Citation
Family pets

Material Information

Title:
Family pets for the youngest readers
Series Title:
Cheery chat series
Creator:
Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Lothrop Publishing Company
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 25 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories, American ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1896 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1896 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre:
Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
General Note:
Frontispiece printed in colors.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026621078 ( ALEPH )
ALG3629 ( NOTIS )
42949474 ( OCLC )

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Full Text
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FAMILY PETS

FOR THE YOUNGEST READERS



BOSTON
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY





Copyright, 1896,
BY

LoTurRoP PUBLISHING COMPANY.



All rights reserved.







FAMILY PETS

ABOUT ALLIE.

ERY far away,.across the ocean, in the city of Geneva,
which, you know, is in Switzerland, lives a little four-
year-old boy named Allie von K.





Though such a wee boy, Allie can oe in three
languages—German, French and English. I will tell
you how that is. His American mamma pets him in
English, his German papa frolies with him in German, and both
talk to him in French.

The way he sometimes jumbles all three languages together is:
very funny. Allie knows that he has a grandma and aunties
in America, but what “America” is he cannot quite make out.

Last summer he was -told that “Aunt Jo” was coming from
America.to see him. He was all anticipation and asked:

Se re







ABOUT ALLIE.

“Mamma, which way does the train from America come?”

Sometime he will cross the ocean— but not in a train—and
see what a nice place America is. One night he said to his mother:

“Mamma, when will the day come?”

“ When we get through
the night, dear,” was the
reply. .

“Oh,” he exclaimed,
“is the night a tunnel?”

He had noticed that
a train on entering a
tunnel goes from light
into darkness, then into
light again. Night is
a long, long tunnel, is
it not?

Allie asked his mother
about tar, one day, and
she explained that it is
a fluid which comes from
a tree. The little boy ~
immediately said: > BEES AUNT OU:

“When the wind blows hard does the tree cry and is the tar
its tears?” ;



All I am telling you is quite ‘true, for “Aunt Jo” told it all
to me after her visit in Geneva. This little boy takes with him
to bed every night a black woolly monkey, which I think is
very ugly indeed, but which he considers very beautiful, and

loves all the better because it was sent him from that wonder:
land “ America.” —C.L. Brine.

yo







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ALLIE AND HIS MAMMA.











WHY BEHSSIE LOVES HARRY.

WHY BESSIE LOVES HARRY.

Bessie goes to a lit
tle private school every
forenoon.. One morning
Miss Andrews, the teach-
er, took her pupils out
to walk. She often does
that in fair weather.
That day they went to
‘see the gold fish in the
pond in Doctor Macy’s



grounds. This pond is .

THE POND IN DOCTOR MACY’S GROUNDS.

small, but deep, and is
alive with the pretty gold-fish who swim round and round.

The children had brought bread crumbs to feed the fish, and
as they scattered tue crumbs the fish would follow them along
the bank. The bank was steep and the curbstone smooth and
slippery. Miss Andrews had to call out, every second, “Take

care! be careful!” as some little girlie would bend too far over

the deep water.

At last Bessie did lean too far over the deep water. She
slipped, and was gone quite out of sight in an instant!

Then Miss Andrews lost her presence of mind. Instead of

thinking at once what to do, she only ‘stood still and screamed.
So, when Bessie’s brown little head came up out of the water,

there was no one to take hold of her and pull her out, and
down she went again under the water.
But somebody had heard Miss Andrews scream. That somes





WHY BESSTEH LOVES HARRY.

body was eight-year-old Harry, who came running as fast as his
' two feet could bring him. And when Bessie came up the third
and last time, he was there to seize her and pull her out. So
it is no wonder that Bes-
sie and her mother, too,
love Harry. For had it
not been for Harry, Bes-
sie would certainly have
been drowned.

So she is always trot-
ting after Harry, and say-
ing: “O Harry, button
my boots! O Harry, give
me a drink of water!
Please Harry, let me ride
on your sled;” or, “ Here
is a red apple for you,
Harry; O Harry, here are
some chocolate creams; O
Harry, see what a cunning
saucer pie mamma _ has
baked .for you and me,”
and so on and _ so on,
until her mamma says she
should think he would be
quite tired out with hear-



‘ing «< Q- Harry!” “9 HARRY, GIVE ME A DRINK OF WATER.”

But he never is, O no! he is a manly little boy, and likes
to take care of little girls, and stray kittens, and all wee bits
of things. — D.



THE MAN WHO INVENTED THE PRINTING PRESS.

THE MAN WHO INVENTED THE PRINTING PRESS.

JOHANNES GUTENBERG.



Four hundred years ago, the
first book was printed. Yes,
there was once a time when
children had no books. The
grown folks had a kind of
books — written, not printed
books. These were on long
strips of parchment that rolled

up! Queer books, were they

not? and costly as well as
queer. None but the rich
could have them.

The first printing was done
with wooden blocks. The let-
ters were stamped on a block,
and then the wood was cut
away, leaving the raised let-
ters. With this the page was
printed. But it was slow work
and costly, too, as a new
block had to be made for

each page. About 1428, Johannes Gutenberg, a German, thought
by having each letter on a separate block they could be used over
and over. So he invented the printing press, and since then, the.

world has had printed books.

Every boy and girl who can read, wil!

like to see this copy of the statue of Gutenberg in Berlin.







MINNETTE AND HER BABY.

MINNETTE AND HER BABY.

Herbert and Nellie named her. When they started for school
in the morning, she had five handsome babies. At noon there
was only one.

“You put them in that great
coarse bag I saw you making,
Nora, I know you did,” said
Herbert.

“Like bad, horrid Ned
Parks, when he drowned Min-
nette’s other children,” sobbed
Nellie. “TI think it’s a shame,
Nora. I do!”

“T ‘low you children have
a great talent for arguing,”
replied Nora, “but when you
"cuse an innocent person of a
deed like this, it’s too much,
altogether. So, Master Her-
bert, you take Minnette and
her kitten out of- my basket



and put them in there,” point-

ing to a large chest of draw- poh aay enegags

ers. “Quick,” she commanded, pulling out the lower one. So

to the bottom of the deep place went Minnette and her baby.
“She’s homesick, Nora,” the children pleaded, when Minnette

eried and kept going out and coming back, taking the baby with her.





MINNETTE AND HER BABY.

“She'll get used to it, bime-by,” was all Nora would say.

But alas! On one of her journeys the baby fell to the floor,
and, after much coaxing and fondling, the poor frightened mother
ran to the nursery and awoke the sleeping children.

“Tt?s dead, Nora,” they cried, running back to arouse the sound
sleeper. “Do get up, please! and call mamma too!” —

But all they could do was to quiet poor sorrowing Minnette
until morning. Then Nora ran across to Mrs. Clark’s and_bor-

rowed one of Tabby’s seven babies. She put it into the basket

-where Minnette’s baby first lay. Then she called Minnette.

O, what a happy mother! She kissed and kissed her new
baby and sung a song. Then she jumped out of the basket and

coaxed papa and mamma to come and look too.

“Acted just as you all did when I came home from grand-
ma’s last summer,” Nellie. said.

But after the baby grew larger the children used to ores
if Minnette knew it was not her truly child.

So, one day, when the baby was frolicking about the nurs-
ery, and her mother sat watching her, Nellie went close to Min-
nette and whispered, “Do you know she isn’t your own child?”

Minnette shook her head, and twitched her ears.

“That means no, of course,” said Herbert.

Then Minnette arose, and with a stately air crossed to the

opposite side of the room. Fixing her eyes on the floor she sat

as though lost in thought.

“She’s grieved,” Nora said. “Supposing some neighbor should
come in and ask your mother that question about your own
self —how do you think she would feel?”

“Well, I won’t do so again,” sighed Nellie.

And both children begged Minnette’s pardon. —#. Addie Heath.

es jo





A NAUTICAL LESSON FROM GRANDPA.



TWO BOYS.

TWO BOYS.

There are two boys, o’er the way,
Whose names are Jack and Joe;

The day oft brings different things
To each where’er they go.

The one seems always cheerful,
The other most forlorn —

Jack always knows where blooms the rose,
"Tis Joe that finds the thorn.

And if a bee they follow
To its nest among the trees,
Jack, you mind, the honey will find,
Joell be stung by the bees.

Joe sees the clouds that gather
Ahead to spoil their fun.
Whate’er the day on which they play
Jack always sees the sun. —Marie 8. Ladd,







AN ADVENTURE OF RALPH, A KANSAS BOY,

AN ADVENTURE OF RALPH, A KANSAS BOY.

He lived near a wild prairie, and he had a dog named Dick.
And one day Dick coaxed him to take a trip out on the wild
prairie. Dick would run a few steps ahead, then wait for Ralph
to come up. Then he would run a few more steps and wait.
He did that, over and over, till the two had travelled four miles
out on to the wild prairie. Then Dick, the careless, naughty
dog, went off after a bird,
and left little two-year-old
Ralph alone on the wild,
wide prairie. And all the
time his mother was at work
in her kitchen, and thinking









Dick was taking such good

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cow had gone off on the :
wild. prairie, too, and the
woman went to look her
up. While she was looking,
-she heard a child cry. RALPH, WHEN A BIG BOY OF FIVE.

“A child on the prairie at this time o’ night!” said she; and
she started right off toward the crying. By this time Ralph

was crying right straight along, without stopping, so the woman







THE DOG?S CHRISTMAS WISH.

soon found him. And when she found the little bit of a boy,
sitting on the ground and crying so, she took him up in her
motherly arms, and said, “Poor little dear! what is your name?”
But Ralph could not tell, because he had not yet learned to talk.
So she took him home with her and went round to all the
neighbors, and asked if anybody had lost a baby. Nobody had.
“Perhaps the child wandered off from an emigrant train,’ one
of the men neighbors said.

““Pshaw!” said the women. “No mother would go on and
leave her baby behind.”

“There have some folks moved in over to the creek,” said
another man, “and I shouldn’t wonder if he belonged to them.”

So the woman harnessed up and drove. over to the creek;
and this time, she had come ‘to the right place to find the
mother of the lost baby. His mother had missed him, and was
looking everywhere for him. And though she had him at last,
safe and sound, she did not sleep one wink that night. For she
heard the wolves howling on the wide, wild prairie. And she
could not help thinking what might have become of him if the
woman had not found him. —Frances A, Humphrey.

THE DOG’S CHRISTMAS WISH.

My little master wants a drum,
And a watch for his very own;
But I am only a little dog,
And I'd like a turkey bone.
—WM. F, Butts.



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“HOW BIG, HOW BIG, IS THE LITTLE LASS?”







A STORY FOR THE LITTLE WOMAN.

A STORY FOR THE LITTLE WOMAN WHO HAS A BABY SISTER.

“JT never saw such a
naughty baby in all my
life! you won’t do a thing
but cry. You are as cross
as two sticks; and I do
think babies are scene

Mamie stopped there. I
am afraid she was going
to say that babies are
“horrid,’ when you and
I know they are the sweet
est things in the world—
when they don’t cry.

The secret of this baby’s
crying was this—she had
eaten a whole doughnut
that morning, reached up
and got it her own self



. from the table, and was
swallowing the last crumb when mamma spied her. So she was cross
just as grown folks are when they eat what is not good for them.

And Mamie did not go to. work the right way to manage her.
She said: “Baby, you must be good. Baby, you must come with
me. Baby, you must get up.” And baby just stuck her little shoe
‘toes up in the air, tucked her hands into her apron pockets and

said “unt,” which meant “I won't.”

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nd





A BALLOON IN DANGER.

As Mamie leaned against a tree, quite out of sorts and cross
herself, just the brightest thought popped into her mind. This
thought was about a little donkey that, once upon a time, would not
stir one step though his master whipped and whipped him. An old
man came by and said: “Hang a turnip in front of your donkey’s
nose and he will go.” So his master hung the turnip in front of
his donkey’s nose and off he started, trot, trot, trot, to catch up
with that turnip and eat it.

“That is the way to manage Baby,’ was Mamie’s thought. So
she said no more, “ Baby, you must get up.” She saw, a few feet
away, a butterfly resting on a clover top, and she said: “See,
Baby, see, pretty butterfly! Baby run and catch the butterfly!”
and Baby took her hands from her apron pockets, put her little
feet fairly upon the ground and trotted off in great glee, chasing
the butterfly from clover top to clover top. — H.



























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































A BALLOON IN DANGER.





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WELCOME VISITORS,





HOW FUSS AND FEATHERS WENT TRAVELLING.

HOW FUSS AND FEATHERS WENT TRAVELLING.

Donald is. a West Vir-
ginia boy, and Fuss and
Feathers are two of his
many pets. Feathers is
a most friendly hen.
Once she had a_ nest
in a box, in Donald’s
room. Every day she
left a great white egg
in the box, then flew out
of the window, cackling.
“An egg a day! an
egg a day! go barefoot,
go barefoot!” she said.
And Fuss answered, “TI
can’t get a shoe to fit
your foot! can’t get a



; © shoe to fit your foot!

DONALD AND HIS’ PETS. . it’s forked ! it’s forked ! as
At least that was what uncle Fred told Donald they said. And
uncle Fred knows all about hens and chickens.

Well, once these two went travelling, and this is how it was.
There came warm rains that winter. These rains filled the little
streams and melted the snow in the mountains. They poured into
the great Ohio River, and made it overflow its banks. The towns

near the river were flooded, and the farm lands covered. It came



~~

ri HOW FUSS AND FEATHERS WENT TRAVELLING.

up around the house of Donald’s father. One night the water
came in at the doors, and they all had to hurry up stairs. The
next morning the hen-house was gone. Donald cried when he
thought he would never see his pets again; but Fuss and Feath-
ers took care of themselves. The chickens on the lower roost
were drowned, but they kept on the upper perch, and went
sailing down the river. Fuss was frightened at the water below
him, and flew to the open window of the hen-house. Feathers

followed; such a world of waters as they saw; haystacks and

fences were floating near them; away they went, past the farms
and near the great towns. They were very hungry. Feathers
kept quite still, but Fuss crowed sometimes in a lonesome sort
of way. They floated almost a day, and were many miles from
home when some men in skiffs put a rope around the hen-house
and drew it ashore. They were taken to a strange yard and
fed.

At last the waters went down. Donald again played in the yard,
but was sad for the loss of his pets. One night as his papa
was reading his paper, he called, “Donald, here is news for you,”
and read aloud to him about a man who had caught a hen-house
floating down the river with two chicken perched in the window.

“ll write to that man,” said Donald. So he wrote a letter himself

telling all about his pet chickens. He said he would send his Christ-

mas dollar to the man if he would send them back. In a few
days one of the great steamboats stopped in front of his house
and put out a box with ‘Fuss and Feathers in it. They were
so glad to get home, I expect they did not want to go travelling
again very soon; but this fall Donald put them im a new white
coop and took them to the Fair, and they came home with a red

ribbon tied to the coop. — Anna R. Henderson.



PLAYING RED RIDING-HOOD.

PLAYING RED RIDING-HOOD.

