Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Two pet parrots
 A dream-camel
 The thoughts of Kitty Gray
 The sparrow's song
 Nurse's birthday flowers
 Thursday's child
 Mungo; a Scotch doggie
 The cunning weasels
 Two little pickaninnies
 A deer yard
 Six little maids of Lynn
 Saying grace
 Peter the goat-herd
 The Dollivers' Christmas-tree
 The old house
 The first crochet lesson
 The awful blot
 A new home
 The swallows at Beechcroft
 The little days
 The Fourth of July
 A little journey round the...
 A little flower girl
 Maria Theresa and her little...
 Who knew best?
 Brave Tommy
 A frolic song
 A funny monkey trap
 Robin Adair
 Kitty five o'clock tea
 The little prince - Elsa's...
 Military caps - My sand house
 Edith Thomas
 Tramp and Trinkets abroad
 In little Marie's country
 After a voyage
 The little Swedish princes
 Binny, the beaver
 Philippa's party
 Cherry blossoms
 Bennie's partridges
 A meadow hen
 Bobbitt's first lesson
 What Alice saw from the window
 That's because
 Mary's little lamb
 Birthday rhyme
 Our miner
 Back Cover

Group Title: Favorite stories : : happy hours for little people.
Title: Favorite stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00083191/00001
 Material Information
Title: Favorite stories happy hours for little people
Physical Description: 156 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. ; 25 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Barnes, Hiram Putnam, b. 1857 ( Illustrator )
Bonsall, E. F ( Illustrator )
Bridgeman, E ( Illustrator )
Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Lothrop Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: c1896
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1896
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Children's poetry
fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
General Note: Illustrations by Hiram P. Barnes, E. F. Bonsall, E. Bridgeman and others.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00083191
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 001580459
oclc - 23068276
notis - AHK4365

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Two pet parrots
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    A dream-camel
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
    The thoughts of Kitty Gray
        Page 8
    The sparrow's song
        Page 9
    Nurse's birthday flowers
        Page 10
        Page 11
    Thursday's child
        Page 12
    Mungo; a Scotch doggie
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
    The cunning weasels
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Two little pickaninnies
        Page 22
        Page 23
    A deer yard
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Six little maids of Lynn
        Page 26
    Saying grace
        Page 27
    Peter the goat-herd
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The Dollivers' Christmas-tree
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    The old house
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    The first crochet lesson
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The awful blot
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    A new home
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    The swallows at Beechcroft
        Page 52
        Page 53
    The little days
        Page 54
        Page 55
    The Fourth of July
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    A little journey round the world
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    A little flower girl
        Page 65
    Maria Theresa and her little son
        Page 66
        Page 67
    Who knew best?
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Brave Tommy
        Page 70
    A frolic song
        Page 71
        Page 72
    A funny monkey trap
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    Robin Adair
        Page 76
        Page 77
    Kitty five o'clock tea
        Page 78
        Page 79
    The little prince - Elsa's dolly
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
    Military caps - My sand house
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    Edith Thomas
        Page 86
    Tramp and Trinkets abroad
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
    In little Marie's country
        Page 108
    After a voyage
        Page 109
    The little Swedish princes
        Page 110
        Page 111
    Binny, the beaver
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    Philippa's party
        Page 142
        Page 143
    Cherry blossoms
        Page 144
        Page 145
    Bennie's partridges
        Page 146
        Page 147
    A meadow hen
        Page 148
        Page 149
    Bobbitt's first lesson
        Page 150
        Page 151
    What Alice saw from the window
        Page 152
        Page 153
    That's because
        Page 154
    Mary's little lamb
        Page 155
        Page 156
    Birthday rhyme
        Page 157
    Our miner
        Page 158
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



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Copyright, i896,

All rights reserved.


OWN in the Southern States of
America pet parrots are very
common. Sailing vessels are
constantly bringing them from
South and Central America and
from the West Indies.
I recall one now that I was
the happy owner of when a
child in New Orleans. She
was a dark green parrot, with
S a black bill and feet; -she was
from Nicaragua. She was very
bright and a great favorite
with all the children. She
spoke very plainly, and could
laugh and cry quite like a
human being; it was very -amusing to hear her.
She was full of mischief. If a servant was called, she would
answer (herself unseen), sharply What!" a and when the servant
was reproved for his lack of respect she would shout with
She learned from the newsboys on the street, very naughty
words, which .was finally the cause of our having to part with
her. From her hanging cage on one of the front verandas, she
would cry out to a passer-by, "Oh, you rat!" and when the
passer-by would stop to see who it was that made the remark,
a d discover the parrot, the naughty bird would only laugh.


Another serious fault was a habit of opening her cage with
her bill. She could do this quite cleverly when it was not
securely tied. Then she would come out and walk into pools of
water and mud in the yard. When the careful laundress had
hanged the clothes-lines full of freshly washed linen, she would
walk up and down the lines soiling the clothes with her muddy
feet, and cutting off all the buttons with her bill. With all her
faults, however, we loved her dearly, and many tears were shed
when she was finally sent away on account
of her bad language. Another parrot which
lived in a Southern city, was a great favorite
in the family of some friends of mine. i
She was quite old -
though her exact age I
cannot now tell. She had
lived in the State of Texas,
while it was a Republic
belonging to Mexico, and
seemed equally, happy in -'
her home after it became
one of the United States.
She formed a great at- .
tachment for a horse which
the children drove, and the
two became great friends.
She would climb up on a .l-
fence, the horse would come '-- --
along beside it, allow her
to get on his back, and then walk slowly around while the parrot
held a piece of his mane with her bill. After she had ridden as
long as she wished she would climb into the pantry window, and


hand out with her bill, rolls or cookies or anything she could
find to the horse, as a return for her ride.
In the early morning she would go upstairs, visit the sleeping
rooms of the children, and call out "Get up, Charlie! Get
up, Frank!" until she had
-aroused them all.
When they set off for
.- school, she would sit aloft
Son the cross beam of the
high front- gate, and call
out as long as they were
in sight, "Good-by, Char-
lie!" "Good-by, Frank!"
And here on her favorite
perch she finally met her
sad fate.
S" There were two tame
eagles in the city; they
Shad been caught when
young, tamed and often al-
lowed to fly about where
they liked.
S One morning as Polly sat
on the gate bidding her
looR POLLY I young friends good-by, one
of these great birds swooped
suddenly down upon her, and carried her off in his claws, fol.
lowed by the frantic but fruitless shrieks of the children.
So long as she could be. seen a mere speck in his claws, as
he soared toward the sky, she was sending back the most piteous
cries of "Poor Polly Poor Polly !" M.. S.



I had a sweet dream last night," said Kitty Clover. "Uncle
John says it was because I ate so much turkey at Christmas dinner.
Eating too much makes dreams, he says. But it was a sweet dream.
"I dreamed I was riding on a camel. And he stept so softly
and gently, 'twas like riding in a hammock. Uncle John says
real camels do not step softly and gently. But dream-camels do.
"And we for dear mamma was with me we had an awning
over our heads to keep the hot sunshine off. The awning was
blue and pink shiny silk, and it had pink silk tassels that waved
and streamed in the wind.
"And the sands of the desert were all bright like gold. And
the sky was a sweet blue like baby's eyes.
"And we rode and rode.
"By and by, we came to a place where there was a spring' of
water. It was clear like glass, and bubbled and sparkled and sang
a tinkling song. The grass was green all around it, and a tall
palm-tree grew high above it. On the palm-tree hung clusters of
great purple dates. I reached up from the camel's back and picked
the dates, and gave some to mamma, and we ate them. O, how
sweet and juicy they were!
"Then I looked ahead, and the golden sands were turning into
gray, and the blue sky was growing dark. And I said, "0, let
us stay here, mamma, it is so lovely!"
"But mamma said, 'No, my child, we must go on through the
desert till we come home, though the sands are gray and the-
skies are dark.' And then I waked up. It was a sweet dream, but
I was glad I waked up."




Captain is a large, handsome Newfoundland dog. He lives in
Maiden. We call him Cap most of the time. When he is
called Captain he understands that something is wrong. Some-
times he gets into mischief and has to be scolded or punished
for it. Then he is called Captain, and that in a very stern voice.
Cap knows that he is to stay about the house. That is his
duty. But one day (this really happened in the spring of
1889) Cap was not to be seen when his mistress called him to
breakfast. This was something strange,, she thought. So she
waited a little while and again called his name. "Cap, Cap,"
she called. But no dog appeared. Captain's mistress thought he
surely must have run away this time, and so he had. For
two days nothing more was heard from him. We thought he
had been stolen by some bad boys.
But the third .morning, on opening the door, what did we see
sitting on the steps but poor old Captain. He looked very meek
and sorrowful. He wagged his tail slowly, and hobbled around
on three legs, holding up the fourth paw as if it were hurt.
Of course no one had the heart to punish the poor fellow
then, so he was caressed and called "poor doggie." The paw
was looked at, but we could not find anything the matter. We
thought we would take him to a dog doctor if the paw troubled
him much. Cap was given a good warm breakfast, and seemed very
grateful for it. He now thought his troubles were over.
Going into the room a little later, his mistress was astonished to
find Cap trotting around as well as ever. The rogue had been

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Making believe all the time. He was afraid of a whipping, and
thought we would forget it after a while. Captain didn't get the
whipping, but he did get a good scolding for running away.
Prank E. Saville.


