The Little chatterer


Material Information

The Little chatterer
Physical Description:
94 p. : ill. ; 22 cm.
Ned, Uncle ( Author, Primary )
Cassell, Petter & Galpin ( Publisher )
Cassel, Petter & Galpin
Place of Publication:
Publication Date:


Subjects / Keywords:
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1878   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1878
Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
France -- Paris
United States -- New York -- New York


Statement of Responsibility:
by Uncle Ned.
General Note:
Imprint also notes publisher's location in Paris and New York.
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 - 001531175
oclc - 10625536
notis - AHE4571
System ID:

Full Text


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Copyrighted 1878,


205-213 AKast 12th St.,




OOR JIMMY is in sad trouble, for his pet rabbit is dead. It
had a snug little house and plenty to eat, for Jimmy was a
good, kind boy. His sister Kate looks as if she was very
sorry at her brother's loss, and even old Carlo thinks there
is something wrong. I do not wonder that boys or girls
should be sorry when they lose their pets; it would be strange if
they were not. We are so formed that we have to love something
or somebody; for a world without any love in it would be a very
miserable place to live in. Sometimes rabbits will die because
they have too much to eat, and Jimmy may have been too kind to
his, although it sounds rather strange to talk about killing an ani-
mal with kindness; but this is often the case when boys keep rab-
bits. Where the first one came from we hardly know, but some
say the rabbit came from Spain, and was soon introduced into other
parts of Europe. We know it is in America, and if you could go to
Africa you would see plenty of rabbits there. Some wise men say
that they have a great respect for property, and like their children
to live in the old homestead, for the same burrow (or underground
house) will be occupied by the old rabbit, his sons and their little
ones, and that they never give it up unless they are compelled to.
When more room is wanted they will make galleries to accommo-
date the newcomers. A mother rabbit is very careful to prevent
her young ones from being hurt when they are very small. She
makes a nest or bed of the softest hay, taking care to munch out the
hard parts, and even strip the hair or down from her breast to


spread over the hay. The hare and the rabbit, although very much
alike, will not mix with or play with each other. A hare can run
much faster than a rabbit, but a rabbit has a better chance of escape,
for it will very soon run into some hole which it has burrowed in
the earth, and is then safe from dogs and men. Tame rabbits will
not burrow in the earth like wild ones. They seem to think there
is no occasion to build a house for themselves when one is provided
for them. Rabbits will live longer than hares; they keep more at
home, and are more regular in their habits. This is not a bad les-
son for some people to learn. The tame rabbit will stay more at
home than the wild one, and grow much larger. The weather
makes a great difference in the hair ; in very cold countries it is stiff
and harsh, whereas in Syria a rabbit will have long, fine hair, quite
soft, and on its sides in wavy wreaths, and sometimes curled at the
ends like wool. A wild rabbit is sensible enough to know that
"there is a time for everything," and so he will not keep in his
underground or hilly home all the time, but comes out in the sun,
where he can frolic about with his friends, and may often be seen
in a field or lane. Another thing about a wild rabbit that we may
as well remember is, that what they feed upon in the fields and
lanes, and get themselves, is better for them than the food given to
tame ones, for the flesh of a wild rabbit is the best for eating.


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"'tOING to school is one of the things which some boys and
girls do not like to do. They go just because they have to
S go, whether they like it or not, but they go very slowly.
S"-'.' If you look out of your window any morning, you can see
Johnny on the other side of the street going to school. He
don't look pleased at all; but his eyes are on every candy store or
else on the sidewalk, as if the stones could teach him any thing about
his lessons. He does not look sick or very hungry, but he is not
happy, and if you could go right up to him and say, "Johnny,
whatever is the matter ?" he could only say, "I am going to
school." It is a good thing that all the boys and girls are not like
him, but go because they want to learn and be somebody when they
grow up. We can't know much if we do not learn. We have to
learn from books, and the books we find in the school. Susie lived in
the country, far away from the noise of the city, and had many a
long and lonely walk to school. This bright and lovely morning she
is not alone, for the birds are singing over her head so nicely, and
the silly old geese are hissing at her as if they wanted her to go a great
deal faster, or very much slower, so that she did not come in their
way. Susie does not care for them; she has seen too many geese
to be afraid of them now; besides she is a big girl, and has always
lived where there were plenty of birds, ducks and geese. It is a
nice warm morning in June, when all the flowers look so pretty.
It is too late for the violets; but there are other flowers growing all
about, and if Susie had time she could gather a great many.
There is a sound which comes over from the village just now which
she knows well, for it is nearly nine, and the first bell is going;
and so Susie, with her big bag of books, walks briskly along and
gets there in time. Whether we live in the city, with all its noise
and bustle, its tall houses and long streets, or in the country,
with the trees and grass and birds, there are schools for all, rich
and poor, and it is only right that every scholar should try to be in



4 -"


time. I wonder what fathers and mothers would do if there were no
schools, or what would the children be without the school ? During
the holidays, you can hear them say, Oh, dear! I shall be so
glad when school begins again!" "I am tired of being at home, have
read all the books in the house, and don't know what to do next."
In some parts of the world a good many children cannot go to
school, because their parents are too poor to pay any one to teach
them; all the learning they get they get in the streets, and that is
about the worst kind, for it is nearly all bad. There are some
scholars who do not learn as quick as others, and these dull ones
make a great mistake when they think going to school is no use.
Many wise and good men were dull boys at school, and these same
men are doing a great deal of good in all parts of the world. Good
John Bunyan, who lived many years ago, and who wrote that won-
derful book called "Pilgrim's Progress," was a dull scholar. His
father was a poor man, but paid all he could for John to learn.
Suppose he had said, "It is no use for me to go to school; I shall
never know much," what sort of a man would he have been ? and
how could he have written the book while in prison ? We are told
that when at school, what he learned he soon forgot;" but I think
he made good use of the little he did know. Edmund Waller was
a great poet. When a boy at school, it is said, "he was dull and
slow," but he became a great man, although some said "his writing
was like the scratching of a hen." The great Sir Walter Scott was
not much of a scholar, and was a very bad writer while a boy. I
could tell you of many more who, as boys, were slow to learn, but
who became great and good men. Boys and girls, go to school
when you can, and learn all you can.



VERY little boy or girl knows what a bird is like,
and every one has heard a bird sing. The bright
yellow canary, shut up in his cage, thinks he ought
to sing now and then. He seems to know what we
mean when we say in fun, "No song, no supper."
Birds know much more than we think they do; if you
scold them they don't like it, but if you talk kindly they
are pleased. In all parts of the world you can find birds,
and some very wise people think there are more than
five thousand different kinds of birds. We like to see
the blue-bird in the spring; to hear the oriole a lit-
tle later; and when we go in the woods, how all those
wild fellows will sing The birds in the woods think the
woods belong to them; it is their home, and, like children,
can sing better at home than in a strange place. In far-
off countries there are birds of paradise, very beautiful;
so many shiny colors in their feathers looking like gold
and velvet mixed together. They have splendid long
tails, which they do not like to dirty or break, and always
sit on their perches in such a way that no part of their
tail touches the floor. I said birds know a great deal.
There are birds of passage, very wise and knowing
birds, who live in some country a part of the year, and
when it is getting too cold to be pleasant will fly away to
some other land, where it is nice and warm. Birds know
all about building their houses, or nests, as we call them;
boys or girls could not make them half as well; and when
the birds take so much trouble to make them, and fix
them up so snug high up in the trees, boys should not


touch them. I do not think Ernest or his sister Kate
mean to take away the nest they are looking at, although
the mother bird in the tree is looking so angry at them.
Ernest is not the boy for that sort of work, and I am
sure his sister Kate would not let him if he wanted to.
Birds' nests look very pretty in the trees, and there only.
In China they eat birds' nests; but these are not made
of hay, wool, hair or feathers, which the nests are made of
in our land. On the sea-coasts of China, birds called
swallows make their nests among the rocks from a kind
of jelly which is found on the shore, washed there by the
sea. These nests look like isinglass, and the rich people
buy them to mix with their soup. Nearly every kind of
bird makes a different kind of nest, and you may be
sure that each kind makes the nest which suits them
best. Bad boys often begin to be bad by stealing birds
nests; it makes them cruel, and a cruel boy will do other
things which are bad, until he goes from bad to worse.
Some who live in the country go bird-nesting on Sunday
instead of going to Sunday-school.

"I won't go to school," our thoughtless Jim said
To Charlie, who stood by his side;
" I'll go to the woods, and get birds' nests instead;
The young ones and eggs we'll divide."

" Oh, no !" said our Charlie, "that never will do;
Besides, this is God's holy day ;
Our teachers will be angry, and so will God, too,
If we spend it in trifling and play."


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" Who cares what you think about trifling and play ?"
Said Jim, with his back to the school ;
" I won't be shut up there this hot summer day ;
Oh, no I am not such a fool."

So he went, and some others, and with plenty of noise
Over gardens and fences they got ;
Till in seeking a nest upon a high bough,
Jim slipped and fell headlong, I cannot tell how,
But was carried half dead from the spot.

But no such disaster to Charlie befel;
From sin all our troubles arise;
Many tickets he earned, so his school-fellows tell,
And 'tis said next reward day, he is doing so well,
That he'll stand a good chance for the prize.

These boys were but boys," we freely confess,
And boys have a will of their own,
But they differed in looks as well as in tastes,
As much as the country from town.

Charlie "said what he meant and meant
All he said," but Jim was a different boy;
At school young Charlie on study was bent,
While Jim would be fumbling some toy.

These boys left the school and grew to be men,
When each took a different road;
Jim went to the bad through folly and sin,
But Charlie was kept by his God.



