stopping until I was
safe on the roof of the house. This was the
first time I noticed how foolish a cat looks
when it has missed catching one of us poor
birds: how it walks away with its tail hang-
ing down, trying to appear as if it never
meant anything, and does not care even to
look at such common things as sparrows.
After the peril I had been in that morning,
I resolved never again to live among gardens
and trees. So I became a town sparrow,
hopping about the streets and roofs all day,
and sleeping among the chimneys. My tail
soon grew again, and as months went on, I,
like the other birds I met, found my feathers
covered with a nice thin coat of soot. Indeed,
so black were we all in that part of the town,
that I was quite astonished one day when I
saw a light-brown bird with a greyish breast to
be told that he was a sparrow from the country.
In all my rambles I took the greatest care
not to go near anything that looked like a
trap; but I soon found out that the worst traps
are those that don't look like traps at all. The
last adventure I shall record is about a snare
of a different sort. It happened when I had
spent four years in town. I had had a nest
of my own the spring before, and had gone
out each morning with the mother of my nest-
lings to find them food, just as my own father
did long ago.
Flying one day into a poor quarter of the
town, I saw some dusty-looking half-withered
trees in a small back yard. From a branch of
one of these a cage was hanging, the canary in-
side springing from perch to perch, and giving
now and then a sweet merry burst of song,
for itwas a sunny day. I perched on branch
above, looking at that pretty yellow bird and
chirping in answer to him. I stayed there a
long time, wondering how my new friend felt
behind those bars, and rejoicing that there
was no fear of my being ever kept in a cage.
How much pleasanter, instead of being a fine
thrush, or bullfinch, or canary, to be only a
worthless sparrow!
At last I was tired of chirping and hearing
him sing, so I spread my wings to fly. But
no effort, no struggle, not all the strength of


my little body could detach my claws from
the branch. I was stuck to it as fast as if I
were a part of the tree. Again and again 1
tried. All was useless. Two more sparrows
perched on a shrub opposite, and rested there
some time while I was straining my wings and
legs to get away. My greatest dread was
lest a cat might come walking along the wall;
then nothing could save me. But what was
my surprise to see that the birds opposite me
were stuck to their branch too. For a full
half-hour we remained there, miserable, ex-
hausted, chirping feebly to each other. At
last the back-door of the house opened and a
man came out.
"One-two-three! he said, counting us
and picking us off the trees as easily as pos-
sible. "That's too thin," letting one of the
strangers fly out of his hand. "Umph-no tail!
Hard to get a bird with a tail anywhere about
now-a-days." And the other was released.
"A plump one this is, and just the right shape."
The last words were his opinion of me, and
I was conveyed into the house. A minute after
I was in a very small cage, so small that I hit
against some part of it whenever I jumped
about. I heartily wished I could knock my
tail off against the seed glass, that he might
let me go. What could he want a sparrow
for-a poor sparrow that could not even chirp
in a cage?
After some time he opened the door, put
his great clumsy hand in, and took me out.
Then I perceived that he was removing all the
soot from my feathers. First he spread out
one of my wings, then the other, rubbing each
with a wet cloth. Then he held me in a most
uncomfortable position while he washed my
breast and head, and even my beak. After all
this (which was quite enough torment for one
day) he plunged me, head, tail and all, into a
basin of water, shook me about under the
surface, and then put me back into my cage,
dripping wet and nearly suffocated.
(To be continued.)

W HICH is the best sight to see-
Mother, when she smiles at me;
Or the sky with stars at night;
Or the sky in broad day-light;
Or the trees when boughs are green;
Or the flowers that blow between;
Or a white-winged ship in sail;
Or a peacock's shining tail ?
When you tell me;-not before,-
I will ask about some more.






H ER step was soft, her voice was low,
She whispered, Do not tell!
Just hold your tongue, and none will know,
And all will then be well."

None told, and yet her heart beat fast,
She feared and trembled still;
And, when the guilty hour was past,
It was not well, but ill.

Her own heart knew she had done wrong,
And God who made her heart;
Our hearts to what is good belong,
And cannot lightly part.

For now the sunshine in the sky
Seemed kindling into flame,
And every wind that passed her by
Familiar with her name.

LORD, who didst make these hearts of ours,
Who seest all we do,
Surround us well with heavenly powers,
And keep us right and true.

For all the pleasures we can steal,
Though none on earth should see,
To anguish turn, when once we feel
We have been false to Thee.













M R. DREADNOUGHT-that was the
name of a snow-man. There is none of
him left now, poor fellow. First, there was
more snow came in the night, and it spoilt
his features, and the wind knocked his hat off;
and then a thaw came, and he went away.
The boys called him Mr. Dreadnought, but
he couldn't stand a thaw, you know. There
is always something that a fellow can't stand,
however brave he is. Peter the Great was a
brave soldier, and as strong as a horse; but
he couldn't stand a black beetle. His servants
one dayfound him jobbing at one with a drawn
sword; drops of sweat were standing on his
forehead, his teeth were chattering with fear,
and when it was all over he had a fit. So we
must not be hard on Mr. Dreadnought for
running away from a thaw. Who had his hat
I do not know, but he was in such a hurry to
be off that he left it behind him.
Talking of Peter the Great, Emperor of
Russia, reminds me of Catharine II., who was
Empress of Russia. Perhaps you remember
part of what Cowper wrote about her in his
poem of The Task :"-
"When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores,
Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ-"
and then he goes on to describe the Winter
Palace, which she caused to be built, all of
ice. Of course that palace went away when
a thaw came, just as Mr. Dreadnought did;
but it must have been a pretty sight when it
was lighted up.
Perhaps, also, you remember some verses
by another poet, William Wordsworth, about
the stone man which some boys built on the
top of a hill called Great How, in Westmore-
"They built him of stones gathered up as they lay ;
They built him and christened him all in one day."
They christened him Ralph Jones, which was
the name of the biggest man known in that
part of the country.
"Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth
And, in anger or merriment, out of the north
Coming on with a terrible pother,
From the peak of the crag blew the giant away-
And what did these schoolboys ? The very next day
They went and they built up another."
That was right. But the boys who set up
Mr. Dreadnought couldn't set him up again
after he had run away. There was a little girl
in this neighbourhood who didn't think much
of him, and you shall hear in another No.
what she said about him. N. 0. REES.

IF the first thought that I had when I saw
the stacks on fire was that it would be a
sad thing to burn all that wheat, my next
thought was for the cow-sheds, and a beautiful
little Alderney cow that we had. She was
all white, and such a dear little creature.
When she was out at pasture she seemed to
know the time for being milked, and would
walk in all of herself as true as a clock-of
course I mean as true as a clock that goes
right. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" said I, pulling
my hair about behind, "suppose Liza gets
burnt to death ?" We called the Alderney
Liza, but I forget why.
Just at this time my cousin-dear me, I
must give him a name, so we will say Mr.
Scrivener-came galloping up the lane. The
farm men were all up, and running and
shouting about, and a nice scene of noise and
confusion there was. But they had very soon
pulled down one of the stacks which stood in
a line with the others; and, as there was not
so much fire, after all, as my fright had made
me fancy, the flames were got under with
buckets of water and one thing or another
almost before I had time to feel chilly in my
night-clothes. Still, it was a hard fight, and
some of the wheat was burnt of course. When
the last pailfuls of water were thrown on to the
smouldering straw, it looked as if some
giantesses had been having a washing-day,
and were stirring up their coppers all together,
there was such a steam. The next morning
you may judge how doleful the stack-yard
looked-all puddles, and mud, and blackened
straw; and the men were putting their heads
together to find out who did it. I had dis-
tinctly seen the Dandy-boy in the middle of
the scene, soon after I first looked out of
window, and everybody thought he bore my
cousin Mr. Scrivener a grudge. But I had
also seen somebody else, who appeared to be
with him-a man called Ricketty Dick.
Ricketty Dick was not ricketty-he was a very
strong man, and was supposed to be mad.
But he had, as people say, two left legs "-
both his legs were bent, and both the same
And here I must tell you something else
about another Ricketty Dick.
Among the friends I made at Northfields,
there were two big girls-I dare say twenty
years old-named Morris; one was Helen and
the other was Annie, but they were no rela-



tions, and they were not much alike in their
ways and their tempers. Annie was very
serious, and she was the daughter of a minister
who preached at a chapel a little way out
from where I was staying. Helen was the
daughter of a brewer in the neighbourhood,
and was as giddy a girl as ever lived, though
a nice sort, you know. I suppose these two
struck up a friendship because they were both
called Morris.
Well, about once a week I think it was,
Annie used to have to go to the chapel vestry
for her father. Her father was a nice, simple
old man, a widower, but too weak to do much
walking; and it was such a quiet place that he
never thought of any danger to a girl out at
night. Nor was there any danger. But
Helen pretended to fancy there was, and she
put Annie up to a curious trick. I cannot re-
member what Annie used to have to go to the
vestry for, but she used to take the key with
her, and go insideandfetch something, regular-
ly-or perhaps she took something, I am sure I
forget. Well, Helen said to her one day-
"Annie, ain't you afraid? don't you think
it's too lonely ? "
Oh, no, dear, it's a very nice walk."
"Yes, but when it's dark, you know ? said
Helen; I don't half like it; let's make a man
to keep us company! "
Annie burst out laughing, but Helen stood
to it; and Annie gave in. So they got some
rags, and an old coat, and a pair of breeches,
and a pair of top-boots, and an old hat, and
they made a man as well as they could. He
had not much face, but they made him a head
of hair out of tow, and put a shirt-collar on
him-those were the days of stand-up collars
-and if you did not examine him, I dare say
he looked quite fierce enough. Annie and
Helen used to take him by the arm and walk
him out with them when they went to this
chapel-vestry of an evening. Stump, stump,
went his old top-boots, and they made believe
to talk to him.
"I am sure nobody will dare to meddle
with us now," said Helen one night.
Oh, nonsense 1" said Annie, don't talk
about it."
"I believe I heard footsteps-hush !" said
Helen, out of mischief.
Of course this man was very weak in the
legs, and sometimes his hat would fall off.
"When he stood on the lounge, if I may say so,
against a wall, he looked so shaky about the
knees that they agreed to call him Ricketty
Dick. Well, on the night I am telling you
of-it was a fine full moon-they set Ricketty

Dick up against the door, while they went
inside the vestry, and they stayed inside a
little longer than usual, talking and laughing.
When they came out, and went up to Ricketty
Dick, to take hold of his arms as usual, they
said, "Come along, Dick! but, what do you
think ? One of Dick's arms was stuck behind
him, and his hat was cocked all on one side
in a most vulgar style.
"Bless me!" said Helen, "he is altered
since we went into the vestry, I think."
"You put him like that, and you've forgotten
it," said Annie.
"I'm sure Ididn't," answered Helen; "and
he can't have done it himself. Wake up, Dick,
and tell us all about it! and here she gave
him such a dig in the chest that he fell down.
They could not make it out, and they were
not easy in their minds about it, but they took
his arm-I mean to say his arms-and trotted
him out towards home, laughing to keep their
courage up. Helen, to tell you the truth,
began to whistle as loud as ever she could.
"There, Annie," said she, "I'm sure we're
safe now. You're a minister's daughter, and
we've got a man in top boots that can whistle.
Cheer up, Dick!"
"Boh!" cried a voice just behind them,
"boh! "-and the two girls both gave a
screech together. Down went Dick on the
path, and Annie and Helen scudded for home
as fast as ever they could pelt.
(To be continued.)

