• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Front Matter
 Advertising
 Half Title
 Title Page
 One good turn deserves another
 "Honesty is the best policy"
 More haste, less speed
 "A stitch in time saves nine"
 "It takes two to make a quarre...
 "Enough is as good as a feast"
 "The early bird catches the...
 "It is never too late to mend"
 "Prevention is better than...
 "Waste not, want not"
 "Little strokes fell great...
 "Half a loaf is better than no...
 "Charity begins at home"
 Back Matter
 Back Cover






Group Title: RT&S artistic series ; no. 1106
Title: Fur and feathers
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082771/00001
 Material Information
Title: Fur and feathers tales for all weathers
Series Title: RT&S artistic series
Physical Description: 80 p., 4 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Nesbit, E ( Edith ), 1858-1924
Vredenburg, Edric, b. 1860 ( Author )
Maguire, Helena, 1860-1909 ( Illustrator )
Mounsey, R. K ( Illustrator )
Raphael Tuck & Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: Raphael Tuck and Sons
Place of Publication: London
Paris
New York
Publication Date: [1894?]
 Subjects
Subject: Animals -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1894   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre: Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
France -- Paris
United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
Summary: Moralistic stories featuring talking animals.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements precedes text.
Funding: Artistic series ;
Statement of Responsibility: by E. Nesbit, Edric Vredenburg, etc. ; illustrated by Helena Maguire & R.K. Mounsey.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00082771
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223460
notis - ALG3709
oclc - 226307843

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Advertising
        Advertising
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    One good turn deserves another
        Page 5
        Page 6
    "Honesty is the best policy"
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    More haste, less speed
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    "A stitch in time saves nine"
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 24a
        Page 25
    "It takes two to make a quarrel"
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    "Enough is as good as a feast"
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    "The early bird catches the worm"
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    "It is never too late to mend"
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 46a
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    "Prevention is better than cure"
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    "Waste not, want not"
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    "Little strokes fell great oaks"
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    "Half a loaf is better than no bread"
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 76a
    "Charity begins at home"
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
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One Goob turn deservess Rnother.

DEAR me, there was a row and a fuss, such a terrible
noise, that if you had been there you could not have
heard yourself speak, even if you had shouted ever
so loud. Dogs were barking, cats were mewing, fowls were
cackling, and birds were singing; in fact, all was bustle and
confusion. It was a meeting of the animals at a farm
I know of, in the pleasant country.
"The dear children give us bones," barked the dogs.
"And saucers of milk," mewed Mrs. Tabby.
"And fresh groundsel," chirrupped the birds.
"And what are we to give them in return," came the
chorus, "for one good turn. deserves another?"
"Sweets," suggested Mrs. Bunny, timidly.
Nonsense, stupid," cried Mrs. Tabby. And she was really
so alarmingly cross that she made Mrs. Bunny feel quite faint.








ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.


How can we buy sweets and toys when we haven't any
money?" continued the cat, indignantly.
This remark was so very true that not even Mr. Fox-
Terrier could deny it, which he would have done if he could,
for he was not very friendly with the cat, I am sorry to say.
If you will allow me," chirrupped Miss Goldfinch, my
friend, the Canary, who lives in the nursery, thinks the
children would prefer stories to anything else."
"A good idea," remarked the parrot, who was rather
fond of talking about herself. "We can tell stories of things
that have happened to ourselves."
The dogs and the cats did not care to give in to such a
small thing as a Goldfinch, all at once, but they did so after
a little grumbling. Then came the question who was to tell
the first story? And forthwith the animals grew suddenly
very shy and nervous. One had a cold, and one had lost his
voice, while another could not remember, and so on. But it
was finally settled by eleven votes to one, that Mrs. Bunny
should begin, and although Mrs. Bunny was the one who
voted against it, she was threatened with such dreadful things
if she continued to refuse, that in the end she consented;
and really I think her story is a very good one, and I am
sure you will think so too. It begins on the very next page,
so you have not far to look for it.
Edric Vredenburg.





R A-.. ,S--- RATS.


























"1 lbonesty is the Vest Vol'oicV."


" TT'S very annoying," said Mrs. Bunny at the breakfast table
Sone morning. I have had another very bad night. I
was troubled again with that dreadful dream I had before. All
night I was thinking about that horrid Mr. Fox with his
long-nosed, cunning face. I have never seen a fox, but I am
sure it was that! "
"Tut, tut! my dear," said Mr. Bunny, "you are nervous.
Certainly your family has been unlucky; let me see, at least
two of your brothers and your aunt-in-law disappeared
mysteriously. But don't think about it; change your thoughts
and consider what a nice parsley pudding you can make us for







HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.


dinner. At any rate" (this in a lower tone), "don't frighten
the children."
Three little bunnies sat round the table, all the same age
and all exactly alike, from the tips of their nice little noses
to the last white hair in their cheerful turn-up tails. Indeed,
Mr. Bunny never knew them apart, but tried to hide this fact
from his wife, who would have been hurt if she had known it.
"Well," said Mrs. Bunny, "go out in the wood and get
some parsley, and I will give the children their lessons."
Papa Bunny put on his overcoat, and taking a basket went
out. As he was starting : "I like carrots," said a little bunny-
it does not matter which, they were all alike. My child," said
his father, carrots have not been put wild in the woods for us to
eat. They grow in gardens, and to take them is to steal.
Bunnies that steal come to very bad ends; there are cats
and traps in gardens. Be honest, children, be honest, you will
find it answer best! If you want pampering and feeding on
nice things you must go and live in a hutch.
But, Papa," said the same bunny who had spoken before,
" out in the woods there are foxes and guns, and sometimes, if
you are honest you starve."
I can't stay to argue," said Papa Bunny. He had a
general impression that one of his little boy-bunnies was rather
troublesome, and given to arguing, but he never knew which it
was, and if he had wanted to give him a whipping he did not
know which one to whip, so they all got off.

































































THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.








HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.


Now, children, come and be taught," said Mrs. Bunny.
First the bunnies sang all together-

"We live in a beautiful wood,
And are always happy and good;
We shouldn't care much, to live in a hutch,
We'd rather be free in our wood.
For even sweet carrots are not all,
And children are rough, and hutches are small,
And if there are cats and a fox in the wood,
They won't eat us up because we are good."

However, that's all bosh!" said the naughty rabbit, for
which remark Mrs. Bunny would have smacked him, but he
moved, so she slapped the wrong one by mistake. Then Mamma
brought out her blackboard and drew pictures. That was the
.way she taught her children. She drew a great monster with
glaring eyes and whiskers as long as the blackboard allowed.
"That is the cat," she said, "who lives in the garden."
She had never seen the cat, but she drew from imagination, as
artists sometimes do.
Now draw a fox, please Ma!" said the bunnies. Mrs.
Bunny drew one, and all three bunnies looked at it with interest.
They little knew how soon a real live, old wicked fox would come
their way. Soon Mr. Bunny came in. His walk had taken him
to the high road, where was a row of cottages, called Newtown,
because they were very old, and there was no town for miles.
The end cottage was also a tiny little shop, with a little window
stuffed full of kippers, and treacle jars, and brandy-balls, and







HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.


meat pies, and so on. In this establishment lived the cat.
The garden of the cottage was long, and had beds of carrots and
turnips and parsnips to sell in the shop.
I have two pieces of news," said Bunny. I saw our
enemy, the cat, a large grin spread over her face and finish-
ing off at her ears. She asked after the children, and said she
was now a family cat herself, and had a kitten daughter, named
Angelica, pure white, beautiful and precocious. I thought this
bad news; the mother is a poacher and thief, and if the daughter
is like her, no infant bunny will be safe."
Well, it can't be
helped," said Mrs. Bunny;
thieves seldom come to H>
any good, anyway." .
"You are quite right,
my dear Listen, children. TH I 5 / A
While I was talk- F X)
ing to the cat her
kitten ran up, not
white at all, but
with dirty, sticky
black nose and .
paws. She had .


thinking it held
cream, had








HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.