HAT a sad thing it is to be blind! We sometimes see a little
blind girl walking very carefully and slowly by the side of
her mother or sister, who takes hold of the little one's hand,
and tells her when to step up or down. How kind they are!
And they ought to be; for it must be so hard for any child who is blind,
not to be able to see who lives at home, what sort of a baby boy our
little brother is, or what the trees and the flowers are like. A
blind person can hear the birds sing, but they can't tell exactly what
they are like, and no one can tell them so that they can know. If
we say a canary is yellow, they don't know what yellow is like, as
they have not seen any of the colors with which God has painted
the flowers or the birds. But if it is such a sad thing to be blind,
what must it be for those who have no kind mother or sister to lead
them about and take care of them! Little Nettie, sitting under the
tree, has a dear, loving sister, who watches her all the time, and
who has been reading till Nettie has fallen asleep. Nettie is a
loving little child, and can find her way about the house although
she is blind. Her sister Annie brings her to Sunday school, and
there is not a scholar in the infant class who can sing better than
our little blind Nettie. They live in the house just the other side
of the gate, and a very pleasant home it is. In fine weather Nettie
likes to sit under the shade of the old apple tree in the orchard, and
hear her sister read. Annie tries to explain all she can to the little
one, who is very patient and contented. Blind people cannot know
as much as we do about this world, but they know quite as much as
we do about the other world. They can go to heaven as well as we
can. Jesus was always kind to the blind. Perhaps they have more


faith than some who can see. Dear little Nettie was very sick a
short time ago, and her mother and father were afraid she would
die. But she did not; God made her better; and now she comes to
Sunday school again and sings away as well as ever. People who
are blind can hear very quick, and know a great deal by the touch
of the hand. I knew a blind clergyman who taught people to sing,
and have heard him stop all the singers in a large church because
one man was not singing in time, and would point out the very
place where this man was standing. There is now a blind clergy-
man talking in some churches On what I saw in London." Well,
I do not think he really saw with his eyes, but he heard, and thought
about what he did hear. Some people are not born blind, but lose
their sight from some sickness they have had; they can remember a
little about color and size and shape of things. But those who
never saw can't make these things out. "I am told," said a poor
blind man, "that the sea is like an immense green field. But of
what use is that ? How do I know what immense is -like, or what
green is ?" How many blind people there are in the world, I can-
not say, but there must be a very large number. In some hot
countries, like Egypt, a good many are blind with one eye. The
hot sand blowing from the desert hurts the eye so much. What a
good thing it is that we can find so many schools for the blind,
where they can be taught to read by means of raised letters which
stick up out from the paper! The blind scholar feels the letters, the
shape of which, and the name, is explained by the teacher. By this
raised alphabet they soon learn to read. A crazy man in London
stopped a gentleman, and said, Sir, did you ever thank God for
your reason ?" No," said the gentlemen, I never did." Nor
did I," the crazy man replied, and I have lost mine." Now, my
boys and girls, thank God for sight, and use your eyes for some good.

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BOY who will sit in an apple tree eating as many apples as
he can, without giving his sister even one, should be called
a greedy boy. I think if I were a boy I would rather be
called by any other name. There is something so mean and
miserable in being greedy, as if no one else were to be thought
of, and it did not matter whether any one else lived or died, as
long as we had what we wanted. This habit once formed will
grow fast like all bad habits, and if we live to be men or women
will cause us to be disliked wherever we go. James was not such
a very bad boy, but was troubled with this bad habit, and when
his sister Betsy asked him to throw her down an apple he kept on
eating, without paying the least attention to what she said; and he
looks as if he meant to keep her without a single apple as long as
possible. I do think this is real mean, for Betsy is his sister, and
she does not look a bit cross although she has to wait for the apples.
There is one good thing, however, and that is that all boys are
not alike, for boys in general will not let their sisters go without
apples if they can help it; or anything else which they can
get for them. A year or so ago I read of a disagreeable greedy boy
whose name was Tommy Ruffhed. Every one in the village dis-
liked him; all the dumb animals would get out of his way. Widow
Brown's cow, while grazing on the common, hardly looked up at
anybody, but if Tommy should go by would get quite angry, and
once frightened him out of his wits by galloping after him half way
down the street; the roosters and hens ran away when they saw
him; the ducks took to the water; the cats climbed trees, while
the dogs ran to their kennels and growled till he was out of sight.

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Not far from Mrs. Ruffhed's cottage stood a small barber's shop,
kept by a good old man who was called by the boys Father Snip.
At the back of the shop was a garden in which stood a splendid
apple tree. Tommy had many a look at that tree, and made up
his mind to have some of the apples as soon as they were ripe.
When autumn came the apples were rosy. Tommy looked about,
and finding there was a customer in the shop, stole round to the
back, jumped over the fence and soon climbed up the tree. He
was so busy filling his large pockets, and a bag as well, that he did
not notice that he had dropped his handkerchief, with his name
written on it, and written plainly, Thomas Rufhed; but the name
told a tale. The apples were taken home and soon eaten up. A
day or two afterward, his mother said, "Tom, my boy, your hair is
very long and untidy; step into the barber's shop on your way
home from school and get it cut." Tommy did not want to go,
but was afraid to say why. Father Snip talked very kindly to
him, and Tom thought it was right. Just as he was leaving,
the old man said, Wait a minute, Tom. I have just found out
you are fond of apples, and here is a basketful for you to
take home." Tom stared, but managed to say thank you," and
then ran home. On the top of the apples laid the handkerchief
neatly folded up, and Tom's name plainly seen. Tommy cried with
shame and self-reproach, and seizing his cap he ran back to the
shop and told the old man how kind he was to him for not thrash-
ing him. Tom said he was very sorry for what he had done. In
this way the greedy boy was cured.



ID you ever think how many kinds of fishes there are in the
rivers, lakes and ponds ? There must be a very great many,
and I should think it would take a smart boy or girl some
months to count them all. Some are very large, like the
whale, while others are not as big as a sardine-that little
fish which papa buys in the city, and brings home, all covered over
with oil, in a tin box. Fish are found in just the places where they
can live best. A salt-water or sea fish cannot live in a river where the
water is not salt. A fish born in a river cannot live in the sea. We
cannot breathe in the water, but a fish can. They are made to live
in the water, and in some parts of the world they live in hot water
all the time. A fish is made to swim; some can fly, and are called
flying-fish. A fish is always hungry; at least, he seems to be very
often looking out for something to eat, and is not nice about what he
feeds on. Large fish often eat the smaller ones. They do not know
so much about moving as some of us do who move every year, but
are known to leave a pond of water which was nearly dried up, and
go over the ground to another pond where water was to be
found. Who told them where to go to, and the nearest way there ?
In looking at a fish you can see that it is not covered with fur or
feathers, like a cat or a bird, but with very thin pieces of bone called
scales, which seem to lap over each other like the shingles on the
roof of a house. Fish are found nearly white, others nearly black,
some red, and some blue. Gold-fish have very beautiful scales
which shine in the water. The men who catch fish are called fisher-
men, and very often are away from home for some days or weeks.
Polly and Jack are fishermen's children; they are tending the fish


store, while father has gone home to dinner. Good little children
they are, for no one ever finds fault with them. Polly has a mack-
erel in her hand, and looks like a bright girl who knows what to
say and what she is doing. If any one wants to know the price of
the fish, Polly tells them if she can, and if she don't know, Jack
runs across the street for mother, who runs over when father is at
sea. Jack looks like a strong little chap, with his fat arms lying on
the board close to the oysters. The lobsters are not all sold yet,
but soon will be, for the people there know that Polly's father never
sells any fish that is not good and fresh; so he has plenty of cus-
tomers. Now and then the mother comes over, and sends Polly
home to look after the fire and to see if the baby is awake. Polly
and Jack are real smart little store-keepers, and as they both look so
clean and cheerful, you can guess that they have got a good mother.
It is a great blessing for children when they have such a mother; and
what would poor little Polly and Jack do without one, when father
is so often away from home ? The sea at the back of the fish store
looks very smooth now, but it is not always so; and that nice little
boat that looks now so dry and strong, is very often tossed by the
waves when Polly's father is in it, and one would think that it could
never get back again. I wish every child had just as good a home
as these two children have. When the weather is very fine and the
sea smooth, and father is not going to stay away all day, they go
with him in the boat, and Jack calls himself a fisherman. Mother
does not like them to be away long at a time, for she knows some-
thing about the dangers of the sea. So you may depend she is very
glad when they all get home again. Jack says he means to be a
fisherman when he is a man, and go to sea like his father; but I
hope he will stay with mother and Polly as long as he can.





LL the months of the year have names, and when we think
of their names, we know the kind of weather we are
likely to have in that month. In November, we expect
"cold nights, and Thanksgiving Day; for we not only
think of the weather, but of some things which will
happen as well. December brings more cold, and jolly old
Christmas, which young and old like so much. How hot it is in
July when the Fourth comes, all the boys know; for with the heat,
the fireworks and the noise, boys say they are nearly melted, and
try hard to find a place where it is cool. Children in England and
America like May very much indeed. The weather is so pleasant;
the trees are full of young leaves so green and bright; the flowers
are out; the birds sing, and the butterflies don't get tired of letting
us see the color of their wings. A good many years ago May was
not the fifth month of the year as it is now, but the third, and in-
stead of its being May, it was Maia. It was the young month of
the year. The people living then were so pleased to think all the
snow and ice were gone, and the flowers and warm weather had
come again, that they would gather as many flowers as they could,
and make a present of them to their goddess Flora." I do not
mean a real one, but one they thought they had. Years afterwards,
in the month of May, a little girl was picked out because she was
the prettiest, or the best, and dressed very nicely to look summer-
like; then she would be all smothered up, as the little ones say, in
flowers-some on her head, some round her waist, and some on
her dress; and they would call her "The May Queen," or the
" Queen of May." This you will think was a very funny thing to
do; but if you had lived then and had been there, you would have
been just as pleased as any of the boys and girls dancing round the
May Queen. What a lot of flowers they have got! The little May


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Queen has about as many as she can carry, yet little Trotty is get.
ting more ready all the time. May Queens without plenty of flow-
ers would be very poor Queens indeed. In some parts of England
now, the people put up a large pole (not quite as high as a liberty
pole) on some vacant lot, which they call a village green. They
fasten ribbons and flowers on the top of this May-pole, and the
children taking hold of each other's hands, dance round the pole.
This is on the first of May. Another curious custom, is for the
people to go a Maying. Early in the morning they start for the
woods, cut down great boughs from the the trees, and put flowers on
them; then, with music and fun and noise, would decorate
the doors and windows of the houses, making it look like some other
place for the time. This was done in the morning. The games
were in the afternoon and evening. Of course all the children were
on hand, mothers with their babies, old men smoking and wearing
old coats, that looked nearly as old as they did. Old ladies would
be there, and a number of young men and young women, laughing,
talking, and watching the children as they danced round the May-
pole. Ragged boys-poor fellows!-were there too, but they kept
outside, and wished their clothes were good enough for them to
join in the games. You may judge that they had a good time, for
when the sun is shining brightly, the birds are singing, the children
are playing, and everybody is laughing, who could be dull and
gloomy ? But all pleasant months and pleasant days must come to
an end, and if May is a very busy month for the birds and the
farmers, and May day a children's holiday, birds, farmers and chil-
dren get tired. Little eyes which open so very soon of a morning,
and little feet which run about all day, want rest; and where is so
good a place to find rest as at home ? So before it gets quite dark, the
mothers with their babies, the old men with their pipes, and all the
children start for home, and many of them thank God for having
given them such a bright and sunny day.