O NE little child and another little child,
On a sunshiny day when the wind was
One of the two was a little boy of four, [mild,
One was a little maid of eight years, or more.
This little damsel had a little book,
Overhead the tree-tops very softly shook,
Sweetly around them the soft wind blew,
Pleasantly the sun shone high over these two.
Softly through the churchyard then they
took their way,
Then into the cloisters sleepy, old, and gray;
Cool it was and quiet where the cloister
arches rose,
There sat an old man, blinking in a doze.
They did not meet a monk, they did not
meet a nun, [and done,
The abbots and the abbesses were all dead
But through the ancient windows of the
church, as they drew nigher,
They heard the organ playing, and the
singing of the choir.






SING the bell, Mr. Merriman, ring up,
Spring up This time the Show is all
Stop, though, the Show cannot begin till
the slides in the magic lantern are unpacked.
First of all let us look at the Peep-Show
Porter. Not the Showman, but the Porter

that carries the magic lantern. The slides
are so heavy that you can see he is bending
under the weight of them.
Here there is a pause of ten minutes for
refreshments, to give time to arrange the
magic lantern.
Now for the first slide. Here is the Fairy





Herald, all in a
cloud of coloured
light. He has
wings as light as
a butterfly's, and
he is telling all
the world and
his wife to get
ready to see the
Grand Fairy Pro-
cession. You will
please to ob-
serve he is point-
ing the way, so
that there should
be no mistake.
Now look at
the next scene in
the Show. All
the water-fairies
have heard what
the Fairy Herald



r -

- _: . :-- __..

said, and they
are in such a
state of excite-
ment they hard-
ly know what to
do with them-
selves. How -
ever, they have
told the little
mermaids to blow
their horns of
sea- shell, and
they are all
hurrying to see
the Procession.
I firmly believe
they hear the
music. We shall
know in another



"A', jI

r ,'

N'il ',

--- .


.-- "" -- -- : ', -'
,i I .,'--:-
_ '. : ," I, '. I..


'~k II





"/' ,f.



(Continued from fage 47.)

NEXT day the bathing process was re-
jeated, and the next day again. Then,
to my great joy, I heard him say-" There
was as much soot as feathers on him; but
he'll do now."
All this time I had plenty to eat, and more
fresh water than I liked. On the morning
after he had decided that I would "do," he
again took me out, but for a very different
purpose. Nearhim on the table were brushes,
a glass of water, and a great quantity of
yellow paint; and, while he held me firmly
by the legs, to my horror he painted me all
over. From that time my water supply was
kept low. I was given only a few drops, and
the moment I attempted to sprinkle them on
my feathers the glass was taken away. Some-
times he would bring into the room other
sparrows, to wash or paint them one by one.
How often I was painted I cannot remember,
but it must have been a great many times, for
in the end I found myself a bright yellow bird.
At last, on one memorable morning the man
came into the room wkh a great pile of little
cages, all fastened together in rows one above
another. In every one of them was a yellow
bird; two or three were canaries, but all the
rest I could see were sparrows unwillingly put
in disguise. My cage was set in a corner-
place, at one end of the top row of the pile,
and from that moment I could see none of my
neighbours. The man slung the pile of cages
on his back, covering them with a cloth, and
in this way we were carried out into the air,
and conveyed I believe a very great distance.
Suddenly I heard a noise all about me, far
greater than any I had heard on the way.
Here were birds' voices, men's voices, women's
voices; such a clamour never came to my ears
before. When we were uncovered I found
that we had been brought to a place where
there were numbers of men selling all sorts of
birds, and crowds of people buying them.
"Who'll buy?" shouted our owner, in a voice
that made us all flutter up against the bars.
"Who'll buy? Real London canaries-half-
a-crown, cage and all! Singing birds-half-
a-crown, cage and all! Who'll buy? Who'll
buy ? London canaries in full song, two shil-
lings and sixpence, cage and all! "
"Does this one sing? asked a little girl,
poking her small finger at me through the
"Every one of 'em sings, miss."

"Papa!" cried the little girl, and a tall
man came to her, elbowing his way through
the crowd. "Here are canaries for half-a-
crown each."
"Well, I've got a half-crown for you, my
girl." He drew a leather purse out of his
pocket. Now choose a nice one, Jessie
whichever you like."
"This one I think," she said, when, after
she had examined all the birds, a cage was
taken from amongst the rest. I saw that it
contained a real canary, slim in shape, and
quite different from the yellow sparrows.
That's a thin one, Jessie," said her father.
"That one there," pointing to me, "looks
as if he had a stronger voice in him. A
robust bird, that!"
"This one?" repeated our owner, detaching
my cage and holding it up. "You're right
there. He has a voice like a nightingale."
"Yes, I like that one, too," said Jessie.
I liked her, and longed that she would take
me, for her hand was small, and she moved it
gently about my cage; and her voice could
not frighten the most timid bird alive. I
thought she would be kind to me.
"I will buy this one," she said, handing the
man some money.
Instantly her father wrapped a large red
handkerchief about my cage, and then I felt
that he was carrying me away.
When we reached their house, to my great
joy I was put into a large cage with white
wires, and well- turned polished perches. But
for the knowledge that I could not get out,
and the dreadful fear that I might never be
free again, my days of captivity would have
been pleasant enough. My cage generally
hung in a well-stocked fruiterer's shop, but
sometimes in the day, and always in the
evening, it was taken into the parlour at the

back. No one could be kinder to any bird
than my little mistress was to me. My seed-
glass was always full, my water was always
fresh. Lettuce leaves and lumps of sugar
were constantly being stuck between my
wires; and then she came talking to me so
often, trying to speak to me in my own lan-
guage, that I did not feel in the least lonely.
At times it was almost a grief to me that I
was not really a canary, she looked so sad
when I did not sing after her repeated invita-
tions:-" Sweet, sweet, why don't you sing ?
Do sing, birdie As for the fruit she gave
me, the supply was never ending; and she
often w. nt to the shop window and took one
of the ripe rich fruits on show to put it into
my cage.





One day she took me into the parlour,
where her father was.
"Papa," she said, "I am going to let him
out to fly about the room."
And with the words she closed the door of
the parlour, set my cage on the table, and
threw it open, watching eagerly. First I
flew to the window, fancying it was an
opening in the wall. Then I thought I saw
"a second opening over the mantelpiece, with
"a room beyond, where another bird, just
like me, was flying about. But when I rushed
towards it he came to me. I struck against the
hard surface of the looking-glass; he seemed
to strike me. It was only my shadow.
"I wonder when will he sing," said the
little girl, when I had taken refuge at last on
the top of a picture-frame.
"I do believe, Jessie," said her father,
"that you are injuring your bird by giving
him too much fruit. Just try him with plain
seed and water for a week."
(To be continued.)

W HAT is a newspaper for? It is to tell
us what is going on in the world-not
everything, of course, but a great deal of it.
Weddings, and births, and deaths, are often
put into the newspapers, when it is thought
proper that a great many persons should
know of them.
Servants who want places put their names
and addresses into the newspapers; and so
do masters and mistresses who want servants.
When anybody is lost, the friends usually
put it in the newspapers, in order that a large
number of persons may know it, because some
of them may perhaps have seen the lost person,
and may let the friends know where.
The prices which things fetch, at places a
long way off, are put in newspapers. For
instance, the price that calico fetches at some
cities, thousands of miles away, is put in the
newspaper; and then the man at Manchester,
who has calico to sell, knows to which of the
cities he had better send his calico for sale.
When any one has stolen valuable things,
or committed some other crime, it usually
gets put into the newspapers; and then,
if the person who committed the crime has
run away, a great many others know of it, and
can be on the look-out for him.
When anything that is likely to be of great
use to us is just found out, it is almost sure to

get put into the newspapers. If somebody
were to find out to-morrow how to stop a
railway train in half-a-minute, it would be in
the newspapers. If a man only though he had
found out how, it would perhaps get into a
newspaper. Then perhaps another man
would see this, and think of a better plan.
We shall have more to say about news-
papers in another No. MATTHEW BROWNE.


OSTRICHES arefound in South Africa and
Arabia, and there only. The Hotten-
tots hunt them in many ways. Sometimes
the men dress themselves up in ostrich skins,
and imitate the walk and voice of this queer
big bird. They are very clever at this, and
easily kill them then with their arrows.
The ostriches go in large companies, along
with herds of gnus, quaggas, and zebras, and
then they are all hunted together. We all
know that the feathers of the ostrich can be
sold at good prices, and that their eggs make
fine eating. An ostrich egg weighs three
pounds. The Hottentots cook it by putting it
on the fire whole, and stirring it up as it
boils through a hole in the top of the shell.
It is a mistake to suppose that the ostrich
does not sit on its eggs, but leaves them to be
hatched by the sun. It sits on them at night,
when the air of the desert is cold, and it lets
them lie in the hot sun by day.
A full-grown gentleman ostrich is six or
eight feet high, reckoning to his head. He
can rip up a dog or a man with one stroke of
his toes, and the leopard is afraid of him.
He weighs two hundred or three hundred
pounds. He can carry two men on his back,
and can run sixty miles an hour, though not
for long. But he is at all times a very swift
runner. His wing is of no consequence.
An ostrich swallows biggish stones to help
him to digest his food (which is chiefly
vegetable), but he cannot digest everything.
One died of trying to eat a parasol; another
could not digest a shillingsworth of halfpence.
When an ostrich likes, it makes a noise like
the roar of a lion.
I should not like to keep an ostrich for a pet
unless I was a giant, and had a cage as big as
a house. It would be curious to see people
riding about the streets on the backs of os-
triches; but perhaps the postman would like
it; I will ask our postman about it to-morrow.