I am thinking. I've seen
my mistress do it and talk
all the time. But I can't.
If Spotty does not keep her
whiskers out of my ears I'll
bite her.
I don't think folks try to
please kittens. Now, if the
gardener saw us playing with
his flower pots he would drive
us away. Tony broke two
last week; but the gardener
needn't have sprinkled water
on us; we could go and leave
the. pieces without having
water sprinkled on us; that's
why I lie in the sprinkler.
And I don't like to be scatted
"scat! scat! all the tirpe.
There are sparrows in
put my paw- on' a great
sparrow is gone.


the garden, but they are spry. I've
many, but every time I do it the
Louis Hall.



T'W hit! Twlhit! O. throw out a crumb
To a poor little bird of the air;
T'whit! T'whit O. thro:w out a crnumb-
You surely have plenty to .-.pore!
M. A. S.


Said the Porcupine, "Really, I think,
I could write if I only had ink;
* I have quills and to spare,
I have thoughts very rare,
-But I fear to oblivion ,they'll sink,
For want of a bottle of ink." M. J. H.



It was old nurse's birthday, and so soon as little Therese had
eaten her breakfast of a white roll and milk, she trotted off to
carry the flowers that she always took nurse each year when
her birthday came round.
The little cottage where nurse lived was not far from the big
house and it was quite safe for Therese to go alone. Her
mamma, who was standing on the terrace, could see her from
the time she left the house until she went into the door of
nurse's cottage.
She took Minette with her, of course. Minette was her dear
little dog, and went almost everywhere that Therese went. Min-
ette's cord was fastened to her belt. She carried the basket of
flowers in one hand, and her sunshade in the other. And as
she walked along, she felt like a very important little woman.
Mamma had objected a little to having Minette's cord fastened
to Thbrise's belt. He is so gay this morning, he may go too
fast for you," she said. But ThBrese would have it so. "He's
so little, mamma, he can't pull," she said.
But he did pull. He saw a pigeon in the grass and started
to run, and almost upset ThBrese and the flowers.
"Naughty Minette!" said Thr'ese; and then he walked on
quite soberly for a few steps, when he saw a cat. Up went
kitty's back, and off started Minette. The cat ran, and Minette
ran, and there was nothing for Th'erese to do but to- run also.
The cat was nurse's cat, and she rushed into the cottage door
with Minette and Thberse at her heels, and nurse thought a
hurricane had arrived. But it was only her birthday flowers.

ET 1 a.-~D~~

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0, why, little girl, will you never be still,

But rove from one spot to another?

Thy dear, little feet will be weary, my sweet,

Come here and sit down with thy mother.



k' B"'y~.:


Nay, nay, pretty mother, I cannot be still,
But must always be roving just so!
Now, would you know why! Thursday's child am I,
And "Thursday's child has far to go."
A. G. Plympton.


Every morning his master gave Mungo a penny, and he took
it to the butcher's to buy himself a piece of meat. The butcher
expected him as much as he did any of his customers, and he would
say, Oh! here's Mungo. Come, Mungo, here's your meat all ready
for you."
Now the family never fed Mungo at the table, or in the dining-
room. He had his meals in the kitchen. He never was trouble-
some asking for food, although he often sat in the, room while
the family were at the table.
But one day they had a visitor who did not know this. As
soon as she had done her breakfast, she called, "Come here,
Mungo," and sat down her plate, full of nice things for him.
Mungo did not stop to ask any questions -he went right to
work, and ate all there was in the plate.
He had had nothing to eat that morning and that was the
time he usually went to get his meat.
As soon as he had cleaned the plate he looked round for his
master. He went up to him, stood up on his hind legs and patted
with his paw on the breast-pocket of his master's coat where he
knew' he kept his wallet.


At first his master did not understand. Then he said,- "0,
Mungo are you asking for your penny?"
So he gave him the penny. Mungo carried it to his new
friend, and gave it to her. Then he looked up in her face, and
bagged his tail as if he were very much pleased.
I suppose he meant, "See what an honest dog I am! I've
paid for the nice breakfast you gave me!"
Pamela McArthur Cole.

If children and folks would be happy as kings,
The only true way is to do the right things.

'4 { *)


Ij tr o friends fte livelong daq
~i"rt jam aster andcl tke
It Is Iigkt that it shinoud hU.


]low k\e''skeft ne PJile alone,
tc'D115~ UPOA 4iS .i9Eyal .i rfnel
hin apawler tankard fall
Phil1 st[ndS fo hiM for.castle wall.

J'ftd1AIFenh1e rules at state artZ""f A
1!Ie nlidt top's the ezwn 49 WLars,
J4auten-ping for t49 warders grant
- 1hJl.guardwithjout thle ivmullianed gate.

atlar makes a drawbridge krre,
ime looks a tented army neur,
I must ntow his vassal he
ra~Banh 2e1d~~Y Lffiu



In a hollow of a tree, cuddled among the leaves and moss, are
five baby-weasels. Mother Weasel has gone to find her break-
fast, for she heard a hen cackling and knew she should find an
egg in her nest. With a hop, skip and jump the weasel finds
the egg, and making a tiny hole in the shell, sucks it out. But
it was not one egg only that she found; she found one, two,
three eggs; how sweet and good they were!
Although the weasel is smaller than a rat, still she is very
brave and hunts the rats and mice for her dinner. She spies a
rat. The rat runs for his hole; with a jump the weasel is after
him. Into the rat-hole they go, and race down its halls and
through its rooms, until the weasel catches him and takes poor
rat to her nest.
The baby-weasels grow and grow until they are as large as
their mother-weasel; they, too, soon learn to climb trees for birds'
eggs to suck.
All summer the back. of the weasel's fur coat is brown, and
the front white; but when the winter comes, mother-weasel
awakes some morning to find the cold has changed the fur on
her back white. When summer comes, her coat is brown once more.
One day mother-weasel and her five weasel children went hunt-
ing together. They met a man, and they stopped running, set
up on their hind legs with their paws over their noses, looked
at the man, then with a squeak, pop went the six weasels under
some bushes!
The man was so surprised that he quite forgot to fire off
his gun at them. Nina Shaw Stevens.


JfMM 3 pR

NoJQ~ ~ *




Get in oider. After a while, Mr. Grisonnet stopped,
with a grave air, to gaze at a little
plant. Trottino, who was very curi-
ous, asked him what he was looking at.
"It is a lesser centuryy" replied
Mr. Grisonnet. "I've never seen it
about here before."
S iS "A lesser century What a funny
name! said Trottino. "Is the lesser
rcentaury good to eat?"
"No, it has not a good taste; but
it cures fever." Trottino opened his
eyes wide.
What! A plant which cured fever! -After all, why not?
There were dangerous plants, like the hemlock; Trottino knew
that, very well. And was it true that there were also plants
which could cure?
Trottino kept close beside Mr. Grisonnet, and did not fail to
notice everything that Mr. Grisonnet looked at; and what Mr.
Grisonnet looked at was always plants. He observed that this
one was well-grown, that that one bloomed early, that another
was slender and had hard work to grow.
Trottino asked: What is the name of that, Mr. Grisonnet ?
What is it good for? Is it poisonous? Does it cure fever?
Mr. Grisonnet was as good as he was wise. He answered


Trottino's questions so carefully, and told him so much besides,
that at the end of the walk Trottino had learned the names
and properties of a dozen plants.
Rabbits grow more quickly than children. At the end of some
weeks Lapino and Trottino were trusted to go about by them-
Good- Mother Rabbit was getting older now, and became easily
fatigued. She liked to stay at home, seated in her easy chair


and comfortably knitting or sewing, while -Lapino and Trottino
went to run and play in the fields.
Often they met companions there and made happy parties. But
Trottino, although he liked very much to frolic, always left his
younger friends if he saw Mr. Grisonnet pass slowly by, examin-
ing plants.
In three leaps he would be with him, and Mr. Grisonnet was
delighted to have him as companion. Mr. Grisonnet loved to teach
and Trottino to be taught.
Adapted from the French, by Laura E. Poulsson.




One day Lapino and Trottino were returning home after a long
walk. They were always careful to get back at the hour their
mother expected them, so that she should not be anxious, and they
generally found her sitting in the doorway watching for them.
This time, however, there was no Mother Rabbit in sight; and
as they drew nearer they heard cries which came from the back
of the house. Seized with fear, they ran forward; and entering
their home, found Mother Rabbit lying on the bed moaning with pain.
When she saw Lapino and Trottino she tried to rise, saying, "Ah!
my dear little ones, here you are at last. I feared I should not
see you again."
The two little ones began to cry and then they asked what had
happened. They saw blood on several parts of her body. The
poor rabbit told them that a wicked dog had bitten her. How
she ever got away from him she could not tell. She had been so


Lapino was in great grief. He loved his mother with all his
little rabbit heart. He threw his paws around her neck, begging
her not to die and leave them; and then he began to lick her
wounds to ease her pain a little.
But where is Trottino now? Does he not love his mother? Will
he not try to help her, too ?
Trottino had indeed gone out and left his mother, but it was
with a wise and loving purpose. He now came toiling in, carrying
a great bundle of herbs which he had gathered.
"Have no fear, mother," said he; "you shall not die. I have
something to cure you with. Lapino, wash the parts which bleed,
quickly. Oh! you have already licked
them? That is good. Then break that The
herb up fine." And Trottino, taking IV1A1
some of the same herb, mashed it up so
that he could make it into a plaster.
This he placed upon the wounds. 0, e b
joy The dear Mother Rabbit was soon
in a gentle sleep.
When she awoke, she was better;
and in a few days the tender care of
her children cured her. When the neigh-
bors came to inquire after their wounded
friend Lapino loved to tell them that
it was Trottino little Trottino who had known what to do for
his mother, and had brought the healing plants.
"How did the idea come to you," asked an old rabbit one day
curiously, "to learn about plants which are not good to eat?"
"It is because I once poisoned myself with hemlock," replied
Trottino. "That made me notice plants; so I was glad to learn
about them, and dear, good Mr. Grisonnet was willing to teach me."