When I was a little girl there lived not far from my father’s
house, two dear old women in a little bit of a gray house. And
once a week my mamma would say, “Now, little Red Riding-
Hood, would you like to take this mince pie to the Goody-two-
Shoes? or this quince preserve? or this bit of beef to roast? or
these caps? or this loaf of fresh bread?”

And I did so like to have my mamma call me Red Riding-
Hood. Of all the little girls I had read about I loved Red Rid-
ing-Hood the best. Only I did wish the wolf had not eaten her.

So I would take my basket and go out through the back door,
and down the garden path, and over the stile, and go along the
narrow path by the brook, and across the meadow, and through
the bit of pine woods to the little gray house where the Goody-
two-Shoes lived. (Their real names were Tilly and Sally.)

When I got to their door, Kitty Yellow would always come
out to meet me and rub against me and purr. And then I
knocked, which is good manners. And Sally came to the door
and said, “If here isn’t little Red Riding-Hood!”-and Tilly said,
“Did you meet the big gray wolf, dear?”

“ Yes, Goody-two-Shoes,” I replied, “I did. And he was a-whisk-
ing his tail and a-running on the fence.” It was a big gray
squirrel, but I played it was a wolf. And the Goody-two-Shoes
would not laugh a bit. They took it all seriously.

Then I would take out the bit of beef, or caps, or whatever
it might be. Oh! it was great fun to play Red Riding-Hood and
Goody-two-Shoes. — — fi.







































































































































































































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“NOW, LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD,” SAID MAMMA.



A TOLU PUG.

A TOLU PUG.

One morning the door bell rang so loudly that two small maid-
ens flew to the door, where, to their great surprise and delight,
they found the funniest, cleanest, blackest-nosed little pug, you
ever saw. He wore a silver collar, on which was tied a letter
of introduction “to Uncle Sam’s sweet little nieces Nora and
Margaret.” ~

Nora called all the family by name, on her way to her mamma’s
room, followed by Madge, screaming with delight.

“Why, child alive!” said Grandmother Barnet, waking from
her nap in the chair, “I thought the house was on fire.”. “And
I,” added Aunt Katherine, “thought it must be burglars.”

“Nora, Nora, has the house tumbled down?” called Dan from
the library, where he was studying his algebra; and when they
found it was nothing more dreadful than the arrival of a new
pug, they were very much relieved.

“We'll line his basket with lovely blue, like my Sunday dress,”
said Nora. “No, we'll have yellow, lovely yellow, like oranges,”
insisted Madge; but Puggie didn’t care what color it was, so he
laid his little monkey face on his paws and went to sleep.

“Now, ll bathe Puggie,” said Nora one day, as she held the
soft white sponge in the warm water and made a tub full of
white bubbles, “then, Madge, you can put on his new yellow bow”
—he wore yellow one day and blue the next —“ and,” concluded
Nora, “we'll call on Pauline Maxwell.”

Puggie was a very proper caller and carried his card with
him, and when Hannah Maria came to the door, he put it in
her big red hand. He had learned most beautiful manners in his




















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PETTING THE TOLU PUG.



A TOLU PUG.

new home; why, Uncle Sam would hardly have known him!
Yet he had one very distressing habit; I know you never could
guess what it was, and I am so sorry to say he learned it from
his dear little mistresses.

One hour after, Puggie, dressed in a huge yellow satin bow,
with two blue-eyed little women in white, sat in Pauline’s beau-
tiful home. Pauline and Madge were playing duetts while the rest
listened. Suddenly Puggie smacked his lips, rose from his seat
and began to look for something up under the edge of the rock-
ing-chair. His funny black nose sniffed
and sniffed; then trotting to the piano
he ran his bright eyes over the under
side, then on the window-sill, but found
nothing.

“Why, Nora,’ asked Aunt Jessie,
watching him from her seat by the open
window, “ what does Puggie want ?”



Just then his pug-ship showed her
what he wanted before Nora could ex- | THE TOLU PUG.
plain. Under the arm of the great leather chair, where Pauline
sat to study her geography, Puggie had found a wad of grayish
chewing-eum. His black eyes sparkled as he seized it and went
back to his seat. There he sat, chewing away for dear life, his
comical nose shining as if it had been polished, the big yellow
satin bow bobbing up and down with every motion of his fat little
jaws. |

Poor Puggie had touched, tasted, and fallen a sad victim to the
dreadful habit of tolu chewing. ;

And if his little mistresses wished to know how queerly their
faces went when chewing gum, they had only to look at Puggie.

Valentine March.



THH OXEN’S RECEPTION.

THE OXEN ’"S RECEPTION.

“Like oxen? Why, oxen
are too stupid to be liked,”
said Olga.

“Think so?” and Farmer
Day laughed and _ patted
Hero and Hercules. “Just
invite your friends to come
to Grass Cirele at 5.30 P. M.,
and we will show you how
stupid oxen are.”

So at the time named we
were all there together with
the oxen. They wore flow-



ers upon their heads and

HERO AND HERCULES.

ribbons on their necks. The
first thing they did was to salute the company by kneeling.
Then two brightly painted stands were brought and Hero put
his hind feet on one stand and his fore feet on the other, and
Hercules walked under him. They crept around the circle on
their knees. They waltzed in perfect time to the music Black
Tom played.

They ended by see-sawing on a board just like the children.
This they liked so much they were not willing to stop for a
long time. “Now to your barn!” said Farmer Day. His men
held up two hurdles, the oxen leaped over them one after the
other, and then walked away. — Mrs. E. L. S. Puffer.



AITTY CLOVER.

KITTY CLOVER.

Some milk sweet and creamy, I gave Kitty Clover,
She tasted a little, then ran to the door —

And loudly she called, “ Me-ow,” over and over,

Till out from the stable came little kits, four:
Smutty-nose, Black-back, White-foot and Gray —
Frisky, and playful, and graceful were they.



LITTLE KITS FOUR.

Then proud Kitty Clover said to them, “We'll dine
On that pan of fresh milk; it is creamy and fine.”
But her talk was all Kitty-talk — not yours or mine.
— Sarah E, Howard.

te



——



LISTENING TA THE WAITS.



HOW THH BOYS SKATED.

HOW THE BOYS SKATED.

It snowed and thawed, it rained and froze,
Then cleared off in the night;

And when the sun next morning rose,
We saw the queerest sight.

The streets were paved with shining ce
The boys flew up and down ;
Each wore the while a joyous smile —



None wore a solemn frown.

SKATING TO SCHOOL.

It was so droll, thought Will, to hear
His father say that morn,

“Skate to the corn-house door and bring
A basket-full of corn.”

For five whole days they went their ways,
’ With runners on their feet ;-
To school they skated, skated home,

And skated down the street.

The wind then from the south blew warm, °
The gentle rain came down;

The streets were filled with trickling rills,
The fields grew bare and brown.



LION AND TINY.

The sober folk who walked the earth
The rain saw fall with joy;

But sadly were the skates laid by,

By many a sad boy.

And, by and by, in some bright home,
With children at his knee,
He'll tell them how he skated then

In eighteen eighty-three.

— Helen Bird.



LION AND TINY.

When Dotty goes to market for mamma, Lion always goes

with her, to carry the big basket.

queerly. It made a
racket all its own self.
Pretty soon it said, “ bow-
wow!” . Then its cover
lifted a little bit. Dotty
peeped in and—there
was Tiny! Lion loves
Tiny, and likes to take
her with him every-
where. So he had picked
her up in his mouth,
dropped her into the
basket, shut the cover
tight, and trotted off
with her to market.

— Mary Johnson.

One day, the basket acted



DOTTY, LION AND TINY.



A LAND WHERE 1T IS AL WAYS SUMMER.

4

A LAND WHERE IT IS ALWAYS SUMMER.

This land where
it is always sum-
mer is the Island
of New Guinea.
It is the largest
island in the
world. Itlies in
the Pacific Ocean,




a. north of Australia.
NV) On this island

| A BIRD OF PARADISE. live the beautiful
Birds of Paradise —the most beautiful
birds in the world. These birds are shy,

PETC I ILS

where they are perching, will frighten
them away. They never alight on the
ground. In the early morning is the best
time to get near them. Then you may
sometimes see ten, or perhaps twenty,
flying around one tree.

Their plumage is of all colors — crim-
son, rose-color, sky-blue, green, deep blue,
velvety black. A traveller in New Guinea
says he saw six of them dancing one
> ,)| morning on a tree; their green and yel-
ZN ake | low ruffs stood out, and their long flow-

and the least bit of noise, under the tree

S im



A LAND WHERE IT IS ALWAYS SUMMER,

ing plumes looked as though each had been carefully combed
out. They do not sing, but twitter when they fly, something
like a sparrow.

Their nests are built of fine grass and lined with vegetable
down —like fern wool. Each nest has five eggs, the size of
sparrows’ eggs. They are a delicate pink spotted with red.

The little hen
never leaves her











nest when she is
setting. Her
mate feeds

her ; an





AN EMIGRANT TRAIN.

if he is killed, she sits on her eggs till
she starves to death.

The houses of the natives are built on high
posts. Some of them build their houses in
the tops of high trees. They reach them
by steps like a ladder. The settlers from other countries travel in
an emigrant train as they do in our own West.

Besides the Birds of Paradise, New Guinea has other beautiful birds ;
among them is the crested Pigeon.

A NATIVE OF NEW GUINEA.



THE RABBITS’ 8S UPPER-PARTY

THE RABBITS’ SUPPER-PARTY.

Freddy was very fond of his rabbits. Grandpa was quite as
fond of his garden. He was fond of his long rows of tall, early
pea-vines. He thought the family might soon have nice, green
peas from these vines. But one morning he found that thieves
had been at his vines. They had gnawed the pods. But the

thieves had forgotten to cover up their tracks. These tracks led -

straight to the rabbits’ house; so grandpa knew Mr. and Mrs.
Bunny were the thieves. That night Freddy shut up his pets.

- But the rabbits were too much for him. They burrowed
their way out, and gnawed the vines. They did the same the
next night, and the next, till grandpa got quite angry. On the
fourth morning, however, he found the vines had not been
touched. This seemed strange; but, when Freddy went to carry
his pets some clover, Mr. Bunny was missing. Freddy and Tom,
the stable boy, looked everywhere, but could not find him.

Next night Tom, who slept over the stable, thought he would
take a look at the vines, before he went to sleep. ‘The moon shone
brightly, so he could see the vines clearly. All at once he saw
something moving across the beet bed — something gray, long-eared,
swift. Aha! Mr. Bunny had come home! Behind Mr. Bunny,
came a big, brown, wild rabbit, and another and another, till there
seemed to be no end to them. They went straight to the pea-
vines and began to nibble. As to Tom, he called grandpa and
Freddy, and, in a trice, Mr. and Mrs, Bunny were caught, and
the wild rabbits scampered off without saying so much as “ Thank
you.” —E. A. Fanning.













THE WILD RABBITS SCAMPER OFF WITHOUT SAYING “THANK YOU.”



BOB,

BOB.

Bob was an English dog. He belonged to an English soldier,
whom he loved with all his big dog-heart. He went with his
master and his regiment to the Crimea. He took part in all the

battles of the famous siege of Sebastopol.

Every evening, he would seat himself by the side of the

wounded soldiers, and look at them with gentle, pitying eyes.

He would lick their hands,
and, in this way, try to lessen
their pain. .

He was so devoted and so
brave, that a medal was con-
ferred upon him; such a
medal as is given to a brave
and devoted soldier. He was
enrolled as a member of
the regiment. He always an-
swered to his name at the
roll-call.

After peace was declared,
‘the troops embarked for Eng-
land. But Bob was not to be

found. The officers went in search of him, and brought him



BOB.

back. He had got on board the wrong vessel. They arrived
in London, and, on the day of the grand review of the troops,
Bob marched at the head of his regiment, before the Queen of
England. This picture is a true portrait of Bob. —D.





it





























































































OUT OF CHURCH.



BABY ALICE SEES THE CHILDREN COMING



“A SWEET VALENTINE.

A SWEET VALENTINE.



GRANDMOTHER.

loveliest valentine she

Last winter Elbert spent
in Florida, with his father
and mother. The first of
February the flowers began
to bloom. St. Valentine’s
day was at hand. “Mamma,”
he said, “won't the folks
at home miss me? How
will grandma feel when

‘there is no one to. slip

funny valentines under the
door, and ring the bell,
and run before she comes ?”’

“T have an idea,” said
mamma, “J think of some-
thing which you can send
to grandmother which I am
sure she will think is the

has ever seen.”

So Elbert and mamma went to work and with a little help

from papa the valentine was soon ready, and Elbert took it to

the post-office that afternoon.

Grandma sat at her table in the North. All outside was white
with snow. Before her were some pussy-willows, that aunt Ada

had gathered and coaxed into bloom.

A ring at the door was

heard. There stood the postman with a stout little box. Grand



A SWEET VALENTINE.

ma opened it. It seemed full of soft, damp Florida moss; but,
in the midst, surrounded by its glossy green leaves, lay a large
white magnolia blossom. Aunt Ada placed it in a vase. A av
licious odor filled the room, and grandmother found on one of the
large, white, wax-like leaves, scratched in delicate lines, perhaps
with a pin, these precious verses :

Far from the winter’s ice and snow, The heart which sends it is warm and true,
Far from the land where the cold winds blow, Rich as the fragrance it breathes for you;
Down in the southern glow and shine, Take you the love, dear grandmother mine,
Blossomed for you this valentine. Which comes with your Southern Valentine.

: ’ —Anna R. Henderson.







































































CRESTED PIGEONS OF NEW GUINEA.



9 ELSIE’ S WHITE MICE.





A FRENCH SCHOOL.



ELSIE’'S WHITE MICE.

Elsie had been sick; she was getting better. The doctor came
only once a day. He said Elsie could sit up in the big chair
pretty soon. But the days seemed very long to Hlsie.

When a little girl can run about and roll hoop, or coast, the
days are not half long enough. But when she has had scarlet
fever, and can hardly hold her head up, the days are very long
indeed.

Elsie has an uncle George. He is very fond of Elsie. One
day he brought in a box and sat it on the table beside her bed.
There was a little house in the box. In front of the house was
a glass tower.



ELSTE’S WHITE MIVE.

“Is it a house for Anne Maria?” asked Elsie. Anne Maria
is her doll.

Uncle George lifted the glass tower. He scattered some meal
on the floor of the tower. Pretty soon out ran a little white
mouse from the door of the house; then another and another,
till there were four white mice in the tower. They began to
eat. What white tiny creatures they were!

“They are lovely,” ‘said Hlsie, “and you are lovely too, uncle
George, to give them to me.”

Elsie played with her white mice every day. She sometimes
took them out of their house and let them nestle in her neck.
She was playing with them one day when the doctor came in.
He did not see them. They had hidden under Elsie’s chin.

The doctor put down his head to‘listen to Elsie’s breathing.
Out popped the white mice and jumped into the doctor’s shirt
bosom! The doctor jumped too. He did not expect to see mice
- popping about in that way.

Then Elsie laughed very heartily, and the doctor said he was
glad to hear her laugh.
He said it did people
good to laugh. Elsie has
got well now and she
still keeps her white
mice. She has taught
them many pretty tricks,
and they run all over
her, and often hide in her ==
hair.