HERE is always something worth looking at by the sea-side,
but when the beach is low and sandy it does not seem near
so pleasant as when there are some rocks about. Very
large hard pieces of stone of every kind of shape and size.
The round ones seem as if they had been polished. Some
are sharp, with holes at the top, where you can find fish and queer-
looking things not like a fish. Some are so large that you can
sit behind them and be shaded from the sun. George and Bertha
never get tired of walking among the rocks; every day they find
something fresh to look at and talk about. Little things give them
a great deal of pleasure. I dare say you know some children, as
well as I do, who are not pleased with these little things. If they
have a present given them they don't care much about it unless it
costs a large sum of money. When they go in the country they do
not find any thing to admire in birds, flowers, fish or shells; all is
so common, they say. They forget that every thing which God has
made is made well, and that none of His works are common.
George and his sister soon felt quite at home in looking for crabs,
star-fish, jelly-fish and others which were there. You can see him
lying on a rock, reaching over for the sea-weed which Bertha has
found. The crab, like the lobster, is a shell-fish; a fish whose
house is a shell, and of course when he goes about he has to take
his house with him, and you cannot turn him out of doors in a hurry.
Oysters live in a shell-house and a very hard house it is. There is
one thing that these shell-fish can do well, and that is to bite;
many a boy or girl in pulling them about have had their fin-
gers very seriously bitten, but our little friends did not get into
this trouble. In fact they very seldom got into any trouble, for
they made up their minds to be pleased with every body and every
thing. They made a great many friends by being friendly with
strangers. I mean they speak to them, and are always polite when


they are spoken to. This is the way, boys and girls, if we want to live
happily; of course we shall have our little troubles sooner or later,
but try and look at the bright side always, as George did. Boys
like to climb, and I think that is one reason why they are so fond of a
rocky coast; there is more danger; they may slip off. Then when
you get on the top of a rock, if it is high you can see a long way
off, and can look down on those who are below. I read of a little
boy who wanted to be buried quite close to the rocks, but not the
rocks in this country. On the coast of Wales, near England, right
among the rocks, is a very pretty church, quite old, and near the
church a graveyard. Little Leonard was walking there one day
with his father, and said to him, Papa, when I die 1 should
like to be buried here." I don't know what his papa said, but not
very long after the little one took a fever and died. If, when you
are grown up, you ever go there, you can read on a marble tomb-
stone over the small grave, whose son he was: "In loving remem-
brance of Leonard, son of John Bright, M. P., and Mary Elizabeth, his
wife; who died at Llandudno, Nov. 8th, 1864; aged nearly six years.
' And there shall be one fold and one Shepherd.' Dear little
Leonard was buried sooner than his papa thought he would be,
among the rocks, near the old church, and quite close to the sea. I
have read somewhere of a rocky wall, a wall made by pieces of rock
washed there by the sea, and a great strong wall it is. The waves
are strong enough to build a sea-wall, and pieces of stone of differ-
ent sizes are thrown up after a storm and rest upon the other little
rocks which have been there some time; they are nearly all
quite smooth, and some of them fit so nicely that it looks as if the
work was done by a mason. When you go to Florida, look out for
the rocky wall.


7- N

Ebb and flow,-ebb and flow,-
Slowly rising and sinking slow,-
Why, vast Ocean, movest thou so? "
Asked the maiden, in accents low.

Ebb and flow,-ebb and flow,"-
Answered the Ocean, rolling below;
'I follow wherever the moon may go,-
Follow always, steady and slow.

"I follow her movements night and
When she is gone, I cannot stay;
When she departs, I sink away,-
Sinking from harbor, creek and


EN and boys are called anglers when they catch
fish with a rod instead of using a net as the fisher-
men do. This rod is a very long cane with a piece
of string tied to the end of it, and at the end of
the string is a hook which catches the fish in the
mouth. They want something else, though, or they won't
be caught, and that is a bait. This bait may be a fly, a
worm, an insect, or a maggot, and is fastened on the hook
at the end of the string, which is let into the water. The
fish is swimming about, and sees something to eat, and in
trying to get it into his mouth is caught by the hook.
Little Bill is a very young angler and has a very short
rod, but it pleases him. His sister Susan is talking, and
Bill tells her not to talk so loud or the fish won't come.
She looks pretty happy, although her hat is only the leaf
of a pie plant; but this is a good thing to keep off the sun.
Some of the fish are too wide awake to be caught, and
take the bait off the hook, to swim about a little longer.
Others give the angler quite a job to get them out of the
water. Large fish like the salmon are very strong, and
will keep on swimming a long while with the hook in their
mouth, and as the angler does not want to lose them, he
has to run by the side of the river till the fish is tired out.






S -L



1 r


IRD talk is like baby talk, very hard
t for us to understand, and although one
baby could not make out what another
baby says, it is very certain that one
bird can understand another. When they are
preparing for a start to a warmer country, what a
chattering there is for some days! They call
each other together in bird language, and have
quite a large meeting. The younger ones, who
have not made the journey before, have to be told
of the dangers they may meet with. Eagles are
always on the look out and ready to pounce upon
the younger birds, and it is well for them while
on the wing to keep altogether. Birds are not
above taking advice when they need it, and we
can learn much from them. When you are in
the woods, try to find out how many different
sounds you can hear from the birds who are talk-
ing, calling or answering each other. They do
S not talk exactly as they sing, and this you can
soon prove if you listen to the male and female
birds while building their nest, or hear the mother
when she comes back to the nest with insects
for her young ones. She is very polite, and al-
ways says a little, if no more than, "Weet,



Weet," which may mean "Good morning," or "'Tis a fine day,"
"Are you hungry?" or "Dinner is ready." We do not know,
but the birds know all about it. Think of the number of times
they fly backward and forward to provide for their family. A
pair of small house wrens were seen to leave the nest for insects
fifty times in an hour-nearly every minute; but they did not have
far to go. In one particular hour they were carefully watched, when
it was found they had made seventy-five trips. I wonder what we
should do if these insects were not eaten, and whether we could not
find out some kind of bird who could eat up all the mosquitoes.
Such a bird would be worth something in a great many places.
Did you ever notice a bird's nest to see how nicely it was made, so
snug and so warm ? The nest of a sparrow would not be like that of
the swallow, neither would the robin's nest be like the martin's.
Every kind of bird prefers its own style of building. The American
starling makes a nest of a tough kind of grass, "knit or sewed
through and through as if done with a needle." An old lady seeing
one of these nests asked if these birds could not be taught to darn
stockings. The tailor bird of India has been seen to take a dry leaf
and sew it to a living one." Mr. Forbes, who was in India
a long while, says, "It will pick out a plant with large leaves, and
then get some cotton from the shrub, spin it to a thread by means of
its long bill and slender feet, and then, as with a needle, sew the
leaves together to hide its nest." This smart bird is called "the
tailor bird," others are called "felt-making birds," because they
make a nest with felt, or something they make a great deal like it.
If you want to please the birds, hang out of doors in the Spring (in
the back-yard or in a barn with an open door), strips of cloth or pieces
of wool, which they will be thankful for to make their nests dry
and warm.



HILDREN cannot go to sea or go up and down the
river in steam-boats, unless some older person goes
"with them. Some have not the time or money to
spare ; but nearly every little boy or girl can do what these
brothers and sister are doing--have a little sea in a large
washing-tub, and boats of their own. Ned and Harry have a
very pleasant home, and many a time, instead of going out
to play as some boys do, and leave their sister Carrie all
alone, they will stay and play with her. Their father and
mother bought them a good many toys, which they take
care of. Just now they are sailing their new boats, "Go
Ahead and Wide Awake." Harry thinks his boat is the
best, and Ned wants his to beat, so they are all three looking
on. I don't think it matters much which will beat. One
thing is quite certain, the boats can't be lost, for their sea
is a very small one. They have a large garden, where
they often play, and it looks as if there were plenty of
flowers in bloom. You cannot see the apple trees or the
pear trees round the corner, but if you were there when
the fruit was ripe, I am pretty sure you would like to go
again. It is a good thing when boys and girls have a nice
home and a large garden to play in.


