• TABLE OF CONTENTS
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 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Country playmates
 Back Cover






Title: Country playmates
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00087286/00001
 Material Information
Title: Country playmates
Alternate Title: Country playmates and town acquaintances animal stories for little folks
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 29 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
Manufacturer: E. Nister
Publication Date: [1898?]
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Country life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Pets -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1898   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1898   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Germany -- Bavaria -- Nuremberg
 Notes
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Contains prose and verse
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00087286
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223384
notis - ALG3633
oclc - 261404613

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
    Front Matter
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
    Country playmates
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Back Cover
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
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' < IS merry in the country with our playmates great and small-
There are so many of them that I couldn't name them all;
And such a noisy chatter, too, they make all through the day,
That, though they're really working hard, it sounds much more like play!


There's some of them have two legs, and some of them have four,
Some of them run to meet us when we reach the farmyard door;
Tray barks delighted welcome, and says "have a game of play,"
And Kitty purrs as if to say "I'm glad you've come to-day."


The pigeons "coo-coo" softly, and the ducks say "quack, quack, quack,"
The pony in the meadow neighs "I'm pleased to see you back;"
"'is good to have such playmates, our very own to call,
And though they're only animals, we love them one and all.
C. B.








rI9Z9&7(S RRJZ8.


/T HST shut my eyes
( Andi fand I couldn't see,
And they said
,,a curious thing
to me.
S"Open your mouth
and shut
your eyes
And we will
give you
a very great prize."


Then I opened my mouth, and 'twas hard, I own,
When my teeth only met on a bare, bare bone.
Of course I pretended a pleased surprise-
But I wonder why they called it a prize?




MVIART'S SPELLINg-BOOK.

IT seems almost impossible that a little girl whose name is Mary can
ever be naughty-it is so much more natural to think of them as good,
industrious, obedient little girls, and I must say, by way of excuse, that
the Mary of whom I am going to write was only four years old, and that
she was generally good, but, like the little girl with the curl on her fore-
head, "when she was bad she was horrid;" and she was particularly horrid
on the 15th of June this year. It was the day after her birthday, and, instead
of A's and B's, dolls and engines were always appearing before her eyes,
and she was so very sulky over the alphabet that her mother was really
worn out.
"Do attend, Mary," she said over and over again. "An 0 is round-
it is not a bit like a K."







"I think it is-exactly," said Mary.
"Mary," said her Mother.
"I think it's like a silly, rude K," said Mary very loud, and then she
snatched the book out of Mother's hand, and ran to the window, with a
very red face, and threw it out as far as she could.
Inside the room there was a great silence. Mother had folded her hands,
and Mary stood close to the window as if her feet had taken root. Out-
side, they heard the hum of bees in the garden, and a little splash in the
gravel where the spelling-book fell.
Mother stood up and walked over to the door.
"Very well, Mary," she said gravely, "you can stay here all day. I do
not want a little girl downstairs who gets into passions with me."
How long the day was, and how Mary wearied to feel Mother's kind
kisses on her hot cheeks. In the cool of the evening
i i 1 she heard some soft steps outside, and she ran to
Sthe window to look out, and what do you think
she saw? Why she saw the little young kid, that
lived in the meadow, sniff at her spelling-book, as
; _-.. it lay Ifce dl:,i\\i\ards on the gravel, and then tear
- it into little pieces and eat it slowly. She called
,. ..'- ... Oiut, an._l sl :ci'- at himn, and even threw empty reels
SI: at lim, b:'Lt it \\as no use-He began at "A M,
am. and i-c nt straig-ht through it to "Nell and the
'-" Il at the end. Mary really did her best to
f ri.ghkt-n him ai\na, I:,ut when it was all over, and
t. there \Vas n:. thing but a chewed bit of red cover left,
she wondered, with a gleam
of hope, if Mother could
S" afford to buy another.
Fortunately Mother could
--otherwise Mary might not
r have been able to read yet,
and fortunately, too, Mary
was very sorry and quite
good when the long day
-- had ended and Mother came
to kiss her in her crib.
-Geraldine R. Glasgow.










ba ^ a'le of 6o 'O aiI5.

,/Yr dearVWhiskers," said Prince, "this evening I may
.l1 rM have a moment, but .at present--" and Prince
Strutted across the yard- with his tail in the air.
SWhiskers growled gently to himself. "He's always busy
or pretends to be," he grumbled. "I wish he wouldn't 'dear
'' Whiskers' me, the silly, stuck-up, interfering-- Here he
comes back again-I wonder what he wants now."
Prince trotted solemnly across the yard. "My dear Whiskers," he said,
and Whiskers tried not to growl,-" my dear \Vhiskers, I came 'back to tell
you that there are two strange dogs in the stable."
""Why didn't you turn them out?"' growled Whiskers.
"My dear W\hiskers," said Prince gently, "you must admit that it is
not my duty to turn dogs out of the stable. I am the young master's
dog-you are the stable-dog."
Whiskers' growls became loud and distinct. He looked so angry that
Scaramouch, the stable cat, forgot to hurry past the dogs, but waited to
see what would happen.
Nothing did happen, however, for at that -moment a whistle was heard,
and Prince trotted off, waving his bushy tail in the air,- and looking more
pleased than ever with himself.
"I'll talk to him this-'evening," growled Whiskers; "giving himself such
airs, and he a new-comer too."
Prince ran down the road after 'his master. Whiskers is a well-
meaning dog, though he has such a short stumpy tail," he said, "but he
wants keeping in his proper place."
Along the road Prince was very busy poking his nose into holes,
scrambling under gates, scratching up tuif, and sniffing at everything' that
came in his way.. At last, not far from some cottages, the young- master stopped.
"Prince," .he said sharply, "you stay there and don't get into mischief.
You stay there until I" come back."
Prince lay down obediently, but began to grumble as soon as the master
. was out of. sight. "Does he think I'm a puppy?" he growled. "Don't get
into mischief, indeed.c He .growled and .grumbled and barked snappily until







he saw a rat scurry across the road. In a moment he was after it, into
the ditch, backwards and forwards along the hedge, and at last bounding
over it into the cornfield. He jumped almost on the top of something-not
the rat, but a pretty little girl lying fast asleep under a sheaf of corn.
Prince stared hard at her, then he sniffed and smelt her, then he sat
down beside her and stared again.
"It is Peggy," he said, "Peggy who lives at the cottage with .the black-
and-white collie Jess. I should like to know why Jess is not taking care
of her little mistress this minute," and Prince began sniffing again. "I
wonder what is in that basket-I may as well look. Of course, I won't touch."
Prince walked cautiously round the little girl, and put first his nose
and then a paw into the basket. He heard someone shouting, and at first
took no notice, but when he heard footsteps, and saw a woman running
towards him, he thought it was time to jump back over the hedge.
"So absurd," he said. "I was only looking. I'll find Jess and tell her
all about it. She's a sensible dog; it is never any use trying to make a
stupid woman understand."
Through the gate of another field he caught sight of a sheep with a
young lamb. "Jess will be there, of course," said Prince.
But no Jess was to be seen.
"Dear me, dear me!" said Prince. "What can Jess be doing to-day,
not taking care of her mistress, not looking after the sheep. I'm sure those
two ought not to be in the long grass-I'll drive them to the other end
of the field." He bounded over the gate, the sheep began to run, Prince
barked, and the lamb ran after the sheep.
"This is good fun," thought Prince, and he barked more loudly.
Once more he heard someone shouting, and this time the someone
caught him fast by his bushy tail.
"I've been on the watch for you," said the someone, "and now I've
caught you. So you are the dog that chases my sheep. A collie too-you
ought to know better. I know you. You are the new dog at the Hall.
I'll get you a beating -for this."
Prince wriggled, and pulled, and even tried to bite, but the shepherd
was too strong for him, and in a few minutes he found himself being
dragged by a rope round his neck across the field, and down the lane to
the Hall. The shepherd told his story, and Prince was tied up in the stable
loft to await punishment. Feeling absolutely certain that never before had a
dog been so ill-treated, he began to howl dismally.








At last he heard a scratching and a scrambling-then a black nose
appeared in the loft. It was Whiskers!
"Come to triumph, of course," thought Prince. Whiskers did nothing of
the sort. "Well, old dog," he said, rubbing his nose against Prince's. If
Whiskers had called Prince "old dog" earlier in the day there would have been
trouble; but Prince was so pleased to hear a friendly vord that he wagged
his tail. In a few- minutes he had told his friend the story of his wrongs.
Whiskers listened until the story was finished, then he said solemnly,
"You've been unfortunate certainly, but if you won't mind my saying so,
you've been unwise too."
Prince only growled gently.
"Now, take my advice," said Whiskers; "lie quiet, don't howl, and they
will forget all about you. I happen to know that the young master has
gone off to the station in a hurry-that means there's something up, and
they'll be too busy to think of you. I'll bring you a bone to-night, and
by to-morrow the storm will have blown over."
"My very dear Whiskers," said Prince.
And this time Whiskers did not growl; indeed, he seemed quite pleased,
and tried to wag his queer stump of a tail.


