Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Peeps into pet-land
 Doctor Bill
 Little Forget-me-not
 The guinea-pig's tail
 The lost locket
 The pic-nic
 The matchmaker
 A pair of spectacles
 Our bunny
 In mischief
 Our pony
 The goose with a fine voice
 Why Spot ran away
 Marjorie's holiday
 Neptune, the dog of the beach
 Uncle Roger's last day
 We three
 When Ronald was lost
 Back Cover

Group Title: Peeps into petland : a volume of stories and pictures of out pets.
Title: Peeps into petland
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086490/00001
 Material Information
Title: Peeps into petland a volume of stories and pictures of out pets
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Nister, Ernest ( Publisher, Printer )
E.P. Dutton (Firm) ( Publisher )
Publisher: Ernest Nister
E.P. Dutton & Co.
Place of Publication: London
New York
Publication Date: [1897?]
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Pets -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1897   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1897   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1897   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1897
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Germany -- Bavaria
General Note: Date of publication from prize inscription.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors and pasted on.
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
General Note: "841"--title page.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086490
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224445
notis - ALG4709
oclc - 244482798

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Title Page
        Page 6
    Peeps into pet-land
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
    Doctor Bill
        Page 18
    Little Forget-me-not
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    The guinea-pig's tail
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The lost locket
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    The pic-nic
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    The matchmaker
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    A pair of spectacles
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Our bunny
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    In mischief
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Our pony
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The goose with a fine voice
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    Why Spot ran away
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    Marjorie's holiday
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Neptune, the dog of the beach
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    Uncle Roger's last day
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
    We three
        Page 75
        Page 76
    When Ronald was lost
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
    Back Cover
        Page 84
        Page 85
Full Text
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-r-.i OW funny it would be if cats and dogs could
Stalk!" said Cissy.
t She had lost her kitten that morning,
Sand though she had searched high and low,
S Fluff was nowhere to be seen, till suddenly
.I the naughty little puss had walked in of
her own accord, and, seating herself in front
of the fire, began to wash her paws, purring
softly to herself the while.
"Where have you been, Fluffy?" Cissy had asked her,
but Fluffy made no reply, and indeed the little girl never
expected one, and was intensely surprised when, in answer
to her remark about cats and dogs talking, the kitten turned
round and said in a soft, purring, little voice, "Cats and
dogs do talk, little .mistress-only few people understand their
language. Do you remember when Spick and Span came
whining to you last night, you wondered what they wanted?
You were quite cross .with them, because you were reading
a story-book and you said they bothered you. Well, the
poor hungry doggies were asking for their supper as plainly
as they could speak. They went down to Cook when they
couldn't make you understand, and she gave them a plate
of bones, for which they thanked her quite politely. Then
again, once when I came running to tell you Spick's puppies
were playing with your new blue hair-ribbon, you only said,
'How Fluffy is purring-she must be very happy.' You
were angry afterwards when you found the pretty ribbon all

bitten and torn. You see, if you had only learned my language
it would never have happened. But you wouldn't take the
trouble to, and so I made up my mind to learn your lan-
guage instead."
"Oh! Fluff, how kind of you!" cried Cissy. "Now
you will be able to tell me where you were hidden this
morning when I could not find you."
"I wasn't hidden at all," the kitten said. "I went

slipping past."
round the corner to see another kitten--a friend of mine,
whose mother was my mother's second cousin's aunt, and
she invited me to go for a trip to Pet-land with her. I
didn't mean to stay away such a long time, but really I
did enjoy myself so that I forgot how the hours were
slipping past."
"Where is Pet-land, Fluff?" Cissy asked eagerly.
"Couldn't you take me there?"

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"Well, I might," said the little cat, "if only I were
sure you would behave yourself."
Cissy was rather offended at this remark, so Fluff
hastened to explain that in Pet-land the manners and customs
were very different to those she had been accustomed to.
"Still, I'll risk it," she said; "only remember, you
mustn't laugh, or I won't answer for the consequences."
Cissy promised, and the next moment they were half
way up the chimney, which was the nearest route to Pet-land.
When they reached the top, Fluff told her mistress to pop
out her head and take a peep. What a strange sight she
saw! Dogs and cats, horses and sheep, not to mention cows
and pigs, were walking about arm-in-arm and conversing in
the most friendly manner. Cissy found that she could under-
stand every word they said, and she was so interested in
all she saw and heard that she quite forgot Fluff's warning
not to laugh, and when a staid old cow suddenly got up
and tried to jump over a tin-plate moon, she burst into a
fit of laughter. In a second everything had disappeared, and
she came tumbling down
the chimney with a bump.
I'm awfully sorry,
,. Fluff," she said, as she
." ." picked herself up from
.L the hearthrug. But Fluff
Answered her never a
S "- word. Perhaps she was
too much offended; at
any rate, she never took
Cissy to Pet-land again.
-L. L. TWeedon.

TUMP is the funniest, fattest, stumpiest little
doggie that we have ever seen, and if you
-saw him I am sure you would think so
-. too. Papa gave him to Bobby and me (my
name's Effie) when he was quite a little
puppy, and a very naughty little puppy he was. He never
used to bite anything but his dinner and Papa's slippers,
but he was always barking at everything and everybody.
When Papa first brought him to us in the country, he
frightened my brother Bobby so much that he let the apples
fall out of the basket he was carrying, and pussy and her
kittens ran away and hid themselves for hours. But we all
very soon began to love our little doggie, and wherever we
went he used to go with us.
Now I am going to tell you about something very
wonderful that happened to Master Stump. It wasn't in the
country that it happened, but in London, where we have a
house in a Square, and where we go every year to spend
two or three months. We like London very much, for there
are so many beautiful things to see, and Bobby and I enjoy
the circus and pantomime; but I really think we like the
country better. You see, the Square and the Park are very
nice places to play in, but they are not like our garden at
home, and the fields, and the woods. There are no gates

to ride on, and no stiles to jump from, and no flowers to
pick-not even a tiny daisy-and Bobby and I like these
I am sure Stump quite agrees with us, because there
are no bunnies to run after in the Park, and Stump loves
running after bunnies; but he never catches them, because
he is much too fat, and his legs are too short to run fast
enough. Then, you see, Stump can't go to the circus and
the pantomime, and when we are away he has to amuse
himself the best way he can with Pussy, and he very often
gets his ears boxed by Pussy-for he is a dreadful tease.
I think Pussy likes London very much, but she would
be happy anywhere, as long as' there was plenty of milk,
and a good fire to sit by.
One morning Nurse and Bobby and I were going
into the Park to play; so, of course, we called Stump to
come with us. But though we called ever so loudly, and ever
so many times, Stump didn't come. We thought he must
be eating a bone or Papa's slippers. But Cook said he
wasn't in the kitchen, nor in the scullery, nor in the back
i JThen Nurse went upstairs,
Sand called, "Stump, Stump,
._.-, Stump while Bobby and I
called,' Stumpy, Stumpy, Stumpy!"
in the hall; but still our little
doggie didn't come.
SiThen Susan-
S.. that's our housemaid
S-came and helped
to look l;o. him,

while Cook turned the kitchen "upside down," she said,
but couldn't find him.
Then Papa and Mamma, who heard us calling, came
and helped; but even then Stump didn't come. Then we
went on to the door-steps and called him; and then crossed
over into the Square, because we thought he might have
gone out for a run by himself. But, no, We could see
nothing of our dear Stump. He was gone right away from
us. I looked at Bobby, and Bobby looked at me very hard,
so hard that it made me cry, and then Bobby began to
cry, too.
What should we do without our dear doggie? I said
I thought it must be the muzzle we had to put on him
when we came to London, and that he had run away
because he didn't like it. Bobby thought he wanted to run
after the bunnies, and had gone away to the country to
look for them.
Papa said that very likely he would come home if
we left him alone, and bring his tail behind him, like Little
Bo-Peep's sheep; and if he didn't come back, he would go
and look for him at the Home for Lost Dogs.
That is a place where they take all the dogs to that
are found in the streets without anybody to look after them,
Papa told us, -and where they give them plenty to eat and
nice warm beds until their friends come to take them away.
This made us a little bit happier, but when we came home
from our walk and found Stump had not come back, we
were very miserable. And when it was time to go to bed
and still Stump had not come back, oh! we were so very
unhappy. I took one of my dolls to bed with me because
I felt so lonely, and Bobby begged Nurse to let him have


his railway-engine and six carriages in bed with him, and
she let him have them for this one night. When the morning
came, the first thing we asked for was for Stump; but
Nurse shook her head and looked very sad, and we knew
by that that Stump was still away. We asked the same
by that that Stump wias still away. Weasked the same

question the next morning,
and the next, but Nurse still
shook her head and looked
k sad; nothing had been heard
of our dear little doggie.
Papa went to the Home
for Lost Dogs, but Stump
was not there; and he asked
the Policemen if they had
--seen him, and offered to reward
anyone who would bring him
back; but it was of no good.
One week went by, and then
another, and then a whole month; and we began to think
we should never see Stump again.
In one more week we were going back to the country.
Oh! fancy going back to the woods, and the fields, and
the flowers, and the bunnies, and not to have our Stump
with us! It was too dreadful! Papa said he would give us
another little puppy, and that was very kind of him; but
Bobby and I were quite sure we should never love any
puppy as much as we loved our lost doggie.
And now comes the really wonderful part of my story.
It was only two days before we were going back to the
country, and Bobby and I had been asked to a tea party.
It was the birthday party of a little girl we know, and there
were to be a lot of other children, and we were quite sure
we should enjoy ourselves very much. And indeed we did.
We played blindman's buff, puss-in-the-corner, hunt-the-slipper,
and hide-and-seek, and after all that fun we had tea. And
after tea what do you think was going to happen? Why,