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i OU would have said that birds were noisy
(1_ things if you had been with me in Eng-
land about twenty years ago. I was in
Sthe country one fine August morning, and
walking on a very high bank, which was
"almost covered with trees of every shape and
size. A wide path had been made between the
trees for foot passengers to Henley Park, and
4 as the trees met at the top, you could walk for
some distance under an archway of beautiful
green leaves. This was the place for birds to
S come when they had their anniversary, which
must have been held on that particular morning,
for they were present from all parts of that
locality. From the numbers that were there you
would have thought there were none left any-
where else. The large bird and the small bird,
the young and the old were all there, and
all came to sing, and they sang right out as
if they meant it. You cannot think what
a noise these "noisy things" made, for they
came on purpose to have a good time, and
they had it. Some sang very sweetly and
softly, others loud and clear, as if they were
not going to be kept in the back-ground,
but would have a front seat, if their throats



were sore for a long time. There are boys and girls in our
Sunday school afraid to sing; perhaps they are ashamed because
they sing so badly, and are not willing to be heard. I
wonder if these boys and girls mean to sing when they get
to Heaven; if they do, they might practice a little while here
on earth. Birds are not ashamed to sing; they are glad to
sing. I have heard birds sing in France and America, but I
never heard birds sing as those "noisy ones" sang on that
morning in August. I suppose even birds can't sing if they
are sad or vexed any more than we can; and if your brother
Tom was asked to stop crying on purpose to sing, his song
would not be worth hearing. We read in the Bible that when
the Jews were away from Jerusalem, those who took them
away wanted them to sing, and they replied, "How can we
sing the songs of Zion in a strange land ? While away from
home they were sad and could not sing. I have heard children
sing, and I do not think there is any singing which sounds so
sweet as a number of children's voices, well trained and all
wishing to do their best. Boys and girls, do not be afraid to
sing or ashamed to sing; don't think about the noise, unless
some one in the house is sick. I like to hear the noise of birds
singing, children playing, and the noise of the grand old waves
as they dash upon the shore. I like to hear the queer noises
of the farm-yard and the noise of the rookery, when all the
family are at home, although it is only "caw, caw, caw." I
like to hear the noise which the wind makes when it shakes
the trees in the wood, and I do not dislike the noise of the
thunder-clap, when God speaks in the storm. We can't live
without hearing a noise, for there always will be noisy birds
and noisy children.



4 HAT a lot of cats to be sure to look at a kitten drinking a
little milk; just as if a kitten never had any milk before.
Do look at their eyes. I wonder little pussy don't blush
to be stared at like that. There is one thing you can take
notice of, and that is that all the cats are well behaved; they
don't push kitty away, or help themselves before the stranger has
had enough. This is just as it should be. Cats, as well as children,
can behave very well indeed; but children, like cats, do not always
behave as well as they might. I should have thought that one cat
in a house would keep all the mice away; but in this house there
are seven cats. Perhaps it is a cat hospital, but it can't be either,
for these are not sick cats, but look as if they were all very well,
and ready to scamper away after a mouse, or to have a game at
play. Our pussy never wants a doctor, for when he feels a little
sick he goes outside the house, looks all around, and eats as much
grass as he needs, for this grass is his medicine. Dogs will eat grass
when they are sick, but whether they eat the same kind as a cat does
I don't know. No one seems to know exactly where the first cat
came from; some think from Egypt. They are very plentiful now
and can be had for the asking, but it was not always so; for in
"Wales, during the reign of "Howard the Good," the price of cats
was fixed according to their age and quality. There was one price
for kittens who could not see, and a higher price for cats who were







of some use. If any one killed the king's cat they had to pay the
value of it in a strange way For killing a cat who kept guard
over the prince's grain, the man should pay a sheep with a fleece on,
or as much wheat as would cover the cat;" but not when th dead
cat was laid on the floor. The law said "The cat was to be held or
fastened by the tip of the tail, and its head to touch the floor. The
wheat was to be piled up till it covered the tip of the tail." This
would make a big heap of wheat, how many bushels I know not;
but the penalty was a costly one, and proves that cats were scarce.
That was in the good old times, nearly a thousand years ago. The
wild cat is a very savage animal, and will fly at a man. Fortu-
nately they are very scarce. How soon a cat finds out a change in
the weather; for you will find them sleeping in all sorts of odd
places. On a warm day an empty watering pot will do very well;
but if the next day should be cold and damp, pussy will be under
the cooking stove. What a fuss they make about a little rain; they
dislike to walk in a shower, for their soft feet would get so wet.
One thing I cannot understand, and never could, and that is how
cats manage to find their way back to a house they formerly lived in.



HO does not like a walk by the sea-side when the
4 great and wild sea" is roaring and dashing its waves on
the sea-shore, without being at all tired, night or day?
When little folks look at the sea for the first time,
S what strange things they say, and what odd questions
they ask! How big is it? Where do all the waves come from?
I can't see any ships ; where are they all gone to? I don't believe
it is as deep as my brother Harry said it was, for just see, I can
walk right into it and I don't get drowned. This may be all true;
but mothers should take care that little children only walk just
outside or on the edge of the sea. They will not let them go very
far away, and they only see the sea when it is smooth and calm,
looking like a great big piece of glass moving about. They do not
see it when the wind blows hard and a storm is coming. Then all
is changed. The ships roll about as if they would topple over; the
sails seem as if they would be torn all to pieces. Great waves dash
against the sides of the ship and make her shake. The sailors have
hard work to keep on deck; the captain's strong voice they can't
hear ; everybody is frightened on the ship, and strong men ask
God to take care of them, and send them a calm, so that they can
manage the ship, finish their voyage, and get back home again to
their wives and children. When Tom saw the sea for the first
time he sat quite still, and was thinking of some poetry he had
learned at school:
Mighty, restless ocean, tell us of the caves
Far away, where quietly sleep the dead in graves.
Down among the sand-beds, where the sea-weeds grow,
Many things hast thou to tell that we long to know."
Mrs. Burton's son, Tom, is a good boy; he likes play, but he can
study as well. Just now he has been hard at work; his pail is full


of shells; he is carrying a long piece of sea weed, besides the net for
the fish he is going to catch, the shovel to do the digging with, and
his shoes slung over his arm. What with his sailor's hat on and his
pants tucked up, Tom looks every inch a sailor," and "as
happy as a king." His brother and sister are not far away; they, too,
are having a real good time in the water. It is a sight worth look-
ing at to see a number of children by the sea-side playing with
shells, sand or stones, and each one doing something to make a
happy day. Some get mad so soon, and not like Charlie and Tom.
Charlie was tired of digging, and said to his cousin Tom, "What
fun it would be to be buried by the sea." "Buried here ? "
said Tom, There is no sand." "Well," said Charlie, "you can
bury me if you like." Tom called all the boys and girls around
him and told them Charlie wanted to be buried, and they were to
ieap up the small stones on him as fast as they could. Charlie laid
down, telling them only to put very small stones on him, and not to
bury his face. They piled up the stones, but as Charlie was rather
a big boy, it was some time before he was quite covered up. An
old gentleman came along and smiled when he saw the children at
work, and began to read his newspaper. Charlie just then wanted
to be unburied, but could not move, so he kept quiet and had his
eyes shut as if he were asleep. "I think we may leave him now," said
Tom. Good-by, Charlie; we are hungry, and are going to have
some dinner, and if we can spare you any will come and drop it
into your ziouth." Thanks," said Charlie; so they went away.
The old gentleman came up and asked him if he should take the
stones off. No, thank you," said Charlie, my friends will be
back presently." They left him for about half an hour. The girls
wanted to go back sooner, but* the boys would not let them. After
a good deal of talking and asking Charlie how he liked his dinner,
they took all the stones off. The old gentleman was so pleased
with Charlie for not getting mad or angry, although he had been
buried so long, that he gave him two dollars.


-': - - " - - .- .I -

---- - - -_ .

- -. -


O be lost in the streets is bad enough,
when the lost one is too young to say
any thing about home, or to remember
the number of the house or the name
of the street where father and mother
live ; but in the streets there are men
and women, boys and girls, who are
willing to talk to and take care of the little
one till the home is found. But what must it
be when one is lost in the woods or forests
during a snow-storm-when you are tired,
hungry and sleepy-when the paths are covered
with snow-where you cannot find your way
back again, or tell one path from the other ?
This must be much worse than to be lost in the
streets. Every thing is so quiet and still,
you can't hear a single sound. There are no
guide-posts, and you do not meet a single
person to tell you where you are or what you
should do. Then we are told that travelers in
a snow-storm feel so sleepy, and if they sit down
to rest and go to sleep they may never wake
again. We may love trees anywhere. for


the sturdy oak, the elm, the fir, the pine and the weeping
willow are all wonderfully made. Some say that the wind in a
forest of pines makes a noise just like the roaring of the sea in a
storm, and then dies away as softly as the waves do in a calm.
These poor men resting against the trees in the forest are not
thinking about the beauty of the trees or the music of the waves
They have lost their way; are too weary to go another step; they
want rest, food and shelter; and unless help comes soon they must
die. They do not know that help is so near; that friends have
missed them, and that men with lighted torches are looking for
them, and are coming so soon to the very spot where the lost ones
will be found so cold, hungry, and scarcely able to move. Hours
ago they should have been seated by a nice warm fire in the house
of a friend; but they were lost ; they lost their way, and spent
hours of daylight in trying to find their way out of the woods in
vain. Help, however, has come not too soon, and with a little
care and some refreshment, which the searching party has brought,
they will be able to reach the home of their friends. It is not
always so; the promised help may come too late; the snow may be
so deep that they cannot go any further, and the poor lost ones are
left alone to die. Boys and girls, it must be a terrible thing to be
lost. What a number of men are lost every year in the sea; they
go away in a good strong ship, but the ship is never heard of ; not
only one ship, but many ships, and all on board are lost. A good
many are lost in the deserts and plains of lands far away. Girls
leave their home and are lost. Boys run away fiom home and are
lost. Children are often lost. Little Charlie Ross is lost, and
sometimes a good character is lost. In a small room at police
head-quarters, New York, is an old police officer, who keeps an
account of lost people.