broken it open, only to find it was Brunswick black; it
served her right."
Well," said Mrs. Bunny, complacently surveying her three
charming children, it's a pity if she can't bring up one well. I
must say I don't call one much for a family."
"Yes, and handsome is as handsome does," said Mr.
Bunny. I like our children's style of looks, though," he added
to himself, for the life of me I don't know them apart. The
other news," he went on, "is more serious. There is a fox in
the neighbourhood."
How Mrs. Bunny shrieked. I knew it," she said, I
knew it!"
"Well," said Mr. Bunny, "we must stay at home and be
careful. Now, my dear, the pudding."
Soon winter came, and frost, and no food in the wood for
bunnies. At last, in despair at her crying children, Mrs. Bunny
said, Go, my dear, and get food somewhere. Honesty or not,
the children can't starve! Let's hope old fox is in his hole. If
there is no food, you must steal."
Bunny had not gone long, but Mrs. Bunny was anxious,
and went to the burrow door to look out and watch. Suddenly
she heard a movement in the brushwood, and there, close to
her, straight above her, were the wicked gleaming eyes and long
nose of a fox. Her heart stood still. She gave up all for lost,
and imagined her husband returning to his wrecked home and
wretched family. All at once she heard a great and sudden







HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.


noise. Men and dogs ,)
rushed like a whirlwind ,,
into the wood. Wicked
fox pricked up his ears, c0
forgot all about rabbits, and I/
ran off on his four
pads as fast as an /_
express train.
Mrs. Bunny was "
delivered. She
had hardly re-
covered from the shock, when Mr. Bunny returned. "I saw
the fox," he said, "and saw the hounds catch him. I .was in
(a hole) at the death. I heard more news too about the
garden cat and her -kitten. Listen, children, and learn:
that bad kitten is a thief, and steals more every day.
The other day the shop woman roasted a piece of Christmas
beef for the shop, and that bad kitten stole a pound
and a quarter of it, and has been ill with indigestion
ever since."
"How terrible," said Mrs. Bunny. "' Honesty is the best
policy.' Now," she said, "give me those roots and I will make
a nice hash."
And now that old Mr. Fox was dead, and the garden cat
busily employed in nursing her sick kitten, the bunny family
were much relieved in their minds, and did ample justice to the








14 HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.

hash, which, to put it more simply, means that they ate a
very good dinner.
EMILY R. WATSON.

























WHAT A SHOCKING WASTE OF TIME!
















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MORE HASTE, LESS SPEED.


It happened in this way: Tommy was always in such a
hurry that he sometimes forgot to be obedient, and if one is not
obedient very dreadful things happen.
It was one Christmas time, Tommy and his brothers were
all home for the holidays. They had great fun with the snow-
they built a snow cat, which is much more difficult to do than
a snow man, on account of the tail. Then came a day or two of
chill dripping thaw, and then a hard black frost.
Oh, how delightful! said Tommy and all his brothers,
" now we can go and skate on the big lake at Kitsmere."
But the mother cat said No; I can't have my boys run
any risk, the ice is too thin-it is only cat-ice."
hat is cat-ice ? asked Tommy.
Ice that will, perhaps, be strong enough to bear a very
small cat--but certainly not strong enough to bear all you great
boys. Now, be good children, and you shall all go skating the
day after to-morrow, and to-
night we will go to the cats'
concert, and to-morrow there
shall be roast mouse and
cream sauce for dinner.
Now, run out and play tip-
cat or leap-kit till tea-time "
So they made the best
of it, all but Tommy, who ,
was always in such a hurry








MORE HASTE, LESS SPEED.


about everything. He felt as if he could not possibly wait till
the day after to-morrow."
"Why, the ice may be gone," he said; "the pails in the
yard are all frozen-why shouldn't Kitsmere be frozen too?
And why won't mother let us go ?-it's too bad-it's not fair! "
And the naughty kitten said this to himself so many times
that at last he really began to believe it. He went to bed think-
ing of it, and he woke up several times in the night to think of it,
and very early in the morning, before the others were awake, he
crept out of bed, and ran out by the back door to skate by him-
self on Kitsmere Lake. His little teeth chattered as he ran ; he
had had no breakfast, but he ran on. He could not wait. At
'the edge of the lake he sat down among the crisp brown frosted
fern and put on his skates. Then he felt the ice cautiously. It
was quite firm-cat-ice, indeed -so he ventured on.
Crack! split!-the ice broke under him, and he felt the
cold, cold water close over his head.
Oh, dear," he thought, as he went under, if only I hadn't
been in such a hurry !"
He sank, then rose again to the surface, and then he heard
a rattling sound, and a strong paw caught him by the neck, and
pulled him out on to the bank. Shivering, terrified and ashamed,
Tommy looked up to see his big brother.
I heard you get up," said Sandy, "and I thought you'd be
up to some mischief, so I came along after you; good thing for
you I did. You're a nice sort of a chap, aren't you ? giving







MORE HASTE, LESS SPEED.


everyone all this trouble and nearly drowning yourself, just
because you never will believe that 'more haste is less speed.'
Come along home "
And directly mother saw Tommy, she bundled him into bed
with a plaister on his chest, and kept him there three days,
because he had caught such a dreadful cold. But the others
skated every day, and had a delightful time, as you see in the
picture. And when Tommy got better the ice was gone. But
Tommy had learned his lesson; he knew it was all his own fault,
and that if he had not been in such a hurry
And from that day he became a changed kitten, and now he
is no longer his mother's great anxiety, but her great joy and
pride.

E. NESBIT.








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" SHOULD just like to see them attempt it," laughed Lieu-
tenant Spot, who was a jolly happy-go-lucky dog, at the
mess on that memorable evening, when news had arrived at the
head-quarters of the Terriertorial Rangers in Canine Town that
their territory was threatened with an invasion by an army of the
Poodle Dogges, under the command of General Parleyvoo.
Perfectly absurd," barked out Ensign Snap; "why, they
are nothing but blacks, and cannot even bark in a language that a
dog can understand. No need to trouble about them, so just







A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE.


pass round the bowl of gravy punch, send out for another lot of
marrow-bones, and let us be jolly."
But Colonel Blackantan, who was one of the smartest
officers in the Terriertorial army, rose, and placing his fore-
paws on the table, said: My dear dogs, I have learnt during
my life that it is never wise to make light of an enemy,
even if he be dark (bow-wow). The news we have heard
is true, for Sergeant Swift, who has been out to look for
the enemy, reports that a small party of them is on the march to
reconnoitre. If we can capture them it will certainly frighten
the others and prevent a general war, for you all know that 'a
stitch in time saves nine.' We will assemble at sunrise to-
morrow on the Downs and give them a warm reception."
There was great bustle and activity in the dogs' quarters
that night. The uniforms were brushed up, guns examined and
cleaned, and then the regiment of Rangers dispersed to their
families to bid good-bye to their wives and little puppy-dog
children before setting out silently through the night for the
place of meeting on the Downs. Punctually at sunrise the
regiment was drawn up in line and inspected by Colonel
Blackantan in full uniform, with his sword round his neck
for the sake of convenience. They made a brave show, and as
Blackantan trotted up, Sergeant Swift, wearing the medals that
he had won in the famous action of Barkalarva, gave the
command: "'Tention! Ears erect! Eyes left! Shoulder arms!"
The morning being chilly, Blackantan lost no time in seeing







A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE.


that the muskets were properly cocked, and then gave the
command: All fours Form two deep Left turn!-January,
February, MARCH !" whereupon the regiment stepped off on
all fours, and straggled down the hill-side in search of the foe.
But what was the enemy doing all this time ? General
Parleyvoo had pitched his camp in a pretty little spot called
Careless Dell, which being in a hollow looked so secure that he
quite forgot to place any sentinels. This was indeed careless.
He thought nobody knew of their whereabouts, and his
regiment of blackies had just commenced to shave, which
is a favourite habit of poodles, when to his consternation
he saw the troupe of Rangers approaching at a sharp trot
from three different directions. Parleyvoo shivered with
fright and yelled out Fall in but as fast as they fell in they
fell out again, each one trying to get behind the other, and


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A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE.


getting, of course, into the greatest confusion. Where do you
go ?" yelped Parleyvoo. Back again!" whined his black-
coated soldier dogs. But there was no time to go anywhere, for
the attack had now commenced in earnest, and the Terriertorial
Rangers having fired one volley into the air-just to show what
they could do-threw their muskets away and charged down
tooth and nail upon the bewildered enemy. In less time than it
takes to tell, the fight was over and the whole band taken
prisoners.
Parleyvoo, in token of submission, threw up his shaving
sponge, which was caught by Blackantan, who being much elated
at his easy victory spared all their lives. Had they been his old
enemies, the cats, it would have been very different. A
messenger was dispatched with news of the victory, and after a
short rest the Rangers marched back to Canine Town, the
prisoners, with their tails carefully tucked between their legs,
being placed in the midst.
A special edition of the DOGGEREL NEWS was printed as
soon as Blackantan's messenger arrived in town, and the little
pug news dogs were soon scampering through the streets barking
out in their wheezy little voices, "Great victory, great victory,
sensational details, black general interviewed, special bow-wow
edition till they were quite hoarse. This brought every dog
in the town to the windows to see what it all meant, and there
they remained for two or three hours till their regiment of
Rangers came marching by, bringing in the prisoners. The







A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE.