She calls them the
“nicest” of pets.

































































THE WHITE MICE IN THEIR HOUSE,















































































































































































































































































1?

“a HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL





WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL,” SAYS GRANDMOTHER.

rt



THE REASON WHY.

THE REASON WHY.

“My dear,- what makes your cheeks so red?”
I asked one winter day

A little boy who came indoors —

To finish up his play.

“Why, don’t: you know how cold it is?

It’s cold as cold can be;

And that’s what makes my cheeks so red 5

L can’t stay out,” said he.

“My dear, what makes your cheeks so red ?’
TI asked one summer day

A little girl who came indoors

To finish up her play.

“Why, don’t you know how hot it is?

It’s hot as hot can be;

And that’s what makes my cheeks so red;
I can’t stay out,” said she.

And now, when sometimes I myself,

Though I am wise and old,

Do think the day is much too hot

Or very much too cold,

I try to think if it were changed,

Perhaps I might not find

The weather just the opposite

A bit more to my mind! —Alice Wellington Rollina





















































































































































































A LITTLE FAGOT GATHERER-





y | THE FAYS AT SCHOOL.

THE FAYS AT SCHOOL. -

In a summer garden is a
boarding-school,
For the fairy maidens under
flower-rule.
ae \ Witchy little fairies, fairies
=) sweet and prim,

Vie Lazy careless fairies, fairies




neat and trim.
All are met together lessons
hard to learn,
How to paint flower-petals,
how to curl a fern;
How to make the may-flowers

A LAZY FAIRY.

and the violets fair;
How to sprinkle perfumes on the balmy air;

How to place a dew-drop in a flower’s heart;

How to delve for honey (which is quite an art ) 5

How to ring the lilies in a lovely chime;

How to make the four-o’clocks open just on-time;

How to see in everything special use and beauty,

How through all their fairy lives to do their fairy duty.

— Harviot Brewer,



Are you worth your weight in gold?
Every good child is, I’m told.



EASTER MONDAY AT THE WHITH HOUSE.

EASTER MONDAY AT THE WHITE HOUSE.



“y7's A SURPRISE,’? SAID NANETTE.

“Tt’?s a surprise, you know,” and

Nanette put her finger on her lips
‘and smiled at old aunt Tulip

“Mamma don’t know one bit about
it.” And mamma was surprised im
deed when Nanette lifted the cover
of the basket aunt Tulip had brought.
“Q what a queer nest is this!
What kind of hen laid these eggs?”
And mamma lifted first a pink egg, -
then a blue egg, then a scarlet egg,
then a gilt egg. “Is it a riddle?
Shall I guess it? Well, then, 1
guess a pink hen laid the pink egg,
and a blue hen the blue egg, and
a scarlet hen the scarlet egg, and the
gilt egg, O I’m sure I can never guess
what kind of hen laid the gilt egg!”
“T know,” said Nanette, clap-
ping her hands and dancing on one

foot. “Aunt Tulip’s big Cochins laid every single egg! and aunty

boiled them in
know you said
think, did you,
eggs to roll?”

the loveliest dyes, didn’t you, aunty? And you
we'd go to see the egg-rolling; but you didn’t
mamma, that I should have such lovely, lovely
and Nanette threw her arms round the neck of

the dear old kind colored aunty and kissed her again and again.



EASTER MONDAY AT THE WHITE HOUSE.

It was Easter Monday, and every Easter Monday the grounds
of the White House, where our President lives, are given up to
the children for their egg-rolling. When Nanette got there, crowds
of children had already arrived, both big and little. For the

MAMMA ON THE WAY TO SEE THE EGG-ROLLING.



papas and mammas, the
grandpas and grandmas,
were there, and for that
day, at least, they were only
big children themselves.

Nanette soon found lit-
tle cousin Ned, and they
rolled their eggs together,
back and forth, over the
green turf. Sometimes
they hit, the eggs were
so many, and the children
so plenty.

Crash! there goes a gilt
egg all to bits, and nothing
can ever put poor Humpty
Dumpty together again.
The little blue-eyed owner
of the gilt egg cried,

but Nanette comforted her, and let her have her gilt egg to roll.
Some of the eggs were tied up in bits of gay calico.

"When the children were tired of egg-rolling, they had lunch, and
those who had not brought lunch, bought fruit, and wonderful
gingerbread horses, of the good-natured colored pedlers at the

gates. It was a merry, happy time.

— Abby C. Philbrooke.



LITTLE BUZZY FLY.— THE CHAMELEON.

LITTLE BUZZY FLY.

Once upon a time little
Buzzy Fly grew tired of being
only Buzzy Fly and thought
she would try being a fine
lady. And she did look truly
fine in her trained silk gown,
and carrying her pretty fan.
Only her bangs would noé
lie flat down close to her



eyebrows, but stuck straight

*%‘o no! MISS BUZZY.”

up in the air. And that was
how her cousin, Stingy Wasp, knew her, I think. For Buzzy walked
straight by Stingy, and pretended she did not know him. But
Stingy crawled up her white gown, wasp-fashion, gave her fan a
jerk with his feelers and said, “O ho! Miss Buzzy, all the fine
‘clothes in the world won’t make you anything but just Buzzy
Fly. —D.



THE CHAMELEON.

When a chameleon is cold, he is brown. When
in shade, he is white. When he comes into the
light, he turns yellow or green. When angry he
is red, a bright red. He is a queer, harmless little



creature, and lives in Africa.



‘ BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS.

: BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS.

In 1783, the first balloon was sent up. It was only a globe
about thirteen feet in diameter, filled with warm air, and no car
attached. It was sent up from the Champ-de-Mars, Paris. A crowd
gathered to see it go up. It came down at Gonesse, and gave
the country folks a terrible fright. They, at first, thought it &
monster, and attacked it with stones, pitchforks and flails.

The next balloon had a cage attached, containing a sheep, a
duck and a cock. What they thought of this way of travelling











































AR OF A BALLOON.

is not told us. They came down in safety in a wood not far
away from the place they started from. In the same year two
men went up in a balloon.

Since that time, many people have gone up in balloons. In
late years, they have been used in war. They are sent up in







DESCENT OF THE FIRST BALLOON AT GONESSE, FRANCE, 1783. (rom an old print of that time.)





BALLOONS AND ALIR-SHIPS.

such a way that the occupants can look down upon the enemy’s
camp and line of battle. These balloons are called “captive bal-
loons,’ because they are held to the earth by strong cables, so















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































i
aS Soper pe

; FIG. 2, — STEAM AIR-SHIP an BY HENRI See IN 1852,
the currents of air cannot take them away. A common balloon
has to go just the way the wind may chance to take it, and is
sometimes carried over seas, and the occupants are drowned.
Many attempts have been made to build air-ships that can be
propelled through the air, as a ship is propelled through the
water. In 1852, M. Henri Giffard built such a ship. Fig. 2
shows you how it was built. The balloon part was covered by |
a net which was fastened below to a long strip of wood. At one
end of this strip of wood, you see a triangular sail, which served
as a rudder to steer with. Below the strip of wood is the
steam engine with the propeller formed of two paddles. The
engine, together with the water and coal, were heavy. Then,



























BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS.

too, it was not quite safe to have an engine so near the inflamm-
able gas with which the balloon is filled.

So the brothers Tissandier invented another air-ship to be pro-
pelled by electricity (Fig. 3). They went up in this in 1883 and
1884. These ships are not at the mercy of currents of air, but
can be propelled against the wind, and can be brought back to the
place they started from, a thing you cannot do with a balloon.





























































































































































FIG. 8. —AIR-SHIP PROPELLED RY ELECTRICITY. BUILT BY THE BROTHERS TISSANDIER.

The parachute is something like an umbrella. It is dropped
from the balloon when in the air. It comes down gently. M.
Jacques Garnerin first came down in a parachute in 1797. How
do you think you should like to drop from the sky in one of
those things?



v

s/t

wie

i

i





1797.

PARACHUTE,

JACQUES GARNERIN IN HIS





PHANTS AT WORK.

ELL



THE KIND LITTLE SISTER.

THE KIND LITTLE SISTER.

Just under the drawing:
room windows
Where the noon-tide
sun was hot,
And the dandelions were
thickest,
Lucy chose for her gar-
den plot.
And there ’twixt the
grasses and clover
A tulip had lost its way,
And opened its gay, scar-
let petals

One morning in breezy
May.



“You precious, you dear

“CAN YOU HEAR?”

darling tulip,
You grew and blossomed for me;
IT wonder how old you are, tulip,
I guess I’m a little past three,”
Said Lucy, her voice full of sweetness,
Her tiny hands on her knees,
And her small face bent very gravely
To look at the tulip. “Oh please,

“Can you hear? I’m sure you can, tulip,
Your ears stick this way and that,



THE KIND LITTLE SISTER.

And your nose is black with big freckles
Like mine and Ginger’s, the cat.

I love you, bright tulip, because you
Came in my garden to grow.

Tl make you a visit real of’en,
To tell you I love you, you know.”

“T am to be queen at the party,”
Cried Alice at breakfast next day,
“Tll sit on a throne trimmed with flowers
"Til it's time for the singing and play.
Til hold a long stick called a sceptre,
And wear a crown on my head.”
“Oh! won't it be ’squisite? Our Alice
A queen!” Lucy breathlessly said.

Across the wet grass she ran swiftly
To pick the tulip so dear.
“Q tulip, I love you, and love you!”
She murmured, while one shining tear
Dropped into its chalice. “I love you,
And so I give you away.”
“Here, Alice,” she cried, “is my tulip
To wear to the party to-day.”
—LHlizabeth Cummings.





WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

She sat up in bed. The curtain was drawn up, and she saw
the moon, and it looked as if it were laughing at her.

“You needn’t look at me, Moon,” she said, “you don’t know
anything about it, for you can’t see in the daytime. Besides I
am going to sleep now.”

So she laid down, shut her eyes tight and tried to go to
sleep. Her little clock on the mantel went. “ tick-tock, tick-tock.”
She generally liked to hear it go “tick-tock.” But to-night it
sounded just as if it said, “I-know, I-know, J-know.”

“You don’t know, either,’ said Minnie, opening her eyes
wide. “You weren’t a you old thing! you was up stairs
the whole time.”

Her loud voice awoke the sleeping parrot. He took his head
from under his wing, and cried out, “Polly did!”

“That's a wicked story, you naughty bird!” said Minnie.
“You were in granma’s room, so now!”

Then Minnie tried to go to sleep again. She lay down and
pulled the sheet over her head, and counted white sheep, just
as grandma said she did, when she couldn’t sleep. But her head
began to ache, and there was a big lump in her throat. “O
dear! O dear!” she whispered softly. “I’m so miser’ble. I
wish, O I wish I hadn’t.”

Pretty soon there came a soft, very soft patter of four little
feet, and her own dear pussy jumped upon the bed, kissed Min-
nie’s cheek, and then began to “ pur-r-r-r, pur-r-r-r.” It was very
queer, but that too sounded as if pussy said “JI-know, I-know.”



WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

“Yes, you do know, kitty,” said Minnie, and then she threw
her arms around kitty’s neck and cried bitterly. “And—TI guess
— I— want — to — see— my — mamma!”

Mamma smiled and opened her arms, when she saw the little,

white-gowned, weeping
girlie coming, and then
Minnie told her whole
miserable story.

“T was awilul, awful
naughty, mamma, but
IT did want the custard
pie so bad, and so I
ate it up, most a whole
inside, and then, I—I
—O I don’t want to
tell, but I ’spect I must,
IT shut kitty in the pantry
to make you think she
did it. But Tm truly
sorry, mamma.”

Then mamma told Min-
nie that she had known
all about it. But she
had waited and hoped



“YOU NEEDN'T LOOK AT ME, MOON,’? SHE SAID.

that her little daughter would be brave enough to come and

tell her all about it herself.

“But, mamma,” she asked, as she nestled down into bed
again, “how did you know it wasn’t kitty?”
“Because kitty would never have ‘eft a spoon in the pie,”

replied mamma, smiling.

—N. U. P.



OUR POETESS.

OUR POETESS.



7 DA we will call her, because it 1s not
her real name. Her real name is a secret.
She is now only five years old. She ex:
pects her sixth birthday soon, however,
‘and has made many plans for that won-
derful day. There is to be a party, and

PEGASUS. a birthday cake on which six bright-colored
candles will burn for the six little years. There will be ice
cream. There will be bonbons that snap, with gay paper caps
inside that the children will put on their heads. Then they will
all play the Kindergarten games, and dance the Kindergarten
dances. Best of all, Ida intends to be perfectly good when she
is six years old.

As soon as Ida began to talk she began to compose what
she calls “verses.” One of her last Christmas gifts was the
Wonder Book by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The story in that book
which she likes best, is the story of the horse Pegasus with
his silvery wings. This Pegasus is the winged horse poets are
said to ride. “So,” says Ida, “I am going to be a poetess when
I grow up, and ride Pegasus, and make him fly higher than he
ever went before way up, past the sky!”

You will like to see some of the verses of this poetess. On
a card, for her big brother, Ida -had this verse written :

Our hearts to cheer, the Christmas bells do ring,
Bere and there and everywhere. O hark, and hear them sing!



THE RABBIT I DIDNT GET.

In a letter to her uncle, she wrote this New Year’s verse:

““New Year’s is the happiest— If we were a little brook,
With love, sweet love, the bells do ring. We would make a little nook
The brooks so easily do go, For the puss to bunt around.
Without knowing where they go. She would——”

But just here Ida spied her friend Sadie coming up the “ walk”
with her new Christmas doll and the verse suddenly ended.
—Mary P. W. Smith.

THE RABBIT I DIDN'T GET.

I always said my lessons to mamma, and
that morning she said, “When you can
spell ‘pen’ all right you shall go.” So I
said “p-e-n pen” over and over to myself
till I could spell it all right. Then Joey
=, and I started for the rabbit trap. He was

sure he should find a rabbit in it, because he

ee had set it where the rabbit tracks were thickest.

“And I shall give it to you, Teeny,” he said.

“And will it be a softy gray rabbit, with pink eyes and soft
long ears to lift it up with?” I asked.

“ Yes,” said Joey. So I trudged along over the snow, as happy



as could be, not minding the cold one bit, when all at once
Joey called out, “Halloo! it’s gone, the trap’s gone!” Sure
enough it was! Joey didn’t cry because he was a big boy,
but I did, for I was only six. There were small shoe-tracks
around the spot so we knew some boy had stolen it. After-
wards Joey caught me two rabbits in his new trap. But I al-
ways felt bad about that rabbit I didn’t get. —D.



PERCY’S DREAM.









































































































PERCY’S DREAM.

“Q mother dear, last night I dreamed a dream
So strange and sweet! I dreamed that Baby May
Wandered away, and, tired with too much play,
Lay down to sleep, far from her own dear room,
Within a dark, dark cavern with a gleam

Of sunlight falling just within the gloom.

And as she lay there, rosy, sweet, and sleeping,
Out from the darkness came a lion creeping.