Zb; 5 ?

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f 7









MISS Nelly was very fond of a little dog
that was given to her, and took great
care of him when he was ill or when she
thought he was ill, or when she made believe
to think he was ill. I saw her once, when
she had been putting a cap on that belonged
to Nurse, and some more of Nurse's things; and
she was sitting in her chair with this dog in
her lap, nursing him. I opened the door all
of a sudden, and was going to laugh out loud
when I saw how she had dressed herself up,
but Miss Nelly put her finger to her lips, and
said, Hush, hush please don't disturb him I"
Her dear little dog was not asleep, he was
only dozing. But I took care not to make
a noise, and Miss Nelly was pleased with
Dogs know very well what it is to be ill.
Most animals tease other animals of their own
kind when ill; but some dogs are kind to other
dogs that are not well. I have read a story,
told, I think, by Miss Francis Power Cobbe,
about a dog that was very kind indeed to
another dog which was sick. This dog used
to be sent to the baker's every morning for
twelve rolls. These were put into a basket
by the baker, and the dog brought them home
in his mouth day after day, all right. But all
of a sudden he took to bringing home only
eleven rolls. This was strange, as he was a
very honest dog. So they had him watched,
and what do you think they found? On
his way from the baker's he had come
across another dog that was ill and hungry,
with some puppies to feed too. And he had
taken, of his own accord, to leaving one
roll with this poor dog. Well, the next
thing they did was to tell the baker to put
thirteen rolls into the basket. He did so.
And then the dog left the odd roll with his
poor sick friend, and brought home the twelve.
As soon as ever the poor sick dog got better
and went away, the other dog took to bring-
ing home all the rolls again. Is not that a
pretty story? Good-bye, Miss Nelly, for the
present; and when you are grown up, I am
sure you will be kind to all who are ill and in
want of rest. Why, even now you go about
softly, taking care not to slam doors or
to speak loud, when any one is poorly in the
house. That is right, Nelly.

(Conlinued from page 55.)
AT the end of the plain seed and waterweek,
Jessie's father suggested something else.
How could we have forgotten it so long ?"
he said. "Canaries never thrive without
bathing in fresh water. Put a little in a
shallow glass dish in the cage, and see if it
won't refresh him enough to make him sing."
Terrible words those were for me, because
they were put in practice at once. The little
girl would have done anything to induce me
to sing. But my voice was not improved
a bit. Not a note could I bring out but my
old sparrow chirp.
Jessie was, of course, much puzzled, and
sometimes she called in a friend, with whom
she talked it over; so there I was with two
girls staring at me and wondering I did not
sing. It was very uncomfortable for me.
Often after that day I was allowed the
luxury of plunging about in a dish of cold
clear water, dashing it over my feathers, and
sprinkling it about the cage. One day,
when Jessie took it out of the cage, she
exclaimed in great distress-
Do you know, papa, my poor birdie must
be ill. Perhaps he caught cold; I won't
give him any more water. He is getting to
be quite a dirty colour. And see," she added,
with still greater dismay, "the water he bathes
in gets yellowish, does not it?"
Her father took the glass dish out of her
hand, and- looked at it. Then he put on his
spectacles in a great hurry, took down the
cage, and stared at me till I fluttered up and
down as if I would fly in pieces.
"That man was a thief," he broke out at
last in a thundering voice, bringing down his
clenched hand on the table so that all the wires -
of my cage trembled, and I fell down on my
floor like a little heap of yellow feathers, and
stayed there panting, wondering if he was
going to shout again.
"Oh! he's frightened, papa-please don't
frighten him," said Jessie.
"Yes, yes, I forgot, child," said her father,
so gently that it did not sound like the same
voice at all. I was so vexed to think of that
man-that miserable impostor. 'Tisn't the
money I care about, but that I should be
cheated in that way.". And so he ran on
until Jessie asked what it was all about.
Why, Jessie," he said, as coolly as he could,
and casting a very contemptuous look at
poor me, "we've been imposed upon, and it's.
only now I found it out. That's not a canary;





that's a sparrow, and the paint's coming off. and wiping
Open the cage-throw him out! the cage do
"No-oh! no, don't," said Jessie, in a on the pant
piteous tone of disappointment. Are you the window,
sure, papa ?" rose on the
"Quite sure-throw him out, the worthless delightful, si
thing cry out-"O
Jessie stood for a moment looking at me. after all, and
I sprang up on the perch, and when she smiled eat, or he'll
I had the confidence, or the impudence, or him, and-"
whatever you like to call it, to give a big far away to
strong chirp.
Papa," she I I J.
said, "I think I- .
I'll keep him."-
"What!-keep .. -
a sparrow I "
"Yes, because 4 ...
he knows me 11 i,! 6 l
now. I don't '
mind his-not be- I' T
ing a canary. I 1*

her say that, I II i.- -
was ready toha i
"tumble off the I
perch; for, much i t
as I loved her, go,.1:
I was a captive '"
bird still in my

lovedmy liberty
better. But pre- e. i
sently I heard 1
her father say- ou i, i
"But if you
really care for
your bird's hap-
piness, Jessie,
you will let him --
go. He will _
pine away ou iyo

Then," said
the little girl, persisting still in loving good- that time as
for-nothing me, if he would really be hap- two poor feat
pier free, I'll let him go, but I must give him my being c.
a good feed first-dear little birdie i birds, don't b
And what a grand feed she gave me. I day when I m
don't know the names of half the things she But how tt
stuck between my wires-but were not they evening! I
delicious! Then she went into the back room, chimney stacl
placed my cage on the window-sill, and about They are fe
an hour after, when I had eaten all I could and prietor's. I'
in the most self-satisfied manner was rasping

But a new
trouble was in
store. All the
sparrows were
frightened at
me, or else they
pecked my
yellow coat. I
.,:was a marked
'bird. Myfriends
failed to recog-
Snisern, the chil-
Sdren followed
me, the cats
chased me. But
these little diffi-
culties were
soon got over
by a knowing
Sold bird like me;
Sso away I flew
i 'over the house-
tops, till I found
", a chimney on
fire; and there
SI stayed flutter-
ing about in the
"smoke and soot,
till my coat was
"once again a
good, dark, re-
spectable, hon-
est, dirtycolour.
It is a con-
solation to me
to remember

robbed me of my tail, all but
hers, for now there's no fear ot
aught and "canaried." Little
e vain of your tails; there was a
vas sorry enough to have one.
he wind blows up here this gusty
declare I shall be swept off the
k. And what's all that clucking ?
eding the hens at the cab pro-
d better go down at once.
( 7o be conuilnued.)


my beak on the perch, she opened
or. Away I flew, and perched
ry window-sill. Leaning out of
she watched me, and, just as I
wing again, I heard that dear,
Ily little girl burst into tears and
h papa, maybe it was a canary
I now he'll have nothing nice to
die of cold, or the cats will catch
I heard no more, I went away,
a house top.



THIS time the "PEEP-SHOW" is a
Fantoccini, and the pictures are
shadows, not lantern slides. But I dare
say you have noticed how very plain and
clear the shadows of peoples' figures
and faces come out when you put the
light at just the proper distance. They
do say that the art of painting, or draw-
ing, began in some lad's trying to trace
on the wall the shadow of a lass whom he
was ever so fond of-or was it the lass
tracing the shadow of the lad ? I forget,

but it does not matter, for there is not a
bit of truth in the story.
Here you see is an artist in a wide-
brimmed hat, to shield his eyes from the
sun, and he is seated on a camp-stool.
On the other side is a little girl seated
on a rung of a fence, with a flower in
her hand. Behind her are two young
fellows who look as if they worked in the
fields there. You see it is all in the
country, for there is a haymaker-what a
pretty graceful girl!-leaning over the

artist to look at his work. She is very
much surprised at his cleverness. You
can see if you look at her lips that she
is holding her breath as she watches
Then you will see another shadow-
picture. It is a pouring wet day, and the
doctor has met a country bumpkin who
says he is not well. "Let me feel
your pulse," says the doctor. "Put
out your tongue." And you see the
man's tongue lolling out. The doctor

- ----I- i--;jli-----------


looks very wise, but the dog looks very
miserable. Do you know what the dog
thinks ? I do. He hears all they say, and he
says to himself, Well, you are a stupid pair!

Poor doggy, I believe he is in the right of
it. But, I say Let me advise you to go and
to cut out these pictures, or to copy them in


Poor doggy, I believe he is in the right of
it. But, Isay! Let me advise you to go and
buy another copy of PEEP-SHOW and try
to cut out these pictures, or to copy them in

You, master, are doing yourself more harm,
ten times over, by standing in the wet than
you can get by showing that solemn old fellow
your tongue."

black. It is good practice for learning draw-
ing to cut things out with the scissors, and
perhaps you will try some day in black paper.
I have known little children do it very nicely.


AH, side by side, the Old and Young;
What kindly thoughts they bring!
For one life's noonday song is sung,
For one 'tis yet to-sing.

For one the even-song must end
Soon; and the night must come:
Oh, take our souls, thou Heavenly Friend,
When all life's song is dumb!

Be far behind us, when we wake,
Our yesterdays of sin,
And when the new day first shall break,
Let the new song begin!

62 ]EEP- 8110 TV.