"And it is very plain that he has profited by other lessons as
well as mine," said Mr. Grisonnet, coming up at that moment. For
instead of the once disobedient, greedy and thoughtless Trottino,
we have here a good and wise little rabbit, who is a joy to his family
and a credit to the rabbit race."
Adapted from the French, by Laura Poulsson.


So tired! and hungry, too! They had gone to see the soldiers
start off for the Centennial, and when they tried to get home, they
got lost and did not know which way to go. They walked and
walked and walked till they could not walk any more, and they
just stopped to think.
They were in some white people's back yard, and they concluded
they could crawl under the house and sleep when night-time came;
but they did want some "corn beade" so badly. They liked corn
bread and molasses better than anything else, and their mother,
who was a washerwoman and worked hard to give them food to
eat and clothes to wear, let them have it three times a day; they
did not have much besides.
I think I must tell you how this same mamma told them about
the five little pigs, and how she used to tell it to the little white
children she nursed long before they were born. She would spread
out the little feet and pinch the little toes as she said,

"Dis little pig say he want some corn;
Dis little pig say Whar yer gwine git some ?'
Dis little pig say 'Out ob Marser's barn;'


Dis little pig say 'I tell Marser;'
Dis little pig say Squeak, squeak, squeak!
Can't git ober de barn sill.' "

While the two lost little pickaninnies were wondering where they
could get some corn bread, they saw a big man come out of the
house, and they were so afraid he was a policeman come to arrest
them for being there, that one of them began to cry and the other
started to crawl under the wheelbarrow, when they saw something
that made them run through the yard as fast as they could.
There in the street was Jumpy, the milkman's dog, driving the



cows home. The milkman lived on the same street they did, so
they just forgot how tired they were and followed the cows till
they got home, when their mother gave them some corn bread
and molasses and put them to bed before the sun went down.
Annie Weston Whitney.
Anznie WTeston Whitney.



When the cold comes on, and the snow begins to get deep,
the deer commence making their yard to live in during winter.
They make great paths through the snow .for a large circuit,
and by traveling over it in all directions, it gets trodden down
hard and makes a very good yard for them.
They browse on the bark of the moose-wood--red maple--and
beech-trees. They first commence gnawing the bark at the bottom
of the tree, and work upward as the winter comes on, as far as
they can reach. They do not gnaw the bark off entirely around
the tree, if they did the' tree would die; and it is said they
seem to understand this and leave enough of the bark to save
the life of the tree. They also eat grass, shrubs, buds and moss
in the season when they can get them.
There are three species of the deer-kind of animals; the moose,
deer and caribou. The largest is the moose. Sometimes they are
as large as the largest horses.
They have heavy, lofty horns, or antlers; these spread out in
shape like the open fingers of the hand. They shed these horns
once a year, usually in February. They add one new prong every
year, beginning when two years old, so by counting the horns you
can tell how old a moose is. The horns are not shed all at one
time, but come off one by one as the moose rubs against trees.
The moose is called the most noble animal of the forests. In
the State of Maine, the white pine is called the finest and most
noble of forest trees. So the moose and the pine-tree is on the
shield in the coat of arms, as the great seal of the State of Maine.
Sadie L. Pickard.




Six little maids on the beach at Lynn

Holding a walking match who will win?

Six rods out and six rods in,

This is the length of the race at Lynn.

Lilian Crawford True.


1-- ---

~ .*.

- al-


cF- -



"Come, come, mamma, to the window! "
Cried Freddie, with eager face,
"Just look at my little biddies -
They are drinking and saying grace."

x- ,-~ ~


I quickly came at his bidding,
And saw a pretty sight:
Six downy little chickens
Drinking with all their might.

And as they sipped the water
They craned their necks on high,
As if their thanks were lifted
To the beautiful blue sky.


And so I could not wonder,
So rapt was his eager face,
That to him the little chickens
Were "drinking and saying grace."
W. C. Richardson.


Peter the goat-herd lives up among the hills. He has a small
house of his own to live in, and a small house for his goats to live
in. The two houses are. side by side. There are great stones upon
the roofs to keep them from blowing off and away. For the
winds blow very hard where Peter lives.
Every morning he takes his goats still farther up on the hills.
Up there are green pastures, where they feed. Peter sits down, and
his goats feed all about him. They feed right on the edge of the
steep precipices, for goats are very sure-footed.
Many flowers, blue forget-me-nots, and pretty pink and yellow
and white flowers, bloom on the hills; they make the prettiest car-
pet in the world.
Peter does not drive his goats; he goes before and leads the
way, and they follow him.
He has a name for each one. There is Silver-white and Sweet-
heart, Velvet-eyes, and Sunbeam. Each goat knows its name and
comes when Peter calls it.
These pretty pastures where Silver-white and Velvet-eyes feed are
shut in by high mountains. All the year round the tops of the
mountains are white with snow. But at sunrise and sunset they
are pink.

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,:..:.. ,_" }_.,' ', -P- .. ''- : :- "'


HE Dolliver children invited the Cheney
children to their Christmas-tree.
The Cheney family lived on Water Street
Near the wharves. The Dolliver family lived up
on the Hill.
The Cheneys lived in a house with four
other families. They had only three rooms.
The Dollivers had their beautiful great house
all to themselves, and had, 0, ever so many rooms!
The street before the Cheney children's house was narrow and
black with coal dust, and noisy with drays and carts. The
Dolliver house sat back from the street, and had beautiful lawns
about it, and flower beds in summer.
The father of the Cheney children was ill. He had been ill a
long time, and the doctor said he would never get well. So
Mrs. Cheney took in washing, and scrubbed floors to support the
There were six Cheney children. George was the eldest, and was
eleven. The youngest, Susy, was one. George carried bundles for
the corner grocer. Mary, who was nine, helped do the housework;
Sarah, who was seven, picked up bits of coal and wood about
the wharves for the fire, and tended upon Baby Susy; Johnnie,
aged five, waited upon the sick father; Dicky was only three,
and could do nothing but be dood," and not cry. He was a
sweet little fellow.
They were all good children, and did their best to help their
mother, and take care of their sick father.



There were also six of the Dolliver children, and, taken together,
the families made six pairs. They were exactly the same ages,
too, beginning with Tom Dolliver who was eleven, and ending
with Baby Rose who was one.
The Christmas-tree was very pretty. In fact, I do not think
anybody ever saw a Christmas-tree that was not pretty. This
one was hung with shining balls -red, yellow, blue, pink. A white
dove perched on the very tip-top of it. Tom hung upon it a
pair of shoes, a ball and bat, and a suit of nice clothes for
George. Bessie added one of her picture books, a letter game, and
two housemaid's aprons for Mary. Then Amy came up and hung
her prettiest doll, a pink hood and brown mittens, and a bright
half-dollar for Sarah. Ned, reaching up as high as he could,
fastened to its branches a new jack-knife, a box of paints, and
a book of outline pictures to color, for John. Then Mrs. Dolliver
hung, on the very lowest branches, a box of building blocks for
Dicky, and a rubber ring for Baby
Susy who was just teething. These
were from Theo and Baby Rose, who ./ ;
were not big enough to hang anything ',4
themselves. There was a lace bag full
of chocolate creams for each of the --*'
twelve children, and Mrs. Dolliver put
a little gift on the tree for each of
her brood. She had never given them .
costly presents at Christmas. For '~
Christmas, she said, was the birthday DICKY WAS A SWEET LITTLE FELLOW.
of the Holy Babe of Bethlehem, and gifts on that day must be
made to Him. Tom, when he was a very little boy, had asked
her how we can make gifts to Him, seeing He is not here. And
she had said that our Lord himself had told us how when He said:


I was an hungered and ye gave me meat. I was thirsty and ye
gave me drink. And then added: Inasmuch as ye did it unto
one of the least of these, my brethren, ye did it unto me.
"And so, my dear boy," she said, "when you give to those
who are in want, in body
or in mind, you give to Him.
Some people are in want of
I bread, dear, and some of a
kind word."
She had also taught her
children, that a gift to be
of value, must be one's own.
S' To buy gifts with papa's or
Smamma's money could not
be a real gift of their own.
And so they had bought or
.. !! i made the gifts for the Cheney
"' children.
Tom had a good many
"tips" from good-natured
SARAH PICKED UP WOOD AT THE WHARVES. uncles and aunts, and so he
had been able to buy the nice clothes for George, whose one
suit he had noticed was covered with patches.
Bessie had made Mary's aprons herself. They each had two
pockets, and buttoned up close around the neck. The sewing was
well done, and. Mary was very pleased with them. "They will
keep my gown clean, when I'm washing the dishes and cleaning
the stove," she said.
When five-year-old Ned saw how pleased Johnnie was with the
paints and outline pictures, he hugged him and said, "I thought
you'd like 'em, and I bought 'em all with my own, own money,


Johnnie," and Johnnie kissed him on each cheek three times over.
Amy had knitted the pink hood, and hooked the brown mittens
for Sarah. It had taken her a long time, and she often dropped
a stitch, or made a mistake, and had to pick her work out, and
do it over again. And, of course, they were not made quite so
nicely as a grown woman,, like her mother, would have made them.
But Sarah thought that never was there such a pretty hood,
or such nice warm mittens. How warm they would keep her
hands, when the bits of wood and coal were frosty!
"And did you do 'em you own self?" she asked. "0, I
should love to do such pretty things." And then Mrs. Dolliver
said she must come some day and Amy would show her how.
Of course, there was a little supper after the Christmas-tree,
with some pink ice-cream. And then they all went home, and the
Dollivers' nurse took Baby Susy herself, wrapped in a very nice
warm cloak, which Mrs. Dolliver had given her, and George and
Tom trundled Dicky in the Dolliver baby carriage.
Frances A. Humphrey.