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S" OU always find me
A t tI s n f hard at work."-
A c e Ay, ay! ,'tis as you say,
i For men must earn
d their daily bread
w by toil from
day to day,
And though the hammer's heavy that I swing from morn till night,
I've got three best of reasons, sir, for making labour light.


A cottage where the roses climb just down the lane you'll see-
It isn't big or handsome, but it's home, sweet home for me;
And by the gate. at eventide one reason kind and fair,
WVith welcome smile, I always find a-waiting for. me there.


\y supper's on the table laid, and as I sit. and eat,
A laughing, rosy reason comes and plays around my feet;
And I'm the greatest hero of that merry, sturdy lad,
W\ho says he'll be a blacksmith too when he's as big as Dad.


Then, from her Mother's arms there comes the reason I love best,
And climbs upon my knee and puts its head upon my breast;
What man that's worthy of the name could act a lazy part,
\Vith such a golden-headed mite -to nestle near his heart?


So if you'll think it over, sir, the causes why you'll see,
The heaviest hammer of the lot's a feather's weight to me;
And while I'm strong and healthy there's no labour that I'd shirk,
With wife, and son, and daughter as the reasons for my work.











HOW THE I JTTEN SAlVED THE MMART6.


/ U.: .... U DT was the oldest animal
at Baalambs Farm. She was
,,.._ .an old gray mare with a

she was the only one of the horses
'' ., / which was honoured with a stable.
S" '. :The other cart and plough horses
.a..., .. .. had to live out in the meadow
"- '' and work hard to pick up their
supper when their day's work was
done. There was a time when Judy
had been made to go to plough
and cart like the rest, but now
that she was grown old she had no harder work to do than to draw Farmer
Griggs's light cart to market.
One evening, when Judy had got back to her stable and was munching
her nice supper of oats, she became aware of a piteous wailing and whin-
ing outside the stable-door. Now Judy was rather a cross old mare, and
was known to have none of the best of tempers in the stable. Anybody
but Jim, the odd man, who groomed her,. she would let fly at with her
heels, and had even honest old Towzer, the next oldest inhabitant to her-
self on the farm, ventured to intrude into her stable, she would have kicked
at him.
Presently the door opened and Jim came in with a truss of hay, which
he put into the manger.
"Judy's been a faithful servant in her day," Farmer Griggs would say,
"and I like her to be comfortable and well fed now she is old and nearly
done for!"
Judy, having finished her oats, presently turned her attention to the hay.
She was just poking her nose about in it to find a sweet mouthful when
she felt something soft and wet cuddle up to her warm nose. A little white
kitten was sitting up in the hay licking itself dry from the rain outside,
and, looking up into the old mare's face, it gave a plaintive "Miow!"
Where the kitten came from, whose she was, and how she found her























































































Something nice for Dobbin.


_ _L__I I __ __ __ CI_






way to old Judy's stable-door no one ever knew. But, from that day she
quietly took up her quarters in the old mare's stable, and, what was more
surprising still, old Judy did not kick her out. Had she been a dog, or a
strange man, the cross old mare would have made short work of her, but
it was wonderful to see what friends the two became-the white kitten and
the gray mare. The homeless little waif lived in luxury. A softer bed than
the hay in the manger, or the straw in the corner, never could cat wish
for, and there were rats and mice enough about the old stable to keep three
cats, at least, fat and sleek.
But snug as was the hay, Kitty had a bed she liked better, and which
was warmer still. Can you guess where that was? Jim found out, and "Well,
I never!" he cried with a grin, the first day he opened the stable-door and
saw Kitty rolled up into a little white ball of fur and fast asleep-on Judy's
back!
So time went on, and Kitty grew to a cat, and Judy seemed to miss
her whenever she was about mousing, and when she returned would put
down her old gray head and sniff and nose and muzzle her friend, which
is the horses' way of talking.
But one day a fearful disaster happened to poor Farmer Griggs and
Baalambs Farm. One hot summer night a rick of newly-stacked hay caught
fire. There was a big breeze blowing, and the flames quickly spread to the
other haystacks in the yard, and then to the barn, and at last, despite all
the efforts to stop them, reached the stable itself. In vain all the farm men,
hastily, roused out of their beds, helped by the women and the girls and
the mere children, made a long line to the pond and passed up bucket after
bucket of water to throw upon the flames. It was no use, the fire was too
strong for them, and the stable roof was soon in a blaze.
"Oh! my poor Judy!" cried
out Farmer Griggs. "My poor
old mare!" .
For nothing would induce Judy.
to come out. Horses are often thus
frightened like this by fire, becoming, i
as it were, paralysed with terror, '
and refusing to budge. In vain the I
farmer tried to coax, to call, to '
drag her out. In vain Jim even
went so far as to whip her. Judy J
kicked indeed, but, with wildly staring "._ .
eyes, did not move an inch.







"She'll be burnt alive!"
cried some of the onlookers.
"Silly old thing!" said -
others.
"Poor old thing!" cried
the farmer in despair. .
"Come along, Jim, and
let's save ourselves ere the
roof fall in and we get burnt
as well!"
He had just given up
all hopes of saving his old
favourite, and was hurrying out of the stable half-blinded with the smoke,
when he knocked against Kitty, come quite unconcerned in the fire and the
commotion to see what her old friend was doing.
When Judy saw her she put down her head, rubbed her nose and gave
a low whinny, as if pleased to see Kitty. Kitty, arching her back, rubbed
herself against the mare's legs, and then, finding the smoke more than she
quite liked, slowly walked out of the door, purring. To the surprise of
everyone watching in the yard beyond, old Judy followed!
Followed the cat out of the stable, into the yard, across the yard, quiet
and docile as any lamb.
And when Farmer Griggs saw that his old favourite was safe, he
snatched up the kitten and fondled it affectionately.
"Bless the little cat!" he cried. "If she ain't saved the old mare after all!"
Edith E. Cuthell.

THE PIG.


H 8 smiled a sleepy sort of smile
That wrinkled up his snout,
@ -And though the puppies fought
like men
-, -They couldn't get him out-
'He didn't even seem to know
What it was all about!

































OUR HOLIDAY.


A LETTSER came by post one day, with a real stamp stuck on,
It was an invitation from our dear, kind Uncle John,
Asking Kate and me to stay a month with him and so-
Mamma said "Well!" Papa said "Heml I s'pose they'll have to go!"
A box was packed, a cab drove up, and then we sped away,
Our train went sixty miles an hour, I heard some people say,
Just fancy that! but wait a bit. We changed, and then-oh dearly
We got into a train that was a tired train, I fear!
At last we sighted Uncle John, who said "I am so glad
To see my sister Janet's bairns!" He called me a fine lad,
And Kate "a bonny wee bit thing." He led us by a wood
And through some fields, and up a lane, to where the farmhouse stood.






Oh! such a farm! with such a yard, with pigs and cows and ducks,
And donkeys, sheep, and horses too, and hens with baby chicks,
Some children called on us next day, and showed us all around.
You know, I think a farm takes up an awful lot of ground.

Kate asked a cow if she felt well, she stared and answered Moo!
I asked a fowl how old he was-he cried Cock-a-doodle-doo!
We saw some swans eat a rice bun, and Mary fed a pony;
We watched the bees work in a hive and make a deal of honey.
The little pigs cry "wee-wee-wee." The donkeys say "hee-haw!"
Which means, I think, we'd like some beans, or some nice hay or straw.
But ohl I could not tell you half-if you'll look on you'll see
A few of many pretty things that pleased both Kate and me.
We romped, and jumped, and rode and ran, and played from morn till night.
Oh! dear! it was a sunny time, yes, everything was bright.
I think that farms are beautiful, I wish that we could stay
With Uncle John at White House Farm for ever and a day.




kOUGH f.\CD HIS R MEBLES.