He stopped and looked, then bowed his awful head
Above our darling May, and Nurse, she said

I sprang right up and cried out in my sleep,
‘Go ’way, go’way!’ and then began to weep.



IN THE MONTH OF MAY.

But soon I dreamed I had no cause for fear;
The dear old lion, like our Rover here,

Just kissed our baby—touched her sunny hair
With his big tongue, and then, with tender care,
Lay down beside her, like a watch dog keeping
His constant, faithful guard above her, sleeping.”

You dreamed, my Percy, of those blessed years
Which are to come; when without any fears

The little lamb shall with the lion play,

And a dear child shall lead them—like our May.



—H.



IN THE MONTH OF MAY.





















































































































































































































































































































































































































































4 HAPPY TAMILYs



THE HUMMING BIRDS’ PROTEST.

THE HUMMING BIRDS’ PROTEST.

EEP in a honeysuckle grove



I heard a hum hum humming;
I looked about me here and there
To see what might be coming.
A dozen dainty jewelled things —
Their size I will not mention—
Among the fragrant honey-cups
“Were holding a convention.
The leader in a hammock swung,
Of cobweb neatly twisted,
The others, poised on blossom-tubes,
Some grievous wrong resisted.
Their enemies, as I made out,
While tears my eyes were dimming,
Were little cruel thoughtless girls
Who had them killed for trimming.
“My dearest friends,” said Diamond Dust,
“My neighbors, and my cousins,
This moment for the milliners
Are being killed by dozens.
My sister, Princess Velvetwing |
(Let every soft heart harden),
I saw to-day upon a hat
Worn in this very garden.”
“Hum hum,” said Green-and-gold, “in view
Of what is hanging o’er us,



THE HUMMING BIRDS’ PROTEST.

Our duty first should be to call
All little girls before us.

Tell them how hard it is to bear,
When dearest, ones are taken,

Sweet hum-bird babies left alone,
And happy homes forsaken.

Ask them to think how they would feel
If some much-loved relation —

Hum, hum, were —oh dear, hum, hum, hum,
By way of decoration” —

Here great excitement seized on all,
And there was such a flutter!

Each member tried with might and main
His sense of wrong to utter.

What more was said, I cannot tell,
Myself their ally deeming,

I started up to make a speech,
And found that I’d been dreaming.

i —M. F. Butts.





HOME OF THE PEACOCK.











THE INFANTE, DON BALTAZAR CARLOS. (From painting by Velasquez.)



THE TEXY AND THE SPIDER.

THE TEXT AND THE SPIDER.

Fan sat quite still, and all alone in the big square pew.
She said the text over and over to herself: Little children, keep
yourselves from idols. It was so
short, and began so sweetly, she
was sure she could remember it,
and how pleased papa would be.

Suddenly, from the gallery, a
big spider came spinning down,
straight down toward Mrs. Allen’s
bonnet. O! O! was it going to
drop on to her! No, it stopped
just over the pink rose. It swung
gently to and fro. It put out a
leg and touched the pink rose. .
It was thinking what a fine pink



rose that was to spin a trap in.
Z i) Then it took a little wider
silences hs a swing over Mrs. Allen’s right ear,
Nh ve AN then back over her left ear. Was
_ THE BIG PEW. ww : Sens ; - e
it thinking of crawling down into
her ear? Ugh! If it did Fan knew she should scream. But
the spider only took a look at each ear, and then up it went,




















BAN SAT '





and down again, and up and down, up and down, till watching
it put the text quite out of Fan’s head, and all she could re-
member to tell papa after service was Little children.

— H.



THE MAMMOTH.

THE MAMMOTH.





















































UAE mana

7 ee
Ftd jiamun WEF

A MAMMOTH !







The mammoth was a kind

of elephant, very much

bigger than any elephant
now to be found. He had
huge tusks. He lived in
America and in Asia.

Skeletons of the mam-

moth have been dug up
in Kentucky, New York and
Michigan. In Siberia hun-
dreds and hundreds of them

have been dug up. Their

huge tusks furnish a great

quantity of ivory. I dare
say you may have seen
ivory things made out of

the tusks of mammoths.
We do not know just how
many years ago mammoths

lived on our earth. A few years ago a mammoth was dug up in
Siberia whose flesh was so well preserved that the dogs ate it.

It may seem strange to you that any species of animal should

die out so that not one should be left.

But we fear that our

own buffaloes are dying out. They are being killed by the hunters.

If our government does not do something to keep the hunters

from killing them there will soon not be one buffalo left. — D,



HOW BUTTEROUP WENT TO CHURCH.

HOW BUTTERCUP WENT TO CHURCH.

It was a pretty church, and all about it were fields of daisies,
and sweet-smelling clover.

Now when Buttercup went to this church, she did not go to
the regular service, but to Sunday-school. Buttercup was a large
yellow cow, who belonged in a field next to the church in which
she ought to have stayed. There was plenty of nice grass there for
her breakfast, dinner and supper. But Buttercup, like a good
many people, wanted a change, and when she saw all the boys
and girls going into the church door she thought she would like
to go. So she tried all the rails of the fence till she found one
that was loose. Then she jerked her head up and down, till she
unfastened it so she could crawl through on her knees. ~

The Sunday-school had begun by this time, but Buttercup did
not mind that. She walked into the church quietly, and as the
children and their teachers were all singing no one noticed her
at first. The children were sitting in the pews nearest the
chancel, so Buttercup got half-way up the aisle before any one
saw her. Then one little boy turned his head. He was so
frightened his hymnal fell on the floor; and he cried out, “Oh,
see the cow!” Then it seemed as if everybody screamed. One of
the teachers got on the top of the little cabinet organ, and two
or three stood up on the seats.

Buttercup, however, paid no attention to them. She saw a
nice red apple sticking out of a boy’s pocket and she thought
she would like to have it. The boy, who was Jack Nicholls, did
not know what she wanted, so when she came near he jumped



HOW BUTTERCUP WENT TO CHURCH.

over into the next pew and knocked little Daisy Finlay’s hat off ;
that made Daisy cry. .

What Buttercup would have done next I don’t know, so many
people cried “shoo,” and there was so much noise, she might
have got frightened herself, and a frightened cow can do a great
deal of damage in a church; but Miss Lloyd, who was the
superintendent, called to every one to be quiet. Then two or
three of the bigger boys said if they had a stick they thought
they could get her out. ;

But Miss Lloyd spoke again. “If there is any boy here whom

the cow knows,” she said,

“JT think she would follow
him out, and that would be

better than trying to drive
her.” |

“She’s my grandfather’s
cow,” said Bruce Smith, “ and
I guess she will follow me.”
So he went in front of her
Ak and called “ Buttercup, Butter-
w cup!” and, sure enough, she
went after him.

Now the vestry door was
open, and just opposite that



was another door opening

BUTTERCUP SEES THE PEOPLE GOING TO CHURCHe

out on the grass.

“As soon as Buttercup caught sight of the nice grass, she ran out
and began to nibble the fresh bits around the doorstep. Then,
as much as to say “good-by,” she kicked up her feet, tossed her
head, and trotted off to her own field. — Gwendolin Lloyd.





NG THE CHILDREN TO BAPTISM.

CARRYI







A LAZY BOY’S WISH.





A LAZY BOY’S WISHES.

“T wish for a magical ring (like the boy’s in the story, you know),
To make me grow big in a minute;
I wish for a top that will go,
Without my having to spin it.

“TI wish for some chocolate creams, like those in the candy store,
So soft that you don’t need to bite ’em;
And for lessons I’ve learned before,
So ’twon’t be hard to recite ’em.”
—Amy Elizabeth Leigh.







A LITTLE LADY. — From the Painting by F. E. Millais, R. A. !





SIMPLICITY. (Jom a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds.)

Se





AELEN SS VISIT.

HELEN’S VISIT.

“ Ding-ding,” said the bell; “+tchoo-tchoo,” puffed the engine;
and the long ride began.

Two nights and two days they rode—mamma, papa, and
Helen—and, at the end of the last day, the train stopped at
the station not far from uncle Tom’s farm. How tired, and dusty,
and warm they all were! ,

When they left the train, and uncle Tom took Helen in his
arms, he had to look her face all over to find a clean place to
kiss, and that was right under her little pink ear.

While papa and uncle Tom were getting the trunks, mamma
and Helen went through the dépét, and there stood old Billy and
the wagon. Soon they all got in and uncle Tom taking up the
reins said: “Get up, old Bill,’ and off they went to the farm-
house. ‘

It stood by the roadside, at the foot of a long hill. Across
the road was the big barn. Old Bill tried to go to the barn,
but uncle Tom reined him under the big maple tree by the front
gate. |

There stood aunt Frank, and when old Billy stopped, she
reached up and took Helen in her arms and kissed her without
looking for a clean place, and called her her “Morning Glory!”
How could she be aunt Frank’s Morning Glory when she had
never seen her before, and when she wasn’t a flower ‘at all?

Well, they went into the house, and aunt Frank brought some
nice, fresh milk, and Helen began to drink —and she never knew
when she stopped, for her eyes closed and her little head tipped



HELEN’S VISIT

cight over on one side, and pretty
-yoon she was clean and sweet and fast
asleep in bed, where she slept all night
without waking once.
Cock-a-do-dle-do-o-o ! (Zz
That was the first thing Helen heard L ANB
ihe next morning.
‘When she heard

# her eyes popped 4
wide open. She ~
heard it again,
and she slipped off
the bed and went
to the window.















HELEN. THE DUCKS. THE FARM HOUSE.



HELEN’S VISIT.

There was a big rooster, half as tall as she, right under the
window. When he saw that brown head and those blue eyes
peeping over the window-sill, he shouted “CUT! cur! cut!”
and Helen said, “ Pitty well.”

Then all the hens said, “Cut! cut!” and a lot of little chick-
ens with bright, black eyes and yellow bills, scratched their heads
a second with their yellow claws, then stretched up their little
necks, and peeped just the sweetest peep that anybody ever heard.
And all the little ducks stood straight up on their webbed. feet
and said “Quack-quack.” What do you think that little girl did?

She jumped right up and down; she said: “Yes, I will, you
darlingest, bestest, dearest chickens that ever was; ” and then she
ran out in her nightgown to aunt Frank and told her that the
chickens (she called them all chickens) wouldn’t be “ say-tis-
fwy’ed” unless she fed them her “own self.”

Aunt Frank put on Helen’s head a large blue sunbonnet. Its
cape fell far below her shoulders, and she looked like the morn-
ing-elory which aunt Frank had called her. Then she took in her
hands a bright tin dish full of dough, and went with aunt Frank
to the door, and called “ Biddy! Biddy!” as loud as she could.

How all the hens and chickens ran and flew, while the spoon in
the small baby-hand threw the dough all over the grass, and all
over the step, and all over the white nightgown, until there
wasn’t any fresh morning-glory any more; and when the dough
was all thrown out, mamma came and said that the morning-
glory was changed into a little pig!

All summer long the morning-glory grew; all summer long
the little pig grew; and one morning when the three started for
home, the morning-glory had some tear-drops—I mean some dew-
drops —on its sweet petals, and the little pig cried. — Uncle Bod.

‘er



THE SIX LITTLE HATS.

&

THE SIX LITTLE HATS.

Six little straw hats on the Ist of May,
Shining and shapely, jaunty and gay,
Properly placed as by measure and rule,

On six “little figures” starting for school.
Six little straw hats on the Ist of June,
We sing of them now toa different tune,
And each little hat by itself alone,

For everyone now has a style of its own;
For one is all crown without any brim —

It is anything now but proper and prim —
And one is all brim with just enough crown
To carry the ribbon with ends hanging down.

And one is so tattered you never could tell —
How it managed to hang together so well,
And one has a droop and a pitiful air,
Tho’ such as it is it is all of it there.
And one is so blackened —or should I say tanned—
It seems proper to call it the contraband,
And one is so queer as to shape that I know,
It would do quite well for a Paris chapeau.
Oh, six little hats, if you only could say
How you have been used since the Ist of May,
And where you have been, the wonder would he
That there is a bit of you left to see.

—M.CC





ROSES:



GRUB AND GRUNTER.

GRUB AND GRUNTER.



Last summer a lady whe
lives near my little home in
the country told me a funny
story about two pigs named
Grub and Grunter.

She said that the man who
usually took care of their pigs,
~y was gone from them for a month

Ska ee ease or two and his work had toe
be done by the other people, and she herself took care of these
two young pigs. They were pretty little white fellows with

funny pink eyes, and she soon grew quite fond of them.



GRUB AND GRUNTER.

I suppose she took more care of them than they really needed.
and talked to them, as we ‘do to other pets, for they soon
grew to know her step and voice, and to follow her about
whenever they. were let out of their pen. They were so little
and white and clean, that this pleased her, instead of troubling
her, until one day when'it was quite too much of a good
thing. She had promised to spend the day with a friend who
lived on a farm a mile or two distant across lots; and, after
hurrying through her morning’s work, was fairly started on her
way, when what should she hear but a squealing in the dis-
tance behind her, and looking back, sure enough, there were
Grub and Grunter running along the path as fast as their funny
short legs could carry their fat little bodies.

“OQ dear!” she said, “I forgot I had not shut their pen;
what shall I do? I am late already, I can’t go back!”

Then she remembered that she would soon have to cross a
creek on a log, and she thought, as they could not do that, they
would turn back home. So she hurried on to the creek. But
when she had crossed, and looked back to see what they would
do, what do you think! They stood and squealed for a minute
or two, and then Grunter started to cross the log, and Grub
followed. It was wet and slippery, ana they couldn’t reach up
and take hold of the railing that was nailed to it, for people to
hold on by, and they had as hard a time as little boys and —
girls do when they get on roller skates for the first time; but
they slipped and sprawled and scrambled across somehow, and stood
safe on the other side. It was out of the question now to take
them back, so their mistress took them with her, and when she
reached her friend’s they shut them up in an old hen coop so
that they shouldn’t spoil the garden. — Henrietta R. Eliot.



MY FIRST YACHT.

MY FIRST YACHT.

THE LAUNCH OF THE LUCY.



I am a man now, and
I own a big sail-yacht.
Her name is Llectra.
She’s a splendid yacht
and a swift yacht. But
T don’t think I get half
as much fun out of her
as ‘I did out of my

first yacht.

The name of my first
yacht was Lucy. I
named her for the little
girl who used to sit
next me at school. She
used to share her candy
with me, and I gave her
half my apples, and took
her on my sled in winter.

The Lucy was thirty-
two inches long. When

she was finished we had a regular launch. Lucy poured a

teaspoonful of water made pink with cranberry juice on her
prow, and she sailed off as proudly as ever the lectra did.
All the boys and girls were there, and Lucy brought her best

doll to see the launch.

The Lucy had one drawback, you could not sail in her. —&



HECTOR AND J.

HECTOR AND I.

Hector is just as old as I am. We were born on the same
day, my mother says. So we have the same birthday, October
17. We are seven years old.

We always have a birthday party, and all the boys bring
their dogs. I have a birthday cake, and Hector has a birthday —
cake. The cake is pound cake frosted. Hector has just as many
candles on his cake as he is years old, and I have just as many
candles on my cake as I am years old.