(The Dolliver Stories.)

S OOK! look!" George called out.
r ^k .\.i0 "O, what lots of sticks! what
fun, Say! for that was what the
S -- .family all called little Sarah--
..-'. Say."
George had come out to help
:'0 -her pick up sticks. He carried
.' his basket turned over his head.
-, Just as they met Jenny Kelly,
who was carrying her little baby-
Sbrother, they saw that the old
house just by the corner was be-
ing pulled down. The workman
were at work busy as so many bees all over the house.
They had taken off the doors, and taken out the windows.
There wasn't much glass left in the windows, but they leaned
them up carefully against a post. Then they began to tear down
the wood-work and throw that out in great long strips.
0, I'm so sorry!" said little Say.
"I ain't," replied George. George did not always speak properly,
and said "ain't" instead of "am not." I'm glad," he said,
" there'll be capital sticks. You won't have to hunt round all
day for a few sticks, Say."
0, but it was such a lovely old house! said Say. "And they
said a great man lived in it once. Don't you know, Jenny, the
nice big closets? 0, we've had such good times in those closets

playing' go-a-visitin', and make-b'lieve
parties." And the tears really stood
in little Say's eyes.
Jenny Riley looked grave too. This
old house had been a play-ground for
the children in rainy days. The man
who owned it was a good-natured man,
and liked children, and so he had often
let the little girls on Water street
play there. He kept the boys out
though; he said boys would smash
things up too much, So there was
good reason why George did not feel
so badly as little Sarah, that the old
house was coming down.
"And such big fireplaces," said lit-
tle Say. "One day when it rained
ever so hard, Mr. Small built a great
fire in one of 'em. I never saw
such a nice big warm fire, and he
told us about the great man. He
said there were real parties then in
it, not make-b'lieves, and he had little
girls--the great man did."
Whiz-z-z! how the sticks and strips
of wood did come flying out of the
doors and windows! big sticks, thick
sticks, long, thin strips!
"'0, there you be, little Say!"
called out Mr. Small in a kind, hearty
tone. "Come right along and fill




your basket, George; plenty o' sticks now! plenty. Take all you
want. And how's the father to-day? Coughin' bad? 0, I'm
sorry !"
Never did little Say have such a harvest of nice dry sticks to
kindle fire with before; never since she began to pick up
sticks for a living. Generally, she only got the smallest handful,
though that helped, her mother always said.
And Mr. Small, too, tossed her out a few bits of prettily carved
wood. "Those will dress up the baby-house, little Say," he said.
He knew about that small, very small baby-house of hers, in the
corner by the old chest of drawers.
And he had seen the Christmas doll, too, that Amy gave her;
he said it beat all the dolls he'd ever seen. "It's a beauty," he
Mr. Small never said, "Git out o' here!" to the children, as
some of the men about the wharves did; and he often took
them to ride in his cart. In winter, when there was snow on
the ground, and he came with his sled, what fine times they
did have! That sled would hold twenty children. Mrs. Cheney
often said she believedd it was made of india-rubber!"
Frances A. Humphrey.


--~-- -




(The Dolliver Stories.)

RS. DOLLIVER did not forget what she had said
to little Sarah on Christmas Eve. "You must
come sometime and let Amy teach you how to
crochet and hook mittens," she said.
So one day she sent down word for little Say
to come up the next Saturday, in the forenoon,
at ten o'clock, if her mother could spare her.
Little Say was ready at the time set. She had used plenty of
water, and was as sweet and clean as it is possible for a little
girl to be, and that is very sweet, as we all know.
To be sure, the little hands looked somewhat rough and red
with hard work. But she drew on over them the nice brown
mittens. And the pink hood made the loveliest of settings for
the round brown face, with its black eyes, that had a soft sparkle
in them.
"Be a good girl, little Say," said the dear mother, as she
held the door open for her to go out.
"I'll try, mother," was Say's cheerful answer. And I am sure
that is all any of us can do--try to be good. For if we really
try we shall succeed.
It was a bright frosty morning, and Say tripped along, singing
to herself, and stopping just a second, now and then, to look at
the sparrows, who were busy picking up their food in the streets
and chattering and scolding.
She met Mr. Small, who smiled and said Good-morning, lit-


tie Say. You aren't running away, I hope; we can't spare you,
you know;" which made little Say laugh right out. The idea
of her running away! Mr. Small was such a nice funny man,
to be sure!
Mrs. Dolliver herself met little Say before she had a chance
to ring; before she had
got fairly up the steps,
even; and led her in, and
took off her coat and
mittens, and untied the
pink hood, and gave her
a motherly kiss.
"You are fresh as a
little rose this morning,"
she said. And now come
right in to my morning-
room, and I think we
shall find Amy there."
What a warm, sun-
shiny, cosey place that
morning-room was Say
skipped and said Oh! "
very softly, as the door
opened. There were pots 2ISS MORRIS, THE LADY WHO CALLED
of palms standing about,'
and some violets in bloom filled the room with a sweet fragrance.
In a large easy chair sat Amy. She had been reading Hans
Andersen's stories almost all the morning. She had stopped to
play with a kitten which was scrambling over the chair-back.
The door had opened so noiselessly she had not heard her mother
and Say come in.


"Amy," said her mother, as they came up and stood quite near.
Amy turned and jumped up when she saw Say, and dropped
Hans Andersen, and the kitten, taken by surprise, spit, and that
made them all laugh.
They were quickly seated on a sofa, with worsted and crochet
needles, and the lessons began.
Mrs. Dolliver sat in another part
of the room, and a sweet-faced
lady came in whom she called Miss
Morris. They talked together in
low tones.
The little girls chatted and
worked, and Mrs. Dolliver said
Say was to stay to lunch, for her
mother had said she might. By
lunch time, she had got so she
could manage the crochet needle
quite well, though Mrs. Dolliver
said there would have to be a
good many more lessons before
she could crochet well enough to
begin the mittens.
And Amy and Say said to
each other that they did not care
how many lessons there were; the more the better.
After lunch, Mrs. Dolliver, tied on the pink hood again and
gave little Say a small basket of white grapes for the sick
father, and a bunch of sweet violets for her own self, and she
skipped along home as merrily as the sparrows.
"0, mamma, I have had such a lovely time!" she exclaimed as
the dear mother opened the door for her. Frances A. Humphrey.

.- )- _.

.. --.=


_. _


---L i



(The Dolliver Stories.)

S OME, little Say, it is time to get
ready for bed," was what her
mother said to Sarah every
night at exactly quarter to seven.
For that getting to bed took a
long time. First of all, Queenie
had to be undressed. (Queenie
was the doll which Amy had
given to Sarah at Christmas.)
Then Sarah herself was to be
undressed. Sometimes she un-
dressed first.
While she was undressing
Queenie, she always told her all
about what had taken place that
day; where she 'had been, what she had
done, and what strange things she had seen.
It was on an evening in April that
she told her the story of "The Awful
Blot." Baby Susy had been fast asleep in
her cradle for a full half-hour. Say herself was undressed and was
sitting on a stool by the side of the cradle, so as to gently
rock the cradle, if baby should show signs of waking up. For
the mother was in the other room fanning the poor father, who
was now very sick indeed.


"Queenie," said Say, "you have been such a good child
to-day I shall tell you everything. I got a nice lot of sticks
to-day and we girls played hop-scotch. I don't suppose you
ever played hop-scotch 'cause
you can't hop; and George
and Jimmy Riley played
marbles. But Billy Smith
kept plaguing them and
knocking their marbles
about. He's a bad, naughty
boy, Billy Smith is, and is
always teasing.
"But he was punished
to-day, and we did not feel
a bit sorry. Do you 'mem-
ber, Queenie, Mary's nice
writing-book? Of course
you do. She keeps it as
nice and clean, and she
never gets her fingers all
over ink as Jenny Riley does.
And she 'spected to get MARY SHOWS THE AWFUL BLOT.
a merit for it.
"Well, to-day she was writing, and teacher called out Billy's
class in spelling. And he was walking along down to the spell-
ing place, and just when he come to Mary's desk, he knocked
it and the ink-bottle tipped over, and such an awful blot!
"And Mary she cried, and teacher said, Billy Smith, did you do that
a-purpose or was it an ac'dent ?' And Billy said "Twas an ac'dent.'
"But Johnny Hall said he saw Billy kick the desk with his
foot. And then Billy said p'raps 'twas done a-purpose, but he


didn't mean to. And teacher said if 'twas done a-purpose, of
course he meant to. And she made him stand up in the floor.
And he was 'shamed. And teacher kept him after school.
And she said, 'Mary Cheney, you shall have a merit just
the same; it isn't your fault. And,' said she, 'just hold it up
and let us all see that awful blot! And she made Billy look
at it and he was just as 'shamed.'"
This was the story that Say told to Queenie, and the teacher
did keep Billy after school, and talked to him very seriously
about his fault. For Billy's great fault is liking to tease.
She told him that liking to tease leads to many bad things;
it makes a boy careless about the feelings of others; he doesn't
mind if he makes them feel badly. "It leads to falsehood, often,
just as it did to-day, Billy," she said. "You wanted to tease
Mary, and when you found you would have to be punished you
told a lie. Teasing makes a boy cowardly." A. H.