D SeIRPt old Rough! He is too old to ride now, and he has retired into
private life after having served his master faithfully for more than
fifteen years.
He could be as wild as a gipsy with Master Dickie on his back, and
yet when Baby was on him he was as gentle as a lamb. I know you
would like to hear about some of his tricks.
He had a nice little field quite to himself next to the house, but-
would you believe it? the rascal-he would never stay there! He much pre-
ferred to run about the village street, and, no matter how tightly he was
barred up, he nearly always managed to get out of his field, and go off on
his rambles.
He would make his way down to the carpenter's shop, or to the
blacksmith's for a lump of sugar, or to the grocer's shop for a biscuit, or
to old mother Candy for an apple or a sweet.







He was the fastest pony in the village, and if he didn't want to be
caught-well, all the school-children put together couldn't catch him.
It used to be a favourite job for the children after school, and I have
often seen Master Rough lead them a fine dance for hours, to the amuse-
ment of the whole village, and no one could get near him until at last he
good-naturedly allowed the schoolmaster to put a halter round his neck and
lead him home.



aMY DOC\KET.

I HcAV) a little donkey,
His name is Grenadier;
I got him on my birthday--
I'm four years old this year.


I give my donkey carrots,
He likes them more than hay;
I give him lumps
of sugar, ,
And biscuits -
every day. ^ ",'-.'


I like'to feed and
pet hin,
He loves me so,
you see; 1 ,i,
And if I were the
donkey.
He'd do them '"P I.,,
same for me.


Fier



















.poll '.. %I-
_ .\


. .. .


S"How do you do, Mrs.


Bunny, and how are the little bunnies?"


VANJ









TIT FO7 TAT.


L" WONDER what on earth they can be going to do with that dog!" thought
I Reggie to himself, as he sat resting on the dry sands, his legs bare up
to his knees and his spade and bucket by his side, just a little tired, to
say the truth, with a long and delightful morning's paddling.
A little group of boys, rather low, unpleasant-looking boys, with much
shouting and laughter, were dragging, by a rope tied to his neck, a most
unwilling little white terrier, very thin and wretched-looking.
"Were they going to give it a bath?" wondered Reggie. Certainly its coat
looked as if it would be the better for a wash. But while he was wondering,
one of the boys ran back to the foot of the cliff, and returned with a huge bit
of rock, as much as he could carry, and they proceeded to tie the rock to the
other end of the rope. Then the truth flashed upon Reggie. With a bound
he rushed up to them.
"You cruel boys! You're not going to drown that poor dog!"
"Ain't we!" laughed the boys unpleasantly. "We've got sixpence to do it,
too!" added the biggest, knotting the rope together.
"You shan't! you shan't!" cried Reggie, "it's too cruel. I'll- tell his master."
"It's his master as wants 'im drowned. He can't afford to keep 'im, he
eats too much!"
"Poor thing! He looks so dreadfully sad, as if he knew! Oh! don't do it!"
and the tears came into Reggie's eyes.
"We've got to. He paid us sixpence," remarked another boy, 'Come
along with you," and he gave the dog a tug towards the sea. The terrier sat
down in the sand and yelped piteously. A great lump came into Reggie's
throat; a big tear blinded him, and as he put his hand in his pocket to get
his pocket-handkerchief, he felt therein Uncle Tom's half-crown.
How many things had he not already planned to do with that half-crown,
only given to him that morning-a wax doll for Baby, a cup and saucer with
a view of the pier for Mamma, a boat to sail for himself, a shell box for Nurse
-and yet-the poor dog did look so miserable that, before he knew hardly
what he was doing, the half-crown had passed into the biggest boy's grimy paw.
Chuckling and giggling, they went back into the town, and Reggie found
himself seated alone on the sand, the terrier by his side, free, and looking up
into his face. Reggie did not regret that half-crown, or that lost boat, no, not
one bit!






Thin and wretched-looking the
terrier (Chip, Reggie christened him)
may have been, but a week or two
Sof good food and kindness worked
wonders. Never did dog improve
so, never did one repay by cheeriness
Sand affection the care lavished upon
.-'- him. Washed and brushed, wagging
( -. his tail and barking cheerfully, Chip
Swas Reggie's inseparable companion.
S Lionel, 'when he joined the
Family at the seaside when his
S holidays began, was pleased to
S .. regard Chip favourably, as "not at
all a bad sort of little dog." Lionel
"i-.^ was a big boy, at a big school, great at cricket, and who
\'could swim and do all manner of clever things, so to his
little brother this praise of his favourite was very pleasant.
He let Chip come with them whenever he took Reggie about, and never
raised any objection to his accompanying them that afternoon when they started
to row across the bay to land at Crow's Nest Point and get gulls' eggs.
It was a great expedition, and Reggie was not a little proud of being
allowed to join in it. But Lionel rowed and swam splendidly, and was quite
to be trusted in a boat. He stripped off his coat and rowed like a man,
Reggie steering and Chip sitting asleep by his side. For it was a very still
sultry afternoon, without a breath of wind, and with a thick haze of heat all
round the horizon. The boys landed at Crow's Nest Point, and hunted, but in
vain, among the cliffs for the coveted gulls' eggs. Finally they gave it up,
much disappointed, for Lionel had a grand collection of eggs, and getting into
the boat, pushed off for home.
It was even hotter than before, but quite suddenly a little breeze sprang
up from the sea and great misty clouds of vapour came rolling in towards the
land. They settled upon Crow's Nest Point, enveloping it in cotton-wool-like
waves; they blotted out the downs, the beach, and in another minute, even the
pier and the steamer starting from it was hidden, and the boys seemed quite
alone, shut out from the world.
"I can't see where to steer to," said Reggie.
"Try and keep straight, there's a good chappy, the tide's sweeping us out
so," said Lionel, rowing bravely, but wearily.
"But I don't know where anything is!" began Reggie, when just at that







moment there came a sound through the fog which filled them with
sudden dread.
It was the measured throb, throb of a paddle steamer, drawing nearer and
nearer, from they knew not where.
"Keep clear! She'll run us down!" cried Lionel, rowing with all his
might.
But how could Reggie keep clear when he did not know whence came the
dreaded sound, every moment coming nearer. Lionel looked more like being
frightened than ever Reggie had seen him in his life before, and Reggie him-
self began to sob.
Suddenly out of the fog shot the great black bows of the steamer, bearing
straight down upon them.
"She doesn't see us! whatever shall we do!" moaned Lionel under his
breath.
Just then Chip spoke. He had been sitting at the bow of the boat, rather
restless, in a hurry to get home to his supper probably, and when he saw the
steamer suddenly appear, he stood up with his forepaws on the gunwale of
the boat.
"Bowl wow! wowl" barked Chip defiantly through the fog.
The sailors on the steamer heard him. Another moment and the order was
heard to "hard-a-port."
Not a minute too soon. The steamer was almost upon the little boat. In
fact, even then, if the men had not shoved her off with a pole, she must have
been run down.
"Good job the dog barked when he
did, young sirs!" shouted the sailors, as
the steamer proceeded on her way, and
+I _, < _-_y- I-- -_._ Lionel, rather pale and silent,
S t- ook up his oars again.
But Reggie
took Chip up on
__ (/I ~"- his knees and
-.iSsp. wiped away a tear
on his coat.
"Oh! Chip,
dear, you've given
-"me tit-for-tat. I
'saved .your life,
__ you have saved
ours!"





























3T7;i-


c, -. 'sT -*~ ,
. ,; r T
;:~ ;r767 *~!4


The Nautchty Onc
.-f the Family.










70Br 1A\(D 7A BTr,
OR
A FUNNY FRIENDSHIP.


?^^f HyeVU8 often heard people spoken
S of as leading |a "cat and dog
Lifee" and the odd thing to me
Sis that it always seems to mean
something disagreeable, for I assure
Syou that nothing can be happier and
Spleasanter than the cat and dog life
led by Toby and me.
SI am Tabby and my mistress is
a little girl named Ellen. Toby be-
"; "; longs to a boy called Charlie. Ellen
"' :,. and Charlie are twins and great
friends, like Toby and me; they are
so much alike that if one were not
a girl and the other a boy it would be difficult to tell which was which.
They are very kind to us, and we love them, but riot so well as we love
each other.
SWe were not such friends at first as we are now; we never exactly
quarrelled, but Toby took very little-notice of me. He would eat my break-
fast sometimes as well as his own if he happened to be up first in the morning.
I caught him at it once and scratched his nose severely; I think he was
ashamed of himself, for he did not attempt to scratch me back, and never
stole my breakfast again.
The beginning of our friendship was in this manner. Toby went one
day with Charlie into -the wood where the rabbits are. I have seen them
myself poking their heads out of their holes, and washing their faces with
their paws just as I do.
I do not know what Charlie and Toby had been doing, but when they
came home Charlie was carrying Toby in his arms. .The poor dog was
"' crying sadly; he had a thorn in his foot, Charlie said. They put him into
basket and .bathed the foot, which was very much swollen, with water.







