The raccoon, and other stories for boys and girls


Material Information

The raccoon, and other stories for boys and girls
Cover title:
Physical Description:
p. 93-192 : ill. ; 21 cm.
Arthur, T. S ( Timothy Shay ), 1809-1885 ( Editor )
Louderbach, James W ( Engraver )
J.B. Lippincott & Co ( Publisher )
J.B. Lippincott & Co.
Place of Publication:
Publication Date:


Subjects / Keywords:
Animals -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1880   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1880   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1880
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia


Statement of Responsibility:
edited by Uncle Herbert.
General Note:
Some illustrations engraved by Lauderbach (Louderbach).
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).

Record Information

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 - 002236394
notis - ALH6865
oclc - 23460149
System ID:

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Selected from The Budget."

Editor of Prattler," Etc., Etc.


Copyright, 1880, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & Co.


THE RACCOON............................................................................................. 99
M Y K ITTENS........... ............................................ ....... ......... 100
THE BURNET MOTH.................................................... 102
ROBBING BIRDS' NESTS................................................... 104
G OOD-H OR..................... ....................................... .................... 107
A JAPANESE ORCHESTRA.............................. ......................... 108
THE Two SPRITES............... .................................... .................. 110
LITTLE E UNICE..................... .......... ...... ...... ......................... 113
D OGS.............. ........................... ........................ ................... 114
WATERING IIS GARDEN WITH RAIN............... .. ........................ 116
A PLEASANT FAMILY................................................... 119
WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ROBBY ?............................................. 120
CHRISTMAS BELLS............................................. ..... 123
M OTHER'S LETTER........................................................ .................. 124
SHEEP............................ .............. .... ... ....... .................... 127
W INTER..................... .................. ............. .......... ..... ............... 129
THE BIRD THAT WALKS ON THE WATER........................................... 130
CHILDREN AMONG THE FLOWERS................... ................... 132
PussY CAT..................................................... .. .................. 134
THE NEW SCHOLAR................ ................................ ..................... 136
THE PRISONER..................................................... 138
THE FRIGATE-BIRD ................................................. 141
MINNIE TO DOLLY...................................................... 145
THE DOLL'S WASHING .................................... .................... 146
THE GARDENER'S GRANDCHILD........................................................ 150
7 97

THE ESCAPE.................................................................................... 152
THE LOST PENKNIFE ........................................... ......................... 154
LILY AND HER DOLLY................................................................... 157
THE KITTEN AND FALLING LEAVES .................................................. 160
NIGHT-WATCHMEN.......................................................................... 162
IDA'S CHICKENS............................................................................... 164
TRY, TRY, TRY AGAIN................................................................. 168
THE GREEDY MICE.......................................................... 170
GOOD ADVICE FOR LITTLE ONES............................. .................... 170
SHAVING JACK................................................... ........................ 172
THE PURSUIT OF THE BUTTERFLY .............................. ............. 174
A HAPPY NEW YEAR.................................... ..................... 176
ROMAN CHILDREN ...............................................* 178
BIRDS AND BIRDS' NESTS........................................... 180
T H E O AK ........................................................................................ 183
K ITTIE ................... ...... .................................... ...................... 184
Do SOMETHING FOR EACH OTHER.........................................186
THE SISTERS................................................................. 186
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS ..............................** ******* 188
DISOBEDIENT HARRY ........................................................... 190
OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN ................... ....................... .................... 192



^', fHAT a queer-looking rat !"
No, my little friend, it is not a rat. Take a closer
look. Rats have smooth tails, while the animal sitting
up there so cunning, just as if he expected to have his
picture taken, has, you will see, a bushy tail.
"I can tell you what it is," says little Freddy Green, whose
father is a farmer, and lives near a wild piece of woods-" yes,
I can tell you what it is. It's a 'coon, just as sure as can be.
Brother Jim caught one not long ago out in the 'swamp woods.'
And he's made a pet of him, and keeps him tied up by a chain,
and he sleeps in a box; and a funny fellow he is, too; only he
tries to bite us when we tease him. Yes, and he did bite Ellis
Treadway right through the hand when Ellis was pulling his
tail to make him snarl. Brother Jim caught him one night
long after I was in bed. He and George Gruff, and Ellis
Treadway, and Charlie Richmond went out in the swamp with
Mr. Gruff's big dog, old Tip. Tip soon scared up a 'coon-
that's what we call it here, though Eddie Jones, who lives in
town, and reads no end of books, says we ought to say raccoon."
"But what is the raccoon in the picture doing ?" our young
friends may ask. This question the gentleman who drew the
picture must answer. As he was a Frenchman, we will put his
reply in English. He had gone in a canoe along with a guide
and a negro boy to spend a week in a Florida swamp. One
day, while taking a nap, he was awakened by the buzzing and
the sharp stings of some great gnats with black wings, with
which the place was swarming. "I raised my eyes," he goes
on to say, "and looked over the edge of the canoe. The tide
was low, and the canoe almost on dry ground. Right in front
of me, on the other side of the creek, I saw an animal of a
grayish color spotted with black. Its tail was bushy, with rings

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of black and gray. It was about the size of a fox, and its head
was like a fox's, only the ears were short, as if they had been
trimmed off. From its hair I would have thought it a hyena,
while in its shape it looked like a small bear. Not having seen
us, it was busying itself catching shrimps in the little ponds of
water left by the tide. Sitting upright, like a monkey, the
animal would stir the water with one of its paws, causing the
shrimps to jump up in the air, when it would catch them, pull
off their heads, and lay them in a heap by its side. Having
thus caught as many as it wanted, it washed them carefully,
made them with its paws into little balls, dipped them in the
water, and then ate them up. This was what Cuvier has named
in Latin the 'washing bear,' from the strange habit it has of
wetting all its food before eating it. The negroes, who give it
the name of raccoon, are very fond of its flesh."

Y dear little kittens !-my five little darlings !-
I loved you-the gray ones, the spotted, the white;
I brought you your breakfast of warm milk each morning,
And saw you all lap it with keenest delight.

You played, too, so merry and cunning together;
Your mother would watch while she lay in the straw,
A-winking her eyes in the warm summer weather,
And giving you sometimes a tap with her paw.

You would pull at her tail, at her ears you would nibble;
You had no respect for her gray hairs at all;
I am sure, though, she liked it, but sometimes she scolded,
And said in cat-language, Be off with you all !"


But one day poor Whitey, the prettiest darling
Of all these five kittens, grew sick and then died;
I never again could have such a sweet kitten,
And oh how I grieved, and how sadly I cried !

I went out and dug her a grave in the garden,
And lined it all softly with leaves and with moss;
I brought to the burial her brothers and sisters,
Thinking that they, too, would mourn for her loss.

But the heartless things capered and whisked all around me-
They chased a bright butterfly, searched for a mouse,
Jumped for the bird that sang up in the pear-tree;
I whipped them and sent them all back to the house.


1_- =--
-- ----


Then I filled up the grave and I rounded it over,
And made it a border of white pearly stone,
And on it I planted a nice root of catnip,
Then left little Whitey to sleep all alone.

NSECTS are thus named because their bodies look as if
they were notched or cut into, and that is the real meaning
of the word insect. They have no red blood in them, but
in its place is found a cold, yellowish liquid. They have
at least six hard, horny legs.
There are numerous kinds of insects. Indeed, there are
more varieties of insects than of any other living thing. Over
sixty thousand species have already been discovered, and more
are constantly being found.
Insects vary in size from the large butterfly and beetle down
to the tiny living thing that only can be seen by the aid of a
microscope. Everywhere, in-doors and out, on the ground, in
the air and in the water, the world is swarming with countless
forms of insect life.
We all know how ugly, crawling caterpillars become beautiful
butterflies, but perhaps some of us do not know that nearly all
insects pass through some kind of change, or transformation as
it is called, before they assume their perfect shape.
Some insects live in communities, like ants and bees, and
build houses, and lay by store from year to year. Others live
and work all alone. Still others take no thought for to-morrow,
but are content to enjoy the honey and sunshine of to-day.
Among the latter the butterflies and moths may be found.
Butterflies and moths are similar in appearance and habits.
If there is any doubt whether an insect is a butterfly or a moth,


S ---

there is one rule by which they can almost certainly be
distinguished. The butterfly when at rest closes its wings like
a sheet book, or like the two hands with palms laid together,


only the under side of the wings being seen. The moth, on the
contrary, lays its wings flat, and laps one over the other, as
though you placed the palm of one hand on the back of the
other, the upper or right side of the wing being left in sight.
Butterflies fly by day, and moths usually by night. All
moths do not fly by night, however. There is the Burnet moth,
a beautiful creature found in Europe upon the shores of the
Mediterranean Sea. It forms, perhaps, a link between moths
and butterflies, as it delights in sunshine. Its head, antennae,
or horn-like feelers, legs, and body are black and somewhat
hairy. Its upper wings are of a bright bluish-green, with six
spots of a beautiful red on each, bordered by a little green.
The caterpillar from which this elegant creature comes is yellow
spotted with black, and the cocoon or cradle of the baby butter-
fly is boat-shaped, with lengthwise furrows, and of a straw


C9 OBBING the nests of little birds that build without hands
the downy cradles in which they lay their eggs, rear their
offspring-build with such care, and often with such
wonderful skill-is an easy thing for a strong, hearty boy
who knows how to climb and has not learned how to pity the
birds. If he had pity for the tender innocent things, it would
not be so easy to rob them, no matter how strong he might be.
His kind heat would hold him back.
Not such- easy work is it, however, to rob the nest of a sea
eagle, as you may infer from a glance at the picture on the
opposite page. The sea eagle will not trust its eggs or young in
any place where it seems possible for a man or wild animal to


;* ,

reach them, but builds its nest on the edge of a rock, generally
fronting the sea, far below the top, and seemingly out of the
reach of all danger. Let me tell you what that eminent