the little girl's Papa had told a Punch-and-Judy man to
come round and amuse us. As soon as we heard Punch's
voice in the street we all ran to the window. And we
watched Punch beat poor Judy, and we laughed at Punch
when he tried to beat the clown but couldn't, and we laughed
all the more when the clown took away the stick and beat
Punch with it, which, I am sure, served him quite right.
And then, at last, Toby was put up, and we had all been
wishing for that.
I shall never forget how I felt when I saw that Toby.
I stared and stared, and could do nothing else for a long
time. Then I looked at Bobby: he was staring too with
his eyes and mouth wide open; and then I looked at Nurse,
and she also was staring very hard-because Toby was our
dear darling little doggie Stump.
Then Bobby cried out, "Stump!" and then I cried,
"That is Stump," and Nurse said, "I really think it is
Stump." All the children and the little girl's mamma were
very much surprised at us all suddenly calling out like that;
but Nurse soon told about our losing our little dog and
that the Toby was our Stump. Then the little girl's mamma
went and told the
little girl's papa, and
he came downstairs
and asked us if we
were quite sure it
was our dog, and
we said we were quite
sure. So he took us ..
to the street door and. / .
told us. to call our

doggie, and Bobby and I cried, "Stump, Stump, Stump!"
as loudly as we could. The little dog pricked up his ears
and turned his head round, and as soon as he saw us he
gave a bark of delight and jumped down. We were so
frightened, we thought he had hurt
n, himself very much, because it was such
a big jump, but he hadn't a bit.
Oh! how pleased he was to see
us. He barked and ran round us, and
Sc- licked Bobby's face first and then my
.- *hands. And Bobby kissed one ear
S'/ while I kissed the other; and Bobby
S hugged half of him while I hugged
the other half, and so we carried him into the house, while
the little girl's papa talked to the Punch-and-Judy man, who
was as much surprised as any of us. He said he had
found Stump running about without a home, and so he had
taken care of him and taught him tricks.
Yes, here was Stump! but he was so thin, and his
eyes looked as if he had been crying every day he had been
away from us.
But he very soon got fat again, and we never lost
him any more.
He is a very clever little doggie, for he can beg now,
and hold a stick in his arms, and a pipe in his mouth,
and we all love him more than ever.
Bobby and I say we shall never forget how happy
we were on the day we found him, and Nurse never takes
us to bed without our wishing Stump good-night, and
blowing kisses to him as we go.
Edric Vredenburg.


" P UT out your tongue," said Doctor Bill;
"Ah, yes, I fear you're very ill;
You've had too many bones of late-
Your tongue is in a dreadful state."

"I .
* I *r *''.~:*'' iU. Vt"

HE was christened Hermione, which is a very
long name for a little girl, but when she left
off being "Baby" her brothers called her Hermy.
She was a dear little blue-eyed, fair-haired child,
whom everyone loved, and who loved everyone and everything.
Daddy and Mother and the boys came first, of course, with
Nurse not far behind, and all the different Aunts, Uncles,
and Cousins.
But of "can't-talk friends," as she called them, the chief
favourite was Puppy.
He had no name then, and it seemed quite likely that
he would never have one, as there were so many different
ideas on the subject, but Hermione agreed with the boys that
it would be such a pity to teach him to answer to one
name and then to find out that they liked another one better.
The boys were Dick,
Tom, and Harry. Dick was
really Richard, but the others ,
were nicknames which came
naturally after his. Aunt //
Adelaide thought it very
absurd to call them so,

especially when they had such names as Lancelot and
Reginald: and she always said Hermione in full; and yet
it was she who gave the child her nickname. This was
how it came about. She was staying at the Manor House,
and they were all going out for a walk. The children
waited for their elders in a meadow near' the house, and
when Hermione was tired of
l a't gathering flowers, she sat on
the stile with her basket and
hugged Puppy. Besides having
L/ blue eyes, she had a blue frock
and a blue bonnet, so when
Aunt Adelaide came up, she
could not help saying: "I
declare, the child looks like a
little forget-me-not!"
"Little Forget-me-not! echoed the boys. "Yes, that's
her name." And so Forget-me-not came to be her name.
It was rather too long for every-day use,
but still they called her by it now and then. "
Only Dick said "Forget-them-not" would
be better, as she always remembered to )
think of others, and Mother thought in
her heart that was the best way
to be remembered.
They had been great wan- \
derers, these four children, for their "
Father was a soldier. After their
experience of garrison towns, a real
country home seemed everything
that was delightful. They could not

live there all the year round, but the change only made it
the pleasanter. Still, little Forget-me-not found it very hard
.-lC U I.,Wf/, not to cry when she had to say good-
S';es ,I bye to the cows and the fowls and
S'the ducks in the pond. At any rate,
S' / Puppy and Snow could go with them,
-'i and she comforted herself by giving
/ the dog an extra share of petting.
Only him, for Snow was not a particular favourite, beautiful
though she was to look upon, with her long white fur.
She was a cat of luxurious ways, who was fond of good
things to eat a.nd drink, and never came near the children
but for what she could get-unless, indeed, they happened
to be sitting on the rug, or a sunny patch of the lawn
which suited her, or in a tree. They were all back in town,
when one day Dick came into the nursery, looking very
Father's going to Ashanti," he announced.
"Oh!" said Tom, and Harry looked a little puzzled.
"Is it as nice as the Manor House?" asked Forget-
me-not, "and are there lots of flowers and children?"
"No," returned
Dick decidedly. "It's
ever so far away, where
the black men live: and '
the King has been doing'/
all sorts of bad things, / /

doubt as to Father's going to"/'

doubt as to Father's

ability to stop bad things, but Forget-me-not remarked,
"I hope he'll soon be good. Will Daddy put him in the
"Yes, in a nice corner!" replied Dick.
Forget-me-not did not like people to be punished, so
she was glad to hear that. "When are we going?" she asked.
"We are not going," answered Dick, "only Father."
"Oh!" said Forget-me-not, and the corners of her
mouth went down and her r
eyes grew very round; such
a thing had not happened
before within her memory.,
None of us," repeated
Dick. "Not even Mother."
"Oh! said the little .. '
girl again, "poor, poor Daddy!"
He was to be the lonely one, ,< S.-
it seemed, so she pitied him. _- _
There was a short
bustle of preparation, and then Father left for Ashanti.
"Mind you are all very good children," he said, "and
take care of Mother."
The last charge seemed to Forget-me-not to be reversing
the order of things, but she made up her mind to be very
good. So did the boys; they were most \polite, and even
called each other by their proper names at full length for
about half an hour. Then they forgot and relapsed into
their usual ways, which were not really bad after all, though
perhaps rather harum-scarum.
They had all gone up to London, to see the last of
Father; and after a week or two there, they returned home

to the Manor House, where the servants had gone and taken
the pets. On their arrival, strange to say, no Puppy came
bounding out gladly
to meet them.
He was quite ,~
a grown-up dog by \ '
this time, as Forget- '"' j
me-not generally ex- ll
plained to strangers; -''
but for want of
another name, "Puppy" had really become his.
"Where is Puppy?" the children asked in one breath,
and then the sad news had to be told them-that Puppy
was lost!
"He was always going about looking for his friends;
he must have wandered too far, and not have been able to
find his way back again," Nurse supposed.
But the boys laughed this idea to scorn.
/ "Not able to find his way back
again!" said Dick. "Nonsense!"
And Tom added, Puppy isn't an
/I idiot."
The gardener's suggestion seemed
& ,much more probable.
S 1' He's been stolen, you take my word,"
he said, resting on his spade for a moment.
"I never see him since the day he stood, as wise as you
like, watching the railway men load master's luggage on the
cart. Stolen and carried off somewhere a long way, and
sold. If it was anywhere near, why, bless you, Puppy would
be back in a jiffy,"

Forget-me-not vaguely wondered if a "jiffy" was a
sort of cab, and thought Puppy would have been much more
likely to come back on his own feet; but she ran to tell
Mother, who was of opinion that the gardener was right.
"Perhaps the people's cruel to him," said Forget-me-
not, the tears gathering in her eyes.
Mother hastened to comfort her.
"Oh, I don't think that's likely, dear," she said. "Puppy
is really a very nice little dog, and I feel sure his new
owners will be kind to him, and he will be quite happy."
"Oh, not happy! protested the child. "Suppose
anyone looked me away from you, I shouldn't be happy
-no, not if they gave
me jam for my tea
every day."
Mother kissed
her little girl fondly,
and the question of i
Puppy's contentment I
was left alone.
Some time later,
a friend, who had
heard of their loss,
wrote to offer them
another dog. i
The boys were
all for accepting.
Puppy was a dear, of
course, but Puppy was /-
gone. "Please say
yes," was their verdict.