(The Dolliver Stories.)

OW that May had come all the
Dollivers had gone out in the
country to their farm, which they
had named Beechcroft.
And all the Cheney family were
going, too. Their poor father had
died late in April, and Mrs. Dol-
liver had said to Mrs. Cheney,
"Now you must give up your
tenement in this black dusty Water
Street, and come out to Beechcroft.
We have a small red house on the
farm which will be just the place
for you. And it will be such a
good thing for the children to have the fresh country air and
play out of doors all day long."
Mrs. Cheney said she would gladly go if she could find work
to do out there. She should not want to be dependent.
And Mrs. Dolliver said there would be plenty of work for
her at the farmhouse. Anything that she would like to do;
housework, or washing at home, or sewing. George could help
on the farm. And they should have a garden of their own,
and raise their own vegetables.
Perhaps they could raise some vegetables to sell. Only about
a mile away was the beach, where a great many visitors came


in summer; they could sell vegetables to these summer visitors,
and berries. The fields were full of blackberries and huckleberries,
and the children could pick them.
"And it will be so much nicer than picking up sticks at the
wharf," said Say.
A busy time the Cheneys had packing up. It did not take
them many hours, however; in the first place they did not
have so very much to pack; and then, as we all know, many
hands make quick work, and they all helped.
It was a lovely blue and pink May morning when they
started; for they got off on the
earliest train, and just as they
steamed out of town, the sun
came up and the blue sky in
the east was full of little pink
clouds. It was like going a-May-
ing, only as none of them, poor
things! had ever been a-Maying,
they did not think of it. Mr.
Small came down to see them off,
and brought Say a paper of choco-
late creams.
It was a long ride, but before '
they had time to think of being TO'S DONKY.
tired, the train stopped, and the conductor shouted "Beechcroft."
They made quite a bustle leaving the cars; for not only was
Baby Susy fast asleep, but so was Dicky, and they both had to
be carried; and then there were all the bags and packages.
But the conductor was very kind, and carried Dicky himself.
"He's a sweet little fellow," he said. "I shouldn't mind own-
ing him myself. Can't you spare him?"


"0, no, no! we couldn't!" they all shouted at once.
The man Silas was at the station with an open carriage, and
Bessie was there with her little goat team, and Tom came down
on his donkey.
Bessie took Say and Amy, and drove the goats herself. Tom
offered his donkey to George; but when George tried to mount
him, the donkey kept standing on his fore feet and kicking up
his hind feet. So George said he would walk.
Their goods had come. down the day- before, and Silas had
unpacked them and set them up. Mrs. Dolliver had had the
table set out and a dinner sent down from the farmhouse.

I i


The windows were wide open, and the sweet air came in,
and the smell of apple blossoms; and the birds were twittering.
"Oh!" said Say, drawing a long breath. "Isn't this lovely?"
Frances A. Humphrey.




(The Dolliver Stories.)

ONG before the Cheney chil-
S/ dren arrived at Beechcroft,
the swallows had come and
were busy building their
nests in the old barn.
I suppose that these swal-
lows, and their fathers and
mothers, and their grand-
fathers and grandmothers,
and great-grandfather Swallow and his wife, and great-great-grand-
father Swallow and his wife had all had nests in this barn for
ever and ever so many summers.
The old beams were quite thick with nests. Some of them
were so old they were tumbling in pieces. Others were broken
in places, but were still strong, and the swallows were repairing
these--putting in fresh bits of mud.
One pair were building a new nest. This was their first nest,
and they took great pride in it and shaped it carefully. Some-
times an old swallow came over and looked at the nest, and
gave them some advice about it. He sat on the beam and
chirped away to them while they worked.
Say and George and Mary and Dicky were never tired of
watching the swallows. They watched them at twilight, as they
darted through the air on swift wings, catching the insects
which are their food. How swift their flight was! It is said


a swallow can fly ninety miles in an hour.
Sometimes they passed so near the children as
almost to brush their cheeks with their wings.
They never seemed afraid of the children.
They would go on building their nests, with a
whole row of eager watching eyes looking up
from the mow just below them.
But let Flossie or Sam, especially Sam, put so much as his
nose into the barn door and there was an outcry, indeed!
Every swallow came swooping down and scolding, and Sam was
glad to flatten his ears back, and escape as best he could.
In due time the nests were finished, the eggs were laid,
and then each little swallow was
seen carefully brooding over
her nest from morning till
night, and of course they
brooded all night also. Patient little creatures! It
could not be .very interesting," as little Say remarked.
But when the eggs turned into bare little birds, almost
all mouth. then it was interesting. And after this
the swallows fairly persecuted poor Sam. They not only
drove him out ol the barn, but if they found him lying on
the green turf in the yard, they would swoop down upon him
as though they would like to pick out his great bright eyes.
And how his great eyes would shine! The swallows knew
very well that if he could only get up to the nests he would
make but a mouthful apiece of their
little baby-birds.
But Sam never did get at the swallows.
They all grew and thrived, and in due
time tried their wings and were seen


darting about in the twilight with the old birds, catching insects.
There were other birds at Beechcroft besides the swallows,
though these were the most interesting, because their nests were
built where they could be plainly seen.
An oriole had a nest in a great elm. It was like a little
bag, and was stoutly fastened to the branch by threads, so that

it rocked with every breeze. The oriole himself was of so bright
a color he looked like a bit of flame among the green leaves.
And there were red linnets that sung sweetly, and merry bob-
o'links in the green meadows, and a brown thrush that perched
every noon on the tall maple by the gate and sung till he
could sing no more. Frances A. Humphrey.


If the Sun had a sled for sliding down the Sky,
How very much faster he could go,
And the funny little Days, how quickly -they would fly
In order to keep up with him, you know. .I J. H.




(The Dolliver Stories.)

ERY often during the night before
the Fourth, Say kept waking up
and asking Mary if it wasn't morn-
ing and time to get up, and George
was hopping out of his bed every
other hour almost, to see if the
sun was not yet up. The sun
always rises very late, I have ob-
served, on Fourth of July morning.
They had made a plan the night
before to be up so as to send
off a whole bunch of fire-crackers
just as the sun should show his red face. Their mother had said
they might do so, if they would go off in the field away from
the house so as not to wake baby Susy. If she were wakened
so early, she would be cross, and in no mood to enjoy her Fourth
of July.
Then, too, Mrs. Cheney was afraid they might set something
on fire, if they sent off the crackers too near the house. For
her part, she said, she should be glad when it was over with,
and one bunch was all she permitted them to have.
They went off beautifully -snap! snap! crack! crack! and
then the children or a part of them had their procession,
and marched around the yard, so that at last they had a good
appetite for breakfast. The Dollivers had come down, and part


marched, while the rest sung Sherman's March through Georgia."
They were to have a picnic on the beach that day; not the
great beach where the visitors were, but a smaller beach not
far from Beechcroft. The children were all going under the care
of Mrs. Cheney, and Mrs. Dolliver was coming down with the
baskets of goodies at one o'clock.
The children never tired of this beach; it wasn't one bit like
the dirty wharfs in Bayside, where they had lived. It was
clean, and they could dig in the sand for hours without getting
their frocks dirty. It was shallow, and they could take off their
shoes and stockings and wade in ever so far without any danger
of being drowned.
They found lovely things that day pretty round shells, pur-
ple, and with little green spines
all over the outside; these are
called "urchins." Ned found
a big crab, walking along on
the sand backward as crabs
do,, and tried to catch it and
did catch it but it almost
pinched his finger off. _
In one deep place were THEIR PROCESN.
starfish, pink and gray, looking like the loveliest of sea flowers.
In another place, a great crimson jelly-fish had come on shore
-a curious-looking creature that you never would think was
ever alive.
In the damp sand were little holes, and if you dug down
you would find a clam. And there were little black snails all
over the rocks, and once in a while a seal would stick his round
black head out of the water, and blow and bark seal-fashion.
How hungry they were when lunch time came. Mrs. Dolliver


had arrived, with Silas bringing the baskets, and a table-cloth
was spread on the sand under the shade of a high rock. A
tiny flag-the Stars and Stripes of course-was stuck in the sand
at each of the four corners of the cloth, and Mrs. Dolliver gave to
each child a small cluster of red and white and blue ribbons to
pin on frock and jacket.
Then they all sang My Country, 'tis of Thee, Sweet Land of
Liberty," after which they sat down and ate. Never, I believe,
were there such good
things to eat on a Fourth
of July picnic.
S" Oh! it's lovely," sighed
Say, "just as lovely as it
S can be. The very bestest
time I ever had in my
life." And as Say's good
Times were generally very
good indeed, this must,
as you see, have been won-
derfully fine.
In the evening they all
went to the Dolliver
ONE OF THE CHINESE LANTERNS. house, where Chinese lan-
terns were hung all about
on the trees, making it look like fairy-land. Then came the fireworks.
There were rockets that flew up among the stars, and burst,
sending down a shower of bright sparks.
There were Roman.candles blue, and red, and yellow, and won-
derful fiery serpents; and a Catherine wheel that whizzed and
whizzed, until Babies Susy and Rose shouted with glee to see it.
Frances A. Humphrey.