WE were speaking in a former number
of "PEEP-SHOW" about two matters.
One was this: Science tells us a great
many things we should not expect. The
other was this: Some of the things told
us by Science, though they do not at
first appear to be of any use, turn out very
often of the greatest possible use. One
instance of this we gave from the way in
which Science puts two sorts of plants together.
We will now go to something else; and if
you have a few square blocks of wood, such
as the common toy-bricks,- you will find it all
very plain indeed.
Suppose you draw a straight line, like
this :-

If you then make a solid square, each side
of which is as long as this line, you have a
figure, one side of which looks like this :-

Well now, if you double the length of one
of the sides of the square, how big is the new
square? I think I hear a little voice say,
"Why, twice as big, of course!" But if you
will try this with your little square bricks you
will find it is not so. Here, we will say, is
your line:-

Very good; a square made from that line
is like this:-

Well, now double the length of your line,

And you see at once that if you build a
square upon this doubled line you get a square

which is not twice as big as the first square,
but four times as big, thus:-

This is as plain as daylight, and perhaps
you will almost say, "Well, and what of it?"
But wait a bit. Dr. Arnott tells us of a
Water Company that lost a great deal of
money through not remembering this sort of
thing. The Water Company made a bargain
with a man who wanted some water to turn a
mill-wheel, and the bargain was to let him
have, for 200 a year, as much water as
would pass through a pipe nine inches wide.
After a time the millowner wanted more
water, and asked the water company to let
him have another pipe of the same size as the
first for another 200 a year. This would
have been fair, as he would in that case have
got just double the quantity of water he took
at first. But he found, when he came to look
at it, that the first pipe was much worn, so he
said to the company, "Let us have one pipe
twice as many inches across as the first." The
water company said yes, and the pipe was
made, and he paid 400 a year for the water.
But of course the quantity of water he got for
his money was not twice as much, but four
times as much as he took before.
If you take the line you drew at first and
make it three times as long, and then build a
square upon it, you will find the square is not
three times as big as the first square, but nine
times as big.
Now take your pieces of wood and make a
square or cube. Then take some more pieces
and double one side of it. Then take some
more pieces and finish the square all round,
to the size of the side you doubled. How big
do you find the square or cube now ? Count
the pieces, and you will find it is eight times
as large as it was at first.
If you make one side three times as large as
it was at first, and then build up the square
complete to the size of that side, the cube or
square will be, not three times, but twenty-
seven times as large as it was at first. Try it
with your square bits of wood, or with common
dice, and you will see. H. HURDIS.



EP-H W. 63

ONE day Tom's master, whose name was
Okers, had a letter from a friend who
had just brought over from abroad a cobra di
capello. Perhaps you know that there'are
men who have a fancy for serpents, just as
others have a fancy for pigeons and flowers.
Mr. Okers's friend had often spoken of his
expectation of bringing one over, and Okers
had jumped at the idea of having a.good look
at a deadly snake outside of the Zoological
Gardens or the stores of a dealer in wild animals.
It was at last arranged between him and his
friend Hanson who had brought over the
snake, that Okers should have it in his room
for a little, in order to study it. Does this
surprise you ? It need not do so, for painters
have done stranger things than that, and there
is yet living a snake-fancier, a nobleman of
this country, who was once nearly strangled
by a boa-constrictor in his own library.
Of course Mr. Okers and his friend Hanson
thought there was no danger in having the
cobra up to study. They knew he had been
gorged with food; he was young; the weather
was cold-as you will say it usually is when
there is snow on the ground-and it was not
to be expected that the creature would wake
up for a good long while yet. So into the
painter's room came the cobra, in a box well-
corded, and there he stayed for a day or two
untouched. Okers was an easy-going fellow,
nearly as happy-go-lucky as Tom, only he
was an educated man and'was of course more
thoughtful; and he rather chuckled over the
idea of having in a second-floor front in
England a serpent that could crush the life
out of a lion or a buffalo.
But Tom had a strong objection to secrets,
and fidgetted a good deal about this precious
corded box. And the dog fidgetted even
more, and if he could have spoken instead of
being able to say only bow-wow and to howl, he
would have said to his master, I say, master,
I don't like that big box there. I can smell
straw, and green stuff, and oily woollen, but I
can smell something else, and it isn't the right
sort of thing for you to have in your room,
master." But poor Rover could only go
sniff-sniff and grumble. Tom gave the box
a kick once or twice, but did not ask anything
about it at first.
One morning his mind had been much
troubled about a picture that his master had
in the room-a woman, with a mantle thrown

over her head, who looked as if she was coming
out of the door of a vault. He put up with
the puzzle a good long time, and at last,
with desperate courage, asked a question of
his master.
Please, sir, I know you don't like me to
be always asking questions-but please what
is that lady doing in that picture? I don't
like it."
Mr. Okers was reading, as it happened,
while Tom was dusting the nick-nacks in the
Tom," said Mr. Okers, in a dreadful voice,
and trying to look like a ghost--" did you ever
read the Alkestis of Euripides ?"
No," says Tom, joyfully, "but I should
like to, sir."
Mr. Okers laughed heartily, and showed
him the Greek book he was reading.
"Ah," said Tom, "that's French. My
mother says she knows French, and so do I-
Parly voo, parly Fronsy." And then he
smiled and showed his teeth, as much as to
say, "Ain't I a scholar, now ?"
He stopped a moment, stared at the picture
again, and then said, "I should like to read
it in French, sir; but I ain't learned enough
of it yet. I only know Parly voo, and that.
But, please sir-what is there behind that
door that the lady is coming out of?"
"Ah 1" said Mr. Okers, shaking his head,
and pretending to gasp for breath-he was
having a bit of fun with Tom-" I will tell
you what was behind those doors, if you will
tell me what's in that box there."
Thankee, sir," said Tom, looking askance
at the box. But he did not seem to like
to go too near it, and when he went out of
the room walked round it as suspiciously as
the dog himself. Sniff, sniff, went Rover.
"Ah," said Tom, patting him, "I jest wish
I had as good a ihose as yours, Rover,
that's all."
For another day or two Tom fought
rather shy of the room itself.
(To be continued.)

CHERUBINI, the musician, hated flute
music. "I believe," said a friend to
him, one day, "there is nothing you hate
worse than a flute." Cherubini replied, "Yes,
there is-two flutes." 0





__ _



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LITTLE Mother-that was the girl who
did not think much of Mr. Dread-
nought, the snow-man. They called her
Little Mother because she was so serious and
old-fashioned, and so attentive to the rabbits,
and the cat, and the dog, and the fowls, and
the pigeons, and the sparrows. When she
looked out of window and saw the boys
making the snow-man, of which you have
been told, she frowned a little-you can see
she does not look pleased-and she said,
" Well, what is the good of making a snow-
man in this country? It thaws before you
know where you are, and then the snow-man
runs away. If I wanted to make a snow-man
I would go to the North Pole, then he would
live to a good old age. Feeding birds is
better than building up snow-men."
But, stay a bit! It is a fine thing to feed
the birds when they cannot get food for them-
selves; but it would be very funny if every-
body was to go and feed the birds, as Little
Mother did. We must have a bit of fun
sometimes; it makes us stronger and more
clever, and it does our temper good. I do not
believe the sparrows would be frightened at a
snow-man-no, not even if you could put an
imitation gun into his hand. They would
know it was only a scarecrow. One would
say, "Bless my heart, look at his complexion
-he is too pale for a real, live man, of the
sort that shoots us;" and another would say,
" Yes, to be sure; and just notice his hat: it is
the sort of hat they put on scarecrows; it is
not good enough for a man that can shoot."
But it was a very nice thing to be Little
Mother of the birds. I could tell you of a
good many families where it is a regular
part of the day's work, or the day's pleasure
(it is both, of course), to look after the birds
in the very cold weather. Twice a day, after
breakfast and after dinner, the crumbs may
be put outside for them. Where you ought to
put them you can judge for yourselves. If
you shake the table-cloth out in a garden you
"may take care that it is where the birds can
get to the little feast without coming near the
house-which they may be afraid to do.
The crumbs should be well scattered, or thrown
as far apart as possible, so that a number of
birds may get a share without having to stand
so close to each other that there is a risk
of their quarrelling. And the larger pieces
of crumb should be broken small.
N. o. REES.

W HEN my father and mother heard of
the fire, my father thought I should be
too frightened to want to stay at Northfields, so
he came down by the coach and took me
away for a time. Perhaps he thought I was
not wanted while my cousin was as busy as
he was just then. I must here tell you that
the next morning after the fire the Dandy
was missing, and nobody knew where he
was gone to.
Our house in town was one of the old-
fashioned sort. Alas I it was long ago pulled
down. It was in Aldersgate Street, when that
street was very different from what it is now,
and it was not far from St. John's Gate. It
had wooden galleries outside, such as you may
see in the court-yards of inns. Perhaps you
have looked at the Tabard Inn or the St.
Catherine Wheel Inn, Southwark ? Theupper
stories stood out into the street above the
lower, just as you may yet see the upper
stories in some houses in Holborn, and in
Wych Street, Strand. In fact it was just such
a house as John Gilpin started from in his
ride to Ware. Inside, the walls had panels
of oak, and in the best bedroom the part in
which the bedstead was to stand was a sort
of dais raised above the rest. And there was
a garret, with a ghost story to it, a real ghost
story, mind you. How quiet London was in
those days I I used to be allowed to bowl
my hoop in one of the court-yards or St.
Bartholomew's Hospital. Within a mile there
were green fields-I mean out by Peerless
Pool. Perhaps you never heard of Peerless
Pool ? Well, it was a great pond for bathing,
and it is quite a famous place for many
reasons. One reason is, that at the hour of
the great earthquake at Lisbon in the year
1755, the water at Peerless Pool rose sud-
denly into great plashing waves over the
heads of the bathers. The water was dis-
turbed in this way in many other parts of the
world at the exact hour of the earthquake.
Those were the days when, you know, there
was no penny post, no pillar-boxes, and only
a very little railway. Every letter from one
part of London to another cost twopence, and
the postmen used to go round of an afternoon
in red coats, carrying bags, and ringing bells,
in order to collect the letters that people who
lived far away from a post-office wanted to
send off. At St. Martin's-le-Grand there used
to be a fine sight every evening, and there
was always a crowd to see it. The mail-