But Forget-me-not protested, in/
tones indignant for her.
"Perhaps Puppy will come back ,i '/f N &'
some day," she said. And then she
went on: "And we don't want another
Daddy because Daddy's gone to 'Shanti."
"But Daddy's sure
to come back," they replied.
"He knows the way home." ,
Mother gave a little ,.
shiver as she thought of all 1f,,,,f,
that might possibly happen.-
She was very brave and -
patient, but the children's careless confidence could not be hers.
So the months went on, and the good news came
that Father would soon be home again, having made the
King behave, as Dick told the others.
Mother only expected one more letter, which, coming
by a quick steamer, might even tell that Father was on board
that which was to bring him and his men.
The steamer came, but it brought no letter. It did
not seem anything to the children: Father was too busy to
write, they supposed; but Mother knew that he could not
have been too busy to send her a line, and the telegram
which gave his name in the list of those homeward bound
said that he had an attack of fever. Slight, it was true, but
it might have become worse. Those were hard days for poor
Mother, when she looked at the children's bright, unconscious
faces, and thought what sorrow might be coming to them all.
"Mother's tired," little Forget-me-not would say sometimes,
and climb up into her lap and stroke her face. She wondered

why Mother squeezed her so tightly that it almost hurt. One
day it was wet, and the nursery party were feeling rather
dismal, when suddenly Dick suggested, "I say, let's go and
fetch Father."
We can't go on the sea," said Tom.
"In a boat," returned Dick. "Nurse, may we have
the bath to play with?"
Nurse, who had been with them all their lives, and
who, of course, knew how terribly anxious Mother was, would
scarcely have said "No" to anything her "poor dear children"
wanted. She got the bath herself, and soon they were all
embarked in it and sailing away to Ashanti.
It was a splendid idea. They shouted, and sang,
and, according to Dick, passed many unusual places on their
way. They were all so busy and made such a noise that
it was no wonder nothing disturbed them until the door
opened. There stood Mother, her face shining with happiness,
even though the tears were running down her cheeks.
"We are going to bring Father,"
announced Dick.
But Forget-me-not exclaimed, "Oh!
he has come."
It was her loving heart that told
her, for she could not see round the corner
any more than the others; but in a mo-
ment they were in Father's arms.
But who was this bounding round
them, leaping up, rejoicing as they were
doing, even though he could not speak? '
"Why, it's Puppy!" they all. cried out -
at once. "Did you take him with you,

Daddy?" asked Forget-me-not, in a puzzled tone. No one
could tell exactly what had happened, but it seemed that
Puppy, missing all his friends, must have gone with the
luggage and found his way to the docks. In the confusion
there, he had probably got on board a .wrong steamer, which
started later; for it was only when Father reached the coast
on his way home, that they met. When Father and Mother
had gone downstairs, back the children got into the bath, Puppy
and all. He was the unruly member of the crew, as he would
jump from one to the other in his gladness, in spite of Dick's
warnings that he would upset the boat. "VWe don't need to
fetch Father now," remarked Tom. "Never mind," said Dick
sagely; "perhaps Nurse
.won't let us have the bath
S another day." And indeed
,Nurse began to look as if
;> she thought she had been
altogether too indulgent of
late. None of the children
will ever forget Father's
N going to Ashanti, but the
details are already be-
coming rather confused
in Forget-me-not's mind;
but this she knows-that
Mother was sorry because
a letter did not come; and
then Puppy, who had gone
out to Ashanti on purpose,
brought Father back!
Mrs. Isla Sitwell.


ST7HSR8 was a little
-- A timid youthful thing,
W- Who ran one day
to hide himself
Beneath his Mother's wing;

His hair was standing up on end,
His face was full of woe.
Dame Piggy cried: "My precious lamb,
What makes you tremble so?

"Come tell.your own Mamma, my pet,
The reason of this fright?"-
"Oh, Mother, I have heard a thing
Will haunt me day and night!

"Two boys were standing over there;
The elder of them spoke:
'If you can keep a secret, Ned,
I'll tell you such a joke.

"'Suppose you hold a guinea-pig
Up, this way, by his tail,
You'll find its eyes will drop right out
At once, and without fail.'


"At this I was so terrified
I squeaked and ran away.
Oh, Mother, Mother, is it true,
The awful thing they say?"

Dame Piggy gave a gentle grunt,
And very slightly smiled:
"I've heard that story many a time
Before, my artless child.

"Do pause to think ere you believe
Precisely all you're told;
How can they hold you by the tail,
When you've no tail to hold?'


'p ITTLE BEE was delighted. It was her sixth
birthday, and Uncle Harry had given her a lovely
v..~ little locket in the shape of a heart, with her
Same engraved upon it, and a tiny little chain
to fasten it around her neck. "Isn't it lovely, Mamma?
Can I wear it at my party to-night?"
"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Lee, as she placed the
dainty chain around her daughter's neck, "but you must
be very careful with it, or you might lose it."
"How kind of Uncle Harry to give me this! I will
be ever so careful with it. Please take it off now, and let me
put it in the pretty little blue case."
"But are you not going to see what else you have
received?" said Mrs. Lee, undoing the chain.
"Oh, yes, Mamma," re-
plied Bee, as she clambered on i
to her chair and commenced
opening the other parcels, of "'
which there were a good i,
number. There were dolls, '
tea-things, books, a lot of
toys, and a pretty lace hand- P;a
kerchief from Mamma.
"Oh! these are lovely.
How kind everyone is to me,
and, Mamma dear, let me
give you a nice kiss!"



Bee got off her chair, and ran round the table, and
climbed on to her Mother's knee, and put her little arms
round her neck, and kissed her ever so many times.
"Now, dearie, that you have seen all your presents,"
Mamma said, as soon as she could after having been almost
kissed away, as she laughingly told Bee, "we will have the
breakfast things cleared away. You must help me to-day to
get ready for your little friends this evening."
How the time did fly! Bee said it was one of the
shortest days she remembered, for she "helped" Mamma to
put the holly and mistletoe up (for it was a few days
before Christmas), and then there were the nuts and the
oranges to put out on the plates, and ever so many things
to do. It was nearly four o'clock when Nurse came and
said it was time for Bee to go and get dressed.
What a jolly evening they did spend too! There was
hunt-the-slipper and blindman's buff, and, best of all, Uncle
Harry did some wonderful conjuring tricks.
If the day had flown quickly, the evening had flown
still quicker, and everyone felt sorry when they had to say
good-bye. At last all had gone, and little Bee came up to
wish Uncle Harry good night before going to bed.
"Thank you so very, very, very much, Uncle Harry,
for the locket; it is lovely. I am wearing it now. Look."
Uncle Harry did look, but no locket or chain could
be found.
"Oh! where is it?" cried Bee. "I am sure I had it
just now, for I was showing it to Lily Day."
"Perhaps it has slipped down your neck, under your
dress," said Mrs. Lee, coming across the room to where Bee
was. "Let me see."




W jr

- -S

Mamma undid the top hook of the neck of the dress,
and there sure enough was the chain, but no locket!
Poor Bee began to cry.
"Don't cry, little lady," Uncle Harry said; "the chain
must have come undone, and the locket dropped on to the
floor. We shall soon find it. You run off to bed."
But Bee would not go to bed. They hunted all over
the floor, they turned up the hearthrug and the carpets, but
could not find it. It was really lost.
Poor little Bee cried herself to sleep that night, and
the next morning was up very early and looked all over
the house for the missing locket, as did everyone else, but
it was nowhere to be found.
Days and weeks went by, and Mrs. Lee began to
think that Bee had forgotten all about her loss. 'But Bee
never had, for whenever she was alone she would go and
turn up the carpets, and pry into odd corners, in the hope
of finding her locket.
One evening, a month ,:,r two later, I Uncle
Harry came in, with a s-.mall ham-
per, which he said \\as f:lr B-e.
Bee quickly
got a pair of
scissors, and
cut the string,
and raised .
the lid.
"Oh! what
a dear little
pussy! Do
come and see,

Mamma. Thank you very much,
Uncle Harry; I do so love pussies."
Bee and Poppy, the Persian
kitten, were very soon the greatest
of friends, and were always to-
gether. Now, Poppy sometimes got ,
into mischief, and Nurse used to g -_. w
scold it, for it delighted to get :"
into the cupboard in the nursery,
and turn things topsy-turvy. One day Bee heard a noise in
the cupboard, and going to it, found Poppy playing with an
old blue slipper of Mamma's. There was a newspaper stuck
into it, evidently put there by Nurse, and pussy was trying
to get it out. Presently in romping about it knocked the
slipper out of the cupboard into the room. Bee was laugh-
ing merrily at pussy's antics, first jumping round it, and
then rolling over and over with it. In one of these tumbles the
paper came out and something else with it. It was Bee's long-lost
locket! How delighted she was; she picked up Poppy and kissed
her all over, and then ran with her downstairs to Mamma.
"Mamma, Mamma dear, pussy's found my locket. She
found it in the old blue slipper, the one we played hunt-
the-slipper with that night."
"I am so glad, dearie. You must have dropped it
into it when you were romping, and now I remember you
found the slipper last and then gave it to Nurse."
"Yes, pussy found it in the cupboard," said Bee.
."Then you ought to be very grateful to pussy," said
Mrs. Lee, "for I am sure she must be very clever indeed,
for we hunted everywhere for it, but it is true we did not
'hunt for the slipper.'" Alfred J. Fuller.