HAT a nice little school, and just see how good
all the children are! The young lady coming in
S at the door seems surprised to find all the little
ones listening to that kind clergyman, who is
talking so plainly that they understand him. Even baby
Nellie, sitting on his knee, is very quiet. See how hard
she is looking at him with her bright eyes. But what can
he be talking about ? Is he telling them some fairy tale ?
Oh, dear, no He is telling them about Jesus-
Jesus who lived above the sky,
Came down to be a man and die;
And in the Bible we may see
How very good He used to be."
Jesus, who lived not for himself, but who lived to do
others good; who loved little children, who cured the sick,
fed the hungry, gave sight to the blind, and made dead
men live again. He tells them, too, that we should try
and live a useful life, live to do good for others, as Jesus
did; that we should not live for ourselves, to please our-
selves; but try to please Him in all things. That if we,
although we are little, try to do what we can for Jesus,
Jesus will help us; He will love us, and when we die we
may go to heaven and live with Him. The only life Worth
living for here is so to live, that Jesus will be our friend on
earth and in heaven.

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THINK every boy and girl would like just such a ride
as this little miss is having on her pony, Black Bess.
Emma Percival is a little girl, but she knows how to ride.
Quite close to her father's stables there is a riding-school,
and every day Emma has a lesson from a groom, who
can ride very well. This lesson is a short ride on the
pony. At first she would go very slow, then a little
quicker, till she could sit firm and steady, and now she can gallop
away without any fear of falling. Boys and girls in England ride
a great deal more than the boys and girls of America. When
I say they ride more, I mean they ride on horseback more, and
begin when they are very young. Then, you can see in England
and Scotland a great many ponies, or small horses, which are
used by young ladies and children instead of the tall horse which
the father rides. Many of these ponies are very pretty gentle
animals, who soon learn to know the children they carry. Some
are black, when they are called Black Bess; while others are white,
and are named Snowflake or Pearl. The floor of the riding,
school is covered over with a soft turf, so there is no dust, and if
the children or young ladies fall, they will not be hurt. When I
was at Windsor Castle, in England, where Queen Victoria lives, I
saw the stables, the horses and the riding-school where the
Queen's boys and girls learned to ride. I think they had a
good riding-master, for not long ago I read that the Queen's eldest


--. "" -',- ~ ",I -

'. .' . .-..,
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daughter, who lives in Germany, was present at a grand review
of the army in Berlin. She galloped past her father-in-law (the
Emperor of Germany), at the head of a regiment, in such splendid
style that the Emperor raised his hat and shouted, because he was
so pleased to see a lady ride so well. She began to learn while
young, did what her riding-master told her to do, and now there
is not a lady in Germany who can ride more easily and gracefully
than the daughter-in-law of the good old king. One thing we
should remember, that practice makes perfect." If we want to
ride well we must practice well, and if we want to play well on
the piano we must practice often, for there is no royal road to
learning for queens' daughters or presidents' sons. It would be
very much better for the boys of America if they learned to ride
instead of learning to drive fast horses. A gallop for an hour
or so on a fine morning would do them more good than all the fast
driving they could have in a year. It would do the boys good and
the horses as well. God never intended that a horse should be
made to go at that terrible speed which so often ends in their



NY one can tell at a glance that this pleasant, healthy-
looking girl lives in the country, and in that snug cottage
the other side of the gate. Her name is Katie Brown,
and a very good girl is Katie. She is the only girl in
the family, and, of course, father and mother think a great deal
of her. Three times a week she takes eggs and butter to the
store in the town, some little way off, and when there are any
flowers Katie takes them along. This morning she has some
beautiful roses nicely arranged, for Katie knows all about flowers.
She has been so often to the town that she is well known, and all
are willing to buy her mother's fresh butter and new-laid eggs.
The rose is called The Queen of the Garden," and she well de-
serves the name, for of all the flowers, there is hardly one which is
thought so much of as the rose. The old Romans, who lived in the
time of our Saviour, were very fond of the rose, and paid a large
amount of money to have as many roses as they wanted on some
special feast. They were like some people in New York who
wanted to make a grand display, and had more flowers than they
needed. The Greeks and Romans ornamented the graves with
roses, and in making a will, or leaving property to their heirs, would
state that they should meet once a year, on the anniversary of the
death of the person leaving the money, and have an entertainment
near the grave, every one present to appear with roses. You will