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--'we -t
S-: -- = ---: :-:-2 -


naturalist, the Rev. J. G. Wood, author of "Homes without
Hands," tells us in his Illustrated Natural History" about the
sea eagle, sometimes called the white-tailed eagle. He says,-
"This species is found in all parts of Europe, but is not
known to visit America. As it is a fish-loving bird, and is
nearly as great an adept at angling as the osprey, it is generally
found on the sea coast. It possesses, however, a very accommo-
dating appetite, and often makes journeys inland in search of
food. Young fawns, lambs, hares, and other animals then fall
victims to its hunger, and it is said to watch for disabled or
dying deer, and to hasten their end by the injuries it inflicts
upon them.
"On the shore the sea eagle seems to have regular hunting-
grounds, and to make its rounds with perfect regularity,
appearing at a certain spot at the same hour daily, keeping an
anxious eye on the multitude of sea-fowl as they hover about
the rock-ledges in attendance on their mates and families.
One of these birds that was domesticated at Oxford a few
years ago, and was very generally known throughout the neigh-
borhood, contrived on one occasion to eat a hedgehog that had
strayed too near its quarters. It might have been naturally
supposed that the prickly skin of the animal would have caused
some discomfort in the eagle's stomach. Nothing of the kind,
however, happened, for the eagle, as is usual among rapacious
birds, ejected the skin and indigestible portions of the hedgehog,
and seemed to have felt no inconvenience whatever from the
prickly spines. The same bird used to spend much of its time
in trying to eat a tortoise-a proceeding that did not seem to
trouble the tortoise in the least.
"This bird, the sea eagle, is fierce and determined, has a
strange look of self-will in its eyes.. When wounded, it fights
fiercely, and even when disabled by a broken wing it has been
known to strike so sharply with its sound wing that the utmost


efforts of two men were required before it could be subdued and
"Generally," says Mr. Wood, in his "Homes without
Hands," "the nest is placed in some inaccessible spot, and the
bird seems never so pleased as when it can find a rocky ledge
situated about half-way down a precipice, and sheltered from
above by a large projecting piece of rock. This projection
answers two purposes. It prevents the nest from being seen
from above, and also prevents its being disturbed by persons let
down with ropes from above. To take an eagle's nest is always
a task of extreme difficulty, and one that tries the nerves to the
utmost. It also requires great courage, for if the parent bird
should discover the intruder, he is sure to attack him, and he
would then be in very great danger."
And a glance at the picture will show in what peril of hig
life any one would be thus attacked by a bird of such fierceness
and strength.


SAM a first-rate fairy,
6 Good-humor" is my name;
I use my wand where'er I go,
And make the rough ways plain;

And makes the ugly faces shine,
The shrillest voices sweet,
The coarsest ore a golden mine,
The poorest lives complete.


q l HAT funny kind of music!" said Eddie White. He
was turning over the leaves of a book which his father
Shad brought home that morning. "Just see that man,
papa I should say he was beating on a looking-glass."
And Eddie pointed to one of the figures in a picture of Japanese
It does look like a mirror," replied Eddie's father, "but it
isn't for all that."
No, I suppose not, or else it would be smashed all to pieces,"
said Eddie. "Is it some kind of a musical instrument ?"
Yes, a gong."
I've seen gongs and heard them too;" and Eddie put his
hands over his ears and made a wry face. "But that doesn't
look like one."
"The Chinese gong is a round metal pan, and gives forth a
terrible noise, but this gong is made of dressed skin stretched in
a frame and handsomely ornamented. It is set upon a stand or
pedestal, and the player sits before it as you see in the picture."
"Oh, that's it! And just look at his cap It's got wings."
It's the Japanese musician's cap, and is made after the style
of the ancient national helmet," said Mr. White. "You see
that five musicians have caps just alike. And they are playing
on the five principal instruments used by their people-the
gong, the flute, the mouth-organ or pan-pipe, the tom-tom or
drum, and the conch or shell. These five instruments the
Japanese consider sacred."
"How sacred, papa ?" asked Eddie.
"The Japanese are heathen, as we say-that is, they do not
know and worship the true God."
"What do they worship ?"



"In ancient times all the people worshipped the great sun
goddess called Ten-sio-dai-sin, and very large numbers still
worship this imaginary being. The mikado, or spiritual
emperor of the nation, is claimed to be a descendant of this
sun goddess."
"A sun goddess! I wonder what she looked like ?" said
"I guess nobody ever saw her," replied his father.


OME and sit beside me, darling,
In the shifting sunset lights,
And I'll tell, if you will listen,
Of two busy little sprites,
Busy, busy, always busy,
From the morning till the nights.

One is slow in all her movements,
And her form is' bent awry,
And a frown is on her forehead,
And a scowl is in her eye;
And if you will listen closely,
You will often hear her sigh.

If you let her once come near you,
By the sea or by the land,
If you let her wave before you
Once the wretched little wand
Which, where'er she goes or tarries,
Still she carries in her hand,



You will find the lesson hopeless
Which was easy when begun,
And the shortest task so lengthened
That it never will be done,
And a thousand grievous troubles
Where before you found but one.

Do not listen to her whispers;
Do not look at hpr, I pray;


Always turn your back upon her
In your work and in your play,
Or you'll always find a mountain
Or a lion in your way.

But the other comes with footsteps
Dancing lightly as the breeze,
And her face is wreathed with smiling,
Like the sunshine 'mong the trees,
And her song is like the bird-notes,
Yet e'en merrier than these.

If her dancing feet should travel
In the path the first has trod,
You will see the frowning mountains
Quickly vanish at her nod,
And the shadows flee to hide them
From before her tiny rod.

When she waves her silver sceptre,
If you follow in the way,
Never, never turning backward,
At the closing of the day
With a crown success will wait you,
All your labor to repay.

Will you have the bright attendant,
Or the sprite with scowling eye?
You must choose between them, darling,
One of them is always by.
And their names-pray listen closely-


AIRER face was never seen;
Eyes so shy, so soft, serene,
Tender little Eunice.
Kiss me, darling, through the bars,
Then to sleep watched by the stars,
Papa's little Eunice.

iii I
ill ill:,


OGS are great favorites of mine. I agree with the man
who said there is no friend like a dog. Dogs are so
faithful and so forgiving. They never get in the sulks.
They never go and tell tales out of school. They always
remember favors, and are so thankful for them.
A dog will wag his tail and be contented with a bone, and
be just as grateful to you as though you had shared the best
with him. Dogs are always ready for frolic, and a man or
woman, boy or girl, who cannot take real delight in a rough-
and-tumble play with a dog, must be very cross-grained.
There are some dogs, to be sure, who are cross and snappish,
and would like nothing better than to bite. But then I am
sure this is the fault of their bringing up. They have bad
masters, who are responsible for their bad traits. Even the
worst of dogs always has some good in him. He will, at least,
be faithful to his master, and guard his property.
I like the looks of Watch in the picture. I know he is a
kind, benevolent dog, who would never attack a smaller dog
than himself. But with all his good nature I don't think it
would be safe to venture too near him at night when he is
guarding his master's house. He is sitting and looking very
intently at the moon, and seems thinking very deeply. I
wonder what he can be thinking about? for I have no doubt
dogs do think. Is he trying to study out what the moon is?
and does it puzzle him very much? Maybe he knows all
about it as well as we do, and thinks we are as ignorant as we
think him, while he would explain the matter to us if we were
not so stupid that we could not understand.
Watch seems like a happy, contented dog. He has a nice
warm kennel, with plenty of soft straw for a bed. He has a
very pleasant place to sit outside his kennel on the banks of


the river in the full moonlight. I have no doubt he enjoys
the scene. If he did not, he would just as soon remain in his
dark kennel. Only the moon seems to trouble him. He looks
at it, and occasionally he barks at it, but the moon doesn't mind
him in the least. It is really a very provoking moon. It sails
right on up the sky, and stares Watch full in the face, and he
feels certain that if he takes his eyes off from it one moment it
will pounce down and do something dreadful. Keep a good
lookout, Watch.
Bow wow!"

ANGER in dispute is like an unquiet horse in a dusty way-
it raises such a cloud that it obscures the vision and clouds the

T was a great disappointment to Edgar. He was all dressed
and ready for a walk with his mother in the fields and
woods, when it suddenly grew dark and large rain-drops
came pattering against the window.
"Oh, dear !" he cried, as he looked up at the clouds-" Oh,
dear! it's always the way when I'm going out. I wish it
would never rain."
"What did my little boy say ?" asked Edgar's mother, who
heard these fretful sentences. Never rain ?"
"There's no good in it," Edgar replied, his face as gloomy as
the sky. "No good at all, but to wet the ground and make it
so muddy a little boy can't go out."
Do you know what makes the grass grow ?"
Edgar did not answer.
The rain," said his mother. If it were never to rain any
more, the grass, and flowers, and trees would all die. We
should have no grain or fruit for food. The earth would
become a barren waste, and birds, and beasts, and men would
all perish."
Edgar got down from the chair and came to where his
mother was sitting.
"Does the rain make things grow, mamma ?" he asked, the
fretful look going out of his face; and his mother answered:
"The rain and the sunshine together."
"Oh! I didn't know that," said Edgar.
"You've seen me water the flowers. They were dry, just as
little boys get dry, and I gave them water to drink. If I had
not done so, they would have withered and died. Now, the
earth is a great fruit and flower garden given to us by the
Lord; and he waters it with rain. If he were not to do so,
every green thing would perish, and we would have neither
food to eat nor water to drink. Isn't he good ?"



Edgar had climbed up in the chair, and was looking earnestly
out of the window.
"And is he watering his garden now, mamma ?" he asked.


"Yes, darling."
Edgar was silent for some moments. In the pause the patter
of large drops could be heard on the window-panes. A gentle,
serious, but sweet expression was resting on his countenance.
"I hope he is not angry with me," said the child, a little
tremor in his voice.
"No, darling; God is never angry with us, but only sorry
when we do wrong."
It was wrong for me to wish it would never rain."
You didn't mean to do wrong ?"
"No, ma'am. I only felt so bad; and I didn't know that it
was the good Lord watering his garden with rain."
"And here comes his sunshine after the rain !" exclaimed
Edgar's mother, as beams of light came bursting into the room.
"He has watered the earth as a garden, and now sends upon it
his twin blessing of sunshine. See how beautiful it is making
The clouds had broken and were passing away. The rain
had ceased as suddenly as it began. On every leaf and flower
and blade of grass hung crystal drops, brighter in the sunbeams
than diamonds; and far away in the heavens a beautiful rain-
bow had thrown its arch of colors on the clouds.
"God knows best, my darling, when to send the rain and
when the sunshine," said the mother.
Peace had come into the child's heart, and he only answered:
I am glad now that the good Lord has sent the rain."