SJT'S too horrible," exclaimed Tip, the Pomeranian dog.
Shows such a want of taste and feeling," said his
friend Budge, the other pet dog of the family. "The
wretched thing came, too, with a saucepan tied to his tail."
"And he now has a ribbon round his neck, and is
coming to have tea with us in the wood this afternoon,"
continued Tip, with a growl.
The fact of the matter was, that the two dogs, Tip
and Budge, were exceedingly cross because another dog had
been taken into the household, and it had come about in
this way. Little Maggie, a day or two before, while out
bowling her hoop, had met a poor half-starved doggie with
a tin saucepan tied to his tail; he looked so hungry and
miserable that she carried him home, after taking the pan

off his tail, so that he could wag it with pleasure, and
begged her Father to let her keep him, and Papa having
said "Yes," she and her brother Bob gave the new doggie
a supper and a bath, and combed his hair, tied a ribbon
round his neck, called him Rover, and made him quite hand-
some and respectable-looking; and as he was a very well-
behaved little dog, he was to go and have tea with the
children in the wood. Now all this disgusted Tip and Budge
so much that they would not speak to Rover, and would
have liked to -have bitten him, only they dared not, for if
they had, they most likely would have been whipped.
Well, it was a delightful little pic-nic, although Tip
and Budge were so disagreeable. There were strawberries
and cream, cake and biscuits, and plenty of nice new milk.
And it was such a warm, lovely, sleepy sort of day, with
the birds singing in the trees, and the bees humming in
the leaves, that after tea Maggie fell fast asleep, while Bobbie
toddled off alone after the pretty butterflies that he could
never catch. Such a lazy, dreamy sort of a day, that Nurse
fell asleep in the nursery, and it was quite late before she
went to the wood to fetch the children home; and when she
did so she could only find Maggie, still asleep. Bobbie was
nowhere to be found. No, although she hunted here, there,
and everywhere; and when she and Maggie called "Bobbie,
"Bobbie," only the birds replied to them, singing in the trees,
and the bees humming in the leaves. Then, oh, dear! there
was such a hurry and a scurry. Papa and Mamma, and
Janet the Cook, all came to hunt for Bobbie, and they
hunted high and they hunted low, but still Bobbie was not
to be found; and it was so late that the birds went home to
roost, and the bees flew back to their hives. But presently

they heard a barking in the distance, arid then they dis-
covered, for the first time, that Rover was missing too, so
they all went in the direction of the sound, until they
came to the farther end of the wood, and there was Rover
seated beside a big hollow tree, barking with all his might,
and inside the hollow tree there lay, cuddled up asleep, little
Master Bobbie. His Father picked him up and carried him
home, when he was put to bed, and he didn't know till next
morning how anxious he had made everybody. If it had not
been for faithful Rover, Bobbie, very likely, would have had
to sleep in the hollow tree all night.
Tip and Budge felt rather ashamed of themselves for.
having been cross to the new doggie, and from that day
forth did everything they could to please him; and, taking
them all round, there isn't a happier family of children and
dogs in the whole world than Maggie and Bobbie, Tip,
Budge, and Rover. Edric Vredenburg.

Lg ~
c 'ds4-0 _4


L RO9 DTBOW_\(-OWL was
/ very much in love, but
he was very shy, and he never
SI'! could make up his mind to
ask Lady Fluffy-face to marry
| him, and come and live with
/ him in the big ruin where he
--had a handsome house.
-------- ----7 --- He never even had the
courage to talk to her, and when he went and perched under
the hole in the old oak where she lived, and sang songs
to try and charm her heart, she only laughed at him. And
indeed his voice was rather hoarse, so he was very miser-
able. One night as he was roaming through the woods he
met young Sir Nightingale.
"How are you, my dear Brown-owl?" said he. "You
look rather out of spirits."
"I am," said the Owl, "very. You look gay enough."
"I've just come from a concert," Sir Nightingale said;
"at least, not exactly a concert, for nobody sang but me, but
dozens of couples were listening. Now, what's wrong with you?"
Lord Brown-owl told his tale.
"Ah," said Sir Nightingale, "you screw up your cou-
rage and ask her to take a fly with you to-night, and when
she is a little tired ask her to sit down on the big oak,
and I will be there."
Lord Brown-owl did as he was told, though he didn't

quite see how it was to help him. And when he and Lady
Fluffy-face were perched upon the bough, Sir Nightingale began
to sing, first of the woods and fields, and the moonlight
on the river; then of ruins, and sadness, and lives that were
lonely. And Lady Fluffy-face listened, and crept a little closer
to Lord Brown-owl as if she wanted comforting. Then the
song changed to one of hope and happiness and true love,
of nests in high towers, and peace and happy homes.
And as he listened to the lovely song, Lord Brown-
owl felt his heart grow strong and brave, and he put his
wing round Lady Fluffy-face, and said, "Dearest, I love you
so. Let us be married, and all our life will be as sweet as
the song of the Nightingale."
She rubbed her soft head against his face, and said,
"Yes"; and Sir Nightingale flew down, laughing kindly, to
wish them joy. "I shall never forget your kindness," said
Lord Brown-owl, as he shook claws with him warmly. But
the little Lady Owl only hung her head, and thanked Sir
Nightingale for his beautiful song. Now, some time after this
a bird-catcher and his little son sat down to rest in the ruin.
And as they talked Lord Brown-owl listened. "I shall catch
a lot of birds to-night in that wood," said the bird-catcher.
" How?" said the child. "With bird-lime." "What's bird-lime?"
"Oh, you put it on the branches, and the birds go to
perch there, and can't get off again. They stick fast-see?"
"I see," said the child. Lord Brown-owl saw too. He
was terrified, and at once hurried off to tell his friend.
"One good turn deserves another," he said, as he thought
of his dear little Owl-wife.
"So that's the idea, is it?" said the Nightingale. And
with that he began to sing, though it was high noon, till

all the birds gathered round him. Then he told them the
dreadful danger they were all in.
"We mustn't roost in the wood," said everyone at once.
"Lady Brown-owl and I will be happy to see you all
in the ruin," said Lord Brown-owl handsomely. "Any friend
of Sir Nightingale's is a friend of mine."
So that night the birds all roosted in the ruin and
quite a lot of bird-lime was wasted. The bird-catcher went
away very much disgusted, and never again tried to catch
birds in that wood. And all the birds joined together, and
gave a handsome wedding present to Lord and Lady Brown-owl.
I haven't time to tell you what the present was, but
you can see it yourself whenever you like to call on the
young couple. Their address is: "The Nest, The Ruin,



TC HEYT put their specs upon each nose,
SA shady garden seat they chose, .
They thought themselves, as you'll suppose,
Like Grandpa!

Though Fido couldn't read the book,
An interest in the game he took,
And tried his very best to look
Like Grandpa!

Indoors, though-so I've heard declare-
Somebody's searching here and there,
For specs he can't find anywhere-
Poor Grandpa!

SAnd Grandma cannot see to knit
Without her specs-so you'll admit
They're just at present not a bit
Like Grandpa or Grandma!
Clifton Bingham.


4" -

__ _- 4


~ $e~~


S"N TOW, my dears," said Mrs.
*' "S'. IV Nibblecorn Lop to her family,
S"as it is such a fine evening I think

\5,_ ,_ stroll in the cornfields, but remember
you are to keep close to me and do
exactly as I tell you. Floppy-ears, my child, why don't you
listen to me when I'm speaking to you, instead of playing
leapfrog with your sister Whitetail? I suppose you think
you are so clever that you don't need any advice, but mark
my words, if you're not careful you'll get into trouble one
of these fine days, and then you'll wish you had listened to
your Mother." She shook her head at her son, and then
issued forth from Burrow Lodge, followed by her children.
For some time Floppy-ears kept close to his Mother's side,
but after a while he thought no more of what she had
said, and gradually went farther and farther away.
"I wonder, what there is at the other side of this
field," he thought. "P'raps it's the end of the world. I should
like to go there if it is, because then I could look over the
edge and see what was underneath." He looked at his Mother
and saw that she was busily engaged taking her supper, so
he decided to go. "I shall be back before ever she misses
me," he said to himself, and away he scampered.
When he reached the other side of the cornfield he
found he had not got to the end of the world, but to a
very fine field of turnips. "Ah," he said, smacking his lips,
"this is better than the corn. I am glad I came. Mother

is too fond of having us tacked on to her apron-strings. I
am quite able and old enough now to take care of myself."
Hardly were the words out of his mouth than "click"
went a trap and Master Floppy-ears was caught fast by the
leg. Oh! oh! how he did squeal and wriggle! But it was
no use-the iron teeth held fast. "Oh! I wish I had minded
Mother!" he moaned. But it was too late now, and his
Mother was far away and could not help him. In the morn-
ing he was found by the farmer, who took him home to
his children. "Oh, Father, what a dear little rabbit!" the
children cried; "but see, he has hurt his poor leg."
"We will bind it up," said the farmer, "and I will
make him a little wooden hutch, and you shall keep him
for a pet." So Floppy-ears lives in a grand wooden house
now, and the farmer's children, who call him "our Bunny,"
are very kind to him, but still he sometimes thinks of Bur-
row Lodge and his brothers and sisters, and wishes he
-. had not disobeyed his Mother.
3 L. L. Weedon.