V


next thing to be done was to have them examined, when
it came out, that, if they had not been attacked that morning
they would have sent back for the rest of the tribe, and, being
very numerous, would have taken possession of the town.
But they felt so disappointed at having been caught napping
that Parleyvoo declared that if ever he got free he would
never come near Canine Town any more. There were
great rejoicings in the evening, including a banquet which was
followed by a ball, to which there came not only every dog in
the town but also the cats, wearing white, black, and grey striped
dresses of ever so many different lengths. The house-tops were
quite deserted, but no one minded that for once in a way. The
foreigners being rather shy danced at first with each other, and
their graceful movements quite won the heart of Miss Tabitha, the



































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A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE. 25


belle cat of the ball. Aren't they quite too lovely ? she cried

to her sisters, who were longing for a dance. The ball went off

very merrily, and after supper Miss Tabitha presented Colonel

Blackantan with a lovely medal made'of nine cats' claws strung

together by a single thread, in memory of the great service he

had rendered to all of them, by remembering-as everyone

should-that "a stitch in time saves nine," and sometimes a

good many more.

R. H,. CURTIS.


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"3t takes tewo
to f1ake a Quarre."

H E was a wonderful old weather-cock. He had been
standing there on one leg, day and night, for years,
yet he always smiled a beautiful tin smile, and his feathers
never got ruffled, because they were painted. He stood on
the very top turret of some farmyard buildings. When the
West wind blew he could look down into the farmyard and
watch the real cocks who could crow, and the waddling ducks,







IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.


and turkeys who said gobble-gobble, and little black pigs, and
at milking time big sleepy cows. When the East wind blew
he had to turn his back to the yard, but he could see a
beautiful park, with sheep grazing and timid deer, and in the
park a fine house, where lived little Sir Edmond, seven years
old, and owner of the house and the park and the farmyard,
and the weather-cock.
When the South wind blew, all the weather-cock could
look at was the ivy on the sloping roof and a dark shady
nest where lived Mr. and Mrs. Owl and little Miss Owlet,
who was a ball of fluffy feathers from head to toe, and had
two pretty round eyes. When the wind blew North Mr.
Weather-cock could look down straight through the window
into the farmhouse kitchen, where, besides the farmer and his
wife lived an old grey parrot on a perch, who had lived nearly
as long as the weather-cock himself, and had travelled farther.
Also there was a tiny white kitten who had never, travelled
at all, and had a great fear of the old grey bird, who could
almost scream the roof off if he liked.
One fine morning the East wind blew gently and the
weather-cock saw little Sir Edmond come out of his grand
house. He did not care at all about being a Baronet. At
three years old he wanted to be a donkey driver, at four
a giant to eat little boys, at five a preacher, at six a
cook, and now at seven his great ambition was to be an
artist.







IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.


"I will paint beautiful pictures," he said. So he sallied
forth, a big paint box under his arm, and a large pinafore
over his new suit, to paint pictures of the world and all he
saw in it, and some things he did not see at all. "To-day,"
he said, "I will paint sheep." So he sat on his little camp
stool and painted away. It was very difficult, because the
sheep never stayed still, and he always forgot which one he
was painting. As they were all alike this did not matter
much, but if you were to try and draw a sheep who walks
about all the time and nibbles grass, and goes to sleep, and
wakes up and then looks the other way, you would soon find
out how hard it is.
Presently weather-cock saw the yard puppy, black and
white and wriggling, with his nose and paws too big for his
body. He ran across the grass to Sir Edmond, whom he loved,
both for himself and for the sweet biscuits out of his pocket.
Sir Edmond's pinafore had already more paint on it than
the picture, and now it was covered with muddy paw marks.
Like all artists, however, the little boy was polite and kind
and did not snub the puppy. "I haven't anything to eat for
you, pup," he said, "but I will go and fetch something."
While he was gone the pup sat by the picture and
blinked. Presently across the grass came some sheep and
looked with curiosity at the picture and paints.
"Yap, yap!" said the pup. "Go farther away or I'll
bite your tails."








































'^'M



-,,


A"


Mu.-


Ia *"


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ho~
I i
I
i
-r



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-r


A VERY GOOD LIKENESS.


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S I
-. .*. v i


. r'~ii








IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.


Their noses were almost in the paint box, and more
sheep were coming up to look too, copying each other as
silly people do. Suddenly the pup gave a loud yell, jumped
up and chased the sheep far away. Sad to say though, one
sheep's nose had rubbed across and quite spoilt the picture.
Back came Sir Edmond and the biscuits, but there was
no pup, and his picture was ruined. He tossed his curls
angrily.
Bad, mischievous dog, I'll beat him."
Soon up ran the pup to be praised and petted, but he
was whipped instead till Sir Edmond felt better. It is an
awful thing to have one's work spoilt, and Sir Edmond was
not Sir Isaac Newton.
"A shame to quarrel with the dog," said the weather-
cock. "I could explain if I could speak."
But it was not really a quarrel, because it takes two
to make a quarrel, and the pup only whined.
SfAfternoon came, a West wind blew and
old weather-
cock looked into
the yard.
"I hope
I shall see
something
more cheer-
ful here," he







IT TAKES Two TO MAKE A QUARREL.


said. Sad to say he found the poor spotty pup in trouble
again, and another quarrel was going on. When the puppy
came home dejected and sad, his mother said:
"Where have you been, Sonny?"
"In disgrace," said the pup, but I did nothing wrong."
"It is better for you," said his mother, "to be whipped
when you are good than not whipped when you are bad."
"It may be better for me," said the pup, "but it is
unpleasant."
His mother was the yard dog and chained all day to
the kennel and had plenty of time to moralize. Still the
pup determined to go on trying to be good and kind, though
he had not been successful so far. Mrs. Dorking got off her
nest for a little walk. "I'll keep her eggs warm while she's
away," said the pup. He found it a very sticky job sitting
on eggs, and was glad he wasn't a hen, but he did so want to
be kind. When the hen came back she did not seem to
understand, flew at the puppy, called him names, and said:
" Cluck! Cluck! Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD dog! You've spoilt
my love-love-love-love LOVE-ly eggs. You're always spoiling
something. I wish they would tie you to a chain like your
mother." Poor pup! he cried and said: It's no good trying
to be kind, every one seems to quarrel with me about
something."
"There's one thing," said the weather-cock, "it's well
to be tin-no one has ever quarrelled with ME!" The hen







IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.


told her tale to all the yard, and most people took her side,
but some didn't, and they all began to have quarrels on their
own account. It takes at least two to make a quarrel, but any
number more may join in. There was so much confusion, even
the weather-cock got deafened, and turned his back on the
yard and looked in at the kitchen window.
"Peace there anyway," he said. The fat little white cat
lay on the mat, and the parrot dozed on his perch. But in
two minutes the kitten woke up very thirsty. There was no
milk, but up in the parrot's tin was water. With gentle blue
eyes and a smile she jumped on the table. "Please, Mr.
Parrot," she said, "a little water."
Not a bit of it," he said. "I hate cats! go away."
"Why, there will be another quarrel here," said the
weather-cock. But pretty Miss Pussy had tact. He's a
cross old bird," she said, "but I'll leave him alone and wait
for my tea." So she gently jumped on the floor.
Then the old parrot felt how grumpy he was. "I have
been all round the world and haven't learnt manners," he
said. So the weather-cock saw him call the puss back and
tell her to take as much water as she pleased.
At night time the wind changed again, and in the dark-
ness the weather-cock found himself watching Mrs. Owl's
nest. The moon shone and Miss Owlet came out for her
first walk alone. She had been fast asleep all day. She
caught a small bird and then flew down in the yard and found







IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.


a mouse. Fine times
I'm having," she said,
and flew up ,05,,,
again to the J)
roof. "Why,
whatever' s
that ? Dear me, < I
what a lovelyw:'
bird!" She
was admiring
old weather-
cock. He was
very pleased,
but could say nothing, being tin.
"Good evening, Sir," said Miss Owlet. "What a nice
expression he has!" Still no answer. That gentle far away
look got to be rather annoying. "Speak to me at once,"
she said. "Rude old thing." Still no reply. Do you
hear, you nasty old grinning bird! Answer at once or I will
scratch you." It is hard to have one's paint scratched off
because one cannot speak, and the weather-cock felt it. It
does not seem always to take two to make a quarrel," he
thought; "but I can only go on smiling." In a passion Miss
Owlet flew at him, but instead of hurting him, cut herself,
and flew home crying. It serves you right, silly bird!" said
Mrs. Owl. "People who are touchy and quarrelsome always







34 IT TAKES Two TO MAKE A QUARREL.

punish themselves most." Morning came again, bright and
sunny. Mrs. Dorking had some new eggs given her and was
happy again., Presently little Sir Edmond came running to
the yard.
Dear pup! nice pup!" he cried. It wasn't you who
hurt my picture. I found the old ram with a lot of paint on
his nose! Come pup and eat all the biscuits you can. And
I'll never beat you again." So peace and happiness was
restored, and the weather-cock went on smiling.
EMILY R. WATSON.























i,;


"Enough is as (oob

as a feast."

THERE was once a rabbit; a young bunny that was so
abominably greedy that he made his own life, and the
lives of his father and mother, and brothers and sisters,
miserable. When he went to bed at night after a big supper,
he would keep himself awake, and be ever so restless, because
he would think to himself that if he were not up early in
the morning, the other rabbits would eat up all the grass in
the field, and there would bu none left for him, which indeed


II


KII IM







ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST.


was very stupid for
Sit was a ten-acre field
S- quite enough to
provide for a family
of bunnies for a hun-
dred years or
so, if they
were econo-
mical.
.t ," You will
.. come to a bad end, my
S, -- boy," his father would
say to him; "take advice in time, and stop it."
But the young rabbit didn't stop it; he continued to eat
and eat, and the natural consequence was that he got very
fat. So fat indeed, that one day, after having eaten more
than ever, to his dismay he found that he was too big to get
home down his burrow. It was really more than awful, for
the barking of a big dog close at hand, told him that he
himself might be turned into a dinner at any moment. In
his despair he scampered into a wood, but to his horror found
himself face to face with a cat, and no sooner did he manage
to escape from the cat, when he came across a weasel, and
only just succeeded in hiding in a hollow tree before the
weasel saw him. "This is terrible," he cried to himself.
"What is to be done?"







ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST.


Done, you greedy thing," cried a little field mouse that
lived in the hollow tree, "the only thing for you to do is to
starve till you get your figure back again."
So the greedy rabbit starved, and it was a whole week
before he was able to crawl home, and when he did so he
was such a funny looking object, that his brothers and sisters
could not help laughing at him, and even his father and
mother smiled.
"You may think it something to laugh at," said he
sulkily, "but go without dinner for a week and you won't
find it so very funny." But from that day he turned over a
new leaf, he took his meals regularly and didn't eat too
much; in fact, now he is a pattern bunny.
And so, my dear, next time you go out to a tea party,
don't you eat too much, for it would be a terrible thing when
you arrive home not to be able to get into the front door,
wouldn't it? Remember, that "Enough is as good as a Feast."

Edric Vredenburg.















'Ube lSarly V5irb

Catches the W orm."


L LITTLE COCKTAIL, the
robin, was sad. As a rule
She was a merry, independent little
/' fellow, who hopped about with
Sa saucy air, as if such persons
as Mrs. Cocktail, and the large
family of small Cocktails didn't exist.
But they did, and very hard Robin had to work to feed
them all; and a very cross sort of being Mrs. Cocktail
was. That was why the little fellow was so sad on that
bright summer morning.
"You're a lazy, good-for-nothing bird," his wife had said
not half-an-hour ago.
Hush, my dear, my dear!" Robin had replied, "remember
the children are present."
If you'd remember the children a little more," screamed
his wife, "they wouldn't be so hungry as they are now. Out
two whole hours, and you haven't brought home a single worm,





















































0UR5







THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM.


I.


and the poor darlings have had
nothing to eat all the morning
but a piece of dog
biscuit I found
near Rover's ken-
nel, and you know
how that nasty
hard stuff hurts
their little beaks.
You ought to be
ashamed of your-
self, you -
But here Mr.
S Cocktail thought it
Best to slip quietly
away. "What a
/ temper she has,
to be sure," he
Schirped, as he rue-
fully rubbed the
back of his head,
__ where his wife had
pecked him. "I
Swish she were
/ more like Mrs.
Spoons, the dove;


~.~







THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM. 41

she never henpecks her hus-
band. They're a happy couple
they are, and spend
half the day think-
ing of nice things hd
to say to each
other, and the other
half in saying them.
And just see how
proud they are of
their first two eggs, 'our eggs,' as they call them; that's very
different to Mrs. Cocktail, she is always talking of MY nest and
MY eggs, and why don't you look after MY family better. It
is not my fault if there are no worms. Here have I been
up by daylight every morning for a week and not a single
one have I found. It's enough to drive a bird to moulting, it is."
"Hello', Bob, what's the matter with you ? chirped
Perky, the sparrow, as he hopped down beside his friend
(Perky had a very familiar way with him, and always called
Robin Bob, though I don't think Mr. Cocktail cared for it
very much). "Wife well ?" he continued. How are the
children? Getting their feathers on nicely, eh ? Why, old
man, you're getting quite bald," and he glanced at the spot
where Mrs. C. had left her mark.
Humph!" replied Mr. Cocktail, hastening to change
the subject. "Have you noticed how scarce worms are getting ?







THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM.


I think they must be on strike. I've had the greatest diffi-
culty lately in keeping the larder supplied!"
"Get up early, Bob, that's the great secret; "tis the early
bird catches the worm,' you know," and so saying Perky
hopped off and stole a piece of bread from Chuckle, the
hen.
Next morning Mr. Cocktail jumped out of his nest long
before Rooster, the cock, had even thought of crowing to
herald the coming day, and though he hunted all over the
lawn and round the laurel bushes and orchard, and through
the back garden, not a worm could he find, and the large
family of small Cocktails only got three fat caterpillars and a
daddy long-legs for breakfast, and Mrs. Cocktail-well-I
shouldn't like to write what she said, but when Robin appeared
that day one of his handsomest tail-feathers was missing, and
he was more dejected than ever.
Perky, the sparrow, was quite put out when he met his
friend and saw how doleful he looked, but when he heard
the reason, even his imaginative brain could not suggest a way
out of the difficulty. "You can't get up earlier than you
do," he said, "unless you stop up all night."
That's just what I will do," exclaimed Robin, slapping
his little red waistcoat, and then she can't say I wasn't up
early enough."
That evening he found out a nice snug corner near the
garden seat, where he could see all over the lawn, and having







THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM.


made himself comfortable, calmly waited to see if the worms
would come out.
How the nightingale did sing that night, to be sure. It
quite made Mr. Cocktail's head ache, but it had the good
effect of keeping him awake; in fact, when the singing stopped,
he fell off into a doze, and woke up with a start about twenty
minutes afterwards, in time to hear the church clock strike
three. You can fancy how disgusted he felt when, on looking
out, he saw, by the light of the moon, a dusky form hopping
here and there over the lawn, evidently enjoying a splendid
feed.
"Hello," shouted Robin, flying out, "who are you, and
what are you doing here ?"







THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM.