The world is very large, and it takes a long time and a
great deal of money to travel around it. Those who make the
journey must travel thousands of miles. by steamship, and by
railroad,. and by stage-coach and sometimes on horseback and on
But you and I shall make a little tour around the world,
without the aid of steamship, or railroad, or horse, or camel, or
money. We shall. merely walk
hand in hand around this sit-
ting-room in which I am writ-
ing, where we shall see things
from many countries; and that M
will be almost as good as visit-
ing those countries themselves. -
And first, what do we step
on, as we enter the room? A
carpet. Where did it come
from? From England, where
there are many cities which
have become famous for carpet-
weaving. Carpets are also made
in this and other countries.
Those of Persia are thought to be among the finest of all.
The lace window-curtains also came from England ; the linen
of the window-shades was grown, spun and woven in Scotland.
The next thing we notice is an upright piano. It is made of
rosewood. Rosewood is the wood of a large tree that grows in


South America. It is very scarce and expensive. The keys of
the piano are made of ivory. That comes from Africa, and some
parts of Asia. It is the tusks of elephants, great numbers of
which roam wild in those parts of the world, and are hunted
and killed for the sake of their tusks.
If we look inside the piano, we see beautiful wires of brass
and steel, called the "strings," which are brought from Eng-
land. The little pegs round which the strings are wound, are
made of the best Swedish iron; none other is found strong
enough to bear the tension. The little hammers that, by strik-
ing the strings, produce the sounds, are covered with chamois--
the skin of the chamois, or wild goat, which is found among
the Alpine valleys and snow-covered mountains of Switzerland.
The piano itself was made in the city of New York.
Some of the other furniture of the room is of mahogany. That
wood is also found in South America, as well as in Guatemala,
where the trees grow to a great size. Other articles are made
of black walnut, a native wood, found in great abundance in
the forests of Wisconsin and Michigan. Isabella McFarlane.





Here is a little ornament of lacquer-work; it represents a
company of Japanese ladies and gentlemen drinking tea. It was
made in Japan, where the people excel in that kind of work.
Against it rests a fanciful Turkish pipe, made in Constanti-
nople. Its mouth-piece is of amber a substance found on the
seashore, in Bermuda and other places; its bowl is of some
polished red material, and its stem of purple velvet, hung with
little gilt chains and crescents. (It is kept solely for decoration,
and not for smoking vile tobacco.) ,Near by hangs a pair of
bracelets, of carved sandal-wood beads, made in India.
Here is an embroidered scarf of China silk. The embroidery
is home-made, but the silk was made in China, and none but
the Chinese can make it so fine and so beautiful. It was the
Chinese who first thought of weaving silk cloth from the fine
filaments spun by the silk-worm.
Yonder is a little basket, curiously woven of dried sea-weed.
It was made by a blind man, in Scotland. It is filled with
some dried leaves and flowers, which remind me pleasantly of a
late visit I -made to that country--an ivy-leaf from Melrose
Abbey, a bunch of grasses and a big Scotch thistle from Edin-
burgh Castle, and a sprig of fragrant birch from Balmoral, one
of the homes of Queen Victoria.
On the mantel we see a little cup and saucer, in blue and
gold, which came from Paris. Above them, spread out like a
great fan, is a natural palmetto leaf, which a friend brought me
from Florida; while near by hangs, on the corner of a picture-
frame, a long, drooping spray of gray Southern moss.


On a corner bracket, framed in glass, is a South Carolina six
dollar bank bill, issued at Charleston in 1776 a centennial relic.
On the lamp which stands on the center-table, there is a
fancy lamp-shade of satin ribbon and lace. The ribbon came
from Lyons, in France, where the best ribbons, are made; the
lace was made by some poor peasant girl in Ireland; and the
silk with which the lamp-shade is fringed was spun and twisted
in a neighboring town of Massachusetts.
The gold with which some of the picture-frames are gilded,


came from California; the quicksilver on the back of the mir-
ror, from Spain; and the mirror itself may have come from
Venice, a city of Italy, which has long been famous for the
manufacture of mirrors.
There is a stove in the room, and the sheet-iron of which
the stove-pipes are made came from Russia.
There is a little tray containing some curiosities- a stone
picked up in Mount Royal Cemetery, Montreal; a few shells
brought from the South Seas by a sea captain; a piece of gold-
bearing quartz from California, with the little specks of gold


glittering in it; a scrap of iron-ore from Northern New York;
some Indian arrow-heads, used by the Indians who once inhab-
ited this part of the country, before the white men came to
it; and a rusty bullet, ploughed up in a field, where a great
battle was fought, in the time of the Revolution, more than a
hundred years ago.
Now let us sum up the countries we have visited South
America, Guatemala, Africa, India, Japan, China, the South Sea
Islands, England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Sweden, Russia,
Switzerland, Spain, Italy, Turkey, Bermuda, Canada, and many
parts of the United States! Quite a journey, indeed!
And now I think it is time to stop and take a rest.
Isabella McFarlane.





Many little children have to
work in order to earn their living.
I -remember as I was coming up
School Street, in Boston, one cold
winter's day, at twilight, I heard
a little piping voice at my elbow
say Buy a Record"?
I looked down; what a little
Smite of a fellow he was, to be
sure! Of course I bought a
Record. Who could say "No" to
such a little wage-earner?
While he was folding the paper, I asked how old he was.
"Seven," was ae reply; and away he went cheerily calling
his papers.
I could not help thinking of one or two little
boys of seven whom I know, and wondering
how they would like to sell papers for a living.
In many cities, little girls sell flowers. It .
would seem to be a pleasant business to sell
flowers; and so it is. But still it is very hard
for a little girl to be so poor and ragged as
to have to sell them in order to get bread to
eat. But this many little girls have to do.
To pick and arrange flowers for the home
to be mamma's little flower girl, is quite
another thing. MAMMA'S FLOWER 0G-.



On the next page you will see, pictured out, a most inter-
esting and charming story. This scene took place a great many
years ago, September 12, 1741.
The father of Maria Theresa had died, leaving her Empress
of Austria.
But Frederick, King of Prussia, who is called in history,
Frederick the Great, wanted to seize her kingdom and add it to
his own. So he went into Austria with his army.
Then Maria Theresa fled to the country of the Hungarians,
which was also a part of her kingdom. She came before the
Hungarians bringing her little son Joseph, then only six months
old, and stood, as you see her in the picture, a tall, handsome
woman, clad in velvet and ermine, the pretty boy smiling on her
shoulder. For he was pleased with the sight of the beautiful
dress and shining swords of these men.
In a speech full of courage, Maria Theresa called upon her
Hungarians to come to her help, and drive out the Prussians.
"I have no friends but you in all the world," she said.
And these brave and gallant men answered by drawing their
swords, and waving them on high, while they shouted:
We will die for our King, Maria Theresa!"
They called her their king, you see, and she had as high a
courage as any king that ever lived.
Ahd they were as good as their word. They drove out the
Germans, and many of them did die for her, and she reigned
as Empress of Austria many years. The little child in her arms
became afterwards Joseph II., Emperor of Austria. H.







ABOUT some things Flor-
ence was sure she knew bet-
ter than her mother, although
she was but ten years old.
One was about her new spring
coat and hat. Florence wanted
1 rto wear them at once, but her
Smother said she must wait for
war_ Brsome time yet. This made
her quite cross, but her
Smother did not allow her to
wear her new clothes any the
sooner for that.
One bright, sunny morning
-her mother was in bed with a
headache, and Florence had
FLORENCE AND THE NEW HAT. to get ready for school by
herself. She went to the
closet for her old coat and winter hood, and there on the nail was
the new coat, and on the shelf lay the hat all ready to put on.
"I do believe I will wear it to-day," she said to herself.
"I am most sure mamma would let me, it is so bright and
warm! But she was really not at all sure. She would not
have put on the new coat and hat, and gone so quietly down-
stairs for fear Mary, the nurse, would see her, if she had been.
When she arrived at school all the little girls came about
her to admire her new clothes, and she felt very proud.