HE three little ones were sitting close to the
nursery window waiting for their supper."
wonder if Santa Claus will come to-night,"
\ said Car, who was hugging her doll in her
",, f !

warm arms; "ever since we left off putting our
stockings at, he has sent much bigger things-your drum,
Geoffrey, you know, and the doll's house. I don't believe
he came himself, for his arms wouldn't hold the things-I
think he sends them with his servants in the sleigh."
Listen," said Geoffrey; "there's someone calling outside."
They sat down breathlessly still, and a sudden cry
seemed to come from the garden. Car started up, and drew
the curtain, peering out ,into the night. She did not notice
that Pixey, the white terrier, had leapt on to the high chair,
and was whining and scratching at the window! "Come
down, come down to the door," cried Car; "there is a moon,
and it is 'quite light, and something is on the lawn-it is
moving and crying out-perhaps Santa Claus has brought it."
She ran over to the door, clutching at Geoffrey's hand, but
there she paused an d lkeback. "We can't leave Baby,
Geof," she said; "she's eating the bran out of the doll's arm,
and it isn't good for her."
"Oh, let her come too," said Geoffrey; "if it is Santa
Claus, she'd like to see him too."
Claus, she'd like to see him too."

It was very difficult to undo the hall door, but when
they had unlatched it, and flung it wide open, a whirl of
snow swept in. "Pixeyl Pixey Car called, but Pixey was
running out over the lawn, and again they heard the shrill
cry that had attracted them first. Pixey was grubbing in
the snow with her nose and paws. Once or twice she ran
a little way back whining, and then she came slowly creep-
ing home, with a black something in her mouth which she
laid at Baby's feet. It's Santa Claus," said Geoffrey, awestruck.
"Nonsense," said Car, "it's a present he's left for us."
But Baby was sitting on the stairs with the black object
in her pinafore. "It's Pixey's baby," she said, in her clear
little sweet voice.
"Wherever have you got to, Miss Charlotte?" said

5 .
*^- *^
____-yf_( A~sKH^

di .j

6'- ~.

Nurse, as she came fussily from the back stairs. "I've got
your suppers, and the hot water, and Miss Baby'll catch her
death. I thought I could trust you and Master Geoffrey to
behave like ladies and gentlemen for ten minutes, and what-
ever your Ma'll say I can't tell."
"We thought we heard Santa Claus in the snow,"
said Geoffrey.
"Thought you heard your grandmother," said Nurse
crossly. "Come, put that nasty cold creature- down on the
rug, and come upstairs."
"Nurse," said Car solemnly, as they went slowly and
silently upstairs, "it was a very good thing we heard Pixey's
baby crying, wasn't it, for it might have died by morning,
and just think how sad it would be for Mother if one of
us was out in the snow all night."
Yes, indeed, Miss Charlotte," said Nurse, but she
was really wondering all the time if the bath water would
be cold. Geraldine R. Glasgow.


a HEY were the prettiest kittens ever seen.
Everyone said so, and of course "every-
SI one" must be right. Their mother was
justly proud of them, and as to Kitty,
she loved her kittens as dearly as any
little girl could, but in spite of this they
S .were once the cause of getting her into
the worst scrape she was ever in.
Kitty lived with her Father and Aunt in a pretty
little thatched cottage in the country; her Mother had died
years before, when she was a tiny little baby, and since then
Aunt Janet had taken care of her and Father.
One afternoon Nelly was playing with her kittens out-
side the cottage door when her Aunt came out with her
bonnet on.
"Kitty, my dear," she said, "I've got to go in to
Marton with the eggs and cream, for I doubt if the cream
would keep till morning. I've put your Father's supper ready
for him in the front kitchen. There's a nice piece of fish
and some bread-and-cheese. It's just likely that I may be
back before he comes in, but if not, he won't have to wait,
and I daresay he'll be hungry enough, poor man."
Aunt Janet went down the garden path, but paused
for a minute at the gate to call to Kitty-
"Don't let those kittens get into the front kitchen.
I wouldn't trust any cat with fish."

p' "All right, Auntie," Kitty called back;
S"I'll be sure and be very careful."
But presently she
wanted her skipping-
rope, and ran into the
.. kitchen to look for it.
Of course she left
the door open, and the kits followed her in, but she was so
busy looking for the rope that she did not notice them.
She remembered to close the door after her, but it
was not for some time that she began to wonder where the
kits were. Surely she could not have shut them in with
Father's supper? She ran quickly to the room and opened
the door. For a moment her heart stood still with fright at
the sight which met her eyes, for there on the table sat
Tab and Tib licking their paws and looking extremely demure,
but what had become of the fish? They had eaten it every
bit, and only left the bones.
Kitty took the kits under her arms and went out to
the back-yard. What could she do? Only the day before
Aunt Janet had threatened to hang the next-door cat because
it had got into the larder and stolen something.
Now, she was really much too kind-hearted to do any-
thing of the sort, but she was angry at the time, and angry
people often say things they do not mean; but Kitty quite
believed it and trembled for the safety of her kits.
How long she sat out in the yard with the kittens
cuddled in her arms, she did not know, but at length she
heard her Aunt's voice. "Is Father in, Kitty?" she called.
Kitty did not answer. Then came an angry exclamation.
Aunt Janet had found the remains of the fish, and by-and-by

she appeared at the back door. "Kitty, did you let the kittens
into the front kitchen?" "No," faltered Kitty.
"Then it must have been the next-door cat again,"
said her Aunt.
When Kitty went to bed that night she could not
rest. The bed seemed hard and lumpy, and the pillow full
of thorns. At length she fell into an uneasy sleep, and in
her dreams the next-door cat came and gazed at her pitifully.
"I shall be hanged," it mewed, "and it will be your fault.
Why did you let your kittens steal the fish?" Then Rose
Mary, her favourite doll, shook her head at her, and cried:
"You are a wicked child-you have told a story;" and all her
other toys took up the '
cry-""You have told
a story." Kitty awoke
with a start. Down-
stairs she could hear
her Aunt talking to
the woman next door.
"Were they talk-
ing about the cat?"
she wondered, "or was
it already hanged?" -
At this thought she
sprang out of bed,
ran downstairs as
fast as she could, out
into the garden, and
flung herself into her
Aunt's arms.
"Auntie, Auntie,"

she sobbed, "I told you a story. It was Tab and Tib who
stole the fish, but I was afraid to tell you in case you
should hang them. Oh! do forgive me, please, and I will
never, never tell you a story again."
You may be sure Aunt Janet did forgive her, and
also you may be sure Kitty never told another story; but as
the kits were really a little too mischievous sometimes, Auntie
persuaded the little girl to give one of her pets to Miss
Milly, the Rector's daughter.
So now Tab lives in a beautiful house, sits on tables
and chairs just as she pleases, and does nothing but play
all day; but Tib, if you asked her, would tell you she was
just as happy with her dear Kitty, and that she is learning
to be a good respectable pussycat, who wouldn't steal fish
for the world. L. L. Weedon.

', .... .5.


D 0 you know our pony? No? Why, I am surprised-
I thought everyone knew our pony. He is the most
comical little fellow you ever saw, and plays such droll tricks
that you can't help laughing at him, even when you are
feeling rather cross and would like to pout and be sulky.
He is called "Punch"-isn't it a funny name? But 1 think
it suits him very well. I am the eldest of our family, so
I can remember Punch when he was a little baby pony,
frisking gaily about in the park and trying to persuade
the grown-up horses to play games with him. I used to
pay him a visit every morning, and take him something
good to eat-apples generally, for Punch was always very fond
of an apple. He soon got to know me quite well, and would
come running to me and poke his little nose into my basket
to see what I had brought him.
As soon as Punch was considered old enough to carry
a saddle, I was allowed to ride him, and oh! what lovely
times we had together, scampering over the downs with Scott
and Pepper at our heels. Scott is our collie, and is a
particular friend of Mr. Punch's. You may often see them
racing round the park together. One morning I saw old Dapple,
the gray mare, join in their romps-she was evidently deter-
mined they should not have all the fun to themselves.
Once Punch got into sad disgrace. The park gate was
broken, and would not fasten very securely, and the naughty
little rascal must have pushed it open with his nose, and then
walked out into the lane. Not content with that, he must
needs go straying into a field of corn. "Ah!" he thought

to himself, "now I am going to enjoy myself." And no
doubt he did; any way, he had done a good deal of mischief
by the time Ted, the groom, found him. He had trampled
down the corn, and eaten a great deal more of it than was
good for him. At first he did not seem a bit sorry for what
he had done, but he soon found out that no one-not even
ponies-can be naughty without being punished for it. As he
could not be trusted in the park until the gate was mended,
he was shut up in a little paddock near the cow-sheds.
He did not like that at all, for he had no companions
there, and it was very dull, except when some of us children
went down to see him and had a game with him. He was
very restless and impatient, and must have surprised the staid
old cows when they came up to the sheds to be milked.
He was so pleased when he was allowed into the park again.
But now, if you want to see our pony, you can, for there
he is, dear little fellow, munching some hay.