S' HAT a gay time the little ones are having! Nelly is
i just three years old, and papa has made her such a nice
birthday present. What do you think it is ? Why, a
cradle almost big enough to lie down in herself, and a
dolly as large as a live baby. Wasn't she a happy little girl
when that cradle and dolly came home? You would have
thought so if you had seen and heard her. Tom has a drum,
for papa couldn't pass him by, of course, if he is a year older


than Nelly and almost a man. The noise he makes on that drum
is wonderful, but nobody seems to hear him, not even mamma,
who is playing baby for Nelly, and saying her Now I lay
me" before going to bed.
How happy they all seem Nelly isn't a bit selfish, but lets
Clara nurse dolly while she and mamma "play go to bed."
John and Ada are examining a picture-book together, and
Milly is trying to write a letter or a composition.
It really does you good to look at this picture. Each one is
busy in his or her own way; not one of them interferes with or
troubles the other. How happy the father and mother of so
pleasant a family must be!

f NEVER saw him act so before," said Mrs. Goodwin,
wondering, and not a little mortified, at the behavior of
Robby, as she presented him to her dear old Uncle Morgan,
whom she had not seen since her marriage-her dear old
Uncle Morgan, whom she had loved from childhood, and to
whom she had been a pet and plaything-when no bigger than
Robby, years and years ago.
To think that Robby should hold back from Uncle Morgan,
and behave in such a shy, strange manner! What had got
into the boy ?
Uncle Morgan drew Robby to his side, and lifted him on his
knee opposite to Eddy, but the boy hung down his head, look-
ing so shy and shamefaced that his mother, who had for days
thought of this moment with pride and pleasure, was annoyed
and disappointed. What could it mean ? It was so unlike the
frank, manly boy. And to act so with Uncle Morgan-the one
of all others in whose eye she wished Robby to appear to the
best advantage!



I' Iii''' I1


Uncle Morgan knew all about it, and so did Robby, for they
had met before.
Indeed! Where dnd when could that have happened? I
will tell you all about it.
When Uncle Morgan, who had ridden a long distance to
visit his niece, came up from the railroad station, he saw a
pretty cottage surrounded with fine shrubbery and almost
covered with vines.




"Who lives there ?" he asked of a man whom he met.
"Mr. Goodwin," answered the man.
"I thought so," said Uncle Morgan to himself. "It looks
like Katy, so neat and trim and beautiful."
As he came near the cottage he heard a hen give a sudden
cry of alarm, and then cluck, cluck, to her brood of chicks.
The cry was repeated several times, and there was the noise as
of some one striking her. Her chicks were in trouble also, for
he heard their little voices crying peep, peep, peep, in a dozen
different places. He could not see what was going on, for a
fence hid the chickens from his view.
Uncle Morgan was one of the kindest-hearted men alive.
He would not hurt a fly. So he put his foot on a rail, and
climbed up until he could look over the fence and see what was
going on. And what do you think he saw ? Why, a little boy
with a long switch in his hand slashing away at the hen and
her downy chickens, and laughing at their pain and fright.
"Stop that, you young rascal !" cried Uncle Morgan.
The child glanced up, and on seeing a strange, stern face
looking down upon him, dropped his stick and fled into the
Do you wonder now that he behaved as he did when his
mother presented him to her dear old Uncle Morgan?
But Robby was not a. cruel, only a thoughtless little boy
sometimes. It was such fun to make the old hen spread her
wings and dance about, and to see the chicks scamper off on
their slender legs. He never thought of its hurting or scaring
Uncle Morgan soon understood all this, and he and Robby
became the best of friends. And when his visit was over, the
dear little boy, into whose tender mind he had infused something
of his own gentleness and kindness toward the weakest and
humblest things God has made, parted with him in tears.



ARK the Christmas bells are ringing-
Ringing through the frosty air-
Happiness to each one bringing,
And release from toil and care.

How the merry peal is swelling
From the gray old crumbling tower,
To the simplest creature telling
Of Almighty love and power.



Ankle deep the snow is lying,
Every spray is clothed in white,
Yet abroad the folk are hieing,
Brisk and busy, gay and light.

Now fresh helps and aids are offered
To the aged and the poor,
And rare love-exchanges proffered
At the lowliest cottage door.

Neighbors shaking hands and greeting,
No one sorrowing, no one sad;
Children loving parents meeting,
Young and old alike made glad.

Then while Christmas bells are ringing,
Rich and poor, your voices raise,
And-your simple carol singing-
Waft to heaven your grateful praise.

C 1 Y DARLING DAUGHTER: Your loving letter came
to me like sunshine, and has made me feel happy all
Sday. When I opened it, my head was aching, but the
pain went off as if by a kind of magic before I had
read through the first page. I feel lonely, sometimes, now that
you are away, and often find myself listening for the sound of
your feet or the tones of your voice. But it is so much better
for you to be where you are. I know that you are studying
faithfully, and improving yourself, and this thought helps me
to bear the separation cheerfully.


/, -.\

i ..-B-. -, ..

I read a part of your letter to Mrs. Warfield, who called this
morning. I heard her sigh once or twice, and fancied that she
did not look happy when I finished reading. I hope Clara is
a studious girl, and not so wild and thoughtless as when at
home. When children go away from their parents, their hearts
go out after them with more than usual tenderness, and if they
hear only what is good about them, it makes them feel very
happy, but if any bad reports comes, it hurts and distre-es them
sorely. For this, if for no other reason, boys and girls, when
they go away to school, should be very careful not to do or say
anything that, if known, would give pain to loving hearts
at home.
You need not be afraid of getting the ill-will of Katy Wing
and Lou Elder, so long as you feel kindly toward them. They


will see this kindness in your face and manner, and it will
soften them toward you.
You must be very patient with Lina Blaine. She is such a
trial, you say. But think how little chance she has had at
home! Think, too, how different she is from you-how quick
and hot her temper is! If quick-tempered men and women
find it difficult, and often nearly impossible, to control them-
selves, think how hard it must be for a little girl like Lina! So
be very patient with her. She is warm-hearted and generous,
and you may gain a good influence over her, and to do good to
any one, my dear child, is the best and noblest thing in the
What you said to Cora Ellis was just right. She will be
sorry for her hasty-answer when she thinks it over. Don't
let her see a shade of difference in your manner toward her.
"How would mother feel if she knew of it ?" Yes, that is the
question every young girl should ask herself, and ask it very
Dear Effie grows sweeter and sweeter every day, and Harry
is the same bright, frolicsome little fellow you parted with two
months ago. He sends ever so many kisses, and wants you to
tome home yight soon." Bless his dear heart! He is so
loving and good.
Your father says, "Tell Edith to study hard."
You must write to him one of your sweetest letters. It always
pleases him to get a letter from you. He doesn't say much
about it, but I can see how deeply he is gratified. And now,
Edith, my sheet is full, and I must say good-night. God bless
and keep you, my precious child !


".111 ,


C HERE is scarcely an animal which is so useful to man as
the sheep. The wool which is taken yearly from their
backs furnishes us with material for clothing, and their
flesh is almost constantly upon our tables for food.
A flock of sheep is a beautiful object in a landscape, and
every one has a tender spot in his heart for the little white,
innocent, clumsy lambs which frisk about in happy, awkward
play beside their dams. Every country boy loves to be on
hand on sheep-washing and sheep-shearing days, and I could
tell you a great many interesting things, if I had time, about
what happens to the wool after it has been taken from the
sheep's back, before it appears in broadcloth, merino, delaine,


and flannel, and a hundred other fabrics, and is then made up
into shirts, jackets, stockings, coats, caps, shawls, blankets, and
I cannot remember how many things besides.
Sheep are found in all parts of the world. It is well that it
is so, for it would seem impossible for any civilized people to do
without them. Each country has its peculiar kind of sheep.
In Egypt and Syria there is a singular variety with a long,
heavy tail which sometimes trails on the ground.
In the Rocky Mountains there is a species of sheep which
runs wild, living in retired parts of the mountains. At the
approach of danger it scales the rocks with the greatest ease and
speed. The horns of these sheep grow to an enormous size.
The moufflon is another species of sheep, which is found in
Egypt and other countries. It really looks more like a goat
than a sheep. It has two long curved horns, and its covering
is more like hair than like wool. Under its lower jaw is a long
silky beard. The beard on the jaw is from two to four inches
long, while lower down on the throat it is about a foot in length.
Its fore legs are also covered with a long thick fringe of hair,
reaching nearly to the ground.
The merino sheep is among the most prized of domestic
sheep for the length, fineness, and silkiness of its wool. The
finest and softest of woollen fabrics are made from their fleece,
and it is used in the manufacture of imitation cashmere shawls,
which nearly equal the genuine in appearance, and are more


T is now winter, dead winter. Desolation and silence reign
in the fields; no singing of birds is heard, no humming of
insects. The streams murmur no longer; they are locked
up in frost. The trees lift their naked boughs like withered
arms into the bleak sky;
/ 7 the green sap no longer
rises in their veins; the
flowers and the sweet-smelling
shrubs are decayed to their
Nature mourns for her chil-
dren. A little while ago and
she rejoiced in her offspring:
the rose spread its sweet per-
fume upon the gale; the vine
gave its fruit; her children
were springing and blooming
around her on every lawn.
The spring once more will
break the icy chains of winter,
and her mourning shall be
turned to joy. The south-



wind's gentle breath will fan to life the silent streams, and beauty
will come forth wherever falls the music of his whispering voice.
The rose shall again breathe its sweetness on the soft air, and
from the bosom of the ground verdure shall spring forth. The
forest shall put on her robes of green, and welcome to her leafy
bowers the feathered harbingers of spring.

" The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to the hand;
And, like the kiss of gentle love, the breeze is sweet and bland;
The daisy and the buttercup are nodding courteously,
It stirs their blood with kindest love to bless and welcome thee.
And mark how with thine own thin locks-they now are
silvery gray-
That blissful breeze is wantoning, and whispering, 'Be gay !'"