At recess the children were playing in the yard. The ground
was damp and muddy, for it had rained all the day before.
Florence was having a fine game of tag, quite forgetting her
new coat. Suddenly as she was running her foot caught and
down she fell in the very muddiest part of the yard! The
others ran to help her and laughed merrily when they saw the
plight she was in. But Florence did not laugh; she was much
nearer crying! The front of her pretty light coat was black
with mud, and her hat was bent out of shape! While the
older ones were brushing off the mud and trying to console her
the bell rang and they had to go in to school. Florence was
able to pay very little attention to her lessons, and received a
number of bad marks, the first she had had that week. To
make matters worse, when she came out of school the rain was
pouring down and she had no umbrella. With her old coat and
hood on she would have liked the fun of running home in the
rain. Now it was anything but funny, particularly as her mother
opened the door when she got home.
"You may go upstairs," said her mother, "and wait till I
The waiting was dreadful. Mary came and took her coat and
hat away, but did not speak to her. At last her mother came,
and Florence would have preferred any punishment to her
mother's way of talking; it made her feel so small and so
She cried a great deal, and said she was very sorry. But
that did not take the stain off the coat. She was obliged to
wear it, however, stain and all, until it was outgrown, to
teach her that wrong doing had lasting effects.
I am glad to say that it did teach her.
Anna M. Talcott.



Tommy was always say-
ing, "'I'm not afraid!"
His big brother John said
he was a "little brag," al-
ways telling what he would
do if a great bear -should
come out of the woods,
or a great giant should
threaten to eat him up.
"I shouldn't be afraid!
I should just hit 'em with
a big stick, and say 'go
'way,' and I should chase
'em, and make 'em run."
He had never seen a
bear, or a tiger, or a
giant. But one day he
went in wading among
some tall water plants. A
great insect with- a long
tail came buzzing about
his face. Its eyes were
large and fierce. And what
did this brave Tommy do?
He stood and shrieked "0,
0, 0!" till brother John
came and drove the big
harmless thing away.


My papa made this little song,
We dance it on the grass,
Whenever he is home with me,
For I'm "his little lass."

"The little sheep are scampering,
About the soft, green hill,
I feel so full of frolic, too,
Somehow I can't keep still.
Hey-a-diddle, hi-a-diddle,
When everything a-dancing is,
Then merrily dance I.

"The little leaves are capering,
The brook is on a run,
The birdies singing so, I think
They must be having fun.
Hey-a-diddle, hi-a-diddle,
For everything a-dancing is,
So merrily dance I.


"The little clouds are hurrying
Across the big blue sky,
I guess the sun is calling them,
And that is why they fly.
Hey-a-diddle, hi-a-diddle,
When everything a-dancing is,
Then merrily dance I.

"The little stars come out at night,
They twinkle while they play, P
And get so tired then, I s'pose,
They have to sleep all day.
Hey-a-diddle, hi-a-diddle, ||
For everything a-dancing is,
So merrily dance I.

"I am 'his little midget,' too,
A-dancing in the air,
With dimpled hands and busy feet,
And lots of curly hair.
Hey-a-diddle, hi-a-diddle,
When everything a-dancing is,
Then merrily dance I."

Good-by, for I must run away,
I saw my papa pass,
And soon I'll hear him calling me,
"Where is my little lass?"
Hannah Coddington.




A monkey was chattering among the trees of a lawn near
Central Park, in New York. He had escaped from an organ-
grinder. He had a collar around his neck, and wore a red cap
trimmed with gold cord and covered with little bells which kept
up a merry jingling as he swung himself from limb to limb,
using his tail, and his paws which were so much like a child's
The gardener climbed a tree after him, but before he reached
him the monkey was in another tree a dozen yards away. Then
the gardener climbed that tree, but the monkey had already gone
on to another; then he tried a third tree and failed, and gave
up the chase.
Mr. Anson, the owner of the place, was very much amused,
and his little girl and boy clapped their hands with delight.
The organ-grinder, however, did not seem to be in a good humor.


He' scolded, shook his stick, and kept calling, "Jocko! Jocko!"
The monkey scolded angrily in return, waved his red cap, and
flung leaves and twigs at his old master. In a little while a
Chinaman entered the yard. There was a twinkle in his almond-
shaped eyes.
"Chinaman catchlee monkley," he said.
Catch him, then," said Mr. Anson.
What'll gim me?" asked the Chinaman.
"I will give you three dollars if you catch that monkey," said
the organ-grinder.
"Allee rightee!" cried the Chinaman.
He disappeared in a flash, and when he returned he was car-
rying a water-melon.
"Watchee Chinaman catchlee monkley," he said. "No make
muchee noise. Allee glo way."
They all walked back to the porches. They watched the China-
man, and wondered what he was about to do. He went right
to work.
He made a small hole in the water-melon, and then placed it
in one of the wide walks, after which he hid himself behind the
bushes, ready to pounce upon the monkey.
The latter saw the melon and approached it with a good deal
of caution. He chattered, softly and looked cunningly around him.
Monkeys are very fond of water-melon seeds, and so Jocko forced
his paw into the hole and grabbed a handful of them.
The Chinaman sprang 'toward him. The monkey could not
draw his paw from the melon because he would not open it and
let go of the seeds. He tried to drag the melon with him but
it was too heavy, and he was easily caught. The Chinaman was
a sailor and had seen monkeys caught that way in India.
Prank H. Stauffer.


Nr 7

----- 1 0
.15 I! n. ny


on e


That is his name, but we call him Bobby. Johnny found him
when he was hardly fledged out. He was cuddled close to a
big rock in the wheat field and crying as if his little heart
would break. Just as you would cry if some great giant should
burn your home and kill your dear brothers and sisters. That
was what had happened to this dear little robin. Some cruel
boy had destroyed the home nest, and killed all the baby-robins
but this one. He had slipped away among the wheat.
He was alone, and cold, and hungry, so Johnny brought him
home. He soon grew to be very tame, and ate the bread and
egg which Johnny gave him, readily. It was easy to teach him
tricks. And now, while the winter wind blows cold, and the
snow whirls against the windows, we have great fun with Bobby.
He will kiss us very prettily, but if a stranger offers his
mouth for a kiss he will nip his lips with his long, sharp bill.
He will sit on mamma's shoulder for an hour at a time, softly
singing a pretty song, but if she begins to eat an apple, and
does not offer him a bite, he will tweak her ear sharply.
Sometimes he will not let her sew, but will fly towards her,
seize the thread, and pull it out of the needle before she can
take a stitch. No matter how many times she threads it, he
will not let her sew until he is tired of the fun. He will climb
a tiny ladder, then fall down and make believe he is dead. He
will "sing for his supper" when we hold up any dainty and tell
him to sing for it.
He will play "hide-and-seek." But we generally let him hide,
because he pulls our hair when he finds us. E.. s. .






I /- c

I -







Kitty had her own little table set for tea with her dolls, and
never thought of such a thing as having a real live visitor. But
she went upstairs to find one of her doll-children that had been
left when the others were brought, and when she came back there
was Aunt Jane, sitting by the fire, warming her feet. It was a
long walk from her house, and the day was cold.



"Good afternoon, Aunt Jane," said Kitty. "You are just in
time. Come and take tea with me."
"Dear me! I can't!" said Aunt Jane. "I am very cold. I
must sit by the fire."
Now Aunt Jane was not very obliging. She did not like to
trouble herself to please other people. She had a good many
nieces and nephews (I think there were seventeen in all), and
nobody had ever seen her go across the room to play with any
one of them.
"0, Aunt Jane!" said Kitty. "Of
course I shall bring it to you. Mother's
away, and I am so glad to have a
real visitor!"
"Oh! I'm sorry your mother's out,"
said Aunt Jane. "Well, there, I think //
it would rest me to have some tea.
Yes, I'll have some. Now, be careful!
Don't spill it!" Kitty pours carefully.
It seems to be hot. I see the steam. KITTY POURING TEA.
But this tea was made for Kitty and
the dolls. It is not such tea as Aunt Jane drinks. It is what
people call "cambric tea," made of milk and hot water and a
great deal of sugar in it. I am afraid Aunt Jane will feel
disappointed, and think it will not "rest" her much.
Pamela McArthur Cole.

Sunshine is the truest gold:
Take as much as you can hold! M. J. H.




This pretty little prince you see
Lived where the red rose grows;
But what he did and what he said
Why, goodness only knows.
He wrote his life all in one book
For his own private shelf;
And read, and read, and read that book,
And wore it out himself.
L. B.


"What is it, my darling? Why do you cry? I thought you
were playing tag so happily with Nero," called little Elsa's mother,
putting her head out of the window.


On the lawn stood a little girl with her apron up to her eyes,
crying as if her heart would break. From one hand hung the
limp body of a doll, while a big romping dog stood by, wagging
his tail and looking as if eager to have the fun begin again.
But Nero's fun had caused great grief to Elsa, and when she
heard her mother's voice she sobbed out, "Nero has bitten Julie!
bitten her head dreadfully! "
"Julie's head, my precious? O, Nero, Nero, for shame! But,
dearie, he didn't mean to do any harm. Dogs don't understand
about dollies. Bring Julie in and let me see her."
So Elsa went into the house, while Nero strayed off to the
'kitchen door and laid himself down in the sun.
Ah! what a beauty poor Julie had been, with her beautiful
wax head crowned with golden curls! And her eyes, that could
open and shut! Elsa used to put her to sleep and wake her
again many times a day, just for the pleasure of seeing the
sweet blue eyes close and then open again. Could it be that all
this happiness was at an end? But what a delightful being a
mother is! Elsa's mother first washed Julie nicely; then her lips
and cheeks and eyebrows had a touch of paint, so that the face
looked as smiling and rosy as before; and next, the yellow hair
was brushed and curled; last of all, the head was fastened on;
and there was Julie as fresh and sweet as ever!
When Elsa took her, Julie's eyes turned upward with a soft
glance and Elsa cried -
"0, mamma! She is well again! She has opened her eyes!
Now I must put her to sleep. What a good mamma you are!
"But I will never let Nero play with you again, poor little
Julie He is a fine old fellow to play with little girls; but he
is too rough for dollies, isn't he?"
From the Danish, by Emilie Poulsson.