Hector’s cake is cut into as many pieces as there are dogs.
Then he helps them all round. He takes the piece that is left
for himself. It would not do to let the dogs help themselves,
for some of them are so greedy they would eat the whole cake.
Hector is never greedy.

So, you see, when I was one year old, Hector was one year
old —with a difference.

I was still a baby, and could not walk. But Hector was no
longer a puppy. He was a big dog. He could run about every-
where, and take care of himself.

I wonder why babies are not made so they can run about and
take care of themselves, when they are one year old.

Hector used to take care of me too. He watched by me when
I was asleep. He ran after me when I crept, to see that I did
not get into mischief or get hurt.

He takes care of me now that Im a big boy. “My mother
says she isn’t afraid of tramps or of my getting drowned i
Hector is with me; and he is always with me. —s





IRONING DAY.





GYPSY.

GYPSY.

~ Gypsy and his little mistress are a
very happy pair. Gypsy is fifteen years
old, and Annie is but seven. They live
by the seashore, and Gypsy carries
Annie to school. The little white school
house where less than a dozen boys and
girls go to school is more than a mile



from Annie’s home, so Gypsy is harnessed

GYPSY. every morning to a pretty little buck-
board, and Annie mounts to her seat, takes up the reins, and
Gypsy starts off upon a quiet steady trot. The good-natured
horse knows very well that his driver is a sweet little girl with
no strength to make him mind, and he is very good to her. When
they get to the schoolhouse Annie ties the reins and fastens them
to the dashboard, and Gypsy turns quietly around and goes
home.

Gypsy has ideas of his own about the rights of horses. As
I have said he is always good to Annie, but he often takes
his own way with other people.

If he is left standing longer than he thinks is proper, he will
turn round and start for home; if he is hitched and left alone,
he thinks there is no fun in that, and unfastens himself, and
finds a place where he can nibble.

He has many delightful excursions with his little eee and
sometimes she invites a little friend to join her, and this seems
to please Gypsy. — Mrs. M. F. Butts.



UNCLE JOHN’S LETTER FROM DENMARK.

UNCLE JOHN’S LETTER FROM DENMARK.

My Darune LitTLe
OLLIE : .

I got your letter with
its dear little blots and
its round kiss in the
corner, and my letter ig
all going to be about
three little girls that
live on this side of the
big Atlantic Ocean.

The first time I saw
Lisbeth, the little goose-
girl, she was sitting on
the grass beside a pond,
reading. Her geese were
all about her, swimming
in the pond, eating the
grass, and once in a





while a saucy goose
would nibble at her bare
toes. But Lisbeth never looked up. I crept up and peeped over her
shoulder to see what it was she liked so well. It was the Danish
Wonder Book, by Hans Christian Andersen. She was reading
the story of “The Ugly Duckling.” She did not know I was
there, and we read on and on together—how the dear little
duckling was driven out of the yard; how he lived all alone

BABETTE, THE MERRY LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER,



UNCLE JOHN'S LETTER FROM DENMARK.

and almost froze in the cold winter; how the dogs like to have
got him; how the cat scorned him because he couldn’t arch
his back and purr; how the hen turned up her beak at. him
because he couldn’t lay eggs; and how at last the ugly duckling
grew into a beautiful white swan and the little children loved
him for his grace and beauty. And, says the story, “It matters
nothing if one is born in a duck-yard if one has only lain in
a swan’s egg.” And as we read that Lisbeth looked up and saw
me, and I sat down be- {«&
side her and we had a
good long talk,

Babette is my merry
little housekeeper; she
brings me my breakfasts ;
she does my errands. She
sings; she laughs from
morning till night. She
asks millions of questions
and all about America.

I was a long time get-
ting to know shy little
Christine. She would
come and look at my
box of colors, and peep
at my sketches, but if I
spoke to her, would run
off like a wild deer. But eee er es



I gave her a brush and colors and paper, and now she watches
me when I paint, and makes little pictures herself; and I shouldn't
wonder if sometime shy little Christine were a painter. ae



























































































































































































THEIR FROG POND.

THEIR FROG POND.

“What are you going to do with
those frogs, boys?” asked mamma. She













saw that the boys had six poor fright-
ened frogs in their cart. |

Boys and frogs all answered at once.
“Going to have a frog pond in the gar-
den,” said the boys. “Croak, croak,”
said the frogs. “We want to keep the
frogs in the kitchen to-night, please,”
said the boys. “Croak, said the frogs.

“Take us away from these boys.” .
e “Cook would not like such
company in the kitchen. You
had better put them in the
tool-house,” said mamma.

The frogs were put in the
tool-house and the boys then



Raves
LR eo

~ den. Just before they went
_to bed they poured twelve

= dug a big hole in the gar-

GOING BACK TO HIS OWN POND. _ pails of water into it. As
soon as they were dressed next morning they rushed out to their
pond. It was gone! only the hole was left. They went to the
tool-house. The frogs too, were gone! gone home to their own pond.

“Well,” said Bertie, “I-guess we won’t have a pond any way.
1 don’t like frogs.” “ Neither do I,” said Hal. “Nor I,” said
Richie. _ —Abby C. Philbrooke,









































A LITTLE GARDENER,





SOME THINGS ABOUT LITTLE AH SIN’S COUNTRY.

SOME THINGS ABOUT LITTLE AH SIN’S COUNTRY.

[

es



LITTLE AH SIN.



In little Ah Sin’s country they
have queer music; that is, we should
think it queer music. If one boy
should beat two big tin covers to-
gether just as hard as he could;

and another should ring a big bell

just as hard as he could; and another
should blow hard on a whistle, al-
together the noise they would make
would sound very much as a Chinese
band does to us. But the Chinaman
thinks his band music fine. Little Ah
Sin has a fiddle with two strings, -
and he thinks the music he gets out
of it very pretty music.

Little Ah Sin’s country is in the far-Hast. One of the com-
monest gifts in the far-Hast is a fan. There is the “ tailed fan,”
and the folded fan. The “tailed fan” is so called from the han-

dle by which we move it.

The folding fan is of higher rank

than the tailed fan, because you can fold it up and carry it in

your big sleeve—if you are a Japanese and wear big sleeves.

A Chinese Mandarin or high officer, once sent a fan to Mr,

Longfellow. On this fan was printed that poem of Mr. Long
fellow’s called “The Psalm of Life.” It begins thus:

Tell me not in mournful numbers
Life is but an empty dream;

For the soul is dead that slumbers
And things are not what they seem.



SOME THINGS ABOUT LITTLE AH SIN’S COUNTRY

This poem was printed in Chinese. Mr. Longfellow gave a
dinner in honor of the fan, which he called “The Mandarin-Fan
Dinner.” Among the guests was Charles Sumner, who was a dear
and life-long friend of Mr. Longfellow.

Little Ah Sin eats his dinner with chopsticks. He takes up
his food just as neatly with his chopsticks as you do with



A CHINESE DINNER PARTY.

your fork or spoon. He does not have to sit in a high chair
at a high table when he eats. He sits on his heels upon the
floor; and the table is only about six inches high. —Z.



O, I would be a gentleman,
One without alloy;

And the way, they say,

Is to be each day
A gentlemanly boy.

— Emilie Poulsson.



BLACKBERRIES.



BLACKBERRIES.

Such a dusty little maiden.
As came singing up the lane,
With a cat, and dog, and kitten
That followed in her. train.

The boughs had caught her curly hair,
But the breeze had blown it free,

And where the sun had kissed her cheeks
I counted freckles three.

She’d a straw hat, torn and ragged,
And an apron stained with red,
And “I’ve found, oh, lots of berries,”

This little maiden said.

Then the cat, and dog, and kitten
All winked hard at what she said,
For her basket was quite empty;

But her mouth was stained with red.
— Harriette P. Ricnardson.



THE GOOD-NIGHT STORY.

THE “GOOD-NIGHT” STORY.

Little boy Ted climbs to grandma’s knee,
He is just as tired as tired can be.

He looks into grandma’s dear old face
And thinks her lap the very best place
In all the world, though a little white bed
Is waiting up-stairs for tired brown head.

2?

“ Grandma,’ he opens his blue eyes bright,
“Tell me a real true story to-night.”
“Well,” she begins, “at this very minute
I know of a room with a grandma in it.
This grandma wears a white, white cap,

And a white, white apron covers her lap..

«And on this apron a little boy lies

With rumpled head and two sleepy eyes.
The grandma wears a long gray dress
With something in it—can thee guess?

‘A great big pocket, that’s right, but oh!
That pocket’s not empty I happen to know.

“Yes; put in thy wee hand and feel all around.”
Then off grandma’s lap Teddy jumps with a bound.
“An apple! O grandma, how large, and so red!
That was a nice story, dear grandma,” says Ted.
“Good-night and I love you.” He turned at the door,
“But not for the apple; I loved you before.”

—C. L. Brine.



A SURPRISH FOR PAPA.

A SURPRISE FOR PAPA.

(A Christmas Story.)

My little girl Sadie is five years old. She is very happy
and busy getting a Christmas present ready for her papa. But
I do not believe that one of the little boys or girls that read
this, can guess what it is going to be. So I will have to tell
you. She is going to surprise him by having learned to read!
She began twelve weeks ago. And just think! Her papa don’t
know that she can read one single word! ‘One day he came right
into the nursery when Sadie was reading her lesson! O how quick
she stopped, and stuck the book under her apron! Her little face
got as red as a rose.

“ Why, Sadie!” he said, “what is your face so flushed for?” Then
he said to me, “Mamma, I’m afraid you’ve got the room too hot.”

So I opened the door, and began quickly to talk about some-
thing else, to make him forget about Sadie. In a few minutes
he went out again. I guess that was the only time Sadie was
ever glad to have her papa go away. She was so afraid he
saw the book, that she could hardly keep from crying. But I
told her I was almost sure he did not, and she was happy again.

She says when Christmas comes she is going to wrap her
Reader in a nice piece of paper, and write on it, “Sadie’s pres-
ent to papa,” and tie it to the tree. “He'll think it’s a mistake
when he takes the paper off,” she says, “but Ill say, ‘please
give the book to me, papa,’ and then I’ll just open it and read,
and read, and read, till he’s so surprised he can’t speak!”

— Henrietta R. Eliot,





UCK.”?

AND “)

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“PAUS

CH DOGS.

£wo DUT



CORNELIA’S JEWELS.















































































































































































































































































































































A CHRISTMAS DINNER FOR TWO.



CORNELIA’S JEWELS.

Many, many years ago, in the then proud city of Rome, some
‘women were sitting together one day in the shade of its splen-
did porticoes. Among other things, they must have been talking
of dress, as women do now.

For by and by, each began to show her jewels — sparkling
diamonds, lovely pearls, blood-red rubies, blue sapphires.

But Cornelia sat silent. She wore no jewels.

“What, have you no jewels?” the other women asked.

She went away, but soon returned, leading her two young sons.

“These,” she said, with an arm ‘around each, “these are my
4ewels.” —H.



Full Text


aati WS RATAN it hr DKS









FAMILY PETS

FOR THE YOUNGEST READERS



BOSTON
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY


Copyright, 1896,
BY

LoTurRoP PUBLISHING COMPANY.



All rights reserved.




FAMILY PETS

ABOUT ALLIE.

ERY far away,.across the ocean, in the city of Geneva,
which, you know, is in Switzerland, lives a little four-
year-old boy named Allie von K.





Though such a wee boy, Allie can oe in three
languages—German, French and English. I will tell
you how that is. His American mamma pets him in
English, his German papa frolies with him in German, and both
talk to him in French.

The way he sometimes jumbles all three languages together is:
very funny. Allie knows that he has a grandma and aunties
in America, but what “America” is he cannot quite make out.

Last summer he was -told that “Aunt Jo” was coming from
America.to see him. He was all anticipation and asked:

Se re




ABOUT ALLIE.

“Mamma, which way does the train from America come?”

Sometime he will cross the ocean— but not in a train—and
see what a nice place America is. One night he said to his mother:

“Mamma, when will the day come?”

“ When we get through
the night, dear,” was the
reply. .

“Oh,” he exclaimed,
“is the night a tunnel?”

He had noticed that
a train on entering a
tunnel goes from light
into darkness, then into
light again. Night is
a long, long tunnel, is
it not?

Allie asked his mother
about tar, one day, and
she explained that it is
a fluid which comes from
a tree. The little boy ~
immediately said: > BEES AUNT OU:

“When the wind blows hard does the tree cry and is the tar
its tears?” ;



All I am telling you is quite ‘true, for “Aunt Jo” told it all
to me after her visit in Geneva. This little boy takes with him
to bed every night a black woolly monkey, which I think is
very ugly indeed, but which he considers very beautiful, and

loves all the better because it was sent him from that wonder:
land “ America.” —C.L. Brine.

yo




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ALLIE AND HIS MAMMA.








WHY BEHSSIE LOVES HARRY.

WHY BESSIE LOVES HARRY.

Bessie goes to a lit
tle private school every
forenoon.. One morning
Miss Andrews, the teach-
er, took her pupils out
to walk. She often does
that in fair weather.
That day they went to
‘see the gold fish in the
pond in Doctor Macy’s



grounds. This pond is .

THE POND IN DOCTOR MACY’S GROUNDS.

small, but deep, and is
alive with the pretty gold-fish who swim round and round.

The children had brought bread crumbs to feed the fish, and
as they scattered tue crumbs the fish would follow them along
the bank. The bank was steep and the curbstone smooth and
slippery. Miss Andrews had to call out, every second, “Take

care! be careful!” as some little girlie would bend too far over

the deep water.

At last Bessie did lean too far over the deep water. She
slipped, and was gone quite out of sight in an instant!

Then Miss Andrews lost her presence of mind. Instead of

thinking at once what to do, she only ‘stood still and screamed.
So, when Bessie’s brown little head came up out of the water,

there was no one to take hold of her and pull her out, and
down she went again under the water.
But somebody had heard Miss Andrews scream. That somes


WHY BESSTEH LOVES HARRY.

body was eight-year-old Harry, who came running as fast as his
' two feet could bring him. And when Bessie came up the third
and last time, he was there to seize her and pull her out. So
it is no wonder that Bes-
sie and her mother, too,
love Harry. For had it
not been for Harry, Bes-
sie would certainly have
been drowned.

So she is always trot-
ting after Harry, and say-
ing: “O Harry, button
my boots! O Harry, give
me a drink of water!
Please Harry, let me ride
on your sled;” or, “ Here
is a red apple for you,
Harry; O Harry, here are
some chocolate creams; O
Harry, see what a cunning
saucer pie mamma _ has
baked .for you and me,”
and so on and _ so on,
until her mamma says she
should think he would be
quite tired out with hear-



‘ing «< Q- Harry!” “9 HARRY, GIVE ME A DRINK OF WATER.”

But he never is, O no! he is a manly little boy, and likes
to take care of little girls, and stray kittens, and all wee bits
of things. — D.
THE MAN WHO INVENTED THE PRINTING PRESS.