OME, Percy, let me show you a bird that walks on the
water," said Aunt Helen.
She spoke to a boy who sat pouting on the carpet
because his mother would not let him go into the garden
while it was raining. Little boys are very unreasonable some-
times. Percy looked up, with a half-provoked, half-surprised
expression on his face.
"You're only fooling me, Aunt Helen."
Come and see."
"Birds can't walk on the water."
Here's the picture. Come and see for yourself."
Percy got up slowly and came to where his aunt sat with an
open book in her hand.
There, didn't I tell you so ?" said Aunt Helen, pointing to
the picture.


"Ho! Pshaw! He isn't walking on the water!" exclaimed
Percy. "You can't fool me!"
What is he walking on, then ?" asked Aunt Helen.
Why, on great broad leaves."
"Well, that's curious, and quite a new thing under the sun.
Don't you think so, Percy ?"
"Why, yes. And just look what long, slender toes the



fellow has; just like bits of wire. What is he doing away off
in the middle of a pond, or lake?"
After his dinner," replied Aunt Helen.
I wouldn't give much for all he'll get out there," said Percy,
with a laugh that smoothed the pouting wrinkles from his face.
He'll take care of that. Birds and beasts never go on what
we call fool's errands. They always do the right thing, at the
right time, in the right place. Let me read to you what it says
in the book about this bird, which is called the Jacana, and is
to be found in South America, and also in some parts of Africa,
Asia, and Australia."
And Aunt Helen read:
"The Jacanas are remarkable for the extraordinary length
of their toes, which are so long and so slender that they seem to
have been drawn out like wire, and to hinder the progress of
their owner. These long toes are, however, of the greatest use,
as they enable the bird to walk upon the floating leaves that
overspread the surface of many rivers, and to pick its food from
and between the leaves on which it walks. As the bird marches
upon the leaves, the long toes dividing the pressure upon several
leaves at each step, they are slightly sunk below the surface by
the weight, so that the bird appears to be walking on the water."


"C APPY, happy children,
As ye pluck the flowers,
Thank God for the sunny time,
Thank Him for the showers;


Thank Him for the seasons
That, in coming, bring
Summer and the autumn time,
Winter and the spring.

For His love is boundless,
Tender is His care,
Sending us so many flowers,
Each and all so fair.

c USSY CAT lives in the servants' hall,
Jfi She can set up her back and purr;
SThe little mice live in a crack in the wall,
But they hardly dare venture to stir;

For whenever they think of taking the air,
Or filling their little maws,
The pussy cat says, Come out if you dare,
I will catch you with my claws."
Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble, went all the little mice,
For they smelt the Cheshire cheese;
The pussy cat said, "It smells very nice,
Now do come out if you please."
"Squeak," said the little mouse; "squeak, squeak, squeak,"
Said all the young ones too;
"We never creep when cats are about,
Because we are afraid of you."

So the cunning old cat lay down on the mat
By the fire in the servants' hall:
"If the little mice peep, they'll think I'm asleep,"
So she rolled herself up like a ball.

"Squeak," said the little mouse, "we'll creep out
And eat some Cheshire cheese;
That silly old cat is asleep on the mat,
And we may sup at our ease."
Nibble, nibble, nibble, went the little mice,
And they licked their little paws;
Then the cunning old cat sprang up from her mat,
And caught them all with her claws.

A .'

_______ ______ :- ~



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" HIS is a boys' school," said the kind old teacher, as he put
the rod he held in his hand behind him. "We don't
take dogs."
There was a smile in his pleasant eyes.
Ponto would come along, you see, he's so fond of Josie."
"Yes, ma'am. I've no doubt of it; and the lambs and the
kittens too. But we only take boys."
Josie had seen the rod which the teacher was trying to keep
out of view, and it frightened him. So he drew back and
caught hold of his mother's dress, while Ponto, a little scared,
like his master, but on the alert, smelled suspiciously at the
teacher's trowsers.
He's a good boy," said Josie's mother, lifting the cap from
his pure white brow, "and won't, I am sure, give you any
But the rod was too much for Josie. He kept his eyes upon
the arm that held it, and bent round to get sight of the terrible
It isn't for good little boys like you,"-the teacher smiled
and looked kindly at the lad-" but for bad boys and dogs."
And he looked at Ponto, lifting his hand and making be-
lieve he was going to strike. The dog started back in alarm,
and ran out of doors, Josie following; and in the next instant
both were seen scampering down the road and on their way
home. It was all in vain that Josie's mother called him; he
neither stopped nor turned, but kept on as fast as his legs would
carry him, and didn't stop till he and Ponto were safe at home.
"So much," said the teacher, a little severely, to Josie's
mother, for letting him bring his dog along. You ought to
have known better."
"And so much," answered Josie's mother, a flash of anger

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in her eyes, for keeping an instrument of torture in your hand
to frighten little children. You ought to know better."
The mother and teacher stood looking at each other with
severe faces for some moments. Then a change came over that
of the kind old man. It grew mild and gentle.
"You are right," he said, with a tender regret in his tone.
"I ought to have known better, and I thank you for telling me
the truth. Bring your little boy to-morrow, and I promise you
there will be no rod visible to frighten him. But be sure," he
added, a smile lighting up his face, to leave Ponto at home."


H, dear! It will never stop raining !" And Harvey
came back from the window where he had been watching
the clouds that rolled across the sky, driven by stormy
"My little prisoner must be patient for a while longer," said
his mother. "It always stops raining."
It won't stop to-day," answered the child, in a fretful voice.
"Maybe not; but it will clear to-morrow, or next day, and
then you can go out."
"To-morrow! Next day! Oh, dear! I'll never stand it!"
And Harvey went tearing about the room in a very impatient
kind of a way.
Get your blocks and build a castle," said his mother.
I don't want to build a castle," was replied.
"Go up in the garret and take a swing."
Don't want to swing."
Read a story in one of your books."
Don't want to read."


"Well, what do you want ?"
"I want it to stop raining."
But it won't stop. It keeps right on, you see, pouring and
pouring. And I guess it's going to do a world of good.
Farmer Elwood told me yesterday that the ground was as dry
as dust; that the wells were falling, and the crops suffering.
o He's very thankful for this rain, I have no doubt, and is glad,
while you are sorry; and I am thinking he has more cause for
gladness than you have for sorrow."
Harvey grew quiet as his mother talked.
But it is so hard to be kept in the house, mother, when a
boy wants to be out of doors."


"I know it is. But a little patience will make it ever so
much easier. And you have so many things to interest and
occupy your mind if you will use them-books and pictures and
playthings. And then you have a whole house to go about in.
When you are tired of one thing, you can go to another; and
when you are tired of one room you can go to another. There
is a great deal of freedom in all this, and a great deal of
pleasure to be found, if you will only look for it. All this is
very different from being shut up in the cell of a prison."
In a prison ? Who's shut up in a prison ?" asked Harvey.
"A great many people," answered his mother. "Shut up in
small, narrow cells not half so large as this room."
And the mother, as she said this, took up a book and turned
to a picture.
"See," she said, here is a picture of one of these innocent
persons. A young girl sent to prison because an enemy had
accused her falsely. It's a sad story."
Harvey looked at the picture, and saw at the bars of a grated
window the face of a woman. She was holding one of her
hands, in which were some crumbs, through the bars, and two
birds were feeding out of her hand. He looked for a long time
without speaking. At last he said, drawing a deep sigh as he
"Poor prisoner !"
"She had only the birds for companions, you see; and she
shares with them her scanty food."
"Dear little birds!" said Harvey, still in a tender and
subdued voice. "And they're not a bit afraid of her."
"No, for she feeds them, and they know her to be their
friend. Every day many birds came to her window, eating out
of her hand, hopping down upon the floor of her cell, chirping
and singing to her, and often sending rays of sunshine into her
sad and lonely heart. And she was thankful to her Heavenly


Father for the presence and love of these bright and beautiful
creatures, the only companions of her solitary life.
"And now, dear," added Harvey's mother, "think how
pleasant a prison you have in comparison with that in which
this girl lived for many years."
"What prison ?" asked the little boy, half in surprise, for he
did not see at the moment what his mother meant.
This one, in which the rain has shut you up for a day," she
Oh !" It was uttered softly. He stood with a thoughtful
air for some moments; and then, drawing his arms about his
mother's neck, said,-
It isn't a prison. And it may rain and rain just as long as
it pleases."
Harvey's mother put her arm about him, and laid a sweet
kiss on his lips.

ST was a pleasant evening in June when Uncle John came
to see his little nephew and nieces. He found them
all out on the front porch enjoying the fresh air. George
brought his uncle a great arm-chair, and he sat down in
it, and drew little Lucy upon his knee and stroked back her
soft brown locks. It is strange-isn't it ?-how these great,
rough-bearded men sometimes like such little soft, tender bits
of girls, and how gentle and loving they can be! Lucy gave
Uncle John's whiskers a little pull now and then, but he didn't
seem to mind it in the least.
There was a belated or over-industrious bee humming around
the honeysuckles. A little mite of a bird, that certainly had
his nest somewhere in the honeysuckles, and who ought to have


been in bed half an hour at least, hopped out on a twig with a
twitter and a bob of his head and a flirt of his tail, as much
as to say, "Who's to send me to bed if I'm not ready to go ?"
and sung a few lively notes, and then, with a chirp or two,
hopped out of sight again. A whippoorwill fluttered clumsily
down a few yards off, and set up his nightly cry, seemingly in
the greatest hurry to have poor Will punished immediately;
while his companion in the next field was equally impatient,
answering cry for cry, each one going faster and faster until
they were quite out of breath.
Uncle John had a quiet talk with Mary and George about
these birds, while little Lucy sat and listened.
"I must tell you about the strange birds one sees on the
ocean," said Uncle John.
On the ocean, Uncle John? How can there be birds there
'where there are no places for them to build their nests?" asked
"Why, don't you know ?" replied George, somewhat impor-
tantly, because of his superior knowledge. Haven't you seen
gulls? I'm sure they are ocean birds, but they build their nests
on the land. Then we've read about stormy petrels-how
sometimes they fly so far out at sea that they are glad to light
on a ship to rest."
"You do not find either gulls or stormy petrels very far
from the land-from an island at least," Uncle John remarked.
"But I can tell you about a bird that flies hundreds of- miles
over the ocean, and seems never to need rest. Indeed, some
people say that it sleeps upon the wing.
This is the frigate-pelican or man-of-war bird. It is a
native of the Tropics, black in color, and is quite large, measur-
ing about three feet from head to tail. Its tail is long and
forked, and it has long, narrow wings, which when spread out
measure ten or twelve feet from tip to tip. With these wings


it can fly very fast and very far. It will sometimes rise fai
above the clouds, or, if there are no clouds, so high that, large
as it is, it can scarcely be seen.