_-iU~C -~


C7 IFFLS was a very
i good little pup,
sp f as puppies go, but he
S,.'. had one sad fault-he
was always boasting.
Whatever he had was
sure to be better than
what anyone else pos-
sessed; be it collar, or
mat, or dish, it must be wonderful if owned by Biffles.
This weakness led the little dog into all sorts of
scrapes, for it is very well to appreciate what you have, but
wrong to be for ever bragging of your possessions.
Once Biffles found a very nice sunny corner in the
sunk-fence. It was a most comfortable place to snooze in,
and when the sun was -shining you could see through a
gap in the hedge, right on to the turnpike-road, and hear
all that the people said who passed by, and smell all that
the butcher-boys carried in their baskets.
Oh, yes; it was a first-class place for a dog's snuggery.
As soon as ever Biffles had got his corner into nice
"lie-able" condition, what must he do but boast about it.
He told all the dogs and half the cats in the neighbour-
hood what a grand den he had discovered, and the conse-
quence was that the first time old Towser was unchained

he made for Biffles's snug-
gery, and, finding that Master
Biffles had some very choice
odds and ends hidden away,
in the shape of old bones
All. and crusts, Towser set to
work to unearth the puppy's
savings, sending soil, and
S '" leaves, and plants, and crusts,
S and bones flying.
He was a champion
scratcher, was Towser. "Shoo! shoo! cried the gardener,
coming up.
But Towser rushed through the gap in the hedge, and
made for the turnpike-road.
Then the gardener mended the hedge, and got his
wheelbarrow, and brought the largest, roughest, hardest stones
he could find, and spread them all about Biffles's sunny corner.
The next time the foolish puppy came round he set
up a howl quite half a minute long..
So that's what came of boasting.
But something else happened, something very much
worse than Towser's spite; and this, I am very pleased to
tell you, quite cured the little dog of his failing.
If there was one thing more than another that Biffles
disliked, it was FOWL-big, middling, and little fowl-the
whole family of fowls he hated. I think this came about
through Biffles placing his nose through the wire netting of
the fowl-run one day, and old Mr. Gamecock, thinking it
was an impudent thing for a puppy to do, gave him a
sharp peck-right on that puppy's dear little black knob of

a nose. Oh! didn't it smart! Biffles really never loved fowls
after that.
WVell, being somewhat of a pet, you see, Biffles's kind
master bought him a nice water-trough, with "DOG" painted
on it, so that there should be no mistake as to who should
drink out of it.
As usual, Biffles went boasting about this wonderful
vessel:-" White-name painted on," &c., &c. Biffles had the
description off by heart. He was going to eat up anybody
or anything who so much as looked at it. But what
do you think? Why, old Mr. Gamecock heard him, and
calling his family together, stalked off to have the first
drink out of Biffles's new trough.
It was no use the puppy barking. Mr. and Mrs.
Gamecock didn't care. And remembering that nasty peck,
Biffles dared not come forward.
So there he stood, watching the fowls actually drink
all the water out of his
trough, with his own,
his very own name
painted on!
Oh, it was hard,
very hard to bear; but
as I said before, it ',
cured him of boasting;
and from that day to
this Biffles has never
been heard to brag '"
about his possessions-
no, never! ..
Mary Boyle. _,,.

"Dzn't be Frig-htened.'

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UOOSET g~&cSDE R had a beautiful voice. At least she
thought she had, and that was how all the mischief hap-
pened. She would sing upon every occasion, whether her friends
wanted her to or not. At Mrs. Waddle's musical evening
she really behaved quite rudely, for when the hostess thanked
her politely for her singing and said it was Miss Quack's
turn next, she was quite disagreeable, and talked all through
the poor gosling's song in such a loud voice that no one
heard a note of the music. Of course all the other guests
were properly shocked, but Goosey didn't care a bit, and went
on annoying her friends until it was time to go home.
When she was shut up in the pen that night her
Mother spoke to her seriously about her behaviour, and told
her that she really must mend her ways and be less conceited.
"No doubt you have a fine voice, my dear," said her
Mother; "you take after me in that respect; but you ought
to disguise your feelings and try to appear unconscious of
the fact. You never hear me cackle unless I have been
pressed to do so. It's not good form to sing without pressing."
Now, a day or two afterwards it happened that the
farmer's wife was rather late in giving the geese their break-
fast, and so Goosey and some of the others wandered up
to the kitchen-door to remind her.
Tommy was looking out, eating a large slice of bread-
and-butter. He opened the door at once to drive the geese
back to the yard, but Goosey slipped past him into the
house. She found a little boy sitting beside the kitchen fire
learning his lessons for school. He was reading aloud in

a sing-song tone a story about some wonderful geese who
had saved the Roman Capitol by their loud singing.
The farmer's wife came in then and drove the foolish
bird out of the kitchen, but Goosey had heard enough to
set her thinking.
"These birds did nothing but sing at the top of a
high rock," she said to herself, "and yet they were put into
history. Why should not I make myself famous?"
She thought over it all day long, and at night hid
herself behind a faggot when the other geese were put to
bed, and about ten o'clock found herself free to wander
about where she would.
First she climbed the hill behind the house and then
began to sing. She paused after a time to see what would
happen, and then began to tremble, for, glaring at her with
hungry, gleaming eyes, she saw a fox.
How Goosey got down that hill she never knew, but
when she reached the yard the poor bird hadn't a cackle
left in her. However, Rover
S came to her rescue, and soon
Si' sent Mr. Reynard slinking
; home.


I I-

After that Goosey Gander
gave up singing, and never
again tried to make herself
famous in history, and I
have heard that she became'
one of the best behaved and
most modest birds in the
whole poultry-yard.
L. L. Weedon.


RA \( A ATr.

8LL, I suppose I
must tell the truth-
that is, I was jealous.
My mother used to tell
S me that jealousy was a fault
S of mine, and that it would
,\0.. bring me into sore trouble
if I did not correct it, and
"she was right. But to me it
seemed that my little mistress
-- was always petting and prais-
ing Pincher, and took no notice of me; and that made me
very miserable, because I loved her so much.
She says now that it was all the other way, and that
she thought Pincher loved her best, for he was always push-
ing his nose into her hand, and trying to show how fond
he was of her. But Pincher has such long legs he can
reach her hand without putting up his paws, which I can't,
and when my paws are muddy she scolds me for spoiling
her frock. But how can I help. my paws being muddy? I
can't run about in goloshes and take them off when I come
in! People don't make enough allowance for a poor dog's
However, I made up my mind I could bear it no
longer, and that I must run awayl Perhaps little mistress
would be sorry then, and wish she had. been kinder to her

poor forlorn little dog. The only person I told of my
intention was Nero, our cat. I am not fond of cats generally,
C-s but Nero and I agreed
That, as we lived in the
same house, we might as
well be friends. Nero was
old and very wise-some-
times he would tell me
most interesting stories, for
-n h------ he had seen many curious
Te things. The day I ran
-., away he was curled up in
the sun, and as I trotted
past he opened his great golden eyes and asked me where I was
going. So I told him I was running away. "What for?"
"'Cause I'm so wretched!" I answered.
"You're making a mistake," he replied. "You'll only
be wretcheder still. You won't have any tea, or dinner, or
breakfast. Better stay at home and be miserable comfortably."
But I wouldn't listen to him, and went down by the
river so as to avoid the village, where someone might re-
cognise me and take me home. Besides, there are rabbits
on the common, and it comforted me to chase them a little.
Then I popped through a hole in the fence into the Park,
but it was growing dark now, and I was tired, so I curled
myself up and went to sleep.
I suppose I slept some time, but it was still quite
night when I awoke, and the stars were shining brightly.
I was cold, and I missed my warm basket bed! I was
hungry, and moreover I was frightened, for the world seemed
so big, and I was so small to be alone in it!

After a time it grew light, and I got up and shook
myself. And then-all of a sudden-I saw a vision of beauty!
A bird-a glorified bird-all golden and green and purple,
with a long, long tail Oh! I had seen such hanging up
in the larder, but never, never one alive. Naturally I made
a spring at it-but alas! something caught my foot in a
sharp tight grip, and I shrieked with pain and fear, while
the pheasant fluttered away with a loud "Kluk! kluk! kluk!"
"Oh, ho! So you are caught, are you, mister!" said
a voice over my head. I looked up, and there was the keeper,
but all I could do was to wail piteously. "Ah! we'll soon
stop that!" he said, pulling out a cord from his pocket.
"Poachers must be punished!"
"Stop a minute, Father!" said a boy's voice. "That
isn't a poacher. That's little Miss Minnie's dog, at the Manor
House. They were saying in the village as how Spot was
lost. Take him careful out of the trap, and I'll carry
him home."
And so he did, that
angel of a boy, and my
little mistress cried hot tears 4 /1 -
over my .wounded paw. It
was some time healing, and
as I lay, quite an invalid, ''
on the hearthrug before the
fire, with Nero purring at
my side, I told him that .
he was quite right-run- ,
ning away was a sad mis- ,,.
take, and I would never do
,so again 1 M. A. Hoyer. \


R e.J O.I'S been
for a holiday-
And where do you think
she spent it, pray?
Why, down at the old Farm,
if you please, ,,
Where pears and apples grow on the trees.

A dear little pony was there to ride,
Horses and donkeys and cows beside,
S Piggies that grunted
and cows that mooed,
Ducks that quacked
and pigeons that cooed!