coaches used to come to the General Post
Office to collect the letter-bags. There were
four horses to every coach. The harness and
trimmings were as bright as silver, and the
jingling noise they made was ever so pretty.
Then the coachmen, and the guards who sat
at the back, used to have fine red coats on,
with brass or gilt buttons. As each coach
went out of the great yard, with the letter-
bags in a box at the back, the guard used to
put the horn to his mouth and blow merrily,
tantara-tantara! and off went the horses,
beautiful creatures, on their long journeys.
Of course some went northwards towards the
Angel Inn, and then up by Highgate way;
some went southwards over the Bridge; some
east; and some west, up Oxford Street.
It was, I almost think, the liveliest sight I
can ever remember seeing. On May Day,
all the coachmen and guards had new coats,
and everything was freshened up, and they
wore ribbons and nosegays, and anybody
who did not know better might have thought
it was all some grand triumph. Ah, I should
like to see it all over again !
Of course a good many of those coaches
used to pass right under our balconies, and,
as I have said, crowds of people used to loiter
about to see them. The first day I got back
to town, there were two young people, a boy
and girl of my own age, to meet me. They
were the children of religious people, and
were brought up very strictly indeed; but all
their good behaviour was gone as soon as
mamma's back was turned. Rachel was, oh,
such a greedy girl!-it was eat, eat, eat,
all day long-and yet she was thin, and she
looked as yellow as a turkey.
Wait till mamma's gone to chapel," said
Rachel to me, one Wednesday evening, "and
I'll show you some fun."
"Shan't you go to chapel too ? said I.
"No, of course not," said Rachel; "I shall
saymy head aches, and mamma will let me off."
"Whereabouts does your head ache? I
Rachel burst out laughing. When the time
for the mail-coaches came, Rachel and I
went out upon one of the balconies. She had
been stuffing herself with cakes of the kind
that have a rim round them, with a raised
p-.rt in the middle. All of a sudden I saw
Ler drop one into the street on to the pave-
You've let one fall," said I.
"Hold your tongue, Miss Silly," said
Rachel, giggling.
After a short time I saw an old woman

stop and pick up the cake, which, I must tell
you, had a piece of paper round it, a piece
big'enough to make it look as if the cake had
been dropped out of some one's pocket, and
yet small enough for the cake to be seen.
When the old woman had picked up the
cake Rachel leaned back and fairly stamped
with amusement.
"I've got another ready," said she, and
showed me the trick-what she called the fun
-the round middle of the cake had been
lifted; she had put inside a mush of pepper,
and salt, and mustard, and then laid the top
on again.
When she dropped the next cake, a dapper-
looking lad picked it up. But instead of look-
ing fondly at it, as the poor simple old woman
had done at hers, he turned briskly round,
stepped out, and pitched it back again to
Rachel. We both ducked, and Rachel, who
was a vulgar little puss, made believe to
scream. The dapper-lad was the Dandy.
(To be continued.)

YES, I thought they heard the music. Here
it is: some of it is instrumental and
some vocal. These are the Bees and the
Grasshoppers, and they have got blue-bells
ringing, and they have made a trombone out
of the convolvulus; and do look at the Con-
ductor, how he wields his stick.
Well, I declare, and here are the singers.
You can tell which of those grasshoppers is
bass, and which soprano, and which counter-
tenor. Look, too, at their attitudes. Are they
not lovely ? Did you ever see singers throw
their bodies and limbs about more sweetly,
or look more as if they had taken something
that didn't agree with them ? Being used to
the water, they do not mind standing on the
leaves of the water-lilies while they sing; but
I am not quite sure that the dear little baby-
flowers like it so well-at least not all of
them. Perhaps they think they ought them-
selves to be more seen in the show. They
certainly are very pretty.
And here is the grand, grand scene of all.
The Fairy King and Queen on a throne, a
moving throne you see, drawn by swans.
Look, do look at that dear little fairy driver-
how well he handles the reins. I suppose you
think if you were a fairy and had wings you
would not care to ride in a coach, even if it



.-- '-" - \ ." "
,. .. ..-..- -


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were drawn by
swans. But
you don't know.
Fairies like a
change as well
as other people;
besides, this is a
procession for
us to see, and
they think, as
we have no
wings, that it
will look pret-
tier for us if
they go in a

You see those
fairies up in the
air, to the left
of the sun-flower
canopy? Well,
will explain
something about
those fairies
some day. But
for the present
it is a secret, so
do not tell any-

------ ----0\





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IF we must not put on feelings, if we must
not pretend to feel kindness when we do
not feel it, how are we to manage when we
know that general kindness is one of our
duties ? Let us consider this a little.
In the first place, we can see at once that
there is all the difference between being
wilfully unkind in our conduct to others, and
not being positively kind to them. It is a
plain rule of duty, that we must never be un-
kind to any one. Even when we send bad
men to prison, we are not unkind to them-
we give them sufficient food and clothing, and
we look after their health; we do not half-
starve them, or ill-treat them in ways that
cannot be made up to them. Neither do we
show ill-will towards them-we put no more
severity into our behaviour to them than is
enough to make it plain that we all feel that
their conduct has been wrong; and we give
them to understand that we wish to help them
to do better in future. Now, in common daily
life, we are bound first of all to show no ill-
will to others-we are bound to do as we
would be done by. That is mere justice; it
is what everybody, without exception, has a
right to ask.
But that is not all. When we have been
just to others, we are a long way from having
done our duty to them. When we have kept
ourselves from showing them ill-will, we have
to go on to show them good-will. This is
what our heavenly Father bids us do, and it
is what our own hearts find it pleasant and
cheerful to do. When we do good to others,
we cannot help feeling some pleasure in it,
and some liking towards the person to whom
we do good. It may be very small at first-
we may hardly be able to tell it from dislike
-it may be a buried seed-but there it is,
and it will grow and put forth leaf, and bud,
and flower, all in good time. And then there
will be a great deal more happiness for all the
world, for good goes on rolling and rolling,
and getting bigger like a snow-ball in the
And now, perhaps, we can see our way out
of the difficulty. We must not pretend to feel
a kindness we do not feel-that we have
settled. But then there are certain things we
must not do, and certain things we must do,
if we are to please God, and help others.
There ought always to be so much general
kindness in our hearts as to prompt us to be
so far good to others, and so far pleasant.

If we cannot feel the pleasantness, let us not
make any pretence of it; but, since it is our
fault, or at least a great pity, let us take all
the more pains to be quite fair and just, and
leave out no act of good-will that we can
manage to do to those to whom we do not
happen to feel pleasantly. If we do this
sincerely, the pleasant feeling towards them
will come. We may not have all the pleasant
feeling that some would call polite," or
"proper," or genteel," and our behaviour
may be unfashionable-it may even offend
somebody, (though we will hope not, and
guard against giving offence). But if we are
honest in our manner, and if we show that we
feel good-will, even where we cannot feel a
liking, God, who is the Father of others as
well as of ourselves, will take care of the
rest, and we shall have done our duty.
Let us end by putting it all in a few words.
Once more let us remember that we are on no
account to put on kind or pleasant feelings;
but we are always to keep from showing ill-will
just as we are bound to keep our hands from
picking and stealing. If we do our duty in
this respect, we shall find that besides the
stock of kindness that we keep deep down
in our hearts-in the bank, you may call it-
we shall carry always about with us a sufficient
stock of general kindness to make life pleasant
to ourselves, and to others whom we know.

'HE trick of the Magnetised Cane is a
clever little fancy. Take a piece of
black silk thread or horse-hair, about two
feet long, and fasten to each end of it a bent
hook of a similar colour. Then, on the sly,
fasten the hooks in the back part of your
trouser legs, about two inches below the bend
of the knees. Then place the cane (which
should be a dark one, and rather light)
within the inner part of the thread, and
you will find that *by an easy movement
of the legs, you can make the cane dance
about, and perform a great variety of curious
movements. At night the friends who witness
your performance cannot see the thread, and
to them the cane will appear to have no
support whatever. The performer should tell
the company, before beginning this trick, that
he is going to magnetize the cane; and if he
keeps on moving his hands about in "passes"
as professors of mesmerism do, the motion of
his legs will not be noticed.




M R. WATERTON was a gentleman who
had travelled a good deal, and was
very fond of animals, and wonderfully clever
in managing them. I am nearly sure that
there is a story of his once getting on the back
of an alligator and riding the beast to the
very place he wanted to go to. At all events,
Mr. Waterton did no end of clever things
with birds and beasts and insects, and he had
a large park in which he kept a "happy
family" of them. I dare say you have seen a
" happy family" in a cage-cats, and mice,
and owls, and snakes, and dogs, and rats, and
canaries, and hawks, all living in peace
together. But the creatures in these "happy
families" look miserable in their cages, as
well they may. Mr. Waterton's park was a
sort of heaven or paradise of wild creatures,
and they used to live in peace together in a
way that nobody would believe who had not
seen it, or heard it spoken of, as I have by
those who had seen it. The creatures used to
be fond of him too, and let him go about just
as he liked. They did not show any desire to
trouble him, nor were they afraid of him.
Well, what I am going to tell you about
happened in Mr. Waterton's park. Walton
Hall had at one time a corn-mill of its own,
and when that was not wanted any longer the
millstone was laid by in an orchard and for-
gotten. This round stone measured five feet
and a-half across, while its depth was about
seven inches. In the middle of it was a hole
eleven inches wide. Some bird or squirrel
had dropped the fruit of a filbert-tree through
this hole on to the earth, and in 1812 the seed-
ling was seen rising up through the hole. As
it grew through this hole and got bigger and
bigger, people used to wonder how the filbert-
tree would get on, as it wanted to grow higher
and higher, and also wider and wider round
the waist. Would it burst the great millstone,
or would the millstone kill it, or would it lift
the millstone? Now, the little filbert tree
actually lifted the millstone, and wore it like a
collar round the trunk. Mr. Waterton used
to sit upon the millstone, and crack the filberts
under the boughs. s. KILLICK.

W E will now say a little more about news-
papers. When a new law is passed,
it is put into the newspapers. And when a

new law is talked about before it is passed, it
is put into the newspapers. Then those who
care about the subject can think it over, and
try to get the new law stopped or altered if
they think it is not as good a law as it ought
to be.
Newspapers printed in London, and other
great places, are sent all over the country
the same morning. All over England people
are reading the same newspapers, at about
breakfast time.
Perhaps one gentleman who is reading a
newspaper at breakfast, looks at the price of
coals, and says to his wife, "My dear, coals
are rising; we had better have a stock in at
Perhaps another says, I see our old friend
So-and-so is in trouble; one of us had better
write or call; perhaps we can help him."
Perhaps another says, I see there is a new
and a better way of curing sprains-we will
inquire about it."
Perhaps another looks at his paper and
says, "I see Mr. So-and-so will preach at such
a place on Sunday-let us go."
Perhaps we read how some brave fellow has
jumped into the water at the risk of his own life
and saved the life of a total stranger; and
then we feel happier and better, because we
see how much good there is in the world.
There is no end to the uses of newspapers.
They are sold very cheap, but it pays those
who get them up and sell them, because so
many millions of persons buy them.
We will have some more reading another
day, about the way in which the things in
newspapers are written, and put in order, and

THE Three Graces, carrying each an equal
number of oranges, were met by the
Nine Muses, who asked for some of them;
and each Grace having given to each Muse
the same number, it was then found that they
had all equal shares. The question is, how
many had the Graces at first ?
ANSWER.-The smallest number that will
answer this question is twelve; for if we sup-
pose that each of the Graces gave one to each
Muse, the Muses would each have three, and
there would remain three for each of the
Graces. Any multiple of 12 will do; but the
answer cannot be a smaller number than 12.