think this was a strange custom, and so it was; but we have a sin-
gular custom at some funerals, when flowers are sent, to show how
much money can be spent by certain people, and not from any love
which they had to the dead. Men would in those old times sit at
their meals upon cushions made of roses, and at night sleep upon
a bed of roses. We read that Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, gave a
banquet to Mark Antony, a Roman general, at which the floor of
the immense dining-room was thickly covered with roses, and a thin
net spread over all. Roses are very beautiful; but to sit and sleep
on roses, to drink rose wine, and have rose leaves showered down
upon you from the ceiling, as some of these old Romans did, was
very foolish, if not wicked; for we also read that many of them died
suddenly, after they had been sleeping on these beds. The scent
from a number of roses is very strong. Years ago I was in a rose
garden in England (nearly twenty acres), and all this large tract of
land planted with roses. There were moss roses, cabbage roses, tea
roses, China roses, and I know not how many different kinds; the
air was scented with the perfume from these beautiful flowers. Our
good friend Katie Brown loves roses as much as any body; but I
don't think her mother would be silly enough to let her have many
in her bedroom all night, for then they do harm.


~~~- az.. .. .

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HIS is a game that country children like very
much. Those who live in the city don't know
much about it, for they have no room, and some-
W! times no trees to put the plank on. Then the
trees must lay down, be cut in pieces, and a board put
across, just as it is in the picture. Jennie and her little
brother Jack live in a house close by the orchard in which
they are playing. The gardener carried the board for
them and put it across the trunk of the old apple tree,
which had been cut down, close by another tree which had
some apples on. Jack looks as if he was scared and going
to fall, while his sister Jennie is so busy watching the
apple that she does not see how frightened her little
brother is. Never mind, little Jack, hold on tight, and
you won't get hurt. When the game is over there is an
apple for somebody, and I can guess who that is. There
are not many children who don't like play if it is under an
apple tree, and Jennie's mother won't let her stop too long
to tire little Jack. The apples over Jennie's head are
large and ripe, and I do think that those boys and girls
who do not like apples are the oddest kind of children
that ever lived. They are very wholesome; but don't eat
as many as you like, for you may like to have too many,
and then get sick.

-a r c-


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_______________'~ -';*4 _ _


AKING butter is called churning,
S'- because it is made in a churn, and
that odd-shaped tub in the corner
is called the upright, or plunge
churn. Mrs. Smith, the farmer's wife, is making
butter, and the children and dogs seem as if
they were willing to know all about it. Making
butter is slow work, for if it is made too quick
the butter would be spoiled, and if made very
Slow, indeed is not what it should be. The
cream is put into the churn, and the handle
must be lifted up and down a great many times
before the cream begins to thicken, or the
butter begins to come. In large dairies they
want a larger churn, but nearly all the farmers
say the upright churn makes the best butter.
In some parts of Europe and America a large
dog does the churning, by being put into a large
box like the cage of a squirrel. The part which
is made to go round moves some handles inside
the churn, and shakes the cream about till the
butter comes. In very large dairies they use a

N 1111A.

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horse for the same purpose. People who make butter have to be
very careful, and not let the cream be too hot or too cold. All the
pans and dishes have to be kept very clean, and the dairy where
the butter is made should not be close to a kitchen, or the smell
of the cooking will hurt the cream; even a ham hung up in the
dairy will make the cream taste of ham. The Greeks and
Romans did not eat butter as we do, but put it into their baths and
used it as an ointment. Farms where butter is made are called
dairy farms, and great care is taken of the cows which supply
the milk. There are some people now so smart that they say they
can make butter without any milk ; and if every body likes this
sort of butter best, why, what shall we do with all the cows ? Of
course there are in every country people who like new things; but
I think your mothers don't want butter made in the new way;
they know what butter is when it is made from milk, or the cream
from the milk; but butter made from fat, and called by a very
long name, is not the kind of butter that mother will buy. While
we use butter made from milk, we should be kind to the cows, for
the milk will be better, and there will be more of it. Cows don't
like to be spoken to in a sharp and cross way, any more than we
do. One cow very much disliked to be milked by a certain milk-
maid; "while being milked she would stand quite still, but directly
the pail was full would kick it over." Another cow was so proud,
or in such a hurry to be milked, that she would not leave the yard
vith the other cows. If she did not come first she would not
come at all; and very often the other cows had to be driven back
to allow this stuck-up old Brindle to walk out first.



KETCHING," says little Polly, "what is that ? Is it
like drawing? I know what that means." Well, it
Sis a great deal like drawing. Miss Annie wants to
make a picture of the ferns and wild flowers which
are growing in the woods where she is sitting. So she is,
with her pencil, making a rough sketch of what she wants
to paint; putting on the paper all the outside lines.
When she gets home, she will sit down in the back parlor
and finish the picture; painting the ferns green, and give
the flowers the color they should have on paper. She
can draw and paint very nicely. Some of her pictures
are hanging up in the dining-room in nice frames. There
is no better amusement on a wet day than making pic-
tures; children then are often cross, and they get better
directly they have something to do. I know a little girl
very well who is sometimes sick, and can't study very
much, but who is very fond of drawing patterns of dresses
and laces, also leaves and flowers. She can do them
very well indeed, and amuses herself in this way for some
hours, when she is not inclined to do any thing else.
Every boy should learn to draw, for by and by, when he
is a man, it may be of great use to him to be able to draw,
or make a sketch of a chair, a table, a house, or an

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OM and Dick are home for the holidays. They are
boys, you know, and boys like fun. They have two
sisters, who like to take their books and sit on the rus-
tic seat under the old chestnut tree in the garden. One day
Tom said to Dick," I say, Dick,won't it be fun to run into the
garden just before the girls come with their books, and climb
up the tree ? They won't know we are there if we keep quiet."
" All right," said Dick; let us go right away," and away
they went up into the tree. They had not been there very
long before they saw Katie and Fannie come down the path
in the garden, and come closer and closer, till they got to
the seat, when they both began to read. The boys had hard
work to keep from laughing ; but they did manage to keep
quiet a little while. Tom had broken off a little bough of
the tree, and while Katie was very quietly reading, leant
down and touched her face. Katie thought it was a fly, so
just brushed her face with her hand and went on reading.
Presently another touch of the face came, which made Katie
look up, and then you should have heard what a laugh there
was all round. Fannie had put her hand up to her head, think-
ing the boys would serve her as they did Katie; but they
did not. After staying a while in the tree they came down
and played with their sisters.



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ASTER TOMMY is in a hurry to feed the rabbits. He
thinks they want to have breakfast early, and before he has
had time to dress. His good sister Maggie is pretty strong
and does not mind lifting him up so that he can reach his
pets. Rabbits should have a great deal of care, or they will
eat things which will do them harm. The food which a cat or
"a dog may like will not do at all for a rabbit, who can eat salad or
"a piece of carrot; but Pussy or Rover would rather have a small
piece of meat than all the salad you could buy. When rabbits are
kept in a house, or hutch, they are called domesticated, and soon
know and love those who feed them; they will come when called
and seem disposed to be friendly, but it is not so with the
wild rabbit, for there is not a more timid and scared animal in the
world. A wild rabbit will dig and burrow in the earth to make
itself a home, but a domesticated one will not do any thing of the
kind. Nearly all the wild rabbits are of one color, but in the tame
variety you can find white, black or gray. The color of the wild rab-
bit is much like that of the earth in which they make their home,
and many a time when I have seen them in the forest, thought they
were small pieces of earth, till I saw them move. This color must
be given to the wild rabbit as a protection, to keep them from
being so easily seen by men or dogs. In cold countries, as the snowy
weather comes round, the fur of the rabbit changes from a brownish
gray to white, as if God was taking care of them and screening
them all the year round. They are also provided with very long
ears, which hang over the neck, and by this contrivance can hear
any sound behind them very quickly, much more so than animals

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whose ears are not in the same place. Wild rabbits are smaller
than the domestic ones, except in that part known as the far
Southwest," where there is a rabbit called the mule-ear," large,
strong and a swift runner. An ordinary horse and dog cannot over-
take them. On the plains of Texas these mule-ears are also seen,
but seldom caught, because they can run quicker than a horse. In
Melbourne, Australia, there were no rabbits for a long time, till
some were taken from England and let loose. In a short time they
grew and increased so fast that the farmers wished they were all
back again in England. They were not satisfied with eating what
the farmer raised, but would go into the gardens and eat the
flowers. Domestic rabbits are said to have a great respect for their
parents. A gentleman who had raised many had a large white rab-
bit, the father of a great many smaller ones, who made these young-
sters do exactly as he liked, even when they grew up and had
families of their own. If they were quarreling or fighting about
their food or other things they would leave off when they saw the
father coming. If whistled to all would come, but the old one was
always last, for he made the others go before him, and then in a
Respectable manner would bring up the rear. Wild rabbits do not
like to be turned out of their old homestead; they seem to know
something about inheriting property, for the same burrow is said to
descend from father to son, and if the family should be too large for
the house, they simply make more rooms by burrowing in the
ground. The rabbit although smaller than the hare lives longer and
has a larger family. Some people say the flesh of the hare is more
tender than the flesh of the rabbit, while others say just the con-
trary. If any one were to ask me which I liked best, I should be
inclined to say that I liked both best, although this may not be the
proper way to talk.



HE dear little robin is thought a great deal of in England
and America. He always tries to make himself quite at
Some, and that is the reason why every one loves him.
f- The robin here is not exactly like his brother in Eng-
land in size and color. Here he is larger; has more room to
grow in. There he dresses better, and has a longer name, "Robin
Redbreast," because his throat and breast are the color of a dark-
red orange. "Robin Redbreast" is not quite so large as our blue-
bird. He stays all the winter, and does not mind the cold one bit,
as long as he can have a good warm nest to sleep in. This is done
very nicely, and is made of dried grass, leaves and moss. Now and
then he makes a little better one with hair and soft feathers. The
redbreast is very tame, making his nest in all sorts of places. They
have been found in a child's covered cart, in a blacksmith's shop, in
a school-room, and one I read of was made in a church close to a
large Bible, which had been left there all the week. Redbreast has
a very bright eye, a sweet voice, likes singing, and seems very fond
of children. The one on the step of the door is cold and hungry;
thli snow has covered up all the insects and berries; so he comes
hopping along close to the house and begins to sing. A young lady
hears him and opens the door, not to send him away, but to take
care of him. Redbreast is looking at her as if he was saying,
" Please may I come in ? You see he is making himself quite at
home, and we know from the look of the young lady's face that he
will not be sent away hungry, and if he gets a good dinner to-day
he will go again to-morrow, for birds know their friends and where
to find them. The robin in our country has not such a good charac-


ter as the redbreast. He does not stay in winter time, but flie. off
somewhere else. He is a greedy old fellow, and wastes more than
he eats. He is fond of cherries, currants and strawberries, and even
pears, and will eat such a number of berries from a tree called the
pride of India that he often gets so sick that he can't stand. He
does some good as well as harm, for in the spring he helps the
gardener and farmer by doing some work for them, when he hops
about and kills the worms, which would, if not killed, hurt the
crops. Some people say the robin can sing as well as the black-
bird in Europe, and that you cannot tell the song of one from that
of the other. The robin is not so peaceable as the redbreast, for he
will sometimes try to keep other birds from going into the nests
which they made. Take him altogether, as people say, he is not a
very bad bird, for he comes to see us early in the spring, before all
the ice is gone away. They are very strong, too, and do not get
sick as soon as other birds. He will walk about the garden, will
the robin, hopping over the flower-beds just as if the garden be-