She picked
the blackberries
in the lanes;
i She went for
a drive and held
the reins

She fed the
chickens every day,
And watched
the lambs
in the fields
at play.

She made the butter .
and learned to bake,
And tossed the hay
with a wooden rake-- --"
Of wildflowers sweet she picked such a po-y,. :'
She soon grew ever so strong and rosy.

Of all she did and saw as well
WVe haven't sufficient room to tell.
It was such
a happy holiday,
She cried when
S she had to
,.,, n come away.


-J10 7SPTUA8E lived on the
...s: J L beach, and he had no
-* home in particular, though
.- .. : there were at least fifty houses
.. ..- where he was always welcome.
S He was a very independent
fellow, but he had many friends; for everybody at Beachover
liked him, and had a pleasant word for the big, shaggy,
brown dog, who was so interested in everything, and so very
busy, though-so far as anybody could see-he had really
nothing whatever to do.
He had no master, and nobody knew where he came
from, but, as he was himself quite as ignorant as the rest
of the world, this did not trouble him at all. There he was,
and that was all about it; and no dog in England was
happier, or-in his own opinion-more full of business. He
was busy from morning till night attending to everybody's
affairs but his own. Not a boat could be launched without
his assistance; not a child have its first lesson in paddling
unless he were there to run into the sea beside it, and bark
encouragement. Now, there were many boats drawn up on
the shingle at Beachover, and crowds of children always
arriving from hot, dusty, inland homes, where there was no
sea to.paddle in; so that Neptune often knew he was wanted
in half a dozen places'at once, and did his best to be in
all of them, too; for he was a conscientious dog, and hated
to disappoint anybody.

And then there were the people who were always
throwing things into the sea, in order that other-four-
footed-people might fetch them out again. Neptune privately
thought this rather silly on their part; but he was quite
ready to humour them; and he loved the rapid plunge into
the water, and the excitement of seizing the stick-or what-
ever it might be-and carrying it back in triumph. Perhaps

i =-
i Irll I

after all, they threw it in so often out of pure good nature,
just to .amuse him! People were odd sometimes, and it
was quite impossible for a busy dog, who had plenty of
other things to think about, to understand all their whims
and fancies.
Children generally loved Neptune, for he was very
gentle with them, and let them roll him over and pull him
about just as they pleased. It was, therefore, the more
remarkable that Mary and Maggie and Johnny should be
afraid of him, and scream and shrink back if he so much
as looked in their direction. He couldn't understand it at
all; he had always done his best for
these disagreeable children, and the
Very first day he observed them on
the beach-just pinned up, ready to
paddle-he had hur-
ried up to say how
glad he was to see
them, and could
he be of any use?
Go away,
-- naughty dog," Mary
o ... ---I-- l --
cried. "Oh! oh!
hell bite!" wailed
(ta -Johnny.
---- Maggie
but she ran
-, a little way
_-0 ,.2 off, and then
"I turned and

threw a pebble at him. It did not hit him, but he was very
much hurt for all that; he slunk away, looking so sad and
crestfallen that you would have thought he was the person
in fault, and not Maggie. But he bore no malice, and would
gladly have gone into the sea with Johnny, who, being a very
little fellow, was afraid of the waves, and wanted a great deal
of encouragement. But when he barked, the boy screamed;
and Nurse ordered him back so sternly that he thought he
had better go at once, though he knew perfectly well he had
done nothing to deserve such treatment. Neptune had never
been so unhappy before, and for a day or two he hardly made
a new acquaintance, so afraid was he of again being repulsed.
Nurse had dropped asleep, and as Johnny's sisters were
too intent on their own affairs to attend to him, he crept out
along the break-water to fill his pail. The wood was so
slimy that it was with difficulty he kept his footing; still,
he managed to get some distance out, and the water was
deep on either side of him, when suddenly he slipped, and
fell headlong into the sea. The children's shrieks woke Nurse
with a start, but there were few people near the spot, and
the tide was running strong. What was to be done? Oh,
for a boat! for someone-- Then, all at once, a shaggy brown
dog tore down the shingle, and plunged into the water.
Neptune had rushed to the rescue, and after a few breathless
moments, little Johnny was safe on the shore. Oh, what a
fuss they made about Neptune then! and how pleased the good
dog was to find himself no longer repulsed! They gave him
a splendid collar, with his name on it, and the date on which
he saved Johnny; and when next you are at Beachover, and
see it, you will think of this story of Neptune, the dog of
the beach, and know how true it all is. Evelyn Fletcher.


E will have a cricket match this morning,
and ask Uncle Roger to make a kite this
afternoon," said Christopher.
Oh, no," said Leslie; "make the kite
this morning, and--"
"Rubbish," said Christopher.
"It isn't rubbish," said Leslie. Uncle--"
And then, just as the two brothers were beginning
to feel cross, Phyllis came into the room.
"Well?" said both the boys.
"He's gone out to Mr. Wilson's," said Phyllis, in the
very dismallest of dismal voices, "and I believe he has gone."
"No?" said Christopher.
"Well, the fishing-rods are not there," said Phyllis.
"And it is his last day," said Leslie.
The three children sighed.

He was the jolliest Uncle that any children ever had.
He could spin tops, and make kites and boats, and play
cricket. He could do everything. Indeed, in the children's
eyes he would have been absolutely perfect, if he had not
had one serious fault-he would go fishing.
"Of course, -Mr. Wilson asked him," said Christopher.
"Bother Mr. Wilson," said Leslie.
Then they all walked to the window.
It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining brightly,
saying as plainly as he could, "Come out, children, come out."
Shall we go fishing?" said Phyllis.
"But our fishing is only pretending," said Leslie scorn-
fully, "and we never catch anything."
"Uncle Roger says that doesn't matter," said Phyllis.
Christopher was staring out of the window. Suddenly
he took both his hands out of his pockets, and clapped
them together.
"The new brown cow," he cried; "the new brown cow!"
Leslie looked at him puzzled, but Phyllis's eyes began
to laugh, and Phyllis said, "Of course, that would be lovely.
How shall we do it?"
"A clothes-line, and a walking-stick, and some green-
stuff," said Christopher. "Come along."
"I wish I knew what you were talking about," said Leslie.
"We are going to fish for the brown cow," said Phyllis,
as they all hurried out of the nursery.
"Oh," said Leslie, "what fun!"
"Now," said Christopher, who always took the lead,
"I will get the rope, Phyllis must get the walking-stick,
and Leslie some greenstuff, and we will meet on the terrace
in two minutes."

Away they ran in different directions, and in less
than two minutes Phyllis met Leslie on the terrace at the
end of the garden.
The terrace overlooked Mr. Wilson's big field, and
the children always pretended that the field was a big pond
full of strange fish.
"Where's Christopher?" asked Leslie. "I hope the
gardener won't miss this big cabbage."
"There he is," said Phyllis, as Christopher came running
down the path, dragging the family clothes-line behind him.
"I had such a bother to get it," he said breathlessly.
"Cook, you know. And we must be quick." The line was
fastened to the stick, and the cabbage to the line, and then
the line was thrown over the low wall into the field below.
For some time the brown cow took no notice; she
was busy munching the grass.
"I wish I could get down into the field," said Leslie;
"then I could drive her up to the wall."
"You couldn't get back again," said Christopher. "That
horrid man of Mr. Wilson's has made a ditch so deep that
our rope-ladder wouldn't be long enough to reach to the
bottom now."
"Hush," said Phyllis, "don't talk; and hide behind
the wall. She is coming nearer."
The brown cow had at last caught sight of the cabbage.-
"Wait until she gets firm hold," said Christopher,
"and then pull hard."
They waited a moment, then pulled, and then all
three tumbled over.
"I never saw a cow look so astonished," Phyllis
said, laughing. "Try again."

The brown cow was tossing her head, and lashing
her tail.
"Now, Chris, you hold the line this time, and we
will watch," said Leslie.
So Leslie and Phyllis hid, and Christopher, mounting
on the wall, threw the cabbage far into the field.
This time the brown cow ran quickly to the cabbage,
and seized it in her mouth.
"She's got it-pull, Christopher," said Phyllis.
Leslie was laughing too much to speak. Christopher
pulled, but the cow pulled too, and the cow had seized a
piece of the rope in its mouth as well as the cabbage.
"Come and help," said Christopher.
But Leslie and Phyllis were still laughing. There was
a cry from Christopher as he lost his balance, and tumbled
into the ditch. The brown cow munched away at the cabbage.

lc~ r ~

c //'-W

* /, .