They had been digging a well at my aunt's, and so right by
the side of the house was a large pile of white sand.
I took a piece of shingle for my spade, and by patting the
sand down hard and smooth I made the floor of my house. Then
with the fingers of my left hand resting on the floor, as a wall
against which to make the end of the house, and the back of
my hand as a support for the roof and sides, I took my spade
and packed the moist sand carefully over my hand until I had
a round, smooth house which was like a mound in shape.
When the outside of the house was arranged to suit me, I very
carefully drew out my hand, and there was the inside just as it
should be.
The next thing in order after finishing a house, is the garden,
or lawn; and so I made the garden around my house with
flower-beds and walks, and inclosed it with a fence which was
also made of the sand. I picked flowers and leaves and planted
them in the flower-beds, and set out little stems and twigs along
the walks.
I wanted a fountain, or fish-pond in my front lawn to make


it look prettier. I could not make the fountain, but I did the
I ran into the house and took one of auntie's patty-tins, filled
it with water and sunk it in the sand. Then I put daisies
around the edge.
Now all was finished, and how pretty it looked! It was ready
for some one to live in. But where could I find anybody small
enough who would want to rent my little house ?

A -R !1 -, -

'9 -


At that moment there came hopping that way just the right
person. A dear little toad went to the gateway, walked into
the garden, looked at the lake and trees and flowers and then
went straight to the door of the house and took possession. Oh!
how happy I was to have such a cunning little tenant for my
little sand house !
ho .pp l: T. ',' o .-,-..:,"ave @ ..: ...lte "ean -o
li .t sa ,, ,",. .,4-- '' ', .



'; **:r~:
bajlp- :



Edith is a pretty little kin-
dergarten scholar, as some of
you may be who read this
book; but her school is quite
different from yours. She is
blind and lives in a pleasant
home with other blind children.
They learn to read with their
fingers in books with raised
letters. They march, play games
and sing like merry birds; but
Edith does not sing. She is
TALKING WITH THE FINGEES. deaf and has never heard any
one talk, so she has not learned to speak and sing.
She is like a poor prisoner, shut away from all you learn so
easily. She puts up her hand and spells on her fingers a ques-
tion, or asks for what she would like.
Her teacher answers in the same way, touching the poor lit-
tle hand so the child can feel which letter she is making.
She can read stories and write printed letters to her mother
that you could read as well as a book.
She models clay images and does other work very nicely; but
think how long it would take you to learn without eyes, ears
or voice.
Perhaps your mother will take you some day to the Kinder-
garten for the Blind at Jamaica Plain, where you can see Edith
and her little playmates. Louis HaR.




"Where is little Flo going?"
asked Trinket's big staring eyes
as plainly as a ddll's eyes could.
"Off to Europe! said Nurse.
"Let's go too! barked saucy dog
Tramp, picking up poor Trinkets
in his mouth, and dashing after
the carriage.
When Flo reached the steam-
er's wharf there were her Tramp
and Trinkets waiting for her.
was go-
ing to
send them home, but the child cried as if
her heart would break, for she wanted to
take them along.
That is how Tramp and Trinkets went
to Paris. And many funny things they
saw there.
Did any little boy, or girl, or doll, or ,
puppy, ever meet, on a rainy day, a dog
with a water-proof cloak on, and a hood
drawn over its head to keep the dear from
getting wet? PORTRAIT.


Tramp and Trinkets did -in Paris. In that city there are nearly
four thousand persons who earn their living by making dog's-
clothes, and the sum paid for
their work amounts to a million '
dollars a year.
Tramp, and Trinkets went _3..
one day with Flo and her i
mamma to a large shop where
nothing is sold but dog cos- A SPAMEL TRIED ON A DUST-CLOAK.
tumes and dog jewelry. Here ever so many dogs were being rigged
out with what their mistresses thought they needed. Some were
S having suits for the house; others
for the street.
c~!i One was being fitted to a new
I. pair of fine doe-skin boots, to pro-
S"'^ '^' tect his dainty feet from the dust
p and mud. Another was having
y fastened to his left forefoot a
S' "- .- plain gold bracelet with his
L ,- owner's monogram upon it.
'i -- Beside him was a rough-
FITTED TO A PAIR OF FINE DOE-SKIN BOOTS. coated terrier that wore a col-
lar with his lady's picture set in it.
At another counter a pretty 7
spaniel was having tried on a -
dust cloak for traveling. It was I' .-
very stylish and had a pocket'
at the side for the wearer's -
ticket. There were handsome _-
dressing cases for the dog-dandies, --- -.'
anid sleeping baskets with cur- A LOVELY SLEEPING BASKET.


tains, just like a doll's cradle "lovely enough for Trinkets!"
Flo said, which proves that they were nice indeed.
Tramp thought it all very odd. Flo asked him if he would
like to be dressed up in that way, but he
) shook his head and growled at the little dog
fops, as if to tell them he thought they were
very silly.
SFlo bought a pretty red blanket for him.
This he was pleased with, because it would
E GOLD BRACELET WITH keep him warm on cold days. Trinkets did
THE MONOGRAM. not seem a bit interested in anything ,they
saw in the shop. She was as stiff as could be all the time and
smiled in a scornful way as though to say,
"What is the use of making such pretty things for ugly dogs
like Tramp! How much better it would be to give them to a
beautiful doll like me!"
Mary Catherine Crowley.




H! oh!" cried Flo, one day, ".my doll's leg is
broken, what shall I do? oh! oh!"
Frau Gretchen, who kept the boarding-house
in Leipsic where the family were staying, found
S the little girl crying over poor Trinkets.
"Ah! too bad, too bad!" said the good woman.
"Why don't you take her to the great doll-doctor?"
So that afternoon they took Trinkets to the doctor's office.
Of course dog Tramp went too. He thought it would be useful to
know how legs were mended, in case he should meet with an accident.
The name of Frau Emma Friederike Schneider, the doll-doctor
of Leipsic, is known all over the world. For more than fifty years
this busy, cheery woman has given her time and skill to the mend-
ing of dolls.
When Flo and
her mamma
knocked at her
door it was
opened by a lit-
tle creature
scarcely taller
than Flo. She
had pretty blue TRINKETS' BROKEN LEG.
eyes, and soft flaxen curls, and her quaint German head-dress and cos-
tume made her look, Flo thought, like a fairy godmother, who had


stepped out of a picture-book. This
was, in fact, the famous doll-doctor .
herself. With a smile of welcome she .
showed her visitors into a large room.
"Oh!" cried Flo in surprise, as
she looked around in vain for a
place to sit down. The chairs, tables,
floor, wall, all were crowded with
dolls; dolls dressed, "some in rags, /'
and some in' tags, and some -in' ; /.,
velvet gowns." Such funny-looking HE DOLL-DOCTOR.
dolls as they
were, too. Many seemed hopeless cripples,
lacking one or both arms, or legs, or feet.
Others were without an eye, a nose or a
wig, and some had lost half or the whole
of their heads. Several, however, had just
been made over as good as new by this
wonderful doctor, and sat up straight upon
a shelf, looking fresh
WANTING A NOSE. and rosy and happy.
The doll-doctor took Trinkets in her
soft hands, and looked at the break.
Then she nodded her head.
"This is very simple," ~
said she. "The lit-
tle lady will not
have to go to the
hospital, I will cure
her at once."
She took some AS GOOD AS NEW.


elastic, and with one
Soon Trinkets was as


or two tiny instruments went to work.
strong and beautiful as ever. Flo danced
about with delight, and Frau Emma
laughed, and her little curls bobbed about
in the queerest way.
Flo's mamma laid a silver piece upon
a small salver held by a black doll.
The sweet little doll-doctor patted Flo's
cheek, kissed her lightly on the forehead,
and presently the party were again in
the narrow, crooked street. All the way
home Trinkets looked very proud of hav-
ing been to such a celebrated surgeon,
while Tramp yelped and frisked about as
if laughing with Flo at all the funny
Things they had seen. Mary C. Crowley.

The regiment upon the lot
In ranks is growing thinner--
For lo! Papa comes out and calls
Three veterans to dinner! M. J H.





LO," asked papa one morning, "would
you like to see some soldier-dogs?"
Soldier-dogs, papa! how funny!"
laughed the little girl.
"Yes; in some of the regiments
Sof the German army an attempt is
being made to train dogs for use in
i/ time of war," said her father. "In
the garrison at Schwerin, which I am
going to visit to-day, there are several
A SOLDIER-DOG. dogs which are drilled for military duty
as strictly as any of the other soldiers. You may go with me to
see them if you wish."
Flo danced about in glee, Tramp wagged his tail and begged to
go too.
"Yes, you shall, old fellow! "
said his little mistress. You
must learn all you can while you
are abroad. That's what mamma
is always saying to me."
Flo fancied that her doll
Trinkets looked lonely when they
planned to go off and leave her. TRAMP WAS JEALOUS AND ULK
"Well, Trinkets," she said, "you can't learn anything, because
your head is made of wood, but I suppose we'll have to take you."

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