THE MAN WHO INVENTED THE PRINTING PRESS.

JOHANNES GUTENBERG.



Four hundred years ago, the
first book was printed. Yes,
there was once a time when
children had no books. The
grown folks had a kind of
books — written, not printed
books. These were on long
strips of parchment that rolled

up! Queer books, were they

not? and costly as well as
queer. None but the rich
could have them.

The first printing was done
with wooden blocks. The let-
ters were stamped on a block,
and then the wood was cut
away, leaving the raised let-
ters. With this the page was
printed. But it was slow work
and costly, too, as a new
block had to be made for

each page. About 1428, Johannes Gutenberg, a German, thought
by having each letter on a separate block they could be used over
and over. So he invented the printing press, and since then, the.

world has had printed books.

Every boy and girl who can read, wil!

like to see this copy of the statue of Gutenberg in Berlin.




MINNETTE AND HER BABY.

MINNETTE AND HER BABY.

Herbert and Nellie named her. When they started for school
in the morning, she had five handsome babies. At noon there
was only one.

“You put them in that great
coarse bag I saw you making,
Nora, I know you did,” said
Herbert.

“Like bad, horrid Ned
Parks, when he drowned Min-
nette’s other children,” sobbed
Nellie. “TI think it’s a shame,
Nora. I do!”

“T ‘low you children have
a great talent for arguing,”
replied Nora, “but when you
"cuse an innocent person of a
deed like this, it’s too much,
altogether. So, Master Her-
bert, you take Minnette and
her kitten out of- my basket



and put them in there,” point-

ing to a large chest of draw- poh aay enegags

ers. “Quick,” she commanded, pulling out the lower one. So

to the bottom of the deep place went Minnette and her baby.
“She’s homesick, Nora,” the children pleaded, when Minnette

eried and kept going out and coming back, taking the baby with her.


MINNETTE AND HER BABY.

“She'll get used to it, bime-by,” was all Nora would say.

But alas! On one of her journeys the baby fell to the floor,
and, after much coaxing and fondling, the poor frightened mother
ran to the nursery and awoke the sleeping children.

“Tt?s dead, Nora,” they cried, running back to arouse the sound
sleeper. “Do get up, please! and call mamma too!” —

But all they could do was to quiet poor sorrowing Minnette
until morning. Then Nora ran across to Mrs. Clark’s and_bor-

rowed one of Tabby’s seven babies. She put it into the basket

-where Minnette’s baby first lay. Then she called Minnette.

O, what a happy mother! She kissed and kissed her new
baby and sung a song. Then she jumped out of the basket and

coaxed papa and mamma to come and look too.

“Acted just as you all did when I came home from grand-
ma’s last summer,” Nellie. said.

But after the baby grew larger the children used to ores
if Minnette knew it was not her truly child.

So, one day, when the baby was frolicking about the nurs-
ery, and her mother sat watching her, Nellie went close to Min-
nette and whispered, “Do you know she isn’t your own child?”

Minnette shook her head, and twitched her ears.

“That means no, of course,” said Herbert.

Then Minnette arose, and with a stately air crossed to the

opposite side of the room. Fixing her eyes on the floor she sat

as though lost in thought.

“She’s grieved,” Nora said. “Supposing some neighbor should
come in and ask your mother that question about your own
self —how do you think she would feel?”

“Well, I won’t do so again,” sighed Nellie.

And both children begged Minnette’s pardon. —#. Addie Heath.

es jo


A NAUTICAL LESSON FROM GRANDPA.
TWO BOYS.

TWO BOYS.

There are two boys, o’er the way,
Whose names are Jack and Joe;

The day oft brings different things
To each where’er they go.

The one seems always cheerful,
The other most forlorn —

Jack always knows where blooms the rose,
"Tis Joe that finds the thorn.

And if a bee they follow
To its nest among the trees,
Jack, you mind, the honey will find,
Joell be stung by the bees.

Joe sees the clouds that gather
Ahead to spoil their fun.
Whate’er the day on which they play
Jack always sees the sun. —Marie 8. Ladd,




AN ADVENTURE OF RALPH, A KANSAS BOY,

AN ADVENTURE OF RALPH, A KANSAS BOY.

He lived near a wild prairie, and he had a dog named Dick.
And one day Dick coaxed him to take a trip out on the wild
prairie. Dick would run a few steps ahead, then wait for Ralph
to come up. Then he would run a few more steps and wait.
He did that, over and over, till the two had travelled four miles
out on to the wild prairie. Then Dick, the careless, naughty
dog, went off after a bird,
and left little two-year-old
Ralph alone on the wild,
wide prairie. And all the
time his mother was at work
in her kitchen, and thinking









Dick was taking such good

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cow had gone off on the :
wild. prairie, too, and the
woman went to look her
up. While she was looking,
-she heard a child cry. RALPH, WHEN A BIG BOY OF FIVE.

“A child on the prairie at this time o’ night!” said she; and
she started right off toward the crying. By this time Ralph

was crying right straight along, without stopping, so the woman




THE DOG?S CHRISTMAS WISH.

soon found him. And when she found the little bit of a boy,
sitting on the ground and crying so, she took him up in her
motherly arms, and said, “Poor little dear! what is your name?”
But Ralph could not tell, because he had not yet learned to talk.
So she took him home with her and went round to all the
neighbors, and asked if anybody had lost a baby. Nobody had.
“Perhaps the child wandered off from an emigrant train,’ one
of the men neighbors said.

““Pshaw!” said the women. “No mother would go on and
leave her baby behind.”

“There have some folks moved in over to the creek,” said
another man, “and I shouldn’t wonder if he belonged to them.”

So the woman harnessed up and drove. over to the creek;
and this time, she had come ‘to the right place to find the
mother of the lost baby. His mother had missed him, and was
looking everywhere for him. And though she had him at last,
safe and sound, she did not sleep one wink that night. For she
heard the wolves howling on the wide, wild prairie. And she
could not help thinking what might have become of him if the
woman had not found him. —Frances A, Humphrey.

THE DOG’S CHRISTMAS WISH.

My little master wants a drum,
And a watch for his very own;
But I am only a little dog,
And I'd like a turkey bone.
—WM. F, Butts.



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“HOW BIG, HOW BIG, IS THE LITTLE LASS?”




A STORY FOR THE LITTLE WOMAN.

A STORY FOR THE LITTLE WOMAN WHO HAS A BABY SISTER.

“JT never saw such a
naughty baby in all my
life! you won’t do a thing
but cry. You are as cross
as two sticks; and I do
think babies are scene

Mamie stopped there. I
am afraid she was going
to say that babies are
“horrid,’ when you and
I know they are the sweet
est things in the world—
when they don’t cry.

The secret of this baby’s
crying was this—she had
eaten a whole doughnut
that morning, reached up
and got it her own self



. from the table, and was
swallowing the last crumb when mamma spied her. So she was cross
just as grown folks are when they eat what is not good for them.

And Mamie did not go to. work the right way to manage her.
She said: “Baby, you must be good. Baby, you must come with
me. Baby, you must get up.” And baby just stuck her little shoe
‘toes up in the air, tucked her hands into her apron pockets and

said “unt,” which meant “I won't.”

a RET Ie as





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nd


A BALLOON IN DANGER.

As Mamie leaned against a tree, quite out of sorts and cross
herself, just the brightest thought popped into her mind. This
thought was about a little donkey that, once upon a time, would not
stir one step though his master whipped and whipped him. An old
man came by and said: “Hang a turnip in front of your donkey’s
nose and he will go.” So his master hung the turnip in front of
his donkey’s nose and off he started, trot, trot, trot, to catch up
with that turnip and eat it.

“That is the way to manage Baby,’ was Mamie’s thought. So
she said no more, “ Baby, you must get up.” She saw, a few feet
away, a butterfly resting on a clover top, and she said: “See,
Baby, see, pretty butterfly! Baby run and catch the butterfly!”
and Baby took her hands from her apron pockets, put her little
feet fairly upon the ground and trotted off in great glee, chasing
the butterfly from clover top to clover top. — H.



























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































A BALLOON IN DANGER.


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WELCOME VISITORS,


HOW FUSS AND FEATHERS WENT TRAVELLING.

HOW FUSS AND FEATHERS WENT TRAVELLING.

Donald is. a West Vir-
ginia boy, and Fuss and
Feathers are two of his
many pets. Feathers is
a most friendly hen.
Once she had a_ nest
in a box, in Donald’s
room. Every day she
left a great white egg
in the box, then flew out
of the window, cackling.
“An egg a day! an
egg a day! go barefoot,
go barefoot!” she said.
And Fuss answered, “TI
can’t get a shoe to fit
your foot! can’t get a



; © shoe to fit your foot!

DONALD AND HIS’ PETS. . it’s forked ! it’s forked ! as
At least that was what uncle Fred told Donald they said. And
uncle Fred knows all about hens and chickens.

Well, once these two went travelling, and this is how it was.
There came warm rains that winter. These rains filled the little
streams and melted the snow in the mountains. They poured into
the great Ohio River, and made it overflow its banks. The towns

near the river were flooded, and the farm lands covered. It came
~~

ri HOW FUSS AND FEATHERS WENT TRAVELLING.

up around the house of Donald’s father. One night the water
came in at the doors, and they all had to hurry up stairs. The
next morning the hen-house was gone. Donald cried when he
thought he would never see his pets again; but Fuss and Feath-
ers took care of themselves. The chickens on the lower roost
were drowned, but they kept on the upper perch, and went
sailing down the river. Fuss was frightened at the water below
him, and flew to the open window of the hen-house. Feathers

followed; such a world of waters as they saw; haystacks and

fences were floating near them; away they went, past the farms
and near the great towns. They were very hungry. Feathers
kept quite still, but Fuss crowed sometimes in a lonesome sort
of way. They floated almost a day, and were many miles from
home when some men in skiffs put a rope around the hen-house
and drew it ashore. They were taken to a strange yard and
fed.

At last the waters went down. Donald again played in the yard,
but was sad for the loss of his pets. One night as his papa
was reading his paper, he called, “Donald, here is news for you,”
and read aloud to him about a man who had caught a hen-house
floating down the river with two chicken perched in the window.

“ll write to that man,” said Donald. So he wrote a letter himself

telling all about his pet chickens. He said he would send his Christ-

mas dollar to the man if he would send them back. In a few
days one of the great steamboats stopped in front of his house
and put out a box with ‘Fuss and Feathers in it. They were
so glad to get home, I expect they did not want to go travelling
again very soon; but this fall Donald put them im a new white
coop and took them to the Fair, and they came home with a red

ribbon tied to the coop. — Anna R. Henderson.
PLAYING RED RIDING-HOOD.

PLAYING RED RIDING-HOOD.

When I was a little girl there lived not far from my father’s
house, two dear old women in a little bit of a gray house. And
once a week my mamma would say, “Now, little Red Riding-
Hood, would you like to take this mince pie to the Goody-two-
Shoes? or this quince preserve? or this bit of beef to roast? or
these caps? or this loaf of fresh bread?”

And I did so like to have my mamma call me Red Riding-
Hood. Of all the little girls I had read about I loved Red Rid-
ing-Hood the best. Only I did wish the wolf had not eaten her.

So I would take my basket and go out through the back door,
and down the garden path, and over the stile, and go along the
narrow path by the brook, and across the meadow, and through
the bit of pine woods to the little gray house where the Goody-
two-Shoes lived. (Their real names were Tilly and Sally.)

When I got to their door, Kitty Yellow would always come
out to meet me and rub against me and purr. And then I
knocked, which is good manners. And Sally came to the door
and said, “If here isn’t little Red Riding-Hood!”-and Tilly said,
“Did you meet the big gray wolf, dear?”

“ Yes, Goody-two-Shoes,” I replied, “I did. And he was a-whisk-
ing his tail and a-running on the fence.” It was a big gray
squirrel, but I played it was a wolf. And the Goody-two-Shoes
would not laugh a bit. They took it all seriously.

Then I would take out the bit of beef, or caps, or whatever
it might be. Oh! it was great fun to play Red Riding-Hood and
Goody-two-Shoes. — — fi.




































































































































































































re



“NOW, LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD,” SAID MAMMA.
A TOLU PUG.

A TOLU PUG.

One morning the door bell rang so loudly that two small maid-
ens flew to the door, where, to their great surprise and delight,
they found the funniest, cleanest, blackest-nosed little pug, you
ever saw. He wore a silver collar, on which was tied a letter
of introduction “to Uncle Sam’s sweet little nieces Nora and
Margaret.” ~

Nora called all the family by name, on her way to her mamma’s
room, followed by Madge, screaming with delight.

“Why, child alive!” said Grandmother Barnet, waking from
her nap in the chair, “I thought the house was on fire.”. “And
I,” added Aunt Katherine, “thought it must be burglars.”

“Nora, Nora, has the house tumbled down?” called Dan from
the library, where he was studying his algebra; and when they
found it was nothing more dreadful than the arrival of a new
pug, they were very much relieved.

“We'll line his basket with lovely blue, like my Sunday dress,”
said Nora. “No, we'll have yellow, lovely yellow, like oranges,”
insisted Madge; but Puggie didn’t care what color it was, so he
laid his little monkey face on his paws and went to sleep.

“Now, ll bathe Puggie,” said Nora one day, as she held the
soft white sponge in the warm water and made a tub full of
white bubbles, “then, Madge, you can put on his new yellow bow”
—he wore yellow one day and blue the next —“ and,” concluded
Nora, “we'll call on Pauline Maxwell.”

Puggie was a very proper caller and carried his card with
him, and when Hannah Maria came to the door, he put it in
her big red hand. He had learned most beautiful manners in his

















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PETTING THE TOLU PUG.
A TOLU PUG.

new home; why, Uncle Sam would hardly have known him!
Yet he had one very distressing habit; I know you never could
guess what it was, and I am so sorry to say he learned it from
his dear little mistresses.

One hour after, Puggie, dressed in a huge yellow satin bow,
with two blue-eyed little women in white, sat in Pauline’s beau-
tiful home. Pauline and Madge were playing duetts while the rest
listened. Suddenly Puggie smacked his lips, rose from his seat
and began to look for something up under the edge of the rock-
ing-chair. His funny black nose sniffed
and sniffed; then trotting to the piano
he ran his bright eyes over the under
side, then on the window-sill, but found
nothing.

“Why, Nora,’ asked Aunt Jessie,
watching him from her seat by the open
window, “ what does Puggie want ?”



Just then his pug-ship showed her
what he wanted before Nora could ex- | THE TOLU PUG.
plain. Under the arm of the great leather chair, where Pauline
sat to study her geography, Puggie had found a wad of grayish
chewing-eum. His black eyes sparkled as he seized it and went
back to his seat. There he sat, chewing away for dear life, his
comical nose shining as if it had been polished, the big yellow
satin bow bobbing up and down with every motion of his fat little
jaws. |

Poor Puggie had touched, tasted, and fallen a sad victim to the
dreadful habit of tolu chewing. ;

And if his little mistresses wished to know how queerly their
faces went when chewing gum, they had only to look at Puggie.

Valentine March.
THH OXEN’S RECEPTION.