'' S "-

"Are you hurt?" said Phyllis.
"Chris, are you hurt?" shouted Leslie.
Christopher picked himself up out of the ditch, and
began to brush his clothes.
"How shall we get him out again?" said Phyllis,
who quite understood that Christopher did not want to speak
for a few minutes.
"If only we had the ladder," said Leslie, "it might
be of some use."
"Go and look in the tool-house," said Phyllis; "I
think I saw it there."
Leslie ran off up the path.
"Are you all right, Chris?" said Phyllis.
"I can't get back," said Christopher dolefully.
"You'll have to walk to the gate," said Phyllis.
"And meet Mr. Wilson's man," said Christopher. "If
only Uncle Roger had not gone."
"If only Leslie would bring the ladder," said Phyllis.
"Perhaps he can't find it. I'll see if it is in the back kitchen."
Christopher waited for a few minutes, then he com-
menced to walk slowly towards the gate.
If he could reach it without being seen, he would be
all right, but if he met Mr. Wilson's man--
He was nearly at the gate when he saw that it was
open, and that three men were standing beside it.
They were talking busily, and Christopher lay down
flat in the ditch, hoping they had not seen him.
He could hear their voices, and as they began walking
towards him, he heard Mr. Wilson say-
"Very well then; just for once, you know."
Then he heard a voice he knew very well-

"Thank you very much, Wilson. I'll fetch the young-
sters at once, so that we can get a good game. We won't
hurt the brown cow."
It was Uncle Roger's voice.
Then he had not gone fishing.
Christopher wished he could sink into the ditch. He
waited a minute, then he jumped up quickly. Uncle Roger
was fast disappearing down the road, but Mr. Wilson and
the man were close beside the gate.
Christopher buttoned up his jacket, and brushed him-
self; then he stepped forward, and spoke.
"Good morning, Mr. Wilson," he said; "we were fish-
ing for your brown cow, and I tumbled off the wall into
the field. Please, I'm very sorry, but I don't believe the
cow minded, because she had a whole cabbage."
"You young vagabond!" began the man, but Mr.
Wilson was smiling.
"You must not tease my cows," he said; "and you
know you have no business in the field."
"Shall I tell the .
gentlemen they must
not play cricket here
to-day?" said the man
to Mr. Wilson.
"Play cricket!
In the field! said
"Yes; be off with
you," said Mr. Wilson.
"Go and ask your Uncle -
about it. It is his doing." "

"And it is his last day," said Christopher; and with
a "Thank you," he was off down the road.
He found Uncle Roger, having rescued Phyllis from
Cook, to whom he had restored the clothes-line, endeavouring
to soothe the gardener for the loss of his cabbage.
"Well, you are three pickles," said Uncle Roger, when
Phyllis and Leslie were at last free to set out for the field.
"You all deserve-I don't know what you deserve."
"We thought you had gone fishing," said Phyllis,
"and it is your last day."
"So I was the cause of all the mischief," said Uncle
Roger, laughing. "Well, you must promise never to tease
the cow."
"Or take a- cabbage or a clothes-line," said Phyllis.
"We won't."
"And we'll have a grand game," said Christopher.
And they did. Maggie Browne.


N our sheltered garden nook
SAt our picture-books we look,
S,;i On a pleasant summer's day,
c When we're tired of games and play.

Sissie tells us stories too,
Tales of fairies good and true.
We're as happy as can be
In our garden nook, we three!

1- ; ... .-- ,_-- ; -k _'. ,

The Story.
The Story.


T is quite a long time ago now,
and Ronald wears sailor suits,
Instead of loose things with skirts
0 0 1to them, and laced-up boots instead
of strap shoes and little white socks,
but I have never been able to make
up my mind as to whether I was
right or wrong in the way I be-
S.K< haved the day he was lost. I was
Scarcely more than a pup then, and
if I did make a mistake about it,
well, it really wasn't so much to be wondered at after all,
for you can't expect a pup to be as thoughtful as a middle-
aged dog.
But often, when I'm not chasing the neighbours' cats
off our flower-beds, or barking at the postman, or taking
Ronald and his mother for a walk, I sit upon the hearthrug
yawning and blinking at the fire, and trying to remember
exactly how it was, so that I may get my conscience nice
and comfortable again. I do like to have a clear conscience,
and if I do take Mufti's milk nine times out of ten, why,
she shouldn't be so slow with her silly little pink tongue,
and she shouldn't swell herself up and fizz at me whenever
I meet her out of doors-and anyhow, I don't chase her
as I do the other cats, so she really ought to be grateful
and glad for me to have milk, when I feel I can fancy

it, instead of looking sour and sulky, and rumbling inside
But that has nothing to do with my story. Let me
see, now. Yes, this was just how it happened-I remember
perfectly. Nurse was turning out the Nursery-a silly sort
of game that she and Alice play at by themselves-I only
know that if I made half as much noise or dust, I should
get into shocking disgrace-but they are never even told of
it, as far as I know. Well, while they are doing that, Claude
and Betty and Ronald always come down into the morning-
room, where the store-cupboard is that has the long glass
doors that open into the front garden. It was a warm,
sunny morning, and I and the children amused ourselves
very well, running in and out together, while their Mother
sat up to the table and sewed (another very dull sort of
play-but then all the grown-up games seem dreadfully stupid
to me). And then I. re-
member the housemaid came
and said, "Please could
Cook see the mistress, and
please Cook wanted a pot
of jam for the roly-poly
pudding." I was very glad .
to hear that, for I was very
fond of sweet things before '-f
I grew up to dog-hood. '.,
And somehow or
another when my mistress
came back Ronald was no-
where to be seen! She called
him over and over again,

and she asked Claude and Betty, but they had been so busy
burying a dead mouse they had found in the garden, that
they hadn't noticed what became of Ronald. And then there
was such a fuss! Nurse ran down one road, and Alice ran
up another, and Cook and Susan bustled off to the duck-
pond on the green, and my mistress minded the other two,
and hunted all over the front garden. I shall never forget
how pale her face looked, almost as white as the tuft on my
tail, as she said to me, Spot, Spot, can't you help us to
find your little master?" And I wagged my tail and licked
her hand; but I did feel very bad right inside of me.
It must have been nearly the children's dinner-time
(I judged by the cooking smell) when Ronald was found.
He crawled out from under the round table with the long
green table-cloth falling down to the ground, and he was in
such a mess as you never did see, and the pot of black-
currant jam he had helped himself to and taken under the
table with him, was quite enipty. I don't think he had
much of a scolding, because, you see, he was so very young
and little then: and besides, they were so glad to find he
was all right and well. But somehow I felt very uncom-
fortable, for I had known where he was all the time, and
I could easily have shown them, instead of letting them be
so frightened and worried. And that is what has been puzzl-
ing me all this time. For Ronald is supposed to be my
boy-my little master they call him-and I couldn't, after all
the mischief and the different kinds of scrapes we have got
into together-I really couldn't tell of him until he had finished
the jam. No one likes to have their plans spoilt, and besides,
it's mean to be a tell-tale-tit. And yet, I did feel sorry for
Ronald's anxious mother. What ought I to have done?


/J IS'7IA 18-WS8 was a clever kitten, but not half so
.' clever as he thought himself. The 'airs that little
cat put on were really too ridiculous.
He quite looked down upon Muff and Puff, his two
brothers, and after all, they were as old as he was, even
if they were not quite so pretty.
Of course, Mrs. Puss loved- all her children equally
well; but I do think she was prouder of Winkie-Wee than
she was of the other two,
and this the young gentle-
man soon found out.
SHe saw well enough
the twinkle in his Mother's
eye, when she was scold-
ing him for upsetting the
ink-pot over Miss Milly's
copybook, so the lecture
failed to do him any good,
and he made matters
worse by walking all over
the clean white table-cloth
with his inky paws.
Even Milly wasn't
Suite as angry with him
as she would have been
with the other kits.


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A. Stranger.




"He looks so comical, Nurse, I can't punish him," she
said. "But you won't be naughty again, will you, Winkie?"'
Winkie purred, and rubbed his little white nose against
her cheek, and she kissed him and called him a "pretty
darling," and he walked off, whisking his tail, and more con-
ceited than ever.
A day or two later he got into the dairy, and for a
whole hour he thought he was in Fairyland.
He revelled in cream to his heart's content, licked the
butter, nibbled the cheese, and finished up (this was at the
end of the hour) by tumbling into a pail of milk and nearly
drowning himself. He would have done it too, had not
Cook come in to fetch a jug of cream.
Oh! how angry she was! She fished Winkie out of
the pail, but she gave him a good slapping, and sent him
crying to look for his Mamma.
He could not find her for some time, and when at
length he did, she didn't comfort him a bit, but boxed his
ears instead.
She was angry, you see, because, as Winkie had
wasted so much milk, Cook wouldn't give any of them supper,
and no cat likes to lose her saucer of milk.
"You're a very naughty kitten," she said, "and I've
no patience with you. Why can't you behave yourself like
your brothers? Something dreadful will happen to you one
of these days, if you don't improve."
Winkie felt very much aggrieved, for he was as wet
as wet could be, and had expected to be kissed and cuddled
warm again.
He wasn't a bit repentant, not he, and he didn't
believe his Mother's words.

But they came true all the same, for the next day
something dreadful happened.
He persuaded poor innocent Muff to go with him on
a voyage of discovery in the larder, the door of which he
had found open.
Walking about on the floor the kittens saw a very
queer creature.
"Whatever can it be?" said Muff; "just look how it
walks sideways, Winkie."
It's a rat," said Winkie promptly, who didn't in the
least know what it was, but wouldn't own that he didn't.
"I'm going to catch it."
Neither of them had ever seen a rat, they had only
heard of them so far, and when Winkie sprang at the queer
creature, Muff followed.
Then arose two fearful yells. The crab, for a crab it
was, had seized them by the tails.
They were rescued at length, but not before Winkie-
Wee had received a lesson that he never forgot.
From that day he became a modest, well-behaved
kitty, and never again led his poor innocent brothers into
L. L. Weedon.

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