"It lives on fish, and will dart down and seize them from the
surface of the water, or will pursue clouds of flying-fish; but
it can neither dive nor swim. It is a great robber, and does not
in the least mind attacking a gull or a pelican to make it drop
its prey, which it will seize before it reaches the water."
But, uncle, what do these birds do when they get far out to
sea and a storm comes up ?" asked Mary.
"Oh, they do not mind storms in the least. There is no
frightening them with big waves and strong winds. If the wind
is in their favor, it only helps them to fly the faster; and in the
worst of weather they sail as coolly as possible down in the
hollows of the sea and up over the crests of the waves, on an
eager lookout for the frightened fish, which seem then to be
more easily caught."
"Do they never land ?"
"Oh, yes, they find some barren coast or uninhabited island,
where they make their nests, either on trees or high rocks, but
never lay more than one or two eggs."
Come, children," called mamma's voice from within; "it is
"Good-night, uncle."
Good-night. Come and see us again soon, won't you ?"
"Oh, yes, if you promise to be good children," called back
Uncle John, as he swung the garden gate; and a moment after-
ward they heard him going down the road with his quick, firm
step, whistling softly to himself.



OUR hair is so pretty,
Your eyes are so blue,
Your cheeks are so rosy,
Your frock is so new,
You're the prettiest dolly
I ever did see.
10 145


Though your hair is so pretty,
And your eyes are so blue,
I'd rather be Minnie
Than I would be you.

For you can't see the flowers
When they come up in spring;
You can't hear the birdies,
How sweetly they sing;
Nor run out of doors
To look in the sky,
And see the white clouds
As they pass swiftly by.

You've no kind papa
Or mamma to be near,
To love you and teach you;
So, dolly, my dear,
Though your cheeks are so rosy,
And your dress is so new,
I'd rather be Minnie
Than I would be you.

H, dear! I'm tired of making believe," exclaimed little
Annie Granger; and she bundled up Dolly's clothes,
which she had been pretending to wash, and threw them
into a basket. If I could wash them real, in a tub with
soap and water, and dry them on a line, and iron them with a
hot flat-iron, there'd be some fun in it; but I'm sick of making
believe washing and ironing."


f., I

A cloud of discontent was gathering on Annie's face.
"And would like to do some real washing ?" said her mother.
"Oh, dear yes, mamma. And why can't I? I'll be very
careful about the soap and water. I won't spill any over the
floor nor on my dress. I can do it in the dining-room, and so
not trouble Mary the least bit. I hope she isn't cross to-day;
she's so cross sometimes."
"The dining-room isn't the place for real washing to be
done," Mrs. Granger replied. "As for Mary's crossness, I
don't think there would be any cause to fear that if my
daughter had always been careful not to give trouble when she
went into the kitchen."
"I won't give her the least bit of trouble to-day, mamma,"
replied Annie; I'll be just as careful, and won't slop the floor
nor tumble things about. Won't you ask her, mamma?"

"You see how it is, my dear," said Mrs. Granger, looking at
her little daughter with a serious face. "The wrong we do
never dies with the doing, but lives in its consequences until it
punishes us. I want you to remember this. If you had never
given needless trouble to Mary when you went into the kitchen
-had never pulled her things about nor spilled water over the
floor nor upset her dishes nor acted rudely or saucily-you
wouldn't now be in any fear of her crossness. So you see how
it is. If Mary's crossness stands in the way of your pleasure,
you have only yourself to blame."
So the little girl went slowly down to the kitchen.
Mary was standing at the table rolling out pie-crust.
"Are you making apple pies ?" Annie asked, in a respectful
way, that took Mary by surprise.
"Peach and lemon," answered Mary, in a kind, quiet voice.
"Oh, that's nice; your lemon pies are splendid."
"Would you like to make a little one for yourself ?" asked
"May I ?"
"Why, yes, dear. I'll leave you a nice bit of dough, and
you shall have one of the small patty-pans to bake it in."
"Thank you, Mary," said Annie, in a pleased voice, which
was another surprise to the cook. "And, Mary, there's some-
thing else I'd like to do if you'll let me. I won't trouble you
a bit, and I'll try to keep everything nice."
What is it, dear ?"
Mary's voice was kind and encouraging.
"I want to wash Dolly's clothes-a real wash, you see,
Mary-and then iron them with a hot flat-iron."
It will make such a slop, Annie, and my kitchen is all done
up clean and nice. I couldn't have water and suds spilled all
"I won't make a bit of slop or dirt, Mary," pleaded the


child. You shall tell me just what to do and fix everything
for me, and I won't give you the least, least mite of trouble;
indeed I won't, Mary. And I'll never worry you any more."
If you were a nice, orderly little girl," she said, "I might
let you do it, but you know, Annie, how careless you are
"I know all about it, Mary," the child answered, quickly,
"and I don't wonder you're afraid, but I'm not going to be
careless and bad any more. Just try me. Won't you, Mary ?
And if I don't do it all right and nice, you needn't ever trust
me again."
All right," answered Mary. "Just wait until I get these
pies ready for the oven, and then you shall have a doll's
Oh, but you're so nice, Mary !" exclaimed Annie, dancing
about the kitchen, at which Mary was so well pleased that she
hurried with her pies, and soon got them into the oven. Then
she brought from the cellar a small washing-tub, while Annie
ran up-stairs to get her doll's clothes.
- I don't believe either Mary or Annie ever spent a happier
hour than the one that followed. Which was most pleased or
interested it would be hard to tell. Mary showed the little girl
how to put the clothes in soak, then how to rub and wring
them out, and how to rinse and blue them. She stretched a
line as near to the range as possible, so that they would dry
quickly, and when they were all dry showed Annie how to
sprinkle them. Then came the ironing.
"Just see, mamma !" exclaimed Annie, coming eagerly into
her mother's room with a tray of beautifully-ironed doll-baby
clothes in her hands. Mrs. Granger thought she had never
seen her little girl look so beautiful. "And I did them all
myself, only Mary showed me. Oh, but she was so nice and
good, and not a bit cross!"


I wonder," said Mrs. Granger, what made her so nice and
good to-day? I wonder why she was not cross, and why she
didn't send you flying the moment you put your head into the
kitchen ?"
The color in Annie's face deepened.
"I understand it all, dear. You were kind and respectful to
Mary, and that made her feel kind toward you. See how
much better it is all around-better for Mary as well as your-
self. You are both a great deal happier, and I will trust that
this is the beginning of a better state of things. Never again
be rude to Mary, never touch anything in the kitchen without
her consent. If you want a cup, a tumbler, pan, or anything,
ask her for it in a respectful way; and if it is right for you to
have it, you will be sure to get it. Be, in a word, a little lady,
and every servant in the house will love you and do all in her
power for your comfort and pleasure."


4c HICH is the Queen of the Roses?
Gardener, can you tell ?"
"Oh, the Queen of the Roses to me, sir,
Is my own little grandchild, Nell."

"She works in my garden, too, sir,
She weeds in the shady dell,
Where the violets and the lilies
Blossom around my Nell.

"And when with Rover beside her
She carries them out to sell;


Not one is so bright to me, sir,
As my own little grandchild, Nell.

"I love the flowers I've tended
More years than I can tell;-
Geranium, sweet-pea, fuchsia,
Jessamine, gentianelle,


"Salvia, and China-aster,
Heliotrope, heather-bell;--
My flowers have been my treasures,
Next to my grandchild, Nell.

*' But the Rose is the Queen of the Flowers,
As every one can tell,
And she is the Queen of the Roses,
My own granddaughter, Nell."

fE had very pleasant times at the sea-shore last summer,"
said little Ned, to some of his friends who came to see
him when he had got over his illness, but it came to a
stop all of a sudden. Papa, won't you tell the boys
about it, and show them the picture the artist made of me and
Ponto and Jane in the sea?"
"Yes," said Neddy's father. "It was this way. Ned had
been having a splendid time gathering shells and making
shell-rings in the sand at the shore, when his nurse, who was a
fisherman's daughter, said, 'Let us go take a sail ?' So Ned
got into the boat with Ponto and the nurse, Jane; and away
they went nicely enough for a little while, but. all of a sudden
a gust of wind struck the boat, and over it went, pitching
everything inside out into the water. Ponto was soon all right,
and by great barking attracted the attention of some fishermen
who were a short distance away, but poor Ned and the nurse
were nearly drowned before they were rescued, and Ned is not
yet well, although it happened last summer. See, here is the,
picture, with the boat half over in the water. Don't Ned look
frightened? Look at his eyes. But I think it is a very good
likeness and a nice, pretty picture."