longed to him, or else that you should look upon him as one of the
family, to be thought about and cared for. We do not know
enough about birds, their likes and their dislikes. They have their
little troubles as well as boys and girls. True, they do not have to
go to school or learn to read and write; but birdies have not to give
an account of all they say and do as children have. Their life is a
short one, and should be made a happy one by those who can do
any thing for them. You can save them crumbs of bread in the
winter time, and they may not say "Thank you, Mary;" but they
will come the next day to see if there are any more, and give yoi a
little song as well.


- ii i




HE swallow often tries to build its nest under the roof
S of some country cottage, like the one you see, and it
pleases little Polly to stand at the gate with her
mother and listen to these birds as they answer each other.
The swallow is not like any other bird. It has short feet,
long wings, and a very long tail, flies with its mouth open,
and does not stop even to pick up food. It darts from place
to place very quickly, now high up in the air, and when an
insect is flying about, down goes the swallow after it with its
mouth wide open, all ready for a bite. They like warm
nests ; these they make with goose feathers. You can see
the swallow on summer evenings flying very low down, as
if they wanted to touch the ground, but they do not, neither
do they hop about on the ground as other birds do. Winter
is not liked by them at all, so just before the cold weather
comes, they fly away to a warmer country, where they stay
till the summer is here, when they come back again, and
very often the same birds have the same nests which they
had the year before. While they are away they are not
known to build any nests. How wonderful it seems that
birds should know where to go to find a warmer home, that
they should know the way there, and know when to come
back again, and where to find their old nests.


__ .' ii.
--___ _ __ _ _ __ _ __ _RME TAYLOR


- / OGS here, there and everywhere. Toby
running away from Grip, and all the
the other dogs looking down to see
what is the matter. Dogs can run pret-
S ty fast at times, and so fast that timid folks are
friightened and think the dogs are mad. They
", like to run, and have legs on purpose. Do you
think God would have given dogs the kind of
legs they have unless He meant them to be
used ? Why, there are some dogs who hardly
ever walk, but who like running best. These
Sdogs are not mad, although they go so quickly
that they often upset little children who may
be in their way. The other day, in New York,
I saw such a number of men and boys near the
Mayor's office. They were all in line, and
waiting for their turn, so that they could get a
dog license. This costs them $2 a year, and
all dogs not licensed, I suppose, were to be shot
or drowned. How many dogs live in New
S York who have no owner, I do not know, but
there are a great many in the streets, who look
very miserable and half-starved. If people



keep dogs they ought to feed them, and not expect the man in the
next street to do it without being paid for it. A great fuss is made
just now about the Spitz dog, for somebody said in somebody's
newspaper that somebody's little boy was bitten by a Spitz dog,
and that he went mad and died; therefore all the Spitz dogs must
be shot. Now, I can't say whether a Spitz dog is more likely to go
mad than any other dog, unless it is because he is shut up in the
house so much; but I do really think he is not half as mad as many
of these newspaper men who invent these silly stories. Some dogs
live a hard life, which they do not deserve, for they are kind and
affectionate, even to those who do not use them well, and could
they but talk, we should be surprised at their knowledge. In a
book about dogs, we read that the Irish wolf dogs were thought a
great deal of by the ancient kings of Ireland. These dogs would
kill a wolf, or help a man to kill him. They were very tall, strong
and swift. Two wolves were making sad havoc among the sheep
at Tyrone, and a man who owned two of these dogs was sent for to
kill them. Just before midnight, the man came with his dogs and
a boy about twelve years old, and all went to the sheep-fold. The
man said to the boy, 'Now, as the wolves enter the sheep-fold at
opposite sides at the same time, I must leave you and one of the
dogs to watch this side, while I go to the other. You will not hear
the wolf when he comes, but the dog will, and spring upon him and
throw him down, and if you are not ready to run your spear
through his neck, in a moment he will be up and kill both you and
the dog; so good night.' The man went off, and the boy waited in
the cold a long while, till suddenly the dog leaped up with a roar,
threw the wolf on the ground, when the boy ran his spear through
his neck. Both of the wolves were killed."



AMIE is not very well to-day, and his sister Mary
said she would play with him, as he could not go to
school. Jamie did not want a noisy game, but one
that he could sit down and play at. After thinking what
it should be, Mary said, "Jamie, let us have a game at
'Cat's Cradle.'" "Why, Mary, that is a girl's game; but it
is a quiet one, and I will try and learn it if you help me."
So Jamie sat in papa's easy chair near the open grate, and
Mary thinks Jamie very dull, because he cannot take the
string off her fingers which she had put into so many
strange shapes. But you all know that boys are boys,
and girls are girls. Some can do one thing, and some
another. A real good time they had after Mary had shown
her brother all she could do, and how he ought to do if he
wanted to learn. So they made diamonds, candles, cat's
cradle and other things, all out of string; keeping on play-
ing till Betty the housemaid said lunch was ready. Jamie's
papa liked him to play now and then, when the lessons
were over, for he thought
That all work and no play,
Makes Jack a dull boy."
Children often make a mistake when they want to play
before lessons are over. Play is best when work comes
first. If we play first and work last, the work seems as
hard again, and we get cross with ourselves and every
body else.

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HILDREN love flowers wherever they are-in the green-
house, in the florist's window, the garden or the street; but
best of all, they like to see them growing wild in the woods,
meadows or lanes, and to have the pleasure of picking just
as many as ever they like. There is scarcely a greater treat
you can give to city children than to take them into the coun-
try, and let them run where they like and gather the wild flowers.
There are in New York and other large cities people who are very
rich, and some who are very poor. Those who are rich can have
plenty of flowers in their windows, and plant vines and shrubs
where there is room; and why can't the poorer folks do here what
they do in dingy old London ? Put a flower pot in the window."
These little gardens do not cost much; a very slight amount of
trouble, a little water now and then, is all that is needed. How
pleasant the inside of the room would be if one could look at the
flowers outside the window; the little ones would be pleased to see
them, and the mothers would take care of them, because the children
would watch the plants, instead of being cross with each other.
You would be surprised if you could walk up and down some of the
narrow courts and streets of London to see so many charming
flowers in basins, pots or boxes, perched up so high, but kept from
falling by a thick piece of cord or wood. It can be done here, for
the Germans have a great many outside their windows, and very
nice they look. The three sisters in the picture, with their little
brother, Master Bob, live in the country, but they love wild flowers.
A great many people say there is no beauty in flowers which grow
wild, and are not cultivated in a garden, and watched over by the

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gardener. They make a very great mistake; but perhaps they
never looked carefully at a spring beauty, a violet, or the trailing
arbutus, or hundreds of other flowers which grow wild, and each
worth a study. That little gem of a flower, "forget-me-not,"
which you find so often growing by the side of a stream or a river,
is a wild flower, and often larger and of a brighter blue than when
you see it in a garden. Nothing is common which God has made.
The leaves of the trees, the blades of grass are made by Him, and
no two exactly alike. They may be very nearly alike, but if it were
possible for you to weigh or measure every leaf or every flower, you
would find that what I say is true; that when God made the leaves,
the grass and the flowers, He made them of so many different
sizes and shapes, that they would be pleasant to the eye and re-
mind us of His wisdom. What a number of people you may meet
any day in Broadway, New York; but you would not be able to find
two men or two women exactly alike, although the men might be
brothers and the women sisters. Your two big brothers who go to
school, Tom and Harry, do not write alike, for you can soon tell
Harry's writing from Tom's. If you notice the artificial flowers in
your sister's hat you will find a great difference between those and
real flowers. Those which are not real have plenty of color, but no
scent. The leaves are nearly all the same size; there is no variety
or very little in them. But the flowers from the garden smell sweet
and fresh, and are not painted with a poison, like so many of the
artificial ones. The bright beautiful looking green color seen on
them is arsenic, which is a terrible poison. Children should not
touch them, and ladies should not wear them, just because in a
crowded room they are very likely to cause sickness, for the powder
on the flowers easily comes off. Too many flowers from the garden
in a head room will also cause sickness.



eIHARLIE went out in the garden one day,
When the birds were singing, and flowers were gay;
The trees were all dressed in new suits of green,
For a lovelier day was seldom seen.

Charlie looked at the flowers, then up at the sky,
The flowers so low, the other so high;
Above and below all was bright and fair,
So nice was the garden, so balmy the air.

He stopped at the roses, his favorite flower-
How bright were the colors just after the shower !-
Then he gathered a few which he liked best,
And sat under the tree awhile to rest.

Charlie laid down his whip and laid down his top,
For he felt a good deal like having a nap
Under the rose-bush, and soon, it would seem,
He forgot where he was and began to dream.

See how happy he looks just under that tree,
No noise to disturb him; the hum of the bee
Sounds like music from dream-land in Charlie's ear;
For ofttimes in dreams some music we hear.

Our Charlie was dreaming of fruits and flowers,
A summer's day and beautiful showers,
And a home in which he wanted to stay
And spend a long unending day.


He dreamt that in this heaven-like home,
Sin, pain and sorrow could never come;
That none would be sick, that none would die,
But God would every want supply.

Some had been living there for years,
Who said that not one had been seen in tears,
That it never was dark, but always bright,
For the "Lord of the place" was Himself the Light."

How long Charlie slept while lying so low,
I really can't say; but one thing I know,
That his dream of Heaven on that balmy day
He often remembers at work or at play.

Some dreams are so strange; how quick we can go
From one place to another, above or below ; [seem,
We are here, there and everywhere; like a spirit we
Till we wake and we find it was all a dream.

Sometimes we are sorry to wake and find
That we had not seen any one, only in mind;
Sometimes we are glad, for while asleep
We had been in such trouble, we had to weep.

People think too much about a dream,
It is not real, "'tis only a dream,"
Which we cannot explain or understand,
Although there are dreams in every land.



-- N

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IRDS do not want to stop for the train when they leave
home, or wait for the boat; neither do they want to
pack a great big trunk, as your eldest sister does, so full
of things that she cannot lift it herself, or get anybody
else. No; birds know better. When they want to go they
are not long dressing, for they give their wings a bit of a
shake, say "good bye" to the children, and they are off.
They can move pretty quick; for many a
bird could have his breakfast in New York
at 8 o'clock, fly to Philadelphia, stay there
two hours, and be back in New York to
dinner at 12. They need go fast, for they
have so many journeys to make ; hundreds
of times every day they must go to the
store for something to eat. The store
"which the birds go to is not always down
the street. Very often it is up
in the air. An insect is fly-
ing about and meets a bird



with its mouth open, which is soon closed again, for
the insect is inside, and taken to the nest. Some of
their journeys are very short indeed ; but when going from
one country to another they have to be on the wing for hours.
Birds have wonderful eyes for seeing very tiny things, which
they can see while flying, but we can't see when close to
them. Some small earth-worms were laid on the ground,
and the man who placed them there could not see them when
he stood up. He hid himself behind some trees on purpose
to watch, when a thrush quite high up in the sky saw them,
and darting down very quickly, made a hasty meal. We
might learn a lesson from the perseverance of birds. A
lady noticed two swallows trying to build a nest in a stable,
but the nest would not stick to the rafters; three times they
made a nest, but the heat of the sun dried up the clay, and
down they came. On a shelf in the stable was an old
cracked pie dish, rather deep; this dish was taken by the
swallows, who plastered the inside with clay, then plenty of
hay, and last of all some feathers, when the nest was all ready
for use. In a little while there were five eggs which were
soon hatched; and the birds seemed to like the pie dish, for
they kept there all the summer. When the cold weather came,
the lady saw them getting ready to go to warmer quarters,
and was quite sorry to say "good bye;" but next season
back they came, found out the pie dish, in which were laid
in due time more eggs. It is very wonderful when we think
of the hundreds of miles these birds will go, over land and
sea, stay away for months, and then find their way back
again to the same country which they had left, and the very
same nest. David said a long time ago," Yea, the sparrow hath
found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she