THE OXEN ’"S RECEPTION.

“Like oxen? Why, oxen
are too stupid to be liked,”
said Olga.

“Think so?” and Farmer
Day laughed and _ patted
Hero and Hercules. “Just
invite your friends to come
to Grass Cirele at 5.30 P. M.,
and we will show you how
stupid oxen are.”

So at the time named we
were all there together with
the oxen. They wore flow-



ers upon their heads and

HERO AND HERCULES.

ribbons on their necks. The
first thing they did was to salute the company by kneeling.
Then two brightly painted stands were brought and Hero put
his hind feet on one stand and his fore feet on the other, and
Hercules walked under him. They crept around the circle on
their knees. They waltzed in perfect time to the music Black
Tom played.

They ended by see-sawing on a board just like the children.
This they liked so much they were not willing to stop for a
long time. “Now to your barn!” said Farmer Day. His men
held up two hurdles, the oxen leaped over them one after the
other, and then walked away. — Mrs. E. L. S. Puffer.
AITTY CLOVER.

KITTY CLOVER.

Some milk sweet and creamy, I gave Kitty Clover,
She tasted a little, then ran to the door —

And loudly she called, “ Me-ow,” over and over,

Till out from the stable came little kits, four:
Smutty-nose, Black-back, White-foot and Gray —
Frisky, and playful, and graceful were they.



LITTLE KITS FOUR.

Then proud Kitty Clover said to them, “We'll dine
On that pan of fresh milk; it is creamy and fine.”
But her talk was all Kitty-talk — not yours or mine.
— Sarah E, Howard.

te
——



LISTENING TA THE WAITS.
HOW THH BOYS SKATED.

HOW THE BOYS SKATED.

It snowed and thawed, it rained and froze,
Then cleared off in the night;

And when the sun next morning rose,
We saw the queerest sight.

The streets were paved with shining ce
The boys flew up and down ;
Each wore the while a joyous smile —



None wore a solemn frown.

SKATING TO SCHOOL.

It was so droll, thought Will, to hear
His father say that morn,

“Skate to the corn-house door and bring
A basket-full of corn.”

For five whole days they went their ways,
’ With runners on their feet ;-
To school they skated, skated home,

And skated down the street.

The wind then from the south blew warm, °
The gentle rain came down;

The streets were filled with trickling rills,
The fields grew bare and brown.
LION AND TINY.

The sober folk who walked the earth
The rain saw fall with joy;

But sadly were the skates laid by,

By many a sad boy.

And, by and by, in some bright home,
With children at his knee,
He'll tell them how he skated then

In eighteen eighty-three.

— Helen Bird.



LION AND TINY.

When Dotty goes to market for mamma, Lion always goes

with her, to carry the big basket.

queerly. It made a
racket all its own self.
Pretty soon it said, “ bow-
wow!” . Then its cover
lifted a little bit. Dotty
peeped in and—there
was Tiny! Lion loves
Tiny, and likes to take
her with him every-
where. So he had picked
her up in his mouth,
dropped her into the
basket, shut the cover
tight, and trotted off
with her to market.

— Mary Johnson.

One day, the basket acted



DOTTY, LION AND TINY.
A LAND WHERE 1T IS AL WAYS SUMMER.

4

A LAND WHERE IT IS ALWAYS SUMMER.

This land where
it is always sum-
mer is the Island
of New Guinea.
It is the largest
island in the
world. Itlies in
the Pacific Ocean,




a. north of Australia.
NV) On this island

| A BIRD OF PARADISE. live the beautiful
Birds of Paradise —the most beautiful
birds in the world. These birds are shy,

PETC I ILS

where they are perching, will frighten
them away. They never alight on the
ground. In the early morning is the best
time to get near them. Then you may
sometimes see ten, or perhaps twenty,
flying around one tree.

Their plumage is of all colors — crim-
son, rose-color, sky-blue, green, deep blue,
velvety black. A traveller in New Guinea
says he saw six of them dancing one
> ,)| morning on a tree; their green and yel-
ZN ake | low ruffs stood out, and their long flow-

and the least bit of noise, under the tree

S im
A LAND WHERE IT IS ALWAYS SUMMER,

ing plumes looked as though each had been carefully combed
out. They do not sing, but twitter when they fly, something
like a sparrow.

Their nests are built of fine grass and lined with vegetable
down —like fern wool. Each nest has five eggs, the size of
sparrows’ eggs. They are a delicate pink spotted with red.

The little hen
never leaves her











nest when she is
setting. Her
mate feeds

her ; an





AN EMIGRANT TRAIN.

if he is killed, she sits on her eggs till
she starves to death.

The houses of the natives are built on high
posts. Some of them build their houses in
the tops of high trees. They reach them
by steps like a ladder. The settlers from other countries travel in
an emigrant train as they do in our own West.

Besides the Birds of Paradise, New Guinea has other beautiful birds ;
among them is the crested Pigeon.

A NATIVE OF NEW GUINEA.
THE RABBITS’ 8S UPPER-PARTY

THE RABBITS’ SUPPER-PARTY.

Freddy was very fond of his rabbits. Grandpa was quite as
fond of his garden. He was fond of his long rows of tall, early
pea-vines. He thought the family might soon have nice, green
peas from these vines. But one morning he found that thieves
had been at his vines. They had gnawed the pods. But the

thieves had forgotten to cover up their tracks. These tracks led -

straight to the rabbits’ house; so grandpa knew Mr. and Mrs.
Bunny were the thieves. That night Freddy shut up his pets.

- But the rabbits were too much for him. They burrowed
their way out, and gnawed the vines. They did the same the
next night, and the next, till grandpa got quite angry. On the
fourth morning, however, he found the vines had not been
touched. This seemed strange; but, when Freddy went to carry
his pets some clover, Mr. Bunny was missing. Freddy and Tom,
the stable boy, looked everywhere, but could not find him.

Next night Tom, who slept over the stable, thought he would
take a look at the vines, before he went to sleep. ‘The moon shone
brightly, so he could see the vines clearly. All at once he saw
something moving across the beet bed — something gray, long-eared,
swift. Aha! Mr. Bunny had come home! Behind Mr. Bunny,
came a big, brown, wild rabbit, and another and another, till there
seemed to be no end to them. They went straight to the pea-
vines and began to nibble. As to Tom, he called grandpa and
Freddy, and, in a trice, Mr. and Mrs, Bunny were caught, and
the wild rabbits scampered off without saying so much as “ Thank
you.” —E. A. Fanning.










THE WILD RABBITS SCAMPER OFF WITHOUT SAYING “THANK YOU.”
BOB,

BOB.

Bob was an English dog. He belonged to an English soldier,
whom he loved with all his big dog-heart. He went with his
master and his regiment to the Crimea. He took part in all the

battles of the famous siege of Sebastopol.

Every evening, he would seat himself by the side of the

wounded soldiers, and look at them with gentle, pitying eyes.

He would lick their hands,
and, in this way, try to lessen
their pain. .

He was so devoted and so
brave, that a medal was con-
ferred upon him; such a
medal as is given to a brave
and devoted soldier. He was
enrolled as a member of
the regiment. He always an-
swered to his name at the
roll-call.

After peace was declared,
‘the troops embarked for Eng-
land. But Bob was not to be

found. The officers went in search of him, and brought him



BOB.

back. He had got on board the wrong vessel. They arrived
in London, and, on the day of the grand review of the troops,
Bob marched at the head of his regiment, before the Queen of
England. This picture is a true portrait of Bob. —D.


it





























































































OUT OF CHURCH.



BABY ALICE SEES THE CHILDREN COMING
“A SWEET VALENTINE.

A SWEET VALENTINE.



GRANDMOTHER.

loveliest valentine she

Last winter Elbert spent
in Florida, with his father
and mother. The first of
February the flowers began
to bloom. St. Valentine’s
day was at hand. “Mamma,”
he said, “won't the folks
at home miss me? How
will grandma feel when

‘there is no one to. slip

funny valentines under the
door, and ring the bell,
and run before she comes ?”’

“T have an idea,” said
mamma, “J think of some-
thing which you can send
to grandmother which I am
sure she will think is the

has ever seen.”

So Elbert and mamma went to work and with a little help

from papa the valentine was soon ready, and Elbert took it to

the post-office that afternoon.

Grandma sat at her table in the North. All outside was white
with snow. Before her were some pussy-willows, that aunt Ada

had gathered and coaxed into bloom.

A ring at the door was

heard. There stood the postman with a stout little box. Grand
A SWEET VALENTINE.

ma opened it. It seemed full of soft, damp Florida moss; but,
in the midst, surrounded by its glossy green leaves, lay a large
white magnolia blossom. Aunt Ada placed it in a vase. A av
licious odor filled the room, and grandmother found on one of the
large, white, wax-like leaves, scratched in delicate lines, perhaps
with a pin, these precious verses :

Far from the winter’s ice and snow, The heart which sends it is warm and true,
Far from the land where the cold winds blow, Rich as the fragrance it breathes for you;
Down in the southern glow and shine, Take you the love, dear grandmother mine,
Blossomed for you this valentine. Which comes with your Southern Valentine.

: ’ —Anna R. Henderson.







































































CRESTED PIGEONS OF NEW GUINEA.
9 ELSIE’ S WHITE MICE.





A FRENCH SCHOOL.



ELSIE’'S WHITE MICE.

Elsie had been sick; she was getting better. The doctor came
only once a day. He said Elsie could sit up in the big chair
pretty soon. But the days seemed very long to Hlsie.

When a little girl can run about and roll hoop, or coast, the
days are not half long enough. But when she has had scarlet
fever, and can hardly hold her head up, the days are very long
indeed.

Elsie has an uncle George. He is very fond of Elsie. One
day he brought in a box and sat it on the table beside her bed.
There was a little house in the box. In front of the house was
a glass tower.
ELSTE’S WHITE MIVE.

“Is it a house for Anne Maria?” asked Elsie. Anne Maria
is her doll.

Uncle George lifted the glass tower. He scattered some meal
on the floor of the tower. Pretty soon out ran a little white
mouse from the door of the house; then another and another,
till there were four white mice in the tower. They began to
eat. What white tiny creatures they were!

“They are lovely,” ‘said Hlsie, “and you are lovely too, uncle
George, to give them to me.”

Elsie played with her white mice every day. She sometimes
took them out of their house and let them nestle in her neck.
She was playing with them one day when the doctor came in.
He did not see them. They had hidden under Elsie’s chin.

The doctor put down his head to‘listen to Elsie’s breathing.
Out popped the white mice and jumped into the doctor’s shirt
bosom! The doctor jumped too. He did not expect to see mice
- popping about in that way.

Then Elsie laughed very heartily, and the doctor said he was
glad to hear her laugh.
He said it did people
good to laugh. Elsie has
got well now and she
still keeps her white
mice. She has taught
them many pretty tricks,
and they run all over
her, and often hide in her ==
hair.

She calls them the
“nicest” of pets.

































































THE WHITE MICE IN THEIR HOUSE,












































































































































































































































































1?

“a HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL


WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL,” SAYS GRANDMOTHER.

rt
THE REASON WHY.

THE REASON WHY.

“My dear,- what makes your cheeks so red?”
I asked one winter day

A little boy who came indoors —

To finish up his play.

“Why, don’t: you know how cold it is?

It’s cold as cold can be;

And that’s what makes my cheeks so red 5

L can’t stay out,” said he.

“My dear, what makes your cheeks so red ?’
TI asked one summer day

A little girl who came indoors

To finish up her play.

“Why, don’t you know how hot it is?

It’s hot as hot can be;

And that’s what makes my cheeks so red;
I can’t stay out,” said she.

And now, when sometimes I myself,

Though I am wise and old,

Do think the day is much too hot

Or very much too cold,

I try to think if it were changed,

Perhaps I might not find

The weather just the opposite

A bit more to my mind! —Alice Wellington Rollina


















































































































































































A LITTLE FAGOT GATHERER-


y | THE FAYS AT SCHOOL.

THE FAYS AT SCHOOL. -

In a summer garden is a
boarding-school,
For the fairy maidens under
flower-rule.
ae \ Witchy little fairies, fairies
=) sweet and prim,

Vie Lazy careless fairies, fairies




neat and trim.
All are met together lessons
hard to learn,
How to paint flower-petals,
how to curl a fern;
How to make the may-flowers

A LAZY FAIRY.

and the violets fair;
How to sprinkle perfumes on the balmy air;

How to place a dew-drop in a flower’s heart;

How to delve for honey (which is quite an art ) 5

How to ring the lilies in a lovely chime;

How to make the four-o’clocks open just on-time;

How to see in everything special use and beauty,

How through all their fairy lives to do their fairy duty.

— Harviot Brewer,



Are you worth your weight in gold?
Every good child is, I’m told.
EASTER MONDAY AT THE WHITH HOUSE.

EASTER MONDAY AT THE WHITE HOUSE.



“y7's A SURPRISE,’? SAID NANETTE.

“Tt’?s a surprise, you know,” and

Nanette put her finger on her lips
‘and smiled at old aunt Tulip

“Mamma don’t know one bit about
it.” And mamma was surprised im
deed when Nanette lifted the cover
of the basket aunt Tulip had brought.
“Q what a queer nest is this!
What kind of hen laid these eggs?”
And mamma lifted first a pink egg, -
then a blue egg, then a scarlet egg,
then a gilt egg. “Is it a riddle?
Shall I guess it? Well, then, 1
guess a pink hen laid the pink egg,
and a blue hen the blue egg, and
a scarlet hen the scarlet egg, and the
gilt egg, O I’m sure I can never guess
what kind of hen laid the gilt egg!”
“T know,” said Nanette, clap-
ping her hands and dancing on one

foot. “Aunt Tulip’s big Cochins laid every single egg! and aunty

boiled them in
know you said
think, did you,
eggs to roll?”

the loveliest dyes, didn’t you, aunty? And you
we'd go to see the egg-rolling; but you didn’t
mamma, that I should have such lovely, lovely
and Nanette threw her arms round the neck of

the dear old kind colored aunty and kissed her again and again.
EASTER MONDAY AT THE WHITE HOUSE.

It was Easter Monday, and every Easter Monday the grounds
of the White House, where our President lives, are given up to
the children for their egg-rolling. When Nanette got there, crowds
of children had already arrived, both big and little. For the

MAMMA ON THE WAY TO SEE THE EGG-ROLLING.



papas and mammas, the
grandpas and grandmas,
were there, and for that
day, at least, they were only
big children themselves.

Nanette soon found lit-
tle cousin Ned, and they
rolled their eggs together,
back and forth, over the
green turf. Sometimes
they hit, the eggs were
so many, and the children
so plenty.

Crash! there goes a gilt
egg all to bits, and nothing
can ever put poor Humpty
Dumpty together again.
The little blue-eyed owner
of the gilt egg cried,

but Nanette comforted her, and let her have her gilt egg to roll.
Some of the eggs were tied up in bits of gay calico.

"When the children were tired of egg-rolling, they had lunch, and
those who had not brought lunch, bought fruit, and wonderful
gingerbread horses, of the good-natured colored pedlers at the

gates. It was a merry, happy time.