CtOICHARD ROSS was going home from school one day
I when he saw a handsome penknife lying on the ground.
Now, a knife was of all things just what Richard wanted,
and the sight of this one made his heart jump for joy.
He caught it up eagerly, pulled open the bright blade, and
feasted his eyes on the white pearl handle and shining steel.
"I'm a lucky fellow," he said to himself, and then he started
for home at a full run to tell his brother and sister of his good
luck and show his beautiful knife.
I wonder who could have lost it ?" said brother Charley.
"It's more than I know, or care either," replied Richard.
"Finding is keeping."
Suppose you had lost it ?" said grave brother Charley.
"Oh, bother!" answered Richard, with some impatience.
Charley's suggestion had fallen like a wet blanket, as we say
sometimes, on Richard's self-satisfaction.
"Somebody must have lost it," said Charley.
"Maybe it was Mr. Ellis," suggested sister Marion. I saw
him going down the road half an hour ago."
I don't believe it's his knife," spoke out Richard, who was
not feeling quite as comfortable as when he came in.
I'd ask him if I were you," said Charley.
Richard made no reply to this suggestion. Suppose he
should ask Mr. Ellis if it was his knife, and he should say yes?
He would of course have to give it up. The thought was any-
thing but agreeable.
"Suppose," said Charley, looking up from his book that
evening as they sat round a table studying their lessons, "you
had lost that knife, Richard."
Why can't you let the knife rest?" answered Richard, half
angrily. "It's no concern of yours."
"But I can't help feeling sorry for the person who lost it,"


said Charley. It's such a beauty of a knife, and maybe was
a gift or keepsake. Or maybe a little boy or girl bought it
with the money saved up for months."
"Oh, bother!" exclaimed Richard, using his favorite word
when things didn't go smoothly with him. "What's the use
of supposing all that? The knife is mine now. If I hadn't
picked it up, somebody else would. When a thing's lost, it's
lost, and there's the end of it. If people are careless enough to
drop their things in the public road, they mustn't expect the
finders to run all through creation to look them up. Finding's
keeping the world over."
"It isn't according to the Golden Rule," answered Charley.
"Let me read it."


"Oh, never mind about the Golden Rule! What has that
to do with my finding a penknife ?" returned Richard.
"We shall see;" and Charley, who had opened a New
Testament that was lying on the table, read: "As ye would
that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."
Well, I don't see anything about finding a penknife there,"
said Richard. "Do you?"
"Yes," answered Charley.
"Then your eyes are sharper than mine."
"If you had lost a penknife, and Tom Link had found it,
wouldn't you be glad if he were to ask all around for the
owner, instead of keeping the knife and not saying a word
about it? Of course you would! And you would say that
Tom was a nice fellow-so unselfish and honorable; and all
because he had done as he would be done by-had kept, the
Golden Rule."
Richard looked very sober at this, for it brought the matter
home to him as he had not seen it before. There was some-
thing about this penknife in the Golden Rule, and -he was
beginning to see it. :
And now a gradual change began to come over his feelings,
for he was able to put himself in place of the one who had lost
the knife, and to feel sorry for the loss. He took it out of his
pocket and turned it over in his hands.
"It is beautiful," he said, "and the person who lost it must
feel very badly. It isn't my knife, though I did find it, that's
"And you never could enjoy it," said sister Nell, "because
you'd be always thinking how sorry the person who lost it
must be."
"Maybe I would. Anyhow, I'm going straight over to see
Mr. Ellis in the morning, and ask him if he lost it."
And he did so.


"Why, Richard!" exclaimed Mr. Ellis, when he saw the
knife, a glow of surprise and pleasure on his face. Where did
you find it? It is one grandma sent to Horace for a birthday
present, and I lost it on my way home. This is his birthday.
I have been so annoyed about the loss."
I'm glad I found it for you," said Richard. And he did
feel glad as he handed Mr. Ellis the beautiful pearl-handled
On the next day Richard received from Mr. Ellis a fine
four-bladed pocket-knife, worth, for real service to a boy, a
dozen such as the one he had found, and the pleasant note that
came with it made him, to use his own words, "feel good."
He could enjoy this knife, because it was really his own.
Nobody had lost it, and so no thought of what another had lost
could intrude itself and mar the pleasure of its use.

UR LILY !" So every one in the house calls her, from
Hannah, the cook, up to grandma. She is "Our Lily"
Sto each and all of us-dear, sweet, kind-hearted, happy
little Lily! Almost any hour in the day her voice may
be heard breaking out in pleasant laughter, or singing a
"hushaby" song to her dolly, or cheerily calling from hall or
stairway, from kitchen or chamber. She's an active little body,
and, like the birds, keeps flitting about and making merry
with life.
One thing that makes Lily so dear to us all is her usefulness.
She is so ready to share with her brother and sister any of the
good things she has; and when other children come to the
house, she brings out her toys, and seems to take more pleasure
in letting her little friends play with them than in using them


One day, Maggy Elder, who lives close by, came in to spend
the afternoon with Lily. Maggy is a nice little girl, but rather
quick in her motions, and not so careful in handling things as
she ought to be. Accidents often happen to her, as they do
with such children. They get into many troubles which
might be avoided. Lily had a new wax doll, with the softest
of blue eyes, that opened and shut. She carried it about as
tenderly as a mother would carry her baby, laid it down in the'
softest places, and watched over it with a loving interest.
When Maggy came, Lily brought out this dolly. Her
visitor was in rapture over its charms, and reached out her
hands to take it.
"Hold it softly," said Lily, as she gave the little beauty into
Maggy's arms.
And Maggy did hold the doll gently at first. But soon she
began moving her arms about, and tossing dolly high up, and
then swinging her low down, until her clothes swept the floor.
Lily's heart began to beat anxiously, for she knew Maggy
was a wild little thing, and apt to forget herself.
Take care," she said, gently.
"Oh," cried Maggy, whose spirits were rising, "I wouldn't
hurt Dolly for the world!" And then she hugged her so
tightly that Lily held her breath, expecting to hear an arm or
a leg crack.
"Dolly wants to go to sleep now," she said, holding out her
"Indeed she doesn't! She's just as wide awake as you are.
Just look at her eyes !" answered Maggy. And then she gave
another hug, whirling around as she did so. Crack! What
was that? Poor Dolly's foot lies broken on the floor Maggy
did not know she was so near the sofa as she wheeled about.
"Oh, what have I done !" she said, in great distress; as she
saw the broken foot.


MI _


"Oh, my poor Dolly !" Lily exclaimed, taking the precious
thing from Maggy's arms. But not an angry or rebuking
word fell from her lips.



"I didn't mean to do it, Lily! Oh, I am so sorry!" cried
Maggy, the tears running over her face.
"I know you didn't," answered Lily, half sobbing, as she
struggled with her feelings. It was only an accident." And
stooping down she picked up the broken foot. After looking
at it carefully, she said,-
"Never mind about it, Maggy dear! I guess mamma can
mend it. And it's just nice to think Dolly has no feeling, and
don't have any pains as you or I would with a broken foot."
Maggy dried her tears, and then they took Dolly to the
nursery and laid her in bed; and mamma was called to mend
the broken foot, which she did as skilfully as a surgeon. And
all the while Lily and Maggy stood with their arms about each
other lovingly, drawn closer together by their mutual interest
in the broken doll.
After that, I think Maggy tried harder than ever to be
watchful over herself, and to be gentler and more thoughtful.

SEE the kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
"^ Withered leaves-one-two-and three-
From the lofty elder-tree !
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Fairy hither tending,
To this lower world descending,


*- -

'....-.: i **'


EIc'h invi-il.'-e a;n mute.
In hi,, wnverin.. l.,rt:hlute.
-But the kittten. liho- -le -tart-s
C'ri:,l les,-tret eli>:, .- a w. ni l lra t.- !
First ;at :m'e, anil tlh n its ti.lllw.
Ju-t al light ail, .just z!, yell-w:
SThee ulie inY II;I ll- i l)\\ilW t e-
N,',w they 'top l, ml their- are uine:
What in tenene..--d t'e de-ire
In her upward eye of tile'!

With a tiger-leap half-way
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer;


, , '

"--- ,,,o'f, ...--..
rt W.'*11

"1 I ,
cI i'" '

'! II


, I


Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd ?
Over-happy to be proud,
Over-wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure !

O our young readers know what a night-watchman is ?
Some years ago, before most, if not all, of them were
born, few large cities, like Philadelphia for instance, were
without their night-watchmen.
These were a sort of police who went around the street at
night to see that there were no thieves about, and to watch over
the safety of the houses, and of such people as were obliged to
go out at that time. Each man had a certain part of the city
under his charge. On dark nights, before street-lamps were in
fashion, he used to carry a lantern. But this was a great many
years ago. Each watchman had a little box of a house, with
a peaked roof, usually on the corner of a street,where in winter
he had a stove by which he could warm himself. People used
to say that he slept there, too. It is not many years since these
houses were quite common in Philadelphia. They were called
watch-boxes, and drunken men would sometimes fasten the
door on the watchman inside, and then upset the whole concern.
These watchmen used to call out the time of night; after a
certain hour you would hear them all over the city bawling out


in a sort of a sing-song way, Past twelve," or "past one,"
or "past two o'clock," and so on until morning. And very
often they would at the same time tell the people lying in bed
what kind of weather it was; as "Past one o'clock, and a
dark, cloudy morning," or the contrary, as the fact might be.
These calls sounded very odd to strangers, and I have known
persons to be frightened terribly at the queer noises the watch-
men used to make. We have our night-watchmen still, but
they are now called police, and they have no little houses to get
into, and they move about the streets very quietly.
In Japan, as you will see by our picture, the night-watchmen
still carry lanterns. These are made of gay-colored paper, and
must look quite pretty at night, as do the dresses of the men,
which are a, sort of patchwork of cloth of every color. Our
picture shows them as they are marching out at night, each
one to go to the part of the city over which he is to watch.