I was so sorry for Toby that I went and kissed him, his nose and his
poor foot were both so hot.
Presently cook mixed something in a basin and spread it on a hand-
kerchief, which they tied round Toby's paw, and he soon went to sleep, but
I did not like to leave him. I sat beside him all the evening and slept
by him all night.
When cook gave us our breakfast in the morning he seemed much
better. Charlie soon came and took off the handkerchief, and said the paw
was nearly well; but Toby was rather lame for two or three days afterwards,
and could not run about much. I stayed near him and did all I could to
amuse and help him, and he seemed to like it; we grew to be great friends,
though of course our tastes are different.
For instance, my favourite amusement is climbing trees, and best of all
I like to climb the big chestnuts near the pond. It is delightful to lie
stretched out on a bough amongst the leaves, and play with them when the
wind blows them about. There are
hundreds of little fish swimming in
the water underneath, and it is so
exciting to watch them. '
One day when I was amusing
myself in this manner a dreadful .
accident happened. The bough I was
on stretched far across the water, and .
was so covered with leaves and big r-
white flowers that I did not notice
how thin the end of it was. I was .-
so interested in watching the fish
darting backwards and forwards in
the clear water that I crept further
and further out, till at last a sudden sound somewhere made me jump,
and I fell off the bough down and down with a splash into the water.
I shall never forget that dreadful moment, the water was so cold, and of
course I could not swim; it is not a thing that cats learn to do. I thought
I must die, for my fur got full of water, and I was sinking, when I heard
Toby bark at the edge of the pond; I cried out to him, and he wagged his
tail, and then, brave dog that he is, jumped right in, and swimming up to
me took me by the back of the neck in his mouth and brought me to
the bank.
Even then I did not feel saved; the water was running out of my fur, -
and I shivered with cold. Toby jumped about and shook himself and barked
H







round and round and round
me, then he pushed, and tried
to make me get up and shake
myself too, but I was much
too ill. I laid still and shut my '"
eyes, and Toby licked me hard,
good fellow, till finding I did
not move, he rushed away across .
the lawn barking furiously. Then
I heard Ellen's and Charlie's'
voices, and they came running .... .
towards me. Ellen sat down
on the grass beside me and began to cry.
"She isn't dead," cried Charlie, and he ran and fetched a- towel and they
tried to rub me dry, Toby every now and then poking his nose into my
fur to see how they got on; but it was all of no use, I had no strength in
me, and felt too ill to help myself.
"We are not doing any good," said Ellen, "poor dear Tabby, let's take
her in to the fire, and wet as I was, she took me up in her arms and carried
me into the kitchen, where they made a bed for me on the rug, and cook
brought me down some warm milk. After drinking some I felt a little better,
but it was a long, long time before I was a bit like myself again. It took
me hours and hours to get my pretty soft fur to rights, it seemed all matted
and tangled into lumps. I was afraid to go out of doors, and the very idea
of seeing the pond made me feel sick.
I don't know how I should ever have got through that sad time if it
had not been for that dear Toby; he used to come and see me many
times a day, he laid down beside me to make me feel warm and safe, helped
me to lick my fur smooth, and used even to bring me his bones to suck
before he had quite finished picking them, and since that time we have slept
on the same rug and eaten out of the same basin and drunk out of the
same pan.
I quite cried to think how I had once scratched his nose, and would
have given him my breakfast any day now, only he was too fond of me to
take it.
Ellen and Charlie used to laugh and call it "a funny friendship," but
funny or not, it is the great happiness of my life. You never know who your
real friends are till you fall into trouble, you see-that's the true test
of friendship after all.
Helen Marion Burnside.








LOST.


Hq88 geese went out one summer day,
S And very soon they lost their way;
They queeked and quacked, but alas, alack,
They began to fear they'd never get back.

Then six little people all in a row,
They laughed ha! ha! and they sang hol ho!
They shouted with their might and main,
And so those geese got home again.
C. B.











































Breakfast Time.



I.










A FRIEND I\( NEED.


,. 't .. '.. ,""" ,' P T Goodge lived all
alone in a little cottage at
tj'i.'. the end of the village; a
''' tumble-down little cottage it was,
and the poor old woman had hard
"-! : a".g i, work to pay her shilling a week
for .it. Now Granny was old as
"" well as poor, and lame as well as
-" '' -' old, and all her own children were
...d. 'ead and gone, and she had no
one to look after her. Of course,
,, .-r .-.. .this ought to have made the othF.r
''.sor to S children very kind to her, but I'm
:-" -" -"-"-i sorry to say it didn't. They used to
say unkind things to her when she went limping down the street to the
village shop to get her poor little pennyworths of tea and sugar and rice
and sago.
Granny Goodge had something to care for, though-and that something
was her poultry. She had quite a lot of the loveliest chickens, and it was
by selling their eggs and young chicks that she managed to make a living.
Effie Massingwerd often used to stop on her way to school to watch old
Granny feed her pretty creatures-and Effie was the only one of all the children
who ever spoke nicely to the poor old woman.
One morning, as she passed by, there was no Granny at the door-only
all the chickens, turkeys, and geese crowding round, looking very hungry. She
was rather late, so she had no time to stop and see what was the matter,
but as she came back she stopped again. There were the fowls, looking hungrier
than ever-but no sign of Granny.
Effie hesitated a minute; then she unlatched the gate and walked up to
the door and tapped gently.
"Come in," said a faint voice.
She went in, and there was poor old Granny Goodge-in bed with
rheumatism, and unable to move hand or foot.






"And the poor chicks," she said; "I can't get about to feed them. I don't
know what I shall do."
"Let me help you," said Effie.
"God bless you, child!" said the poor old woman.
Then Effie lighted some sticks and boiled the kettle and made the sick
woman some tea. And she fed the chicks, when the old-woman told her where
to find the corn. Then she ran home to dinner, and told her own mother
where she had been and what she had done.
"Quite right, dear," said her mother. Effie ate her dinner hurriedly and
ran down again to Granny Goodge's cottage and swept the floor and made
everything tidy.
And after this Effie went twice a day to feed the chicks and look after
the old woman. She was happier than she had ever been in her life before.
Yet it was hard, too, to give up all her playtime, because her eldest sister
was going to be married, and Effie's mother was much too poor to be able to
give her little girl money to buy a wedding present. And Effie had meant
to spend all her spare time in weeding the schoolmaster's garden, and she
could have earned enough pennies in that way to pay for a pretty present
for dear Mary.
Now that had to be given up-and it cost Effie a struggle. But she
was brave about it, and told her sister how it was that she could not buy
that present. Mary kissed her ever so many times and said-"You know, Effie
dear, I would much rather you looked after poor old Granny-it is better
than any present, to see my little sister kind and unselfish."
But on the day when Mary was married, Effie had a
surprise. Granny was better now and able to: nlo-e ab1-A'ut, J
and I think some little bird, or perhaps the sch:II:,lmai-.ter, ,
must have whispered Effie's secret. On that
day a covered basket was left at Effie's door '
with these words on a paper tied to the. I i
handle: "For Effie to do as she likes with."
And inside was a pair of beautiful .,,:
white chickens!
So Effie had a wedding present to give
her sister after all. ,
And the best of the story is that Effie's
kindness set a good example, and Granny
Goodge has many friends now among the
children-but none so dear to her as Effie,
who was her friend in need.--







H, please don't look at me
like that!
You wouldn't hurt
a little cat!
I have run after birds,
it's true,
Don't hiss,
it does alarm me so!
If you will only let me go,
I promise you,
upon my word,
I'll never touch another bird!


HIDE 4A7\CD SEEK.


H please, my little
mistress dear,
Why do you tease
us so,
You've hid somewhere,
and I and Kit
Can't find you
high or lowl


We are so sad without
you, please,
The day seems like
a week!
Do come and play
some other game,
We don't like hide
and seek!


I


h e~ri
4
















S\' TDICT BIRDS.

D ICKT-birds big, and dicky-birds wee,
SSinging their songs to you and me;
Building nests in the leafy trees,
Flying far on the summer breeze.

Dicky-birds great, and dicky-birds small,
They know quite well you love them all;
The ducks that quack and the doves that coo,
And the Owl who sings tu-whit, tu-whoo!


Dicky-birds big and dicky-birds wee,
They whispered to me how pleased they'd be
For the little folks at them to look,
So here they all are in a Picture Book.
C. B.


i








, PBBIT-S T4L 8.