"Ah, Mr. Cock-
tail, how are you,
this morn-
ing ?" replied
the nightin-
gale, for it
was .he.
What am
I doing here?"
he continued,
t h- why, having
my supper, of course."
"Supper!" cried Robin, in surprise, Supper! why, I've
always been told that it was the early bird that caught the
worms, and when I come out before daylight to get my
breakfast, I find all the worms gone to supply you with a
supper.
Yes," replied the nightingale, "I've heard the proverb
myself, but I rather think it's the late bird that gathers the
worms in this case," and he flew off to bed, and Mr. Cocktail
went home to tell his wife how it was the children had been
kept so short of food.
I'd like to give that nightingale a downright good talking
to," said his wife when she heard the story, and I really
believe that if ever she meets him there will be high words
between them.
R. K. Mounsey.














"3t is iRever Coo


late to fflenb."


I'LL look over it this time again," said Mrs. Minette,
because you are young, Toby, and thoughtless, and
because I always remember what Aunt Tabby used to say-how
'it is never too late to mend.' But I am sure master won't put
up with it much longer-this is the third time you have failed to
sit up properly while Missie was singing, and, if you don't do
better you will have to go and be an ordinary commonplace cat
in a cottage, instead of distinguishing /7
yourself in the professional line!" so
saying, Toby's mother walked away.
Toby sat looking very cross, and
swinging his tail in an angry manner. l,/
"I'm sure I don't want to be a pro- ,
fessional cat," he said sulkily to his
sister Snowball; "you have to sit up i ,
and behave while people sing silly songs
and the country folk stare at you. I _
would rather be a cottage cat, then I could







IT IS NEVER Too LATE TO MEND.


catch some mice instead of having to watch them run about and not
dare to touch them, though one is in a quiver all over; I should
enjoy myself then. I know what I will do; I will run away "
Oh! Toby," cried Snowball, "and leave dear little
Missie ? "
And I'm sick of Aunt Tabby's proverbs," went on Toby,
taking no heed of his sister's words. "' It is never too late to
mend,' 'you are never too young to learn,' and 'keep in your
claws and you'll save your paws.'"
Mrs. Minette and Snowball and Toby all belonged to a
Happy Family which travelled about the country under the charge
of old Jim and his granddaughter, little Missie, as she was called.
Besides the pussies there was a dog called Carlo, who could do
a lot of clever tricks, and then there were the owl and the
squirrel and the white mice, and they all lived together in a little
house on wheels which Jim and Missie pushed along the roads,
and when they came to a village or a little town the folks would
come and look at them, and Carlo would go through his tricks,
and the pussies would do theirs, and Missie would take her
banjo and sing and dance, and then go round and collect pennies
from the crowd.
But Toby did not like it. He was a lazy kitten and hated
learning his lessons, and he had no ambition. And now he had
once taken into his head the idea that he would run away and
be a cottage cat he kept thinking and thinking about it, so that
one day as they were resting by the wayside he slipped away and

















*',

, ,n


&/1Wg,


F-)
L1yiv-


C=Z11






IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.


hid himself in the
thick hedge, and
the Happy Family J
and Jim and Missie
all trudged 'off f '
along the road, t
quite unaware they
had left Toby be-
hind them. The
only people who noticed his absence were the white mice, and
they were rather glad. There was a look in Toby's eye some-
times that a little startled them and made them feel nervous.
Meantime, Toby, as soon as his friends were out of sight,
came out of his hiding place and frolicked about in the field and
enjoyed himself. He caught a bluebottle fly and munched him
up, and he tried to catch a sparrow, but those cheery birds only
laughed aloud at his little efforts. Then presently he began to
fancy it must be nearly tea time, and he thought regretfully that
there was no Missie to give him a nice saucer of milk, but now
he was grown up and out in the world he felt he must not mind
trifles. He had better get on to the village; there someone would
be sure to give him a supper and a bed-he was such a pretty
kitten, everyone said.
So Toby trotted along the high road very comfortably for a
time, till he heard the sound of voices and horses' hoofs behind
him, and looking round he saw a party of ladies and gentlemen







IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.


// on horseback
//' coming along the
\)/ //1 t' ,road, and, alas !
they had a dog
with them, and he, not
being trained like Carlo,
made straight for Toby.
Sb Toby gave one shriek
s and flew into the hedge,
/ and then up a little
holly tree which fortu-
nately grew just there,
/, while the dog jumped
and barked below. The
gentlemen laughed, but called their dog away, who, luckily, was
obedient, and went after them as they rode on, leaving Toby
trembling in every limb, and with every hair on end.
Poor Toby! He laid his little furry head against the stem
of the tree and sobbed with grief and fright. How foolish he
had been to leave his kind friends and launch himself alone into
such a terrible world. It was a long long time ere he dared
venture to quit his refuge in the tree, but at last it began to rain
fast, and it was so cold perched up there that he was obliged to
descend and run along the road as fast as he could, darting into
the hedge at every sound.
At length he came to the village, but there again the bark-







IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.


ing of dogs terrified him, and he dared not go up the street.
But by the side of the first cottage he saw a little shed. If he
could get in there, at least he would be out of the rain, so he
popped through the palings, crept along the little path, and so
into the shed, and there, oh, joy! was a little straw in which he
curled himself, and though it was very different from his mother's
soft warm fur against which he had cuddled himself ever since
he was born, and the thought of which made him cry now, he
was so tired that he soon fell asleep.
Now, when he waked it was morning, and the sun was
shining and things, altogether looked brighter, only he was
so awfully hungry. Oh, how he wanted his breakfast. He
came out of the shed and looked about him, and almost the first
things he saw were some funny little creatures running about,
just like balls of fluff on two legs. Toby had never seen such
things before, but something inside him told
him they would be good to eat, and he was
just going to make a spring
at one, when a strange noise
arose-a cackling, shrieking ,,
truly fearful noise-
and something all p /
ruffling
feathers I,.
and beak p -'
and claws








IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.


rushed at Toby, and would, he felt sure, have demolished him
entirely, had he not turned and fled as fast as his four short
legs could carry him.
But, alas! this was not all, for as he was flying past the
gate, a man with a pair of shears in his hand, with which he had
been clipping the garden hedge, met him-and snap-Toby felt
an indescribable sensation at the end of his tail, yet he did not
pause to find out what had happened, no, on he tore down the
street, pursued, as he fancied, by every dog, and boy and girl,
and man and woman in the place, and what would have become
of him it is impossible to say, if suddenly, amid all his bewilder-
ment and terror, he had not heard a well-known voice, and then-
how it came to pass he knew not-he found himself in Missie's
arms, by the side of the little house on wheels, where all his
former peaceful life had been spent. Afterwards he heard how,
partly on account of the rain and partly in consequence of his
loss, they had remained in the village all night, and were just
starting off in the morning to look for him when the shouting had
attracted Missie's attention, and she had rushed to his rescue and
assistance.
And poor Toby needed this last! That sensation in his
tail had not been imaginary-no, a good half inch had gone in
that cruel snap, and, alas it never grew again.
Toby was quite content to remain a professional cat. He
had had quite enough of cottages. But when Missie sang her
song about-








IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.


Oh 'twas in the time that leaves grow greener,
Puss took to playing the concertina,
I would indeed that you could have seen her.

"And the dear little kits sat up on end
And sang aloud 'Oh! you may depend
It is never, no, never, too late to mend.' "

Toby would give a rueful look at his stumpy appendage and
murmur : But it is too late to mend that! "
But see what a different kitten you are," said his mother;
" if your tabby tail is a little shortened, think how your moral
one has grown. Oh it is a true proverb, as dear Aunt Tabby
used to say !"
MARIA A. HOYER.












P retention

is 16etter


IN the little town of Dogstone lived, not so long ago, a
happy little family, Terrier by name, consisting of father,
mother and son. The son, Snap, was a handsome, spirited
young dog, though perhaps a trifle self-willed. Now, Mr.
Terrier, senior, was engaged in an old-established business of
dog-biscuits, and Snap, as the only son, was naturally destined
first of all to assist and eventually to succeed his father. But,
alas, for self-willed young dogs, and Snap in particular, who
was bent on joining a band, and would not hear of his
father's office He had a remarkably fine bark, and as Mrs.
Terrier said, It brought the tears to her eyes to hear
him."
Music as a recreation, however, and music as a pro-
fession, are two different things.







PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN CURE.