(7t ITTLE Ida Frost had always lived in the city, in a brick
house with pavement in front and a little yard at the
Back. This yard had a little grass-plot in it about as
large as a sheet, with a border of flowers around it.
When the flowers were in bloom it looked very gay, but it was
not big enough for a little girl to play in, and if she even tried
it she was sure to hear,-
Ida, be careful of the verbenas," or Ida, see how you have
broken the strings of the cypress-vine," or "Ida, your dress is
brushing that rose-bush, and will break it if you are not careful"
Her mother did not mean to be cross, only she did not like
to see her darling flowers injured. So after a little Ida would
come in and sit by the parlor windows and look out into the
street, or perhaps her mother would let her roll her hoop on the
But the little girl needed more exercise and fresh air. She
began to get pale and thin, and the doctor said she must be
taken into the country.
So the father found a pretty cottage not far from the city,
with vines running over its porches and with borders of flowers
and rows of fruit-trees, and a fine large yard for Ida to play
in. But she did not seem to care about playing, and would sit
quietly all day looking out of the window.
One day she was lying on the lounge with a book in her
hand. But she was not sleeping, and was "too tired" to read,.


she said. Her father came in, holding a basket, which he
brought to her side.
"What do you think I have got for you here ?" said he.
"I don't know. Some strawberries, maybe."
No; you will have to guess again."
"Oh, I can't, papa, I'm too tired. Tell me, please."
So her father uncovered the basket and showed Ida a dozen
beautiful white eggs, lying on a bed of soft cotton.
"Is that all?" she exclaimed, in a disappointed tone. "Why,
I have eggs to eat every day, if I want them. I thought you
had something nice."
"But these eggs are not to eat. They are to hatch into
"Into real live chickens! And may I have them for mine ?"


cried Ida, with more animation than she had shown for a long
"Yes, they are for you. I was talking to Mrs. Martin on
my way home, telling her about my 'tired' little girl, and how
I couldn't get her to go out of doors at all. And she said she
would send you something that would please you, and would
take you out of doors if anything would. So she brought out
this basket of eggs, and told me to hold them carefully so they
would not get spoiled for hatching."
"But how shall we hatch them, papa? We have no hen."
Ida was sitting up by this time, with the basket in her hand.
"I declare, I never thought of that! No; we can't hatch
them without a hen, that is certain."
Couldn't you buy one ?"
"I could buy one, but I couldn't make her promise to sit
right away, and she might not be ready until the eggs were all
"I will see what can be done," said Ida's mamma, who had
been listening and watching her little girl, and was pleased to
find that anything interested her. So Mrs Frost left the room,
but returned in the course of ten minutes, saying, with a smile:
"I have just borrowed a sitting hen for you from Mrs.
Mrs. Wilkinson was their next neighbor, who had taken
quite an interest in the pale little girl who did not care to run
and play like other children. She had, moreover, a great many
fowls, and there was one among them which was very anxious
to sit.
"Well, I will go and fix a nest for her," said Mr. Frost.
So papa made a nest, and for three weeks Ida watched and
waited as patiently as she could for the eggs to hatch. Mean-
time, her face began to look less pale, and her step was firmer
and quicker than it had been.


At last one morning she fancied she heard a little peep.
And Mrs. Wilkinson had to come out to make sure of it.
That lady put her hand under the hen, and drew out the
funniest, fluffiest little chicken you ever saw-at least Ida
thought so-and put it in Ida's apron.
Why don't you leave it with its mother ?" asked Ida.
"Because she might get off the nest with it, and leave the
chickens in the eggs to die."
So Ida fixed a soft, warm nest in a basket, and set the basket
by the kitchen fire; and a happier little girl I think you never
saw than she was that night, when there were ten little fluffy,
yellow balls of chickens ready to put in the nest under their
mother. She fairly danced with joy, and her eyes sparkled as
they had not done for a year. -The other two eggs were taken
out of the nest and thrown away, for Mrs. Wilkinson said-
and she knew all about such things-that they would not hatch.
I would like to tell you how this little girl watched her
chickens, and fed them, and took care of them, and how they
grew prettier and more cunning and tamer every day; but have
not the space. So I can only say that the bigger the chickens
grew, the fatter and rosier Ida grew; and her father used to call
her chick," because she followed the old hen so constantly."
But Ida's chickens, when they got partly grown, did not look
quite like other chickens. Mrs. Wilkinson found her brushing
one of them one day with a hair-brush.
"What are you doing, Ida ?" she asked.
"I am trying to make this chicken's feathers lie smooth. I
never saw anything like them. They all grow the wrong way.
Papa says the chicken looks like my head when it hasn't been
"I don't think you can get your chicken's feathers any
smoother. It is a frizzled chicken, and its feathers will curl
up in spite of brushing."


They were not all frizzled, however. Some of them had
feathers long and soft that looked almost like fur. These Mrs.
Wilkinson said were silky fowls. Ida did not know at first
whether she was really pleased or not to have her chickens so
different from others. But she soon became quite proud of them
when she found that every one who saw them admired them
very much.
A house had to be built for them, and before their little
mistress went back to the city late in the fall, they had laid her
a number of eggs, which made her happier, if possible, than
At last cold weather came, and Mr. Frost thought it best to
go to town again.


IS a lesson you should heed,
Try again;
If at first you don't succeed,
Try again:
Then your courage should appear;
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear-
Try again.

If you find your task is hard,
Try again:
Time will bring you your reward-
Try again.





All that other folks can do,
Why, with patience, should not you ?
Only keep this rule in view,
Try again.


B ID you ever hear the story of two little mice that were
deaf? No. Well, I am sorry if you are disappointed,
but I didn't either. Such a thing as a deaf mouse I never
heard of, but I have heard of two little mice who were
so dreadfully greedy, that when they managed to steal a little
bit of cheese they forgot all about everything else; and their
mother's repeated warnings of what would become of them, if
they didn't correct the habit, were entirely lost sight of. On
this day they have forgotten everything else but cheese, and
just think what a dreadful fate awaits them; for even if they
do escape from the pussies, the doggies will be after them.
But I believe they will get off this time after all, for their
natural enemies are enemies of each other, and after frightening
mousey they will get to quarrelling who shall have whitey, who
is the youngest, for dinner, and so both of the mousies will
get away by jumping into a hole that is just over the edge of
the picture.


fY dear little child,
Be gentle and mild;
S For what can you get
By passion and pet,
But sorrow and shame,
A very bad name,
The loss of your peace,
And guilt in its place ?

B ID you ever hear the story of two little mice that were
deaf? No. Well, I am sorry if you are disappointed,
but I didn't either. Such a thing as a deaf mouse I never
heard of, but I have heard of two little mice who were
so dreadfully greedy, that when they managed to steal a little
bit of cheese they forgot all about everything else; and their
mother's repeated warnings of what would become of them, if
they didn't correct the habit, were entirely lost sight of. On
this day they have forgotten everything else but cheese, and
just think what a dreadful fate awaits them; for even if they
do escape from the pussies, the doggies will be after them.
But I believe they will get off this time after all, for their
natural enemies are enemies of each other, and after frightening
mousey they will get to quarrelling who shall have whitey, who
is the youngest, for dinner, and so both of the mousies will
get away by jumping into a hole that is just over the edge of
the picture.


fY dear little child,
Be gentle and mild;
S For what can you get
By passion and pet,
But sorrow and shame,
A very bad name,
The loss of your peace,
And guilt in its place ?


- '-;





SHERE'S something going on," said Aunt Lois, and the
click of her needles stopped. "They'd never be as still
as this if something wasn't going on."
"They're reading, most likely," answered Mrs. Barclay,
the mother of one of the children referred to by her sister.
But Aunt Lois shook her head. "There's something going
on, you may depend. Katy's a perfect witch when she gets
started, and I saw this morning that she was let loose. She'll
be into everything if you don't look after her."
"There's no harm in the child," said Mrs. Barclay. "Only
boiling over with spirits."
"Exactly! Boiling over with spirits. You've said it. But
when a kettle or a child boils over, there's apt to be mischief.
So I'll just take a look after her."
Aunt Lois put by her knitting and went out quietly. In a
few minutes she came back with a broad smile on her kindly
"Well, I'll give up!" she said. That child beats me out!"
What is she doing ?" asked Mrs. Barclay.
Shaving Jack!" And Aunt Lois sat down, fairly shaking
with laughter.
But Mrs. Barclay did not join in her mirth. A slight pallor
came into her face, and she ran out of the room hastily. At
the word shaving there arose in her mind the image of a sharp
razor. But her fear was groundless. Katy had not done
lathering Jack when she glided into the chamber.

E uL


What on earth are you doing ?" she exclaimed, not able to
conceal the mirth that twitched at the corners of her mouth.
"Only shaving Jack," replied Katy, with much gravity.
And she went on rubbing the brush over Jack's face.
Mrs. Barclay turned the key in her husband's shaving-case
to make sure of the razors, and then went back laughing to
Aunt Lois.
"She's a limb," said Aunt Lois, "if there ever was one. I
don't know what will become of her."
"There's no harm in the child," answered Mrs. Barclay.


T shall not escape," cries Frederick. "I will have that
But take care!. take care!" says little Emily. "Look
at its beautiful wings. Your hard cap will hurt them.
Let me catch it in my pinafore."
"You can never manage to get your pinafore over it," says
Frederick. Come, run on through the grass. If it flies over
the hedge it will escape."
"Stop, stop, it is going to settle on that clematis," whispers
Emily. "Do wait a moment. I can manage to catch it
So Frederick stopped. The beautiful butterfly had settled
on the white flower of a wild clematis in the hedge. Emily
had to hold Frederick's cap with all her strength, or it would
have been down over the flower in a moment, but she wanted
to look at what the butterfly was doing. It was sipping the
sweet juices out of the flower with its long trunk-for a
butterfly has a trunk very like the great elephant's, that it can


unfurl and dip down into the flower-cups to drink; and all the
time it quivered its four bright wings in the sun, and they
glanced and shone as if they were powdered with gold. They
were crimson, and blue, and black, and it looked as if the
butterfly enjoyed the sunlight, and liked to look so beautiful
while it sipped out of the clematis flower.
"It will fly away in a minute," said Frederick.
So Emily softly put one hand over the flower, and with the
other quickly picked it off, and then enclosed both flower and
butterfly in both hands.
"Now let us make haste home," she said, "and show it to



C)'ITTLE ones, I wish you joy,
Every day this New Year through,
In your school, your home employ,
In your merriest play-time too.

May your glad obedience cheer
Those you love and those who love you;
May you live in filial fear
Of your Father, God above you.

Surely if you only knew
How much gladness you would find
If you were but brave and true,
And to deeds of love inclined;

How much happier school would be,
How much home itself would brighten,
And, from half her cares set free,
Mother's anxious brow would lighten;

You would cry at once for grace
Every evil path to shun;
You would seek the Saviour's face
Ere the set of this day's sun.

A 7A-4fj



Days and weeks pass on with speed,
This New Year's already flying,
Happy if you find indeed
Jesus for your friend undying.

Hark! He speaks in tender love,
Let the children come to Me.
I will lead them safe above:
They my little lambs shall be.

"'Twas for such my blood was shed,
Pure and happy I will make them,
And, when earthly days are fled,
I to endless joys will take them."