" I IRICTLY those three children find their way into the field," said
/J the rabbit, "we shall have no more peace and quietness. I can't
think what is the good of children-noisy, selfish things!"
She was sitting under a fern-leaf, close to the edge of a little wood,
and out of the holes beside her. a dozen grey noses were peering.
Far away, in the garden, three children were trotting soberly along, in
soft white pinafores, and with sun-bonnets on their heads-at least, Nora
and baby had sun-boinets, but Tom had on a large straw hat, for Tom
was in a sailor suit. They were each carrying something, which seemed to be
heavy, for every two or three steps they stopped and panted, twitched their
pinafores higher, and started again. Shall I tell you what was in the three
pinafores? First there was Bruno, the puppy, upside down, and wriggling
with pitiful squeaks-then there was baby's kitten and Nora's doll, and by
the time Nurse came they had all clambered into the swing.
"That's good children," said Nurse. "We'll sit and rest here a bit, and
then I'll go and get the tea-things and we'll have the picnic in the orchard."
Nurse hurried away, and the youngest rabbit poked his inquisitive grey
nose out of his hole. "They don't seem so noisy and selfish, after all," he
said, in a disappointed voice.
"You wait and see," said the old rabbit.
"I'll tell you what," said Tom; "it's rather dull up here. Shall one of
us stay up on the swing, and look after Bruno and pussy, and the other
two get down and run about?"
"Yes," said Nora, "and baby shall get down first-she fidgets so, and
her boots make marks on my pinafore."
Tom jumped off, caught hold of Baby's frock, and dragged her safely
to the ground. Then he said: "You can have first turn, Nora. Go into the
wood and find the deer-but remember baby's very frightened. Nurse won't mind."
"You may have first turn, Tom," said Nora resolutely.
"I don't want to," said Tom. "I'll watch for nurse." The youngest
rabbit looked across at his mother. "I don't call that selfish," he said.
"My dear," said his mother, "I know the creatures; wait and see."
Nurse was coming back from the house, with a heavy basket full of
cups and saucers, and Tom was very glad to see her, for Bruno was
tiresome, and he did not get on particularly well with pussy; and then
pussy had spit and scratched as well as she was able, for she was still
very young. She always rushed up the ropes of the swing, and hung there;.






and it frightened Tom. He jumped down, and ran to help Nurse, and then
scampered into the wood among the ferns, and caught up Nora and baby,
who were watching a baby deer beside its mother. It was lying very still
close to a clear pool, that reflected it like a looking-glass.
"It's not a bit frightened," said Nora. "It wanted to eat out of my
hand, but I had nothing to give it, only leaves and flowers. There's an
old woman here gathering sticks."
"I'll tell you what," said Tom, "we'll gather her a whole big heap."
"Yes," said Nora, "she's all crumpled up-we'll make the kettle boil, and
*then we'll give her all the rest."
Tom ran up and caught the old woman by the hand.
'"We'll give you all the sticks we have," he said, "Nurse won't mind.
Come on to where we are going to have tea."
He .hurried her on, chattering all the while, whilst Nora ran in front.
Nurse had laid the tea, and put the kettle on to a little heap of sticks
to boil. There was nothing in the world Tom loved so much as a picnic.
The youngest rabbit had come quite out into the field, and was looking
scornfully at his mother:-"You said they were horrid, mother!"
"Yes, my love."
"Well, they are not," said the youngest rabbit. "You said they were noisy
and selfish."
"I feel a little bewildered, love," sAid the rabbit, licking her paws thought-
fully. "There is certainly a difference, but, to tell you the truth, I do not be-
lieve they are children at all." G. R. G.


GR A'7\(IE'S 'BISCUITS.

':AT URSS," said little Phil,
iV "can't we go home through
the park and see the swans?"
"I'm not sure if we shall have
time," said Nurse; "it is longer
round than if we go back by the
road, Master Phil, and your Mamma -n,
wants the biscuits for luncheon,
because your Grandmamma is com- --
ing, and she is so fond of that- -
sort. She can't get them at home."
"But there's plenty of time,"







said Phil. "What does the church clock say, Nurse?" "It says just upon
twelve," answered Nurse, looking up at the gray tower of the old church
which stood near the middle of the village. "Well, perhaps we can, but we
must walk quickly, and not linger long looking at them."
"I won't linger," replied Phil, bustling along as fast as his short gaitered
legs would carry him; "and let me have the bag, Nurse; you've got Baby
to carry, and she is awfully heavy, I know"
"Well, take care you don't drop them, Master Phil," said Nurse, resigning
the bag to his charge. He was generally a very careful little boy and quite to
be trusted. Then they trudged on side by side up the village street, and
turned in at the park gates-grand gates they were, adorned by two
terrible looking griffins, which generally attracted Phil's attention; but to-day
he scarcely glanced at them, or even at the herd of slender dappled deer
which were feeding a little way off the path. He was all impatience to
reach the lake where his favourite swans lived. They were named Jupiter
and Juno, and he loved to see them come sailing across the water with
their soft white wings all ruffled up, and their long graceful necks curved
back. Oh! yes, there they were. Phil ran on, followed by Topsy, the little dog.
As he came in sight of the water, he hugged his bag of biscuits up to his blue
coat, and as soon as his favourites caught a glimpse of him, they came straight
away to meet him, for did he not always bring them something good to eat!
But as Phil saw them coming, he suddenly remembered he had nothing
for them to-day unless he gave them one of Grannie's biscuits. But surely
she would not mind if he did! He looked round, but Nurse was still some
distance off, and the swans had come swimming quite close to him. They
would be so disappointed if they got nothing! Grannie was so kind, he
felt sure she would not object to the pretty creatures having one of her
biscuits. She really could not eat them all, even if she tried, and she never
ate much-not near so much as he did, he had often noticed. Phil began,
fumbling with his bag-yes, he felt certain he might give them one-just
one-when all of a sudden as he was untwisting the corner he felt-oh! such
a twitch, and the bag seemed to slip out of his fingers-and lo! it was
Jupiter, who, impatient at the delay, had put out his long neck, and with
his strong beak caught the paper and pulled it right out of Phil's hands,
and there were all the biscuits tumbling into the water-all save one, which
Juno had snapped up and was enjoying extremely!
Oh! what a shriek Phil gave! Nurse came hurrying up to see what
had happened!
"Oh! Master Phil!'' she cried out, dismayed at the sight which met her
eyes. "Whatever shall we do?"






















































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Helping Themselves.


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"Oh! Nurse, Nurse!" sobbed Phil, "let us go back and get some more.
Oh! that wicked, wicked swan, he pulled it right out of my hands."
"But we haven't time," answered Nurse. "It is, half-past twelve now, I
am sure!"
At this poor Phil burst into a perfect passion of sobs and tears. To
think that he should have been trusted to carry home Grannie's biscuits
and then lose them all! Nurse tried her best to comfort him, and at last
in despair had agreed to go back and get some more, when there came a
soft thud of hoofs on the grass, and there was the young squire on his
pony enquiring what was the matter! "The bad old bird!" he cried when
he heard of Jupiter's behaviour. "But don't cry, Phil-I will ride round to
old Bun's and get some more and be back at the Vicarage before you are.
Cheer up, old chap-you trust me!"
And sure enough when Nurse and Phil-the latter quite worn out with
grief-arrived at the Vicarage gate, there was the young squire just riding
up with a fat bag of biscuits under his arm, in plenty of time for Grannie's
luncheon.
M. A. Boyer.



THE SNAIL.

nC\CfIL, snail, come out and be fed,
03 We aren't afraid of your horns and your head,
We'll shew you the way to the parsley bed!
Come out if you dare!" the puppies said.


But when she put out her horns
and her head,
They gave one yell and they
turned and fled, \ ,, .
And the snail went down to
the parsley bed.
"I don't think much 's i
of their pluck," -
she said.










,LL AIOUT DICKT-BIRPDS.

H 819T the sparrows, ducks, and
HI widgeons,
Robins, thrushes, larks,
and wrens, 1 .
Cooings of delightful pigeons,
Cluckings of distracted hens. s


Since you like the noisy chorus,
Though you can't make out '
their words,
Here they are
in print before us
"All about
the Dicky-birds."


- -
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Feeding the Ducklings.


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THP T8T LMAMBS.

-7'WO little sweet pet
Slams have we-
Which is the prettier,
can you see?
They both are almost
exactly the same,
w e e, ver That we only know them
Apart by name.
S;. / So we all think,
and so does Mother,
. e They both are as pretty
as each other!



yJACKIs AD A(-CK.