Words by the Author of" Lilliput Levee."
Cheerfully. Music by T. CRAMPTON.

PI I O -
: Ding, ding, ding, ding ding dong dell! Ding, ding, ding, ding, dong dell!
...- -.- ..-- ---

-- --- -p 'lp- -- ----- -- -- -- --

Ding dong dell! Bells ring a- gain! o their has got

well Af ter all her pain I Boys and girls come
well, The sun shines af ter rain! Boys and girls come

out to play; Doc-tor, doc-tor, go a way! Boys and girls come out to play;

I. 2.
Ding dong dell! Ding dong dell!
Bells ring again! Bells ring again!
Mother has got well, Mother has got well,
After all her pain The sun shines after rain !
Boys and girls, come out to play; Boys and girls, come out to play;
Doctor, doctor, go away Doctor, doctor, go away '
Boys and girls, be glad to-day; Boys and girls, come out to play;
And good-bye to yesterday Mother dear is well to-day!




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S :_:: .~~~HE- HA _. .--_ .. __ __ ::. ; -:: -.._-




YES, hee-haw, poor donkey! But there
are wild asses that neigh like a horse,
and the donkey, though we give him hard
usage, is a fine creature. We laugh at his
long ears, and the noise he makes, but we
too often forget his good qualities. We for-
get, too, that it is our ill-usage that has made
him what we now find him to be. The wild
ass is a beautiful creature. In one of the
oldest poems in the world, the Book of Job,
he is spoken of in words that would make a
costermonger, beating a poor donkey on
Hampstead Heath, or driving him along with
a load far too heavy, open his eyes wide.
The wild ass carries his head high; his coat
is fine and handsome; he is a very, very
swift racer, and is at once a brave and friendly
creature. Wherever the climate is nice and
warm, and the people are kind to him, the
donkey is a handsome, as well as a hard-
working animal. Even in Spain, which is
not so very far off, he is a much finer creature
than he is in England. And in Persia and
Arabia he is noble.
In the Bible we find that to ride on white
asses was only for the great; and in the East,
to this day, white asses are held in honour.
In Persia, however, there was a custom of
tinting the head of a red colour-and this is
still sometimes done. That is intended as an
honour. In the dark ages and middle ages,
as they are called (these words will be ex-
plained in some of our lessons in History),
there was a sort of religious festival once a
year, in which the poor donkey played a part.
The peasants used to dress him with flowers
and finery, and take him to church, and sing
songs in his honour, praising his beauty, his
strength, and his good-nature. These songs
used to invite the donkey to join in the chorus,
and sometimes he did, but when he could not
or did not, the priest said Hee-haw for
Poor Hee-Haw he is a most useful crea-
.ture, and the only reason' I can see against his
being fashionable is that he is cheap. In the
East his flesh is eaten as venison, and-one
fact more-the ancient Greeks used to make
flutes out of some of his bones I What do
you say to that, Master Hee-Haw ? Well, we
will say one thing more for you, poor creature.
There is not the slightest sense in the phrase,
"stupid ass." The ass is a highly intelligent
animal; but he is very high-spirited, and
there are times when he won't understand.



UP to this time I firmly believe I have not
told you Tom's name. Well, it was
Martin. When Tom's father was alive he
had baked and sold muffins, and, though it
does not look a very paying business, he
had made a little money by it, so that when
he died he could and did leave his widow
enough to start a lodging-house, and in that
way she got her living.
Tom went and told his mother that his
master had told him he must practise snow-
balling in order to learn to be a painter-
though, if you look back, you will see that is
not what Tom's master said. Mrs. Martin
did not believe it at first, but she was a simple,
goose-faced sort of woman, and had got it
into her head that Mr. Okers meant well by
her boy Tom in some way or other, so one
day she toddled up-stairs to the painting-
room, and tapped at the door.
"Come in," said Mr. Okers.
Oh, begging your pardon, sir," said the
old lady, it's only me."
"All right," said Mr. Okers, "take a seat.
What can I do for you ?"
"Well, sir, I wanted to speak to you," said
"Ah!" said he, just looking up good-
naturedly, and then pretending to take some
colour from his palette. Mrs. Martin twiddled
the corner of her apron, and said "H'm,
"I am sure I am glad to see you looking
so well, Mrs. Martin," said Okers, "how is
Tom ?"
Well, that's where it is," said the mother;
"I thought you seemed very cross with him
sometimes, and then sometimes I think you
like him, and I'm sure he's a good boy, and I
want to ask you if you think you could put
him in the way of doing anything to make
his way in the world. He has a strong con-
stitution, and eats wonderful, Mr. Okers. I
never know when to cook enough for him;
it's because he's growing so, and he is a very
sharp lad of his age."
"He does look well and hearty," said Mr.
Okers, with a smile and a cough, that might
mean anything.
"Do you think, sir," said Mrs. Martin,
"my son Tom '11 ever make a artist, like
yourself, sir ?" and here she made a curtsey,
and smiled. Tom had got his self-confidence
from his mother. Poor Mr. Okers lost his



_ __

patience and his temper, and jumped up,
brush in one hand and palette in the other, and
shouted out, with his eyes wide open:-
"Painter, painter, Mrs. Martin ? Artist,
artist, ma'am ? No, ma'am, he had better go
and be a muffin-boy. That is all he's fit for."
Now, Mr. Okers didn't know that the late
Mr. Martin had been in the trade, or he would
not have been so rude as to say that, but say
it he did. That is the sort of thing our bad
tempers do for us. Mrs. Martin drew herself
up to her full height directly, and made an
angry answer-
"And if my Tom was a muffin-boy, Mr.
Okers, it's a honest trade, and his father made
muffins before him, and was as good a man
as I am a woman, and I give you a month's
notice to quit, Mr. Okers, from Saturday."
And so saying, Mrs. Martin bounced out
of the room, feeling that she had had the
best of it. And so she had, for Mr. Okers
liked the rooms, and they were so crammed
with nick-nacks huddled together by him
in different corners, that he didn't want the
trouble of moving. After his landlady had
slammed the door he got up and walked
across the room, whistling:-
"Now I've made a pretty kettle of fish of
it," said he, "the boy is a useless young cub,
not worth twopence a week; and he's always
putting me in a rage; but I don't want to
move my traps just yet; and- there, there,
perhaps the old girl will come to." Here
Mr. Okers kicked against something.
"Hullo said he, "what's this? Well, this
is cool. If that young beggar hasn't been
and made a rope ladder out of that coil.
Well," he went on, as he lifted the ladder up,
" he has done it very well. Not a bad ladder.
There must be something in him. Sorry I
cut up so rough to the old lady just now;"
and he went on whistling.
Bless me," said Mr. Okers rather uneasily,
"how hot it's getting." He went and looked
at the thermometer in the corner of the room
-it had risen five or six degrees since
morning-and he opened the upper and lower
sashes of the window a little.
And Tom was good for something even
beyond rope-ladder making. Mr. Okers
had thrown the coil of rope after him and told
him to take it, and what harm had he done
by making a rope-ladder out of it in odd
moments? None; but besides having em-
ployed his' time in a way that was at least
harmless, he was now engaged in pleading
with his mother to ask Mr. Okers to stay
in spite of the notice to quit.

"Why, Tom," said his mother, "what
makes you so soft-hearted ?"
The fact is, Tom was crying over it.
"Don't let him go, mother," sobbed poor
"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Martin; "what
makes you so fond of him ? He's a jackanapes,
that's what he is."
"I dunno, mother," says Tom, but I don't
want him to go away."
Just then they heard the painter's bell ring.
Tom went up-stairs directly.
"I can't find a knife," said Okers; "lend
me yours."
He spoke gently, and Tom, very pleased,
handed over his jack-knife. Okers began to
cut the cords of the dreadful box.
"Phew I it's very hot," said Okers.
"It's been getting warmer and warmer
these three days, sir."
"Has it, Tom? I've been too busy to
Snap went the cord as the knife touched it,
and Okers began to undo the box. At last
the rope was all off. Before the last piece
went flop on the floor, Tom had stolen out.
Okers unlocked the box and lifted the lid.
But how was it that it seemed partly to lift
itself? The painter started back and cried
"Ah!" with a great gasp. The heat had
woke up the cobra, which now lifted its hor-
rible head, and began to uncoil its body out
of the box. MAX LESTER.
(To be coniinued.)



ONE, two,-
Who are you?
Three, four,-
Shut the door!
Four, five,-
Jack's alive!
Five, six,
Tiles and bricks!
Six, seven,
Stars in heaven
Seven, eight,-
Hold your plate
Nine, ten, twenty, thirty,-
Sips of milk, they will not hurt ee'.


H ERE is Totty;
Her brother Trotty
Carries a broom
All round the room
In a beautiful manner,
Just for a banner.

Robert, the horse,
Pursues his course,
"While Gus, the driver-
A great contriver-
Says, "Come on, chariot!
There's nothing to tarry at;

And dance away, Trotty,
In honour of Totty,
Who sits in the chariot,
With nothing to tarry at,
Looking as grand
As the queen of the land."


PEEP- SIlO W. 77


ALL in the wheat,
Where the air is sweet,
When the wind is blowing
And the poppies are growing,
One little mouse
Is sitting in the house
(I mean the nest
Where he goes to rest),
And looking out
(What a dear little snout!)
To welcome his mother-
(Or father, or brother;
But mother, I guess,

No more and no less).
You can see her walk
Right up the stalk;
Dear little mouse !
In the tiny house,
Where mice are born,
All out in the corn,
They are not annoying,
Like tame mice, enjoying
Candles and cheeses,
And other greases;
Bacons and flours
In houses of ours. A. WHISTLER.