may lay her young."


HAT sly, cunning old fellow with the bushy tail, who is
S looking up at the chickens, is sorry to think that he can-
"" not climb. He wants one of those chickens for his supper,
but how to get it is a question he is trying to decide. If he
could only jump up a little he could catch hold of the tail, which is
so close to him. But it is well for the farmers that a fox cannot
climb like a cat, for they do a large amount of harm now, and no
one would wish that they should be able to do more. The fox, like
the wolf, is a great thief, for they both go to the farm-yard when
honest people are asleep; and neither of them have any friends, for
men and boys, dogs, hares and rabbits, are their mortal enemies.
When a fox is a nuisance he ought to be killed (that is, if he can be
caught); but to keep a fox in a cage, and hunt him on horseback, as
some men do, and call it sport when they let him out of the cage,
and set the fox-hounds after him at full speed, does not seem to be
sport, and ought to be called by another name. We hear people
say, As sly as a fox," when they are talking about things done
very sly or under-handed. This is just the way that a fox will go
about his work, for he will not say where he is going to or what he
is going to do. He will burrow in the ground and make a home
close to the edge of the wood, and not far from the farm, so that he
can hear the crowing of the rooster and the cackling of the hens
In the woods, birds are found caught in a snare; these he will very
soon liberate and take to his hiding-place, or cover them up for two

.... ... .2 .* ..

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or three days till they are wanted. If chickens are in his way, he
carries them off one at a time, and as he has a pretty good memory,
it does not take long for the fox to destroy all the hens in the yard.
A fox is too wide awake to go out in the day time; so he hides till
it is dark, when he goes prowling about to see how many doors are
left open or a little ajar, for he wants to know where is the best
chance for a supper. The wolf will howl when he is about to run
off with a young lamb, but the fox does not, but will bark, yelp, and
at times utter a cry like a peacock. The flying foxes," found in
the jungle in India, have wings like a bat; in fact, they look like a
bat with a fox's head. When flying they look very strange and
awkward, and if you could see them asleep you would think them
more so, for their favorite posture when sleeping is to hang sus-
pended by one leg from the bough of a tree. The claws of their
hind feet are made so that they can do this without falling, although
they hang in this strange way all night long, and are swayed to and
fro by the wind. A goose will often sleep on one foot, while the
other is tucked up under its feathers; but why the flying fox should
sleep in this way is more than 1 can tell. If birds or animals could
talk, they could give a reason for all they do. Some people do the
most out-of-the-way things, and do not give any reason for such
strange behavior, although they are able to talk, and talk so loud
that others have to hear. It would not matter if they said some-
thing worth hearing, but this is not always the case when loud talk-
ing is indulged in.



OYS and girls who do not like summer-time must be unlike
boys and girls in general. Bees and butterflies are happiest
in that time of the year, when honey and flowers are most
Plentiful. I do not want those people to be relations of
mine who can sit on a rustic seat in the porch, look at a nicely kept
garden with a splendid bed of geraniums in the center, and not be
thankful for summer-time and summer flowers. The boys and girls
we see in the picture are preparing for summer; the garden must
be made; Will is doing his part by digging, although he looks as if
he had got the spade in the wrong hand, or was handling it the
wrong way. Harry has brought the water, Kitty has got the
trowel, and Susie is coming with the rake. Little Polly is too
young to do much, but she wants to know what is being done.
"Too many cooks spoil the broth," some say; but I do not think
that these young gardeners are likely to spoil anything when they
try to make the garden attractive. Every home should have a gar-
den of some kind. The first home that we read about was in a gar-
den, the garden of Eden, the oldest in the world. The patriarchs,
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, had no settled home; they lived in tents,
and as they had some hundreds of sheep, they were compelled to
move about in search of pasture for their flocks. We do not read
anything about their gardens; but when Solomon was king of Israel,
and had built his palace and had made his home at Jerusalem, he
says, "I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them
of all kinds of fruits." As Solomon was a rich king, and the wisest
king that ever lived, I have no doubt that the garden at Jerusalem
contained fruits and flowers in perfection. Lord Bacon was not con-


tented with a garden of less than thirty acres, but we can be satis-
fled with a smaller garden than that. It does not take much time
or cost much money to make a small garden. In the country, where
land is plentiful, it is not a difficult matter; and yet there are hun-
dreds of farmers who have no garden; they raise corn, but no
flowers. In large cities there are back-yards without number
which look far from agreeable or cheerful. These might easily be
made by the boys and girls into gardens, and the expense need not
be much; morning-glories could be sown and trained so as to cover
the fences on both sides; two or three flower-beds might be madb
without taking up too much room, or disturbing Bridget when she
hangs out the clothes. In cold weather, plants not raised from seed
will make a pleasant window-garden. Window-gardens, so common
in England, are scarce in America. Some years ago, while traveling
between Windsor and London, in England, the coach stopped at a
hotel which had a great many windows in front; in every window
was a long narrow box filled with scarlet geraniums. It was a sight
seldom forgotten by those who witnessed it. Boys and girls can
do very much in a garden. Do not be discouraged if the first attempt
is a failure; try again. Make a garden in every yard. A celebrated
gardener was called Capability Brown," because he was in the habit
of saying of any dreary looking, neglected place, "This spot has great
capabilities." He proved the truth of what he said, for by his skill
many a barren tract was made into a lovely garden. We can do on
a small scale what Mr. Brown did on a large one, and at less cost.
There is always room for improvement in all our gardens. After
study, a change of employment is desirable. Reading we do not
care about. No better place can be found for keeping boys or
girls amused ths" hv helping them to lay out and take care of a

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T may seem too bad for our brothers or cousins to wake us
out of a sound sleep, but we should remember that there
is a time for everything," as well as a place to do every-
thing in. When Hugh found Robbie, he was sleeping at
the wrong time, for it was getting late, the dew was begin-
ning to fall, and his friends at home did not know where he was.
He was sleeping in the wrong place; the grass was damp, and he
was in such an out-of-the-way place, that even Hugh had a job to
find him. Robbie had been wandering about by himself so long
that he thought he would take a little rest. He did not intend to
go to sleep, but the day was warm, he was tired, everything about
him was so quiet, and almost before he knew it, Robbie was as
sound asleep as if he had been tucked up by his mother in his own
bed at home. How long he slept I cannot say, but he was so long
away from home that his mother and sisters were frightened and
sent for his cousin Hugh. Hugh was just the right sort of a boy to
go on an errand of this kind; he knew where all the out-of-the-way
places were, which only boys knew about. He could tell where to
find blackberries, nuts or squirrels; the nearest paths across lots or
fields to any of the farm-houses were all known to him, and his
Aunt, who was Robbie's mother, felt pretty sure that if there was
any boy who could find her son, Hugh was the boy to do it. After
a pretty long walk, Robbie was found fast asleep in a quiet corner
and under the shade of a tree. Hugh had to give him a pretty
good shaking before he could make him open his eyes, look about
him, and start for home.
Rob Miller is not the only boy in the world who has fallen asleep,
and slept a long while without intending to do so. I knew a boy
very well, whose name was Ted, who went to his bedroom one
night, tired and sleepy. He laid down upon the bed without un-

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dressing, and of course soon went to sleep. He slept so sound, that
when he was called the next morning about six o'clock, Ted was al-
ready dressed; he had been sleeping so all night, and although he
felt cold and miserable when called, there was no time then to
undress and go to bed.
I said Hugh was the boy to find a lost cousin; no one knew the
country better than he did. He was born on the coast of Scotland,
and when he was about twelve years of age, might often have been
seen on a summer's evening, or when there was a holiday at school,
wandering among the rocks. Hugh was always on the look-out for
odd-shaped pieces of stone or rock, which looked a little different
from any other he had seen. Sometimes he found small sharp frag-
ments of mica, and a very red stone like a garnet, which Hugh
thought was exactly like the precious stone in his mother's gold
brooch. One day during his rambles, he found, sticking up out of
the ground, part of a large horn, resembling in shape the horn of a
deer. This was carried home and talked about; when the neigh-
bors came to the conclusion that it belonged to an animal formerly
found on the Scottish coast. As it was a great curiosity, a gentle-
man offered Hugh a splendid box of paints in exchange, and he ac-
cepted the offer. While picking up all sorts of odd things by the
sea-shore, Hugh did not forget his books or his school; parts of the
Old Testament and Pilgrim's Progress he read over and over again.
Hugh's schoolmaster was an indifferent, kind sort of a man, who
knew very well that he had one good scholar who was able to think
for himself. In his copy-book was a page filled with poetry, which
he had written and called Poem on Care." The master saw it, took
it to his desk, read it over and called up Hugh; after pointing out
to him one or two mistakes, said, Care, sir, is I dare say, as you
remark, a very bad thing; but you may safely bestow a little more
of it on your spelling and your grammar." None of us are too
young or too old to profit by the advice given by the Scotch
schoolmaster to Hugh Miller.



OOKING is no doubt very pleasant, when those who are
engaged in it like the employment; and it is fortunate for
hungry people that so many mothers and daughters are
willing, during the hot months of July and August, to be
found in the kitchen. I sometimes think that good cook-
ing, good health, and good temper have much to do with each other.
If the meat or pastry is only half cooked, or too much cooked, the
health of the family may suffer, and if they have not got good health
they are apt to be cross, bad tempered and disagreeable.
In cooking (as in other things), those who know but little about
it imagine they can cook any thing. When I was much younger than
I am now, I lived with a young man in a large store in London, and
he thought he knew all about cooking. The good old lady who
looked after matters being away for a few days, we were left to our
own resources. One day I found John very busy; he was trying tc
make some melted butter to be served up with fish. All he had in
the saucepan was sugar and butter, which he was stirring over the
fire with all his might, and wondering why it looked so brown.
When I told him that my mother always made melted butter with
water, flour and butter, he was quite surprised. John's mixture
was all very well for hard-bake, but as a substitute for melted butter
it was a failure. John was not a cook.
Jane Punshon is a young cook who looks rather serious, as if she
was not quite sure whether she was able to make a pie or a cake as
well as her mother. She has a pretty large book-perhaps "Marion
Harland's"-lying on the table close to the eggs and other things she
wants to use. But it is one thing to fancy we can do a certain kind
of work, and quite another thing to do it. Jane's mother was in
the country; two old friends of her father were coming to supper,
and there was no cake in the house; something must be done, and


done at once. Jane had often seen her mother make a cake, and
now she was determined to try what her own hands could produce.
It does, however, sometimes happen that a cake which has been
nicely made, has been spoiled in the baking. The oven was a little
too hot, and the outside was burnt before the inside of the cake was
done. Meat is often spoiled in cooking, and so is a pie.
I remember, and shall remember for a long while, taking supper
in the house of a good lady who did not learn to cook when she was
young. Apple-pie was on the table, and on my plate unfortunately.
The apples had lost their flavor, but the crust had not. I imagined
the pie had been made of equal quantities of flour, lard and apples;
that the flour and the apples had been baked away, and only the
lard left. It was not a nice pie. The lady was not a cook. Every
girl should be able to cook a dinner when she is old enough to learn.
Mothers often get sick, and if the eldest daughter can cook the din-
ner and make the bread, she is a treasure. Home-made bread is
sweeter and cheaper than any we can buy. Baker's bread is too light
to be of much use to hungry people. It reminds me of a two-pound
loaf described by a younger brother of mine, as one pound and a-
half of bread, and half a pound of holes." Cooking schools are estab-
lished and will do much good. I am inclined to think, the best
cooking club, or school for a young cook, is the kitchen at home,
where the good mother is the teacher. One thing, however, I have
often noticed, that if the cake was a little overdone or underdone;
if the custard was hardly set; if the pie was baked just a little too
much, or the rice pudding made a little too stiff, cake, custard,
pie or pudding always disappeared when the hungry boys and girls
were around the table. Jane's cake turned out so well that none
was left the next day


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