,7Y&YcKIS lived in a little cottage with a gay garden where the scarlet
poppie grew, while a vine twined round the door.
Jack used to live in one of the tall elms in the wood; that was
where he was hatched, up on the very tip top, where the nest was rocked
about by every breeze.
But one day the wind blew a little too strong and the nest was
rocked a little too far. Down it fell, and, with it, Jack and his six little
black and white brothers and sisters, and every one of them came to a
sad and early death except Jack. He was picked up alive and chirping by
Jackie's father, returning from work through the wood, and carried home
as a new pet for Jack.
There was great rejoicing at the cottage, for was not Jessie, Jack's little
sister, the proud possessor of a blackbird of her very own, given her by
Cousin Fred, and which hung in a cage by the door.







Now Jackie was no
S, longer jealous of Jessie;
for Jack .grew up, in
-'. .5 ^IBhis opinion, much the
Se cleverer pet.
."My bird's quite
tame, see," he cried
S, r proudly one day, when
Jack, grown to months
I -- of discretion, hopped and
,..,. croaked about the garden,
a h ttame as a cat or a hen.
h o "Your bird, Jessie, has
ptoe bi l:t ht s up in a cage."
A L But my birdie sings ever so much prettier," laughed
.Jessie. "Yours can't sing at all."
le b So each child was contented ar:d happy, and each
thought their own, favourite the nicest.
a But, about the time that Jack's tail was fully grown,
ii i and his glossy coat and spotless white waistcoat were
Sa sight to see, a great misfortune befell Jessie. She lost
her silver thimble, her precious school-prize. It was nowhere to be found,
though she and her brother sought high and low, and Jessie wept
bitter tears.
Next afternoon, however, when Mother had laid the table for tea, Jackie,
peeping into the empty room, saw, to his amazement, Jack hop on to the
table with his head on one side and a most knowing look. Jackie watched
him admire a bright teaspoon, and then, seizing it in his sharp beak,
calmly hop off with it into the garden.
Silently Jackie beckoned to Jessie, and the two children quietly followed
the bird. In one of the flower-beds, hidden by the poppies, they found he
had dug a regular little hiding-place, where he was just going to bury
the spoon.
A shining, piece of tin and a bright button they unearthed, and, lastly,
what do you think? Why, Jessie's long-lost thimble!
"I don't think yours is a nice pet at all," quoth the little maid, rue-
fully shaking her curls as she polished up her recovered treasure-"I fink
he's a fief!"
Edith E. Cuthell.









SULKT BOBBY TT OTS.


B OBBY Trots was a foolish little calf. He lived with his mamma in
a nice house, had plenty to eat and to drink, a good coat to his
back, a most perfect set of hoofs-and yet he was not happy.
What he wanted more than he already had, I do not know; he was
never satisfied, always mooing for this thing-which might be the moon-or
for that-which likely enough was the pump. He was so tiresome that one
day Kitty, the milkmaid, threatened to box his ears if he did not stop his
mooing. Then Bobby Trots, who hated to be found fault with, stamped his
little feet, sniffed his plump little nose, closed his big angry eyes-and sulked!
Now if there was one thing more than another which vexed Kitty, it
was having to wait upon a calf that sulked. So she determined to cure
him of the habit, and this was the way she did it.
She opened the cowhouse door and let stately Mrs. Trots go out, and
as Master Trots was about to follow Kitty banged the door and shut him in!
Bobby was furious! But being angry does little calves no good, it only
tires them; so feeling hungry, lonely, and very sad, poor Bobby lay on the
hard, cold floor and began to cry for his mamma.
Kitty thrust her head through Mrs. Trots' bedroom window. "Will you
be a good calf now?" she said. Bobby thumped his tail on the ground.
"Will you ever sulk again?" she asked. Bobby smiled "No!"
So she opened the door and away bounded Bobby Trots! He espied
his mamma in the croft, and althl-oulh -he \\Wa telling the .
grey mare something about market day, LBobby rushed inl ",.
between them, breathless.
He kissed his Mamma, .

was for being naughty, and 1
yes, he even kissed the little
brown pony, with whom he
had quarrelled only yesterday '
for eating a daisy that he
wanted. I am pleased to tell .
you that this was Bobby .
Trots' last "sulk." He turned
over a big new leaf, and
was good ever afterwards.
Mary Boyle.















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Friends and Ncighbours.


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Ttie irddlc.

I" /0lW,' Daisy Sweet and Molly Moo,"
SThe little maiden said,
"I've something nice for each of you,
So ripe and round and red!


"Now, think a while, and see if you
Can guess what I have brought;"
So Daisy Sweet and Molly Moo
Both stood and sniffed and thought!


Then Molly winked and Daisy blinked-
For, as you'll understand,
They guessed it was an apple each- .
They saw them in her hand!
F. G. S.










^fiJiriftimefic.


iS 7H Tff T was a dreadful day for the Dorking hen
i' when she thought she ought to count her
chickens, since they had been hatched these two
weeks. To count chickens before they had been
Hatched, she had always been taught, was never done
S ',h .,-. in her family; and she counted and counted and
6Q counted, and she could not count up to more than
four, and she knew there were more than that. So
she called in her husband to help.
Mr. Fowl was very good at sums. He would
often amuse his family by subtracting one from one,
and the remainder was always a worm for himself. So he came at once when
Mrs. Fowl called him. "There should be seven," he said, "but I must say
I can only count four. I am glad I took so much trouble to learn these
difficult things at school. Four from seven is eleven. There are eleven of
our chickens missing, my dear!"
Mrs. Fowl turned pale all over her feathers. "My dear, it's impossible.
There were only twelve eggs in the sitting, and you know you broke two
of them."
"It's not very nice of you to reproach me with that," said Mr. Fowl,
turning away gloomily.
"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Fowl answered gently, "I didn't mean to reproach
you. But if you have twelve eggs and two are broken, I don't know how
we can have eleven chickens besides the four that we have got here."
"I dare say you don't know," said her husband.
"Are you quite sure, dearest, that four from seven makes eleven?"
"Of course not," said Mr. Fowl briskly; "whoever said it did? Four from
seven is three. There are three of your chickens missing, as I said before."
Mrs. Fowl sighed. She was too glad to hear that there was a reason-
able number of her chickens missing to quarrel with her husband because
he had said that she had lost a quite unreasonable lot.
"Well, come along," said Mr. Fowl, "I want a little exercise. We will
walk about and look for them."







There was an egg, sure enough, a smooth, rich brown egg, such as
Biddy always laid, but Mary thought she would wait until Dorris came
back, with the cake, before she took it up to the house.
So she sat down upon a heap of hay and waited. Presently Biddy put
her head in at the barn-door, and, to Mary's astonishment, asked her quite
plainly, though in a somewhat cackling voice, "Did you find the egg. I left
for you, my dear?"
"Yes," answered Mary, with a beating heart, for she was rather excited
to find that she could understand Mrs. Biddy.
The black hen was evidently rather surprised too, for she set to work
to cackle as loudly as she could.
"Come, come, .
come!" she screamed; .
"come to the big barn ,
door, and see a little .f
girl who understands
our language." .
The next moment !g \, '
Mary heard a scramb- "( I
ling, and a gabbling, '

mooing, and then a / T
crowd of the farmyard
animals pushed their
heads in at the barn- n 1\
door and began talking
all at once.
Mary looked so
bewildered that Biddy,
who had taken her
under her wing, cackled "-. --
quite angrily-
"One at a time, .
one at a time! Can't 'N 2. .
you see you're frighten-
ing the child?"
Then turning to
Mary, she said softly;








"You must excuse them, dear. You see, they have wanted to talk to.you,
and tell you their stories, for such a long time past that they are a little
excited."
As soon as .Biddy had calmed the company, the animals began in turn
to tell their different stories to the little girl, and they were all so interest-
i:ng. that Mary. quite forgot how the time was passing, and would have sat
there listening all day, had. not Dorris found her. In an instant Biddy and
all the rest of the barn-door company vanished.
"WhAy ever didn't you come when I called you, Mary?" Dorris said, a
little crossly; "I've been. looking for you for ever so long. Here's your cake;
I've eaten mine."
Mary took the cake, but, like a generous little girl, made Dorris eat a
piece of it, because she had grown hungry again, looking for her sister; and
whilst they sat side by side on the hay, Mary told her some of, the ibarn-
- door stories she had just heard.
Dorris was much interested, but was a little disappointed that she had
not been present to hear the animals speak themselves; but she made Mary
promise -to fetch her the very next time Biddy, or any of the others, had'
ainy tales to tell. L. L. Teedon.


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TOO GOOD TO 2BE LOST.