78 PEEP-Sb' 0 W.


OUGHT we old folks to say anything, or
at least ought we to say much, to the
young folks about such things as Ragged
Schools, and the wickedness and the misery that
had their own way for a long time before such

get his own living. But perhaps you have
noticed that shoemakers and tailors often do
a great deal of thinking; they have, in fact,
much more time for some kinds of thinking
than clerks, or doctors, or lawyers, or men
who write in newspapers and periodicals.
The sort of work they do is not enough to fill
their minds, and yet it keeps them quiet in a
way that is convenient for thinking. Shoe-
makers and tailors have written books more
frequently than any other kind of workmen.

things were wanted ? I think we ought not
to say much to the young about these matters;
let them be gay and without anxiety as long
as we can help them to be so; but we may
say a little, and do no harm.
John Pounds was a poor working shoe-
maker, a cobbler you may call him. He lived
at Portsmouth, and had quite enough to do to

John Pounds used to feel very sad in his
heart when he saw poor ragged children
running loose in the streets of Portsmouth.
He thought, and thought, and, as he was a
man who believed that God will give wisdom
to those who ask Him for it, he prayed for
wisdom to do something for these poor
children, who seemed to have no one to look
after them. Then he invited some of them
to come to him in the little room where he did
his work. As he was a kind and sincere man,



J:IIF 'p;


a good many of them liked to be asked to
come to him, and they came. And John Pounds
turned his poor room into a schoolroom, and
taught the ragged children while he ham-
mered away at his boots and shoes. He did
this for nothing, and he kept it up for
twenty years. This school, opened by John
Pounds of Portsmouth, was the first RAGGED
By-and-by a good and wise gentleman in
Scotland thought others ought to do what
John Pounds did, or better if they could; and
all through this Scotch gentleman, whose
name was Watson, a public ragged day-school
was opened in Aberdeen in 1841. Ragged
schools for Sundays had been opened in Lon-
don before this. In all these schools, or most
of them, some food and often some clothing
was given to the poor half-starved creatures
that came to them. Many of the poor
children brought up in ragged schools had
neither fathers nor mothers that they knew
of. Some must have been left to starve or
to get their living by theft if it had not
been for the care and teaching they got
in these schools. A good many of these
poor boys and girls have turned out clever
and good men and women, and have done
very well in life.
And now we have come to a part of the
subject where we must leave off speaking
about ragged schools themselves, because
we have come to things that people differ
in opinion about. But there is something
that we must say. How was it that the
poor children who made the heart of John
Pounds sad came to be like that-half-
starved, ignorant, ill-used, and loose in the
streets, in company with thieves, and covered
with dirty rags ? Because their fathers
and mothers had done wrong, or because
somebody else had done wrong. So John
Pounds and others have had to work hard at
their own cost to make things a little right
again. We must say a little right, because a
wrong once done cannot be undone, and
nobody can tell how much mischief will come
of it, or how long it will last, or how many
people will be hurt by it. Now what we
have all got to remember is that there ought
not to be any misery in the world at all. When
we see it we must do what we can to cure it,
just as we must put oiled wool on a burnt
skin; but the thing is to mind that misery
does not come. Every lazy, or unkind, or
greedy, or untrue thing we do helps to make
misery. And so does every wasteful thing
we do.

But come, we will stop.
each other and please our
and all the rest will come,
right as well as feel glad.

Let us try to love
Heavenly Father,
and we shall do



UESTION.-One man was carrying a
sack full; another was carrying three
sacks; which was carrying the heaviest load?
ANswER.-The one that carried the sack
full. Three sacks would not weigh much.
(This is what vulgar people call a sell.")

QUESTION.-A room with eight corners, had
a cat in each corner, seven cats before each
cat, and a cat on every cat's tail. What was
the total number of cats ?
ANSWER.-Eight cats.

QUESTION.-What is the difference between
twenty four-quart bottles, and four-and-
twenty quart bottles ?
ANSWER.-56 quarts difference.

QUESTION.-What three figures multiplied
by 4 will make precisely 5 ?
ANSWER.--I (put decimally, I'25).

QUESTION.-What is the difference between
six dozen dozen and half-a-dozen dozen ?
ANSWER.-792; six dozen dozen being 864,
and half-a-dozen dozen 72.

I THOUGHT I would call on the King
and Queen,
To sing them a song to my tambourine;
I went to the palace, and knocked so hard,
And spoke to a Yeoman of the Guard:
"Pray, Mr. Beefeater," I said,
"Whereis the King?" Says he, "Inbed."
"And where is the Queen?" says I, beside.
Says he, Why, out in the park for a ride."
If the Queen is out, and the King in bed,
Good morning," says I, and shook my head.
"Good day to you," said the Beefeater,
"But I think you might have called me Sir."



So PEP-_l W.


BUNTING Bob Brown,
He lived in a town
Close up by the sea, and his father lived by
And little Bunting Bob
Had dreams in his nob
Of being a great admiral, and so he went

A-wishing for a ship,
And a big ocean-trip,
With an epaulet a-shining on his shoulder;
And may Bunting Bob acquire
The whole of his desire
When Bunting Bob has got a little older I





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PHEMIE LEBURN lived with her father
and mother away up among the moun-
tains, ever so many miles away from the
parish school. In winter she stayed at home
with her mother, helping her to spin and to
knit, and looked after the few hens and ducks
they kept along with the brown cow in the little
byre at the end of their thatched cottage.
Phemie was very fond of her lessons, and it
vexed her terribly when the cold weather
came, for her mother spoke Gaelic, and only
knew a very little English; and as for her
father, who was a shepherd, he had far too
much to do looking after his sheep to think of
Phemie and her books. But when the snow
began to melt and the grass appeared again,
then Phemie watched for the first opportunity
to get back to her old seat in the village
school. She had a long road to walk among
the mountains, but long though it was, she
was always first at school.. When the teacher'
took notice of her punctuality, the lazy
ones showed a dislike to her, and said unkind
things. They used to laugh at the coarse
bread she brought for her dinner, and
used to say she lived upon juniper berries
all winter, because she had once brought a
basketful to the schoolmaster. As for her
bare feet, that was of no consequence, because
all the children in the school went barefooted,
rich and poor; but Phemie's clothes were
certainly older, though more carefully mended,
than those of the other girls.
The first summer Donald, the laird's son,
had joined the parish school, he was often sur-
prised to find himself beaten in his lessons by
this poorly-clothed girl, the daughter of his
own father's shepherd. Instead of being
angry with her as the others had been, he
treated her with great kindness, and many a
time took her part when any of the boys were
unusually rude to her. This only made matters
worse for poor Phemie. Some of the girls
made up their minds to play a trick upon her.
Close by the school was a waterfall, and the
girls used often to amuse themselves during
the play-hour by wading across the burn,
venturing as close to the pool itself as they
dared. 't was supposed that the pool into
which the water fell was deep, and the
teacher had more than once warned them
away from it. As Phemie was not a favourite,
she used to take herself away up behind a



steep rock, where she had a snug seat, and
there she studied her lessons over again for
the afternoon. But to her surprise one after-
noon, when she was about to go there, some
of the girls asked her to join them in their
game by the waterfall. Phemie was only too
glad to accept, and for ever so long she waded
about, laughing, and splashing her feet among
the white spray of the waterfall, till she found
herself close to the edge of it. Two of the
girls were close behind her, and as she turned
to run back they gave her a push, and over
into the foam she went. They did not expect
she would fall into the pool, but only down
into the water, but the noise and their spite
had confused them. The water tumbled
Phemie on to a stone at the back of the fall;
where she was safe enough, but out she could
not get without passing through the pool
again. At this moment Donald came up
and saw where his favourite schoolmate had
got to, and managed to throw a rope to her.
This she tied round her waist as firmly as she
"Now," cried Donald, "shut your eyes and
your mouth tight; we are going to haul you
through the water again; it's the only way
to save you ard get you out."
Phemie was a brave girl, none of them could
help saying that of her, for she neither ob-
jected nor cried, nor made a fuss of any kind,
but did as Donald had told her.
When she was safely landed on the grass
bank once more, Donald gave vent to his in-
dignation, for he had seen the girls push
Phemie in. "You're a mean set of cowards,"
he cried. "It's just because Phemie is so
clever that you are so spiteful; but let me tell
you, if I catch one of you laying a finger on
her again, you'll have to answer for it !"
I am glad to say, however, the girls were very
much ashamed of themselves, for they might
have killed their schoolmate, and ever after
they were very kind to her. Every day, too,
Donald waited for Phemie at the end of the
village and took her safely home, treating
her as kindly as if she had been his sister.
He not only carried her bag for her, but
when the sun was too hot he shaded her
from it with a huge coltsfoot leaf which he
got from the side of a sluggish stream for the
purpose. Was not Donald the laird's son a
little gentleman ?



T HERE was once a white satip waist-ribbon
That was very proud of being so white.
One Christmas time it went out to a ball. It
"was round the waist of a nice little girl in
pink muslin, and it said to itself, "I am the
whitest ribbon in the room, and I would rather
be round the waist of that tall young lady in
blue silk." Then the ribbon made a creaking
noise, and the girl in blue silk happened to
come by, and she offered to exchange waist-
ribbons with the little girl in pink muslin.
When this was done, after the ball was over
the white ribbon was ever so pleased, and
said to itself, "Now I shall be happy among
silks and velvets and ostrich feathers. That
is proper company for a beautiful white satin
ribbon like me; muslin was hardly respectable,
I think."
But the ribbon's new mistress was not a
clean girl, and she was very careless, so the
white satin ribbon soon got soiled, and left
out in the cold with dirty things, instead of
living in musk and camphor with furs and
velvets. It used to creak very much as long
as it was worn at all, and what it meant to
say' was-" you must. keep me white, keep
me white, keep me white, do you hear? I am
a beautiful white satin ribbon, satin ribbon,
satin ribbon." And then it creaked quite loud.
But it was of no use. The young lady gave
it away to the housemaid, and said, "You
can dye that if.you like-it is good satin, and
there's plenty of it;" and she gave the ser-
vant the dye to do it with.
"I shall dye it blue," said the housemaid,
drawing it through her fingers.
"Not blue, not blue," said the ribbon,
"white, if you please."
Then the housemaid said, "Well, it is a
good bit of satin. I should not have thought
it had so much life in it as to creak like that
after all this wear."
All the while it was in the blue dye bath
the ribbon kept on saying-" I'm a white- satin
ribbon; I won't be blue, I won't be blue;" but
the maid-servant thought it was only the
wobbling and bubbling of the water, as she
turned the ribbon over and over with a piece
of wood.
Then the young woman hung out the ribbon
on a line to dry. It could not creak now, but
it cried so much that the line was wet, and
dirty blue drops fell on the ground under-
"What is the matter?" said the grass.
"We never had rain like this before."