SWO beautiful children, are they not ? An artist saw them
in Rome-that old and wonderful city-and put them in
a picture. And this is all we know of them. Beautiful
children like these may be seen, travellers tell us, every-
where in Italy, that sunny land so famous in song and story. ,
But children in our own dear land are far better off than
those in Italy. Lovely as Nature is there, the great mass of
the people are ignorant, and large numbers of their children
never go to school or learn to read. But it is pleasant to know
that a new order of things is coming about, and that schools for


all the children, rich and poor, will soon be found everywhere
in that lovely country.

F my young readers love birds as well as I do, they will not
"consider it a hardship to follow me through a few pages of
rambling thoughts about these songsters. If they do not
love birds as well, then I think there is more need that
they should go with me. So in either case I shall hope to
have their company.
I really do not see how any one can help loving birds. If I
should find a person who said he cared nothing for the music
of the orchard and meadow, I should certainly think there was
something wrong in the machinery of his mind.
Of all birds, I love the robin most-his notes are so cheerful,
he is so confiding, and builds his nest so near my door. Besides,
he is with us among the first in the spring. In the month of
April, the robin commences his nest. Watch their movements
in April, and you will see them, in pairs, flying about from
tree to tree, until they find a suitable place for their nest, and
then they set about the work of building. The robin's nest
is formed generally of small sticks and straws, held in their
place by mortar. The inside is finished with a soft lining.

"It wins my admiration
To view the structure of that little work-
A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without;
No tool hath he that wrought; no knife to cut;
No nail to fix; no bodkin to insert;
No glue to join; his little beak was all.
And yet how neatly finished what nice hand,
With every instrument and means of art,
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot,
Could make me such another? Fondly, then,
We boast of excellence, whose noblest skill
Instinctive genius shames."

~1~P,~r ~ I---_--~-~i

-4 /r

-~ z~'4z- -


While the female robin is confined to the nest, the male
brings her food when she is hungry, and sits on the same
tree with her, or on one near by, and sings his song of
love from morning till night. The robin is a most devoted
There is another pretty bird, too, which is quite domestic in
its habits and preferences. I mean the blue-bird. It appears
about the same time with the robin in the spring, perhaps a
little earlier. The male sings sweetly, though not so sweetly as
the robin. These birds find a hole in some tree partly decayed,
and build their nests in the cavity. The woodpecker frequently
bores the hole in the tree for his own nest, and the next season
the blue-bird occupies it.
The black-bird has no very great musical talents, but the
beauty of his form and the splendor of his plumage almost
make up for this deficiency. By the way, did you ever notice
what a difference there is between the male and female black-
bird? The dress of the female is brown, and she is quite
homely compared with her mate. The black-bird has a trick
which evinces not a little cunning. When anybody comes near
his mansion, he will fly off the tree where his nest is, without
making any noise, and, if possible, without allowing himself to
be seen, and alight on another tree some distance from home.
Then he will set up a great clamor, as if his nest were on that
tree, and he was in great fear on account of his young.
A favorite author has well said,-
"The child who has heard the notes of the robin near his
chamber window, will feel their influence in after-life, as a holy
remembered thing. No tone of music shall fall on his ear like
that thrilling song in the dim twilight of early morning.
Encourage this love for these things of nature, ye who would
bring up your children in purity and peace. No after-teaching
can give you such holy feeling."


HE oak is the largest and most majestic of all trees. It is
the king of the forest. The growth of the oak is slower
than that of any other tree that grows in our country; it
takes several hundred years to attain its full grandeur.
The timber of the oak is very tough and strong; it is much
used in ship-building, and is found in very old churches and
mansions. The fruit of the oak is the acorn; it is a kind of
nut held in a cup. Acorns are very pretty. In times long
gone by poor folks used to make bread of the acorn, but it is
now given to the pigs. The oak-apple or gall-nut is caused by
a small insect called the gall-fly. The bark of the oak is used
for tanning leather, and ink is made from a kind of oak-apple
that comes from abroad.


HE summer sun shone on a very pretty picture. Little
Kittie nicely washed and dressed, her blue eyes bright
and eager, standing in the garden, her apron full of
flowers, and her little hand holding tightly the stalk of a
Well, this morning mamma was very busy, and had left her
little girl alone a few minutes, and she had trotted to the door,
and everything looked so bright and pleasant she thought she
would take a walk. First she turned round and crept carefully
backward off the doorstep; then patter, patter went the little
feet through the open gate.
The grass was very green, the birdies sang, and buttercups
and daisies were plenty. To be sure, Rover, the great house-
dog, came rubbing against her, and down she tumbled, but she
was not hurt, and little did she care that the pretty pink and
white dress and apron were much the worse. She picked her-
self up and went stumbling through the long grass to a place
where the buttercups were thickest, and sat down awhile to pick
them. When she had her apron full, her dress adorned here
and there with a spot of green, she trotted on again. A tiny
field-mouse ran right over her foot with pussy in full chase.
Kittie started to run too, for she wanted to see whether there
was a nest with wee baby mousies in it; but pretty soon she
tripped over a stone, and down she went again, losing all her
flowers. Kittie cried a little then, rubbing her small brown
paws in her eyes, and by this time face and hands, clothes and
shoes, were not at all in trim to suit mamma. Kittie brightened
up, though, and found her way out to the road. Near by was
a wide, deep, rushing brook, that the little girl greatly liked,
but which was very unsafe for small travellers. Kittie thought
of the flowers that grew close beside it-large yellow cowslips


L--- ~-

-and of the nice time she had down there with Cousin Frank,
throwing pebbles in the water. Oh, how they did splash!
Kittie thought she would go to the brook. On she trotted,
though a frog frightened her once or twice, but nothing harmed
her, and she spent a very happy hour by the water's side.
At last Kittie remembered that mamma would be wondering
what had become of her, so she gathered up her flowers and
trotted home, a very tired but happy little girl.

0 something for each other,
Though small the help may be;
There's comfort oft in little things,
Far more than others see.

It wants a loving spirit,
Much more than strength, to prove
How many things a child may do
For others by its love.

'M sorry; but one of you will have to stay at home," said
the mother. "Hannah's father is sick, and I promised her
that she should go to see him; and I cannot take care of
Eddy all day."
Of course she could not. You had only to look into her
pale face, and on her thin, weak body, to know that.
Her two little girls, Fanny and Alice, were standing before
her when she said this. She saw their countenances fall.
I wish it were not so," the mother added, feebly; "but I
would be in bed, sick, before the day is half over, if I were left
alone with Eddy. Some one has to be after him all the time."
Fanny pouted and scowled, I am sorry to say. Alice looked
sober and disappointed. They went from their mother's room
without speaking. When so far away that her voice could not
be heard, Fanny said, in a sharp, resolute tone, from which all
kind feeling had died out,-

0 something for each other,
Though small the help may be;
There's comfort oft in little things,
Far more than others see.

It wants a loving spirit,
Much more than strength, to prove
How many things a child may do
For others by its love.

'M sorry; but one of you will have to stay at home," said
the mother. "Hannah's father is sick, and I promised her
that she should go to see him; and I cannot take care of
Eddy all day."
Of course she could not. You had only to look into her
pale face, and on her thin, weak body, to know that.
Her two little girls, Fanny and Alice, were standing before
her when she said this. She saw their countenances fall.
I wish it were not so," the mother added, feebly; "but I
would be in bed, sick, before the day is half over, if I were left
alone with Eddy. Some one has to be after him all the time."
Fanny pouted and scowled, I am sorry to say. Alice looked
sober and disappointed. They went from their mother's room
without speaking. When so far away that her voice could not
be heard, Fanny said, in a sharp, resolute tone, from which all
kind feeling had died out,-


I'm not going to stay at home, Miss Alice You can make
your mind up to that."
Alice did not reply, but sat down quietly. Her disappoint-
ment was keen, 'for some little girls in the neighborhood had
made up a small picnic party, and were going to have a
pleasant day in the woods.
"It will be as mother says," she spoke out, presently.
"I'm the oldest and have the best right to go," answered
Fanny, selfishly. "And, what's more, I'm going;" and she
commenced putting on her things.
A few tears crept into the eyes of Alice. It would fall upon
her to stay at home; she saw that. Fanny was selfish and
strong-willed, and, unless positively ordered by her mother to
remain at home and let her sister go. would grasp, as her own,
the pleasure to which Alice had an equal right with herself.
If the decision was referred to her mother, a contention would
spring up, and then Fanny would speak and act in a way to
cause her distress of mind.
"If mother were to make Fanny stay at home," Alice said,
in her thought, "she would pout, and fling, and act so ugly
that there'd be no comfort with her; and mother isn't strong
enough to bear it."
"The tender love that Alice held in her heart for both her
mother and dear little two-year-old Eddy was all-prevailing,
and soon turned her thought away from the picnic and its
promised delights to the pleasures and loving duties of home.
"I'm going to stay," she said, coming back into her mother's
room with a bright face and cheerful voice.
Are you, dear ?" It was all she said; but in her tone and
looks there was a precious heart-reward for Alice.
In the afternoon Alice came in where her mother sat by a
window, with the cool airs of the late afternoon fanning her
wasted cheeks. She had a weary look.


"You have been very useful, my darling!" said the mother,
in a tender voice, as she laid her hand on Alice's head. "I
don't know what I should have done without you. It has
been one of my weak days. But you look tired, dear," she
added. Sit down in that easy-chair and rest yourself. Come,
And she held out her hands for the child; but he clambered
into Alice's lap and laid his cunning little head against her
bosom. Both were tired-loving sister and sweet pet brother.
It seemed hardly a minute before they were asleep; and as the
mother, with eyes that were fast growing dim, looked at their
tranquil faces and quiet forms, she thanked the good Father in
heaven for a gift so precious and beautiful.


C ACK again, darling! oh, welcome to home again!
S Pet, I have missed you this many a day;
Now I have got you, and ne'er shall you roam again,
Till your school duties shall summon away.
Darling, you smother almost with your kisses!
Sweet! I am happy-I have you safe here
On my bosom, my arms folded round you. Ah, this is
The brightest and pleasantest day of the year!
These are the holidays-
Brightest and best of days
In all the year!