" ',Me not above munching a thistle," said Ned,

S "I'm fond of a carrot, and often eat bread,

But such excellent corn, that so much money cost,

I certainly think is too good to be lost."


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JCANCT'S BITTEN.

" /J iEW! Mew! Won't you come and play, Nancy?" purred Kitty, rubbing
her little pink nose against Nancy's cheek.
"Yes, presently, Kitty darling, I can't just now. I am trying so
hard to think what Dick and I can play at, and if I play with you it always
puts thinking out of my head," said Nancy, but she took Kitty in her arms
and kissed her round, furry head, for she dearly loved this little pussy, because
it was her very own.
Kitty had a beautiful furry grey coat, striped with black and white, and
she had a white fur tippet round her throat, and on her paws white fur gloves,
and she spent a great deal of time in keeping them nice and clean.
She had a mischievous-looking little face, with big green eyes, long white
whiskers, and the sweetest little pink nose that ever a cat had; indeed she
was the dearest and most sensible little puss in the world, the children
always said.
While Nancy was still puzzling her little brains to think of a new game,
her brother Dick rushed into the nursery shouting: "Hallo! Nan, let's play
at being grown up: you can be mother, you know, and I will be daddy
with a top hat and umbrella, and take you for a walk."
"Oh, what fun, do let's!" cried Nan clapping her hands-she was tired of
thinking-"and let's dress Kitty up in my doll's clothes, then she can be
my baby."


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"s~;~;~s







"Purr! purr!" said Kitty, frisking about and trying to catch her tail, for
she thought this must be a splendid game, since her mistress seemed to be
so happy about it.
The children were soon very busy getting ready. Nancy carefully brushed
daddy's hat, just as she sees mother do it when daddy goes out; Dick
struggled manfully to roll up a very big umbrella, while Kitty sat on the mat
looking as wise as ten cats.
Nancy was soon dressed. She had nurse's bonnet on her head, a big
apron tied round her waist, with the strings in front so that it trailed on the
floor like mother's dress-which was certainly very grand.
It was quite another matter getting Kitty ready. Poor pussy did not at
all appreciate having her paws stuck into the sleeves of Dolly's dress, and
she liked the little red bonnet still less, because it tickled her ears so;
however, after many efforts on Nancy's part and many squirms and struggles
from Kitty, she was at last tucked up safely and snugly in Dolly's perambu-
lator, which was a very pretty brown one, with four wheels and a hood-and
the party set out for a long walk down the garden.
"Mew! mew!" sighed Kitty, "1 don't call this a funny game at all-oh,
dear! I am glad I am not a real baby-to have to wear dresses and hats,
and go out in a carriage-how much nicer it would be at home on the
nursery hearthrug. I am sure there will be some milk for me. I think I had
better just run home and see"-and as she said this she popped up her head
to see if there were any chance of getting away. But Nancy was too wide-
awake for her, and soon had her safely tucked up again, giving her a motherly
little pat and singing-
"Hush a bye, baby,
There's a dear,
Go to sleep soon,
For mother is near."
"Mewl mewl" cried Kit, shutting her eyes and going to sleep, but it was
only a cat's sleep, which means she was only pretending, all the time, while
really and truly she was wide-awake!
"Oh, dear," thought Kit, "it is hot in here. I must jump out; I wonder
if Nancy is looking?" So she peeped round the hood again to see.
No! it was quite safe; for Nancy and Dick were busily talking.
"Now or never," thought Kitty, so with a frantic struggle and jump she
was up and out of the carriage and off for home in the twinkling of an eye,
and the children after her.
Poor little Kit ran like the wind with her tail stuck straight up, but
every now and then she stumbled and fell down-because her little front paws


*






would keep treading on the skirt of the doll's frock Nancy had dressed
her in.
"Oh, dear me, this is dreadful," thought Kitty, "when shall I get home
and be a cat again! I must not be caught, or else Nancy will make me play
that horrid game." So she stumbled on, more and more frightened and
miserable, and reached the nursery at last, where Nancy found her trying to
rub the bonnet from her head with all four little feet.
"My dear little pussy, how funny you look, and how funny it was- to see
you run so fast!" said Nan, laughing so much that she could hardly stand.
"Mew! mew!" cried poor Kitty, "please let me be a cat again, and do
take off these horrid things. I don't want to play this game any more."
She looked so pitiful that at last Nancy understood she was really
unhappy, so she took her up and undressed her, and sent Dick to ask for
some milk to console the poor little kit.
"Purr! purr! purr!" says Kitty, busily lapping it up. "I am glad I am
not a little girl, it is very
much nicer to be a little cat!"
The clock soon pointed
to,.bed-time, and as Kitty had
gone. through such troubles,
nurse promised to let her come
up while she put Nancy to

good little cat, which I am
very much afraid she wasn't,
d for she would keep running
after Nancy's toes while she
I :was saying her prayers.
At last Nancy was obliged
rk .to give Kitty a big hug and
a good-night kiss, as nurse
said she really must send
pussy downstairs, because it-
was time for Nancy to go
to sleep. And as she is
asleep it is of no use my
telling you any more about
her-for people are never
interesting when they are
asleep.








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"Dear, dear, I hope the child hasn't gone down to the pond," said
Grandmamma, alarmed.
"I've looked there," said Bessie.
"Have you been in the stable?"
"Oh, yes. I didn't look in the loose box where the new hunter is, but
Dolly wouldn't be there."
"Oh, there's no telling," cried Bessie's brother Will, with a laugh.
He went out, and presently returned, carrying a sleepy little person in
his arms.
"She was actually fast asleep in the loose box, on the straw, close to
Bonnybell's hoofs," said Will.
"Oh! Dolly," cried Aunt Bessie.
"Me not afraid of Bonnybell!" cried Miss Dolly, smiling serenely.
Miss Braine.





J,,HT does my bird no longer sing,
r But sits all day with drooping wing?"
The little maiden wondering said,
And shook her pretty curly head.

"Why don't I sing?" the bird replied,
Its little head upon one side;
"How can I still be blithe and gay,
I'm shut up in a cage all day?"

"Go free," the little maiden cried,
Si -, "Fly o'er the bright world far and wide;
If in one room they prisoned me,
I could not sing or play!" quoth she.
S i H f ^
--- ,"- The song-bird heavenward spread
91 his wing,
.jL__ His old sweet song began to sing;
He saw the woods, the stream, the lea,
S,. He sang again, for he was free!
Clifton Bingham.








"U(OFOgUtS7'TE DIX1B."


IT'S a sad business being a twin, and I've often wished that I had
been my mother's only puppy instead of having to share her with Pixie.
Pixie and I are twins-and very much alike-I mean in the colour
of our coats and eyes, the length of our backs and tails, and the dark brown
spot we each wear right in the middle of our forehead.
It's all very well for Pixie to be like me, because he is such a dreadful
little mischief-up to all sorts of pranks, but for a stay-at-home and never-roam
pup (such as I am) to be like Pixie is quite another matter. It is hard.
And what must master do but name us Dixie and Pixie-just as if being
exactly alike could not make muddle enough, without giving names- quite similar!
Then to make matters worse master speaks through his nose. If I had my
way, masters who called puppies Pixies and Dixies, and then spoke through
their noses, shouldn't have any noses to speak through-so there!
Now, don't run off with the idea that I am an ill-natured little dog.
Supposing you were awakened out of a pleasant little nap with "Bixie,"
"Bixie," "Bixie" ringing in your ears-could you tell whether it was your
twin or .you who was meant? This was what happened, the other day.
I was dozing on a comfortable something that Pixie had dragged into the
stable, when "Bixie," "Bixie," "Bixie," rang out as sharp as any rattle of dishes
could do. Up I jumped, wagging my tail, for I'd nothing on my conscience,
and felt pleased at hearing master's voice in the half-way of a dream, and-what
do you think I got for all this flurry and wagging? Why, a good trouncing!!!
It was a long time before I could make out for what, and then I dis-
covered it was for stealing master's felt hat from the hall stand, and, after
nibbling it pretty well all round, for being found sleeping on it! And while I
was being strapped, Pixie was splitting with laughter. Mother tried to lick the
pains away, and reproved Pixie severely. She even called me her own little ducky
little Dixie-a thing she very seldom does-
but that didn't put wrong right. --,
Oh! I do wish that I'd never been
born a twin-subject to being whacked ., ...
for the other twin's naughtiness. But "
I've made up my mind that if ever -
I am dreaming something nice again, and''. c
master calls out "Bixie, Bixie, Bixie,"
I'll lie still and Pixie shall go and get A,. e-4.
something next time-so there. Mary Boy!e.










































































:..m .. ..~~eE:


Little anny and Billy.