All of a sudden it came on to snow and
blow too.
"Thank my stars! said the ribbon, "I am
now going to be made white again;" and it
danced in the wind for joy. But the wind
kept on blowing the snow away, and by the
time the ribbon was dry it was of a muddy
colour that was not even blue. When the
young woman came and looked at it she said
"Pooh and took off the peg, and the wind
carried the muddy blue ribbon into the street.
Then a dustman came by and saw it, -and he
picked it up and made it into garters for his

OUT of all the birds you know,
Underneath the sky that go,
Which would you prefer to be?
"That's a poser. Let me see:
I would not be an eagle,
An ostrich, or a sea-gull,
A falcon, or a pigeon,
Or a jackdaw, whose religion
Is all outside the church,
Or a parrot on a perch,
Or a vulture, or a stork,
Or a swift, as light as cork,
Nor a peacock, for all his tail,
Nor even a nightingale,
Nor any in the aviary;
I would be the gold canary
Of Mary, sister Mary;
For sister Mary feeds it,
And talks to it, and heeds it;
And sometimes she would kiss me,
And then, some day, would miss me,
And then my sister Mary
Would call upon a fairy
To change me to a boy again,
In trousers, for a joy again I
Good luck to you, canary,
And kiss me, sister Mary !

T HE web of the spider
Grows wider and wider,
Up in the corner of Betsy's room;
Says Poppety-petsy,
I wonder if Betsy
Has seen it, and thinks of the use of a
broom ? "

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., 8



JACK AND HIS BROTHERS. but not exactly as the PEEP-SHOW man knows
it. This is one of the stories that are told
THE PEEP-SHOW man will now go to his differently, and in some parts of the world it
magic-lantern box again, and show you is mixed up with Tom Thumb. These pictures
the story of Jack and His Brothers. You may show where he goes to the giant. You see
have heard that story, or part of it, before, how frightened his brothers look, and how

I 4 .I A

"Jack, '* r : t,1.r I j | I nr r l I I' C '
bold and clever and good-humoured Jack nations the way of telling th
looks. I think he will get the best of it- do but you can see that the meani
not you ? All over the world there are stories in all of them. This story is
about the cleverness and courage of the one can find the beginning of it
youngest and smallest brother. In different -*-

e story differs;
"ng is the same
;o old, that no






N OTHING came of this at the time, but I
was so puzzled and vexed about
Rachel's ways that I was glad to take the
first chance of slipping out of her company.
I went up two more flights of stairs and out
into the upper balcony; and from there, in
the stillness of the summer evening, watched
the coming down of the dusk, or looked down
at the people in the street, moving about like
puppets in a show-they seemed so small. I
could not make out how any one could be reli-
gious, and yet be greedy and want to teaze other
people. I should have thought nothing of it,
I suppose, if I had been knocked about among
other girls at a good-sized school; but I had
only been for a short time to an old-fashioned
dame-school in Norfolk. The rest of my time
had passed in quiet life at home, in illness, in
almost lonely amusements, or in reading.
Among the good men whom I used often to
see at this time of my life was a great mis-
sionary whom all the world now knows.
When I heard him telling the people in
Westminster Abbey not long ago that he could
have spoken to them in Bechuana perhaps
better than in English, I thought of the days
when he used to take me on his knee, and
teach me Bechuanawords in play. He was a
tall man, very dark, and his big beard used
almost to cover poor little me. He had then
a baby just out of long-clothes. This baby,
I was told, had been born on board ship, and
great was the wonder with which I used to
look at that little mite; thinking, would it be
different from other children because it had
been out among the waves and sharks when
so little, and had come all the way across the
Gulf of Guinea and the Bay of Biscay. The little
creature was as black as soot-no, not quite;
but as dark as its papa. Its papa was rather
a rough-looking man; and his ways were
those of a man who had been much among
strange people; but he was kind and gentle,
and full of thought for others, and there was
always a sort of scramble among us young
people to settle which should take his hat, or
put a chair for him. I ihink (but I was very
young and cannot be sure) that he had come
over to England then to get the New Testa-
ment printed in Bechuana.
It so happened that the woman who used to
come and clean out my papa's warehouse
had a little girl named Maria, who was a good

deal about the place, and was a crony of mine.
She was a proud little thing, and ever so
pretty-only she had a cast in her left eye-
in plain words, she squinted. Young as she.
was, she used to fret about this, and it almost
looked as if she tried to make up for it by fine
dressing-at all events, she was fond of smart
things. I often caught her looking at herself
in the glass-then she would colour up and
turn away quickly. Rachel, who did not like
her, would say spitefully, "Well, Maria, I
suppose you are admiring your own beauty ?"
I used to feel very distant from Rachel, but
what to do I did not know. It was bad to
tell tales; and, besides, what tale was there
to tell? I could not go and say, "Mamma,
I do not like Rachel." As for my papa, he
was so simple-hearted and good-natured that
he never in all his life believed harm of any-
body till it was too late.
One day, during all this missionary ex-
citement-and you must know that the mis-
sionary excitement in those times was very,
very great indeed-I was all alone up in the
garret of the house, turning over playthings
and old-fashioned odds and ends in a tumble-
down chest of drawers there. A little foot
was soon on the stairs, and I knew it was
Rachel's. She sat down on the floor beside
me, and first of all admired an old ivory fan
that I had just turned up. Then she began
talking about hymns, and chapel, and the
little black-haired baby born at sea, and said
how nicely Maria had nursed it the other day.
"I suppose, Biddy," said Rachel, "you
have got plenty of pocket-money ?"
"No," I replied, "I spent all I had last
Friday in buying a new brass collar for Dash."
"Oh, but your papa would give you the
money over again if you was to ask him."
"Yes, I dare say," said I, rather angry;
"papa is not stingy, no more am I. I don't
grudge Dash his collar, poor fellow."
Just then I turned up another ivory fan.
Why, how many of these fans are there ?"
asked Rachel; "where did they come from ?"
"I think a sea-captain gave some to papa
once, and there are some ivory ball puzzles
too," said I, turning over the drawer.
"Biddy, dear," said Rachel, "I wish you
could lend me some money; I want to put
some into the missionary collection next
"But won't your mamma let you have
some ? said I.
"Oh, yes, she would-perhaps-but she is
so strict. The last time we came to the plate
I pretended to put money into it, but I didn't;


I only gave the plate a tap and kept the
money back, and she found it out, you know;
she is so sharp. So I don't like to ask
"No," said I, in utter astonishment; and
perhaps I said something else, but I forget.
The next day, the tall dark missionary with
the big beard called, and it made me angry
and jealous to see how kind and fond he was
to Rachel. I could scarcely gulp down my
tears when I saw him kiss her. But then, I
thought to myself, "Why, this is very wicked
of me; I am a mean, jealous girl;" and then
I cried right out, and rushed into the. hall to
try to get better. Indeed, I heard Maria's
voice. Rachel followed me, laughing.
"Now then, Biddy, what are you crying for ?"
said she; "Oh, I say, may I take Maria to
the attic, and show her those Chinese fans and
things ?"
"Ye-e-s," said I, sobbing, and wondering
whether it was Rachel or myself that was
naughty. I felt that there was something
going wrong, but could not separate the just
feeling in my own mind from the feeling that
was unkind, perhaps mean. But there was a
worse puzzle in store for me. Poor little
(To be continued.)


PETER Potter
He was a trotter
And galloper bold,
"When the weather was cold:
But Peter Potter
"When the weather was hotter
Went more slowly,
From side to side,
If the path was wide:
Thus did Potter
When it was hotter,
And 'twas wise of Peter
Not to be fleeter:
For who would run
In a blazing sun,
Unless he was made,
Or very well paid;
Or out of duty,
Or for love, or beauty ?



A POOR woman, carrying a basket of
apples, was met by three boys, the
first of whom bought half of what she had, and
then gave her back Io; the second boy
bought a third of what remained, and gave
her back 2; and the third bought half of what
she had now left, and returned her one; after
which she found she had 12 apples remaining.
What number had she at first?
Answer. From the 12 remaining deduct I,
and II is the number she sold the last boy,
which was half she had; her number at that
time, therefore, was 22. From 22 deduct 2,
and the remaining 20 was two-thirds of her
prior stock, which was therefore 30. From 30
deduct io, and the remainder 20 is half her
original stock; consequently she had at first
40 apples.

YES, the elephant is a patient beast; he
will not hurt one of those tiresome boys.
As long ago as the time of 2Elian, who lived
full sixteen hundred years ago, his patience
was noticed, and his tenderness to the young.
We must not believe all that ,Elian says in
his book, written in Greek, about the "Pe-
culiarities of Animals;" but he tells a story of
an elephant that was very, very forbearing to a
schoolboy in Rome who teased it by pricking
it with a stylus, or iron pen. The kindly
beast only took him up in his trunk, gave
him a little shake to frighten him, and then set
him down on his feet again, safe and sound.
One of the drollest stories 2Elian tells is that
of an elephant which was being drilled for the
sports of the arena. He was rather awkward
at being put through his paces, and the drill-
master used to call him a blockhead. This hurt
his feelings very much. He resolved, it seems, to
try to practise his goose step (you can ask what
that means if you do not know already) when
nobody was looking. But he was found out,
one fine moonlight night, going through his
exercises all by himself, in order to have
plenty of practice I You do not believe it ?
No more do I; but perhaps elephants have
done things quite as clever. .Elian says that
when the Romans first saw elephants they
called them a new kind of oxen-taking their
tusks for horns. That was not bad-for a mis-
take. If ever you sit on an elephant's back,
as those boys are doing, or failing to do, mind
you ask him whether he practises dancing by
moonlight. s. GOLDING.

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