Now, one evening Snap had gone to a concert, and Mr.
and Mrs. Terrier were engaged on a supper of cold bones.
Said Mrs. Terrier, My dear, you cannot be well, I fear
you have not touched that mutton-bone. What is weighing
on your mind ?"
Mr. Terrier heaved a deep sigh, and pushed the neglected
bone away.
"Wife," said he, I am thinking about Snap."
Husband," said she, it is remarkable, but I have been
thinking about him, too, though he has not robbed me of my
appetite, thank goodness "
You always were a sensible creature," said Mr. T.,
" and I daresay you have by now thought out some plan by
which we can turn him aside from his foolish purpose. Am
I right?"
Mrs. Terrier smiled, and drew her chair closer to her
husband's.
Perhaps yes, perhaps no," answered she, "but if I do
know something, I shall
only tell it on condition \
that you eat that delicate ,
mutton-bone I myself pre- 7
pared for you."
Mr. Terrier having
obeyed, she began:-" It Ar
is, as we have often







PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN CURE.


said, a great disappointment that Snap should have taken
a dislike to business, but it seems to me that, instead of
considering it a hopeless case, we should do our best to
show him his folly. A bandsman's life would kill a delicate
dog like Snap, and I am certain that a little timely
experience will prevent the musical mania from taking com-
plete possession of him. Prevcntion is better than cure' has
always been my motto, and acting on this, I propose that we
allow him to make a fourth to three friends of mine, who of
necessity go round the streets with drum, fife, and song.
Snap thinks a musical life is all pleasure, but I am sure that
one day of wandering round the streets will suffice to teach
him a good lesson. Now, what do you think of my idea?"
"Excellent, dear wife," replied Mr. Terrier, and that
evening Snap was informed of the new resolution.
It was the eventful day when Snap was to try his luck
as a bandsman, and he and his three friends assembled at the
corner of the street in high spirits. It was a fine morning,
and they walked some distance before striking up. Their first
performance was most satisfactory, and Snap, who took round
the hat, collected fivepence three farthings. After several
performances, Snap began to feel slightly tired, but it was no
use complaining, for he had to keep on now. At midday they
sat down on a doorstep and ate the bread, which they had
bought with some of the money they had earned. Snap sighed
and thought of the juicy bones and dainty tit-bits to which his







PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN CURE.


mother used to treat him at'
home. She, good soul, had ,<
wished to provide the
young bandsman with ..
some tasty fare, but
Mr. Terrier had been
firm. If Snap wishes i
to become a bands-
man," he said, "he
must take the un- / ',.
pleasant part with the /
pleasant."
To return to our performers. Unfortunately for the
quartette, it began to drizzle in the afternoon, and Snap was
feeling rather damp and cold after several performances. They
did not meet with as much success as in the morning, one
penny being all they received, so that dejection seized on
all four members of the band. As ill luck would have it, they
at last struck up the beautiful tune and song of Daddy
Wouldn't Buy Me a Bow-wow," just outside the windows of a
very bad-tempered old mastiff. This disagreeable old fellow
was in a worse mood thari usual, owing to a violent attack
of toothache, caused by greedily biting at a hard bone. When
Snap, therefore, cold and miserable, barked a very false note,
Mr. Mastiff started out of his chair, threw up the window, and
shouted:







PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN CURE.


What do you mean
S by making this noise out-
side my house? I'll
"': > i ~teach you to disturb
quiet dogs with
your wretched
songs. Just
I'-- you wait till I
come !"
-... Snap's three
friends escaped, but our hero was not so quick; the mastiff
came upon him and proceeded to thrash him soundly.
"Please, sir, let me go, sir. I didn't mean to, sir. Oh-
oh-oh-oh," whined Snap, I'll never do it again. Oh-oh-oh."
You had better not," growled Mastiff; I'd like to catch
you at it again." And with a parting shake he set his prisoner
free.
Frightened, bruised, and shaken, Snap rushed after his
friends, who had escaped more easily. Every moment he
expected to find Mastiff at his heels, and he kept repeating to
himself, "Why did I come, why did I come?" At last the
welcome lights of home appeared, and, staggering up the
steps, Snap opened the door and fell on his paws before his
parents.
Never again," he said, never again shall a band tempt
me. To-morrow, father dear, I shall go to the office and sit







PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN CURE.


on a high stool with a pen behind my ear. Music, I find, is
not all pleasure."
His parents were overjoyed to see him again, and Mrs.
Terrier nearly wept at the thought of her darling out in the
cold and damp. A bad cold was indeed the result of the
outing, and Snap had to endure the agonies of gruel and
a hot-water bottle. On his recovery, he set seriously to
work, and now a steadier young dog than Snap Terrier, Esq.,
cannot be met with. Should you care to call on him, his
business hours are from ten to four, and the first thing you
will notice on entering his office will be, Daddy Wouldn't
Buy Me a Bow-wow," framed and hung up on the wall.


Bella Sidney Woolf.












ltaant MRot."


" OTTIE! Lottie! are you up yet? Remember, you
Shave to feed the poultry, while Milly's away. They
are all waiting about; they know the time as well as we do "
I'm ready," called Lottie, as she ran downstairs, snatched
a supply of food from the store-room, and went into the farm-
yard. A pretty picture was Lottie, as the early sun shone on
her fresh cheeks, blue frock and clean pinafore; but the fowls
did not think of that; they wanted their breakfast.


11 Waste Mot,







WASTE NOT, WANT NOT.


"There you are, then-there-and there!" she said,
scattering the food from a wooden measure, and waiting while
they scrambled for it. What more? you greedy little
things she cried at last. You can't have it; it's all gone !"
The old cock had helped himself to a double share by pushing
others aside, and some of the smaller chickens had got none in
the scuffle; they all gathered round to show how hungry they
were.
Lottie half thought she would run indoors and fetch
more grain; then, as she turned the empty measure round, she
read on the rim of the old-fashioned thing, Waste not, want
not."
That's what I wrote in my copy-book yesterday. Yes, it's
waste," she cried, to give
you more; you don't know
when you have had enough!" i
And away she
went indoors to
have her own
breakfast.
Lottie was not --
an unkind girl,
on the whole, but
was not fond of giving herself trouble,
and would often seize on a slight excuse
for neglecting things she did not want to







WASTE NOT, WANT NOT.


do. The fowls belonged to her and her sister Milly, and their
mother allowed the children to look after their food, as they were
quite old enough for that. The whole care of them, however,
had by degrees fallen on Milly, who had a great love for these
dumb pets.
Mind you feed them properly," was the last thing she had
said. "You know exactly what I give them; and don't forget to
water the flowers-will you, dear ? Lottie promised all this,
and meant to do it, at the time.
After breakfast, to-day, a new story-book took her attention.
You had better wash your hands, child," said her mother.
"It is nearly school-time."
Lottie jumped up with a start. "Oh, the flowers!" she
cried; I must water them." And can in hand she entered the
little garden which was gay with roses, pinks, and other
sweet plants. She emptied the can, and was just going to fill it
again, when she thought: The clouds are getting up; it will rain
directly. 'Waste not, want not!'-what is the good of using
more water when there will be plenty directly without this; and
I shall be able now to finish that chapter before school."
The rain did not come after all; but by when studies were
over it was the dinner-hour, and the garden was forgotten.
That poor garden! On the day Milly was expected home
it looked rather different from when she left. It was easy to see
she was the one who worked most in it. Lottie thought she
had given it enough attention, but somehow the weeds had







WASTE NOT, WANT NOT.


gained ground, the
creeper straggled about,
and, sad to say, the
pansies were dead.
As to the poultry-
yard, I believe the /
fowls, would, one and I
all have rejoiced ,
had they known """
the day was
come at last for u
their favourite
mistress's re-
turn; but as they did not ,'
know it, I suppose they must be pardoned for doing something
very provoking in one of their efforts to forage for themselves,
and make up for Lottie's shortcomings.
The latter was starting for school. Now, did I latch that
garden gate ? she asked herself. I must go back and make
sure. Oh, I am nearly certain I did, and time is precious.
' Waste not, want not !'-what a good saying that is. If I were
to turn back now I should have to walk the faster for it, in this
heat. I daresay it is all right." And she went on her way,
thinking how delightful it would be to find Milly at home on her
return. Twelve o'clock saw lessons over, and Lottie once
more in sight of the cottage.






WASTE NOT, WANT NOT.