Little Nanny and Billy.










HEY met on the bridge one summer day,
Nanny and Baby Nell,
With a "how do you do?" and a "how are you?"
And 'I hope you're very well!"


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But the bridge was not very wide, you see,
Two couldn't pass, alack;
And there they are and there they'll be
Till one of .them goes back!










OUk DO g TrAY.


H RSi8 come we with our dog Tray,
Having a ride on a summer day;
He looks so proud and good and clever,
That all the folks say "Did you ever!"

"Take care or you'll upset!" they cry,
As he goes merrily riding by;
But he winks his eye, as if to say,
"Oh they'll take care of me-I'm Dog Tray!"
C. B.


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I WOSDSCR if you know our dog-his name, you know, is Tray,
Our Father brought him home to us, a little pup, one day;
He was so tiny then, we had to give him bread and milk,
But now he's grown up big and strong, with coat as soft as silk.

We've taught him lots of funny tricks-
he sits upright and begs
For sugar or. a biscuit sweet-^ J
upon his two hind legs; -K
Without a single whine he'll hold -
the sugar on his nose,
Till somebody cries "paid for,"
then away the sugar' goes!

I couldn't tell you all he does, most everything but talk,
But most of all he loves to go with us upon a walk;
You'll read here all about our dog-he barks but doesn't bite-
We love him very dearly, and I think you'll say we're right! -
C. B.


L *,:


leer.










JMABEL'S PLAYFELLOWS.


" o'LLT!" cried Mabel, flying into the dairy, where a rosy maid was
3 skimming the cream from a great pan-"Sally! do come and help
me, I want one of the dear baby goosies to play with, but when I
open the gate the cross geese fly at me, and hiss, and I am frightened!"
"Well, Missie, it's your own fault. You're too fond of teasing the live
things, and they don't forget. I've often seen you bother those geese myself,
so it's not likely they'll trust you with one o' their babies!"
"I only did it for fun," said Mabel, beginning to cry-"I wouldn't hurt
them."
"You should make the creatures love and trust you, Missie; there's a
deal o' pleasure to be got out of them that way."
Mabel stopped crying, and began to think; she loved pleasure, and in
her way she loved animals, but only for the sake of amusement and not for
themselves.
"Perhaps if I am very kind to all the birds and animals they will get
to like me and play with me,' she thought, and full of this new idea she
asked Sally to give her something nice for the geese. Good-natured Sally
got some scraps from the larder together in a pan, and gave it to the little
girl, who carried it to the gate and scattered its contents amongst the geese
and their family of fluffy golden goslings, who greedily gobbled up the scraps
and came close to the fence for more.
"I won't touch them to-day," said Mabel to herself, "but I'll feed them
again to-morrow, and perhaps they
will get to love me."
Running away with her empty
-". pan, and still full of her new idea,
Mabel saw a big blackbeetle strug-
\\ gling on its back in the gravel walk,
and instead of teasing it with a
S_// twig as she would have done yester-
day, she carefully turned it over
S with a leaf and watched it run
away. Next she found Rover bark-
-. ing at an old hen who was under .
\.j .i a coop in the yard, which frightened...-'M












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A wee brown colt, a naughty sinner,
He's helping himself to Baby's dinner.







Biddy dreadfully for the scattered chicks who would not come under her
wing. Mabel, with some trouble, coaxed Rover to come into the house
with her.
"After all," she thought, as she played with him, "it is more amusing
to be kind to everything than to tease them, and I mean to go on
doing it."
Mabel kept her word, and was soon rewarded by finding that all the
live things about the place knew her for their friend, and she was never
in want of a playfellow from morning till night.
Helen Marion Burnside.




THE SOUII7SEL JIND TH8 BLJCK BIRD.


c'8LL me, Blackbird, why do you
Sit still upon your eggs so blue?"
"Squirrel, I must keep them warm,
And sheltered from the bitter storm."


Said the Squirrel "how absurd,
I'm sure I'm glad I'm not a bird!"
"If you were," the blackbird cried,
"You would feel the same glad pride


To see a small beak '
peeping through
Each wee egg
of pretty blue!
That repays me
more than double,
Squirrel, for my time
and trouble!" I1



























,4 HdAPT LIF8.


/ T'S O! for the life of a dear little cat,
who lies all day curled up on a rug,
With velvet paws and a furry coat, in
summer cool and in winter snug;
With nothing to do but sleep and purr,
and now and then to catch a mouse,
And plenty of milk in a saucer to drink,
the sweet little pet of all the house!
No lessons to do, no hair to curl, no
pinny to soil, when you play about;
To stop indoors whenever you please, or
if you prefer a walk, go out!
With only the Baby to tease, and pull your
tail and sometimes give you a pat,
But he don't mean to hurt, and so oh! for
the happy life of a dear little cat!
C. B.








































" J/7 I5\T8R here at last!" said Tray;
"'Tis such dark and snowy weather,
Don't you find it cold to-day
In your coat of only feather?"


"No," said Robin, "when the storm
Comes, I still sing; not as gaily-
I've a nest that's snug and warm,
And a meal of crumbs, too, daily."
C. B.












G00 0 FRIENDS


DOV8 and Fluff were very
RV good friends, though they
were cat and dog, or
rather kitten and dog, for Fluff -',
was only a few months old; ..
but they had taken a fancy to
one another from the time they ;. '
had first met on the rug before -
the farmhouse fire, when Fluff
was given to Mona, the farmer's
little daughter. And now they were not happy if they were very long apart,
so that if Rover came in from a long round with his master he was never
quite easy till Fluff had made her appearance and curled herself up on the
hearthrug beside him.
Now one day Rover had been a long, long way, and it was very hot,
and when he came in, though he was disappointed not to see Fluff, he was
really too tired to go and look for her. He curled himself up and went to
sleep, and did not wake till the clatter of cups and saucers told him tea
was coming. But still no Fluff, and after tea Rover felt so uneasy that he
went to the door and strolled out into the garden to look for her, and then
into the farmyard but still no Fluff. He asked the cocks and hens if
they had seen her, and at last one of them remembered to have noticed her
trotting down the lane after a cart that had been up to fetch some straw for
someone in the village.
On hearing this Rover decided to follow, and galloped off down the lane,
keeping a good look-out on either side, but no trace of Fluff was to be seen.
At last he reached the village green; there he noticed a group of boys, who
were shouting and laughing and throwing stones at something in the water.
At the same time a feeble little cry met his ear-a cry that seemed familiar
to him! He flew across the green, arriving at the edge of the pond just in
time to see his little friend struggling in the water, where the cruel boys had
thrown her, and where they were pelting her with stones. With a fierce growl
he rushed past them into the pond, and catching Fluff in his mouth by the







oack of her neck, he dashed back to land, and never stopped till he had
laid his little burden, wet, cold, bruised, and frightened nearly out of her
small wits, on the rug before the farmhouse fire, and began licking her wet
coat with little whines of pity and sympathy.
"Why, if Rover hasn't fetched Kitty out of the pond!" cried Mona. "Oh!
you poor, poor little mite, and you good clever dog!"
Fluff soon recovered her fright and her wetting. She and Rover are
better friends than ever now, but Kitty had learnt wisdom. She never
followed anybody down to the village again.
M. A. Hoyer.


THE D1SAPTROVI\(g GEESE.

S USIS was naughty the other day-
And made up her mind to run away-
But down by the gate where the rose-tree is,
She met the geese and they all said "Hiss!"

"Hiss!" said the gander. "Hiss, hiss, hiss!
Oh dear, whose cross little girl is this?"
The old goose hissed "I'm ashamed of you!"
And the very goslings said so too.

So Susie ran home as
fast as she could,
SAnd made up her mind
to be always good,
For the geese had given
her quite a fright,
And she knew in her
heart that it served
her right.
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The geese both gave a fearful hiss:

"WVe won't allow you this way, miss:"


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a P6STTr SIgHT.

Wf HSf~7' Father Puss has done his work, and all the mice are caught,
Why, then he hastens to his home, as every Father ought;
And there he meets his kitties dear, they greet him at the door
With many many kisses, and they're fond of him, I'm sure.
There, Mrs. Puss sits by the fire, and he sits in his chair,
And takes the kitties on his knee, and gives each one his share,
And baby cries to go to bed, and begs to stay up late,
Whilst many other things occur that I cannot relate.
Then- when the children are in bed he reads the Daily Mews,
And Mrs. Pussy mends the mittens for the kits to use.
In fact, when Pussy is at home it is a pretty sight,
And so I've made a picture here, that you, may see aright.




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