I will go by the back
way, through the garden,
and surprise her in the
parlour," she
thought.
But what a
sight met her
eyes! Beds
were torn up -
in all direc-
tions, the new
seeds scratched out,
tender plants trampled upon. Lottie looked round in despair
and burst into tears. But a soft arm was flung about her, and
Milly's kind voice was telling her not to mind. "It's all my
fault," sobbed Lottie, I must have left the gate open."
All the fowls were in," said Milly, and the pig too ; but
we will work hard to-morrow and put it right again."
How good you are not to scold," said Lottie, trying to
smile. Mother gave me a shilling yesterday, I shall spend it
all in getting more seeds and other things. The fowls will be
glad to have you again, Milly," she added; they don't seem to
get on with me."
What did you give them ? "
Grain," said Lottie.
Oh cried Milly, how could you forget that they have







WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 63

been used to have all sorts of odds and ends; I save them from
the meals, you know. They like variety, and 'waste not,
want- '"
"Oh, don't!" interrupted Lottie. Everything has gone
wrong since I went by that proverb. I wonder why it is."
I can't tell," answered Milly. Dinner is ready, so we
must talk of it afterwards. Sayings are all very well, but a great
deal depends sometimes on the way in which one uses them."

ELLIS WALTON.












" 'little


trohzes

fell Il
Great Oak-" -




M ANY years ago a wood-cutter and his little boy lived in
a hut in a great forest. There were elms, and firs, and
birches, and oaks; these last, giants that had stood the wild
tempests of many a winter, and yet would one day lie low
beneath the strokes of the wood-cutter's sharp axe.
See," the wood-cutter would say proudly to his little son
Edmond. "They are fine great trees, but 'little strokes fell
great oaks.' And the boy would run for the little chopper his
father had made him, and the little cord like his father's big
ropes, and would hew away at a small sapling with all the
strength of his tiny right arm, longing for the time when he
should be a man like father, and able to fell great oak trees, too.
Edmond was not lonely, though he lived alone with his
father, and the great world of people was far away. All the
















- -t- vr-~-~


~' ~'-'
4"
':1~(
S'i
=.*tut*1t


-it` '


MUSIC HATH CHARMS.







LITTLE STROKES FELL GREAT OAKS.


great forest was his playground
and the beasts and birds his play-
,t. ll, ltnd friends.
L e One even-
ing, at sunset,
l ow' s e Edmond walked
Si through the forest
Sto find his father,
Sand tell him it
was time to come
home. Shy bun-
nies ran out as
., he passed, to have
Snice suppers in the evening
glow, squirrels climbed
about in the tree tops, and birds sang. Suddenly he heard
a faint moan. He looked to see what it was, and there, lying
on his side panting and breathless, was a poor hunted stag,
his hot tongue hanging from his mouth,' and his smooth skin
torn with thorns and spattered with mire. Edmond's first
thought was to fetch some water for the poor beast. Then he
listened to his sad story. In his forest lair that morning he
had been gazing at his handsome antlers in the mirror pool,
when suddenly out rushed hunters from the bushes. All day
he was hunted over moor and mountain side, till at last they
gave up the pursuit, and the poor stag crept back to the forest







LITTLE STROKES FELL GREAT OAKS.


Edmond did what he could for him and then went on once more
on his way, listening to the birds carolling good-nights to the
sun. All at once he saw on the green mossy pathway a beautiful
vixen, with a long brush and gentle grey eyes.
The vixen spoke: "I am Queen of the Foxes, and have just
seen your kind action to the stag. The deer are allies of ours,
and I shall myself reward you. You may come with me and
see the Foxes' Fairy Hole, and all thewonders it contains."
"No, indeed, Mistress Queen Fox," said Edmond. "I must
fetch my father home, he is a wood-cutter and weary with his
long day's toil."
And when you are a man will you be a wood-cutter too ?
Better a wood-cutter than a wicked huntsman "
I mean to be a wood-cutter and fell the greatest trees!" said
Edmond.
"Well," said the white Queen, "you may change your mind;
if so, I will help you. You have only to decide, then take your
little axe and cut down an oak tree, inside the trunk you will find
what will help you to become whatever you wish to be."
Then she disappeared, and Edmond found his father and
they went home.
Next day a great event happened, for the wood-cutter took
his son to attend a fair at the nearest hamlet, miles away. They
were to buy some cattle to keep on a little clearing near the hut.
The fair was a fine sight, great droves of long-horned beasts
waiting to be sold, and flocks of patient stupid sheep. Edmond's







LITTLE STROKES FELL GREAT OAKS.


round eyes glistened. I'd like to be a drover," he thought,
"and have all these fine beasts." Then the Mayor came out in
his robes, and all his council with him. I'd like to be Mayor,"
said Edmond. Then there came by two men with a performing
bear, who shouldered arms and danced and climbed a pole.
" I'd like best of all to be that bear!" said Edmond, and his
father laughed. By-and-by they turned out of the fair and
the noise, and went into a beautiful church with lovely pictures
hanging inside and magnificent carved oak all around. This was
where the oak trees that were felled went to. I'd like to be a
wood-carver," he cried, or an artist, and paint pictures like
that."


" Hush," said his father.


,',
~


" Hold thy peace, my son, and
listen." Thr-o'uighout the gloom
i:if the cha-lpel swelled a beau-
tilfl ;,-und of music,
-iing higher and
high-er, then breaking
into lovely
harmonies
like Angels'
voices, till the
wood cutter
S .-' wept for his
sins and

prayed that







LITTLE STROKES FELL GREAT OAKS.


he might go to heaven, and Edmond wished he were among the
Angels now. As they turned out into the road again he said:
" Best of all I would like to make music like that." They
passed back through the fair, and the bear was tired and cross,
and the drovers drinking and noisy, and the Mayor was being
well scolded by his wife, a notable shrew, and looked a very
small man indeed without his robes. So Edmond still said,
" I will be a musician. Then I shall give pleasure to all who
hear me." The wood-cutter drove his cattle home, and Edmond
wished that very night to fell his fairy oak tree, but waited till
morning, when at dawn he rose and went out. He chose a large
oak and began to chop. All day his little strokes rang, till just
.at eventide, suddenly, the tree fell and right inside the trunk
was-not a great organ as Edmond hoped, but only a little flute
-such as he might have bought for himself at the fair. He
threw it on the ground in disgust and anger. It is no good at
all," he cried; "what music can I make with that?"
" Patience !" said a thrush on its nest. "Even our songs are
not learnt in a day."
You must walk before you can run,'' said a fat waddling
duck, who it is to be feared would never run at all. Play a
tune," said the new cattle, all attention to the tips of their long
horns. So Edmond sat down and played. It really was music,
he thought, though not the music he longed to play.
He was still playing when his father came home. Little
strokes fell great oaks," said his father, as usual. Little flute
players may become great musicians, but I should like my
.supper." Next day Edmond and his flute went into the forest.
The poor stag was rested and well again. With a melancholy look
in his dark eyes he hoped the huntsman might spare him now.







70 LITTLE STROKES FELL GREAT OAKS.

Edmond played him a tune which quite put him in good heart
again.
All the rabbits came round to listen too, till silently the
white Queen of the Foxes glided up and the bunnies disappeared
for fear of evil consequences. Now come and see my hole,"
said she, and Edmond went. Many and great were the wonders
he saw there. Hunters pursued by mounted foxes and run
through by the antlers of pursuing stags. Wonderful treasures
and palaces of delight, fading away like a dream presently, when
the boy found himself once more in the wood, alone with
his flute.
Days and months and years passed, and still the wood-cutter
and his boy lived in the forest hut, the father felling trees, the
son helping him and playing diligently too on his flute.
He played of the wonders of the Foxes' Hole. All the
beasts and birds rejoiced to hear him, and when
f he \\ent t,: the lhir, people crowded round and
'.he ias. m,,re popular than the Mayor
hInseIlf. n-re admired than the perform-
ing Lear. "By-and-by the little flute
S player \wiill be a great musician," said
'C dthe wood-cutter, and his words
c :namle true; years passed, and the
S. forest and beasts and birds
knew the flute player no
longer, but in far coun-
tries he played other and
grander music to make
glad the hearts of all
mankind.
Emily R. Watson.














"ibalt

a Loaf 7

is I3etter

than no reab.'





"N OW, what shall I steal this morning?" said Mr. Jack-
daw. This was a pretty question for a bird to put to
himself, was it not? And I grieve to say that Mr. Jackdaw was
indeed a thief, his words were not meant as a joke. The one
who had suffered most from our friend Jackdaw was Professor
Z- -. His was a lovely house, in Mr. Jackdaw's opinion, for
it was full of such funny things-bottles, powders, and tubes
-which gave that wicked bird such pleasure to knock over or
Srun off with. For a long time Professor Z- could not
imagine who threw his belongings into disorder, or ran off with
them, until-one day Mr. Jackdaw was caught at his tricks, and







72 HALF A LOAF IS BETTER THAN NO BREAD.

since then the Professor kept everything locked up, and rarely
left his study window open. On this particular morning, Mr.
Jackdaw determined to pay a visit to the Professor. I ought to
mention that Jack had one favourite expression, which he com-
forted himself with on all occasions, and that was, Half a
Loaf is Better than no Bread." Thus, before starting on his
adventure, he looked out for a breakfast, saw two fine worms
but only managed to catch one. Half a Loaf is Better than
no Bread," said the wise little bird as he flew briskly away. He
was in luck's way, for the Professor had overslept himself, the
study window was open, and he had evidently forgotten to lock
up his treasures, for there they all lay, spread out before Jack,
and at first he could do nothing but hop from one thing to
another. At last, however, his attention was caught by some
bright-coloured powders in little china dishes. How pretty!"
said he, and put his inquisitive claw into one. That looks very
nice," he continued, holding it up, I wonder if I could not
colour myself all over." No sooner said than done, and in a
few minutes every bit of him was rainbow-coloured, except his
head. Now for the finishing touch," said he. But, alas! the
harmless-looking powders were really otherwise, for no sooner
had they touched his eyes than Mr. Jackdaw felt a burning pain.
Guessing the cause, he flew blindly out of the window, and
rolled himself over and over in a large pool. The pain grew
less, and in a few minutes he struggled to a branch and tried
to dry himself. The adventure might have been serious, nor











































- .1.
. '


; 45,


THOSE WHO HIDE CAN FIND.


''


''


"'"''
~cr
.

'(r .':
~1 in
i'


;








74 HALF A LOAF IS BETTER THAN NO BREAD.

was it entirely without bad effects. As he j
began to dry, Mr. Jackdaw fancied that things
did not look as clear to him as
before. He began to get frightened,
and then got in a rage, and looked so
fierce that he frightened a poor
little grasshopper into a fit. "Horrid Y-
old Professor," he cried, to leave
such powders about. He ought to
cure my eyes for nothing. Good
idea. I'll go to him at once!" So, -
bold as a lion, he flew back to the
study window, where he found the
Professor reading, his spectacles on his nose and his head
resting on his hand.
With head on one side, as usual, Mr. Jackdaw hopped right
in. But no sooner did the Professor see him than he drove him
out and shut the window. Jack was furious, and it was quite
dreadful to see him. As he grew colder he began to think of
taking some revenge on the Professor, but when he had quite
calmed down he resolved only to- play some trick on him.
" I have it," he cried. A sudden thought strikes me. I'll get
cured and pay him out at the same time."
For several hours our friend hid in a tree and watched the
Professor, till at last a servant called the old man out. He
removed his spectacles and laid them on the open book








HALF A LOAF IS BETTER THAN NO BREAD.


to mark his place. The watcher in the tree looked round
carefully. Stealthily he crept in at the window, and raising the
spectacles he made off with them. It was a toilsome journey,
for the things would keep slipping away. At last he reached
his home in safety, dragged them up the tree and cleverly fixed
his prize amongst the twigs. How splendid," said he, that
I noticed these little glass windows on the Professor's nose.
Of course they help him to see. What a pity they are so large,
but then I can always look through one at a time. This has
been partly a lucky and partly an unlucky day! I would
sooner have had my eyes made quite well, but then again,
' Half a Loaf is Better than no Bread,' and I have got my little
windows."
*- *

It was winter, and the snow lay on the ground. Up in his
tree sat Jack, shivering and miserable. Not a morsel of food
could he find anywhere, not a sheltering nook to shield him from
the icy wind. He spread his wings feebly and fluttered towards
the Professor's house. Not much chance there," he said,
" I have treated him too badly. The Professor sat reading with
a new pair of spectacles. A tap at the window. The Professor
looked up. What a miserable little bird met his eyes. My
old enemy, Jackdaw," said the Professor; "poor fellow, he
seems sufficiently punished for his thievish tricks!" The old
man opened the window, and in hopped Jack, feeling thoroughly
ashamed of himself. A feast of bread crumbs was set before







HALF A LOAF IS BETTER THAN NO BREAD.


him; some months ago Jack would have turned up his nose, or
I should say his beak, at it. As it was he fell to merrily. Half
a Loaf is Better than no Bread," quoth he, "and, besides, it -is
more than I deserve." The good Professor looked on kindly;
all his former anger had vanished. Poor little bird," he said.
Suddenly Jack darted through the open window, and was
gone. In a few minutes he returned, more slowly, and laid the
stolen spectacles before the Professor. Forgive me," he
seemed to say. And from that time forth the two were the best
of friends.

Bella Sidney Woolf.


g4fz,


-~f~c~lT~ ~i~~





































-17


TrasuQOing
















" Cbarity


beifns -'

at bome." -

A H!" said
"A Mr. Jacko,
the Monkey, as --
he sat in his
comfortable arm-chair, and /
stretched out his toes to ',' /,
the warm fire, "there's
certainly no place like home."
"I quite agree with you," replied Laddie, the sheep dog,
"and after a hard day's work this fire is particularly agreeable."
Mr. Jacko was a middle-aged bachelor monkey who, as a
travelling musician, had saved a sufficient amount of money to
be able to retire. He was certainly not rich, but he had
enough with which to buy unlimited monkey-nuts, to say
nothing of an apple or banana on high days and holidays;.







CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME.


and, unless he is of extravagant tastes, what more can a
monkey desire.
His friend Laddie was still young and a hard-working dog
-up at five in the morning with the shepherd, and tending the
sheep all -day. His chief delight was to drop in of an evening
on Mr. Jacko, and to listen to some of his strange experiences,
for the Monkey had travelled much, and generally had a tale to
tell.
"Talking on there being no place like home reminds me of
a story," continued Jacko, as he cracked a nut and threw
the shells into the fire ; "shall I tell it to you ?"
Laddie said he would be only too pleased, and so the
Monkey told the following fable.

Once upon a time there was a Hare of the name of Puss
-a very charming fellow. He had a wife and two children; it
was quite a delightful family. But Mr. Puss had one failing-he
was far too fond of being considered the finest Hare in the
world; and to keep up this reputation he spent most of his
money entertaining and giving grand dinners and tea parties to
anybody he might meet with, instead of looking properly after
his own family. There was hardly a Hare or a Rabbit in the
county that had not had parsley and lettuces with him, and you
can quite understand what that would cost. He knew the
Squirrels and the Hedgehogs by their nicknames, and even
associated with the Fieldmice and Moles. Well, you know, this







.1v

b"


s..


- I


I'


'A


TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S NONE.


4,z


I


4,


1- r'


150


.-*


-n

i
,** '. .t<
.,


;-
Wh;r `
i


.2*







CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME.


sort of thing could not go on for ever, and one morning Mr.
Puss woke up to find himself ruined.
Mrs. Puss nearly fainted, while Master and Miss Puss
cried, but the father took the matter lightly. 'My dears;' said
he, think of the many friends I have made-we shall want for
nothing'; and then he went out to call upon these friends.
"The Hares and the Rabbits were quite shocked to hear the
news, and regretted so much they could not assist him, but times
were hard, the winter was here, and they had their own families
to look after. The Hedgehogs and the Squirrels said much the
same thing, and of course the Fieldmice and the Moles were
unable to help him, even if they had wished to; and so poor,
miserable Mr. Puss went home to a starving family. But I am
glad to say that I was able to get him some work, and am still
more pleased to be able to tell that he turned over a new leaf,
worked hard, and looked well after his wife and children, and
now the motto over his door is Charity begins at home,' a
good motto to hang over every door. And that's the end of
that story."
Laddie, after thanking his friend the Monkey, wished him
" good-bye."
And now, my dears, that is all we have left to say to you.
"Good-bye, Good-bye."
Edric Vredenburg.




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