— Abby C. Philbrooke.
LITTLE BUZZY FLY.— THE CHAMELEON.

LITTLE BUZZY FLY.

Once upon a time little
Buzzy Fly grew tired of being
only Buzzy Fly and thought
she would try being a fine
lady. And she did look truly
fine in her trained silk gown,
and carrying her pretty fan.
Only her bangs would noé
lie flat down close to her



eyebrows, but stuck straight

*%‘o no! MISS BUZZY.”

up in the air. And that was
how her cousin, Stingy Wasp, knew her, I think. For Buzzy walked
straight by Stingy, and pretended she did not know him. But
Stingy crawled up her white gown, wasp-fashion, gave her fan a
jerk with his feelers and said, “O ho! Miss Buzzy, all the fine
‘clothes in the world won’t make you anything but just Buzzy
Fly. —D.



THE CHAMELEON.

When a chameleon is cold, he is brown. When
in shade, he is white. When he comes into the
light, he turns yellow or green. When angry he
is red, a bright red. He is a queer, harmless little



creature, and lives in Africa.
‘ BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS.

: BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS.

In 1783, the first balloon was sent up. It was only a globe
about thirteen feet in diameter, filled with warm air, and no car
attached. It was sent up from the Champ-de-Mars, Paris. A crowd
gathered to see it go up. It came down at Gonesse, and gave
the country folks a terrible fright. They, at first, thought it &
monster, and attacked it with stones, pitchforks and flails.

The next balloon had a cage attached, containing a sheep, a
duck and a cock. What they thought of this way of travelling











































AR OF A BALLOON.

is not told us. They came down in safety in a wood not far
away from the place they started from. In the same year two
men went up in a balloon.

Since that time, many people have gone up in balloons. In
late years, they have been used in war. They are sent up in




DESCENT OF THE FIRST BALLOON AT GONESSE, FRANCE, 1783. (rom an old print of that time.)


BALLOONS AND ALIR-SHIPS.

such a way that the occupants can look down upon the enemy’s
camp and line of battle. These balloons are called “captive bal-
loons,’ because they are held to the earth by strong cables, so















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































i
aS Soper pe

; FIG. 2, — STEAM AIR-SHIP an BY HENRI See IN 1852,
the currents of air cannot take them away. A common balloon
has to go just the way the wind may chance to take it, and is
sometimes carried over seas, and the occupants are drowned.
Many attempts have been made to build air-ships that can be
propelled through the air, as a ship is propelled through the
water. In 1852, M. Henri Giffard built such a ship. Fig. 2
shows you how it was built. The balloon part was covered by |
a net which was fastened below to a long strip of wood. At one
end of this strip of wood, you see a triangular sail, which served
as a rudder to steer with. Below the strip of wood is the
steam engine with the propeller formed of two paddles. The
engine, together with the water and coal, were heavy. Then,
























BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS.

too, it was not quite safe to have an engine so near the inflamm-
able gas with which the balloon is filled.

So the brothers Tissandier invented another air-ship to be pro-
pelled by electricity (Fig. 3). They went up in this in 1883 and
1884. These ships are not at the mercy of currents of air, but
can be propelled against the wind, and can be brought back to the
place they started from, a thing you cannot do with a balloon.





























































































































































FIG. 8. —AIR-SHIP PROPELLED RY ELECTRICITY. BUILT BY THE BROTHERS TISSANDIER.

The parachute is something like an umbrella. It is dropped
from the balloon when in the air. It comes down gently. M.
Jacques Garnerin first came down in a parachute in 1797. How
do you think you should like to drop from the sky in one of
those things?
v

s/t

wie

i

i





1797.

PARACHUTE,

JACQUES GARNERIN IN HIS


PHANTS AT WORK.

ELL
THE KIND LITTLE SISTER.

THE KIND LITTLE SISTER.

Just under the drawing:
room windows
Where the noon-tide
sun was hot,
And the dandelions were
thickest,
Lucy chose for her gar-
den plot.
And there ’twixt the
grasses and clover
A tulip had lost its way,
And opened its gay, scar-
let petals

One morning in breezy
May.



“You precious, you dear

“CAN YOU HEAR?”

darling tulip,
You grew and blossomed for me;
IT wonder how old you are, tulip,
I guess I’m a little past three,”
Said Lucy, her voice full of sweetness,
Her tiny hands on her knees,
And her small face bent very gravely
To look at the tulip. “Oh please,

“Can you hear? I’m sure you can, tulip,
Your ears stick this way and that,
THE KIND LITTLE SISTER.

And your nose is black with big freckles
Like mine and Ginger’s, the cat.

I love you, bright tulip, because you
Came in my garden to grow.

Tl make you a visit real of’en,
To tell you I love you, you know.”

“T am to be queen at the party,”
Cried Alice at breakfast next day,
“Tll sit on a throne trimmed with flowers
"Til it's time for the singing and play.
Til hold a long stick called a sceptre,
And wear a crown on my head.”
“Oh! won't it be ’squisite? Our Alice
A queen!” Lucy breathlessly said.

Across the wet grass she ran swiftly
To pick the tulip so dear.
“Q tulip, I love you, and love you!”
She murmured, while one shining tear
Dropped into its chalice. “I love you,
And so I give you away.”
“Here, Alice,” she cried, “is my tulip
To wear to the party to-day.”
—LHlizabeth Cummings.


WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

She sat up in bed. The curtain was drawn up, and she saw
the moon, and it looked as if it were laughing at her.

“You needn’t look at me, Moon,” she said, “you don’t know
anything about it, for you can’t see in the daytime. Besides I
am going to sleep now.”

So she laid down, shut her eyes tight and tried to go to
sleep. Her little clock on the mantel went. “ tick-tock, tick-tock.”
She generally liked to hear it go “tick-tock.” But to-night it
sounded just as if it said, “I-know, I-know, J-know.”

“You don’t know, either,’ said Minnie, opening her eyes
wide. “You weren’t a you old thing! you was up stairs
the whole time.”

Her loud voice awoke the sleeping parrot. He took his head
from under his wing, and cried out, “Polly did!”

“That's a wicked story, you naughty bird!” said Minnie.
“You were in granma’s room, so now!”

Then Minnie tried to go to sleep again. She lay down and
pulled the sheet over her head, and counted white sheep, just
as grandma said she did, when she couldn’t sleep. But her head
began to ache, and there was a big lump in her throat. “O
dear! O dear!” she whispered softly. “I’m so miser’ble. I
wish, O I wish I hadn’t.”

Pretty soon there came a soft, very soft patter of four little
feet, and her own dear pussy jumped upon the bed, kissed Min-
nie’s cheek, and then began to “ pur-r-r-r, pur-r-r-r.” It was very
queer, but that too sounded as if pussy said “JI-know, I-know.”
WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

“Yes, you do know, kitty,” said Minnie, and then she threw
her arms around kitty’s neck and cried bitterly. “And—TI guess
— I— want — to — see— my — mamma!”

Mamma smiled and opened her arms, when she saw the little,

white-gowned, weeping
girlie coming, and then
Minnie told her whole
miserable story.

“T was awilul, awful
naughty, mamma, but
IT did want the custard
pie so bad, and so I
ate it up, most a whole
inside, and then, I—I
—O I don’t want to
tell, but I ’spect I must,
IT shut kitty in the pantry
to make you think she
did it. But Tm truly
sorry, mamma.”

Then mamma told Min-
nie that she had known
all about it. But she
had waited and hoped



“YOU NEEDN'T LOOK AT ME, MOON,’? SHE SAID.

that her little daughter would be brave enough to come and

tell her all about it herself.

“But, mamma,” she asked, as she nestled down into bed
again, “how did you know it wasn’t kitty?”
“Because kitty would never have ‘eft a spoon in the pie,”

replied mamma, smiling.

—N. U. P.
OUR POETESS.

OUR POETESS.



7 DA we will call her, because it 1s not
her real name. Her real name is a secret.
She is now only five years old. She ex:
pects her sixth birthday soon, however,
‘and has made many plans for that won-
derful day. There is to be a party, and

PEGASUS. a birthday cake on which six bright-colored
candles will burn for the six little years. There will be ice
cream. There will be bonbons that snap, with gay paper caps
inside that the children will put on their heads. Then they will
all play the Kindergarten games, and dance the Kindergarten
dances. Best of all, Ida intends to be perfectly good when she
is six years old.

As soon as Ida began to talk she began to compose what
she calls “verses.” One of her last Christmas gifts was the
Wonder Book by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The story in that book
which she likes best, is the story of the horse Pegasus with
his silvery wings. This Pegasus is the winged horse poets are
said to ride. “So,” says Ida, “I am going to be a poetess when
I grow up, and ride Pegasus, and make him fly higher than he
ever went before way up, past the sky!”

You will like to see some of the verses of this poetess. On
a card, for her big brother, Ida -had this verse written :

Our hearts to cheer, the Christmas bells do ring,
Bere and there and everywhere. O hark, and hear them sing!
THE RABBIT I DIDNT GET.

In a letter to her uncle, she wrote this New Year’s verse:

““New Year’s is the happiest— If we were a little brook,
With love, sweet love, the bells do ring. We would make a little nook
The brooks so easily do go, For the puss to bunt around.
Without knowing where they go. She would——”

But just here Ida spied her friend Sadie coming up the “ walk”
with her new Christmas doll and the verse suddenly ended.
—Mary P. W. Smith.

THE RABBIT I DIDN'T GET.

I always said my lessons to mamma, and
that morning she said, “When you can
spell ‘pen’ all right you shall go.” So I
said “p-e-n pen” over and over to myself
till I could spell it all right. Then Joey
=, and I started for the rabbit trap. He was

sure he should find a rabbit in it, because he

ee had set it where the rabbit tracks were thickest.

“And I shall give it to you, Teeny,” he said.

“And will it be a softy gray rabbit, with pink eyes and soft
long ears to lift it up with?” I asked.

“ Yes,” said Joey. So I trudged along over the snow, as happy



as could be, not minding the cold one bit, when all at once
Joey called out, “Halloo! it’s gone, the trap’s gone!” Sure
enough it was! Joey didn’t cry because he was a big boy,
but I did, for I was only six. There were small shoe-tracks
around the spot so we knew some boy had stolen it. After-
wards Joey caught me two rabbits in his new trap. But I al-
ways felt bad about that rabbit I didn’t get. —D.
PERCY’S DREAM.









































































































PERCY’S DREAM.

“Q mother dear, last night I dreamed a dream
So strange and sweet! I dreamed that Baby May
Wandered away, and, tired with too much play,
Lay down to sleep, far from her own dear room,
Within a dark, dark cavern with a gleam

Of sunlight falling just within the gloom.

And as she lay there, rosy, sweet, and sleeping,
Out from the darkness came a lion creeping.

He stopped and looked, then bowed his awful head
Above our darling May, and Nurse, she said

I sprang right up and cried out in my sleep,
‘Go ’way, go’way!’ and then began to weep.
IN THE MONTH OF MAY.

But soon I dreamed I had no cause for fear;
The dear old lion, like our Rover here,

Just kissed our baby—touched her sunny hair
With his big tongue, and then, with tender care,
Lay down beside her, like a watch dog keeping
His constant, faithful guard above her, sleeping.”

You dreamed, my Percy, of those blessed years
Which are to come; when without any fears

The little lamb shall with the lion play,

And a dear child shall lead them—like our May.



—H.



IN THE MONTH OF MAY.


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































4 HAPPY TAMILYs
THE HUMMING BIRDS’ PROTEST.

THE HUMMING BIRDS’ PROTEST.

EEP in a honeysuckle grove



I heard a hum hum humming;
I looked about me here and there
To see what might be coming.
A dozen dainty jewelled things —
Their size I will not mention—
Among the fragrant honey-cups
“Were holding a convention.
The leader in a hammock swung,
Of cobweb neatly twisted,
The others, poised on blossom-tubes,
Some grievous wrong resisted.
Their enemies, as I made out,
While tears my eyes were dimming,
Were little cruel thoughtless girls
Who had them killed for trimming.
“My dearest friends,” said Diamond Dust,
“My neighbors, and my cousins,
This moment for the milliners
Are being killed by dozens.
My sister, Princess Velvetwing |
(Let every soft heart harden),
I saw to-day upon a hat
Worn in this very garden.”
“Hum hum,” said Green-and-gold, “in view
Of what is hanging o’er us,
THE HUMMING BIRDS’ PROTEST.

Our duty first should be to call
All little girls before us.

Tell them how hard it is to bear,
When dearest, ones are taken,

Sweet hum-bird babies left alone,
And happy homes forsaken.

Ask them to think how they would feel
If some much-loved relation —

Hum, hum, were —oh dear, hum, hum, hum,
By way of decoration” —

Here great excitement seized on all,
And there was such a flutter!

Each member tried with might and main
His sense of wrong to utter.

What more was said, I cannot tell,
Myself their ally deeming,

I started up to make a speech,
And found that I’d been dreaming.

i —M. F. Butts.





HOME OF THE PEACOCK.








THE INFANTE, DON BALTAZAR CARLOS. (From painting by Velasquez.)
THE TEXY AND THE SPIDER.

THE TEXT AND THE SPIDER.

Fan sat quite still, and all alone in the big square pew.
She said the text over and over to herself: Little children, keep
yourselves from idols. It was so
short, and began so sweetly, she
was sure she could remember it,
and how pleased papa would be.

Suddenly, from the gallery, a
big spider came spinning down,
straight down toward Mrs. Allen’s
bonnet. O! O! was it going to
drop on to her! No, it stopped
just over the pink rose. It swung
gently to and fro. It put out a
leg and touched the pink rose. .
It was thinking what a fine pink



rose that was to spin a trap in.
Z i) Then it took a little wider
silences hs a swing over Mrs. Allen’s right ear,
Nh ve AN then back over her left ear. Was
_ THE BIG PEW. ww : Sens ; - e
it thinking of crawling down into
her ear? Ugh! If it did Fan knew she should scream. But
the spider only took a look at each ear, and then up it went,




















BAN SAT '





and down again, and up and down, up and down, till watching
it put the text quite out of Fan’s head, and all she could re-
member to tell papa after service was Little children.

— H.
THE MAMMOTH.

THE MAMMOTH.





















































UAE mana

7 ee
Ftd jiamun WEF

A MAMMOTH !







The mammoth was a kind

of elephant, very much

bigger than any elephant
now to be found. He had
huge tusks. He lived in
America and in Asia.

Skeletons of the mam-

moth have been dug up
in Kentucky, New York and
Michigan. In Siberia hun-
dreds and hundreds of them

have been dug up. Their

huge tusks furnish a great

quantity of ivory. I dare
say you may have seen
ivory things made out of

the tusks of mammoths.
We do not know just how
many years ago mammoths

lived on our earth. A few years ago a mammoth was dug up in
Siberia whose flesh was so well preserved that the dogs ate it.

It may seem strange to you that any species of animal should

die out so that not one should be left.

But we fear that our

own buffaloes are dying out. They are being killed by the hunters.

If our government does not do something to keep the hunters

from killing them there will soon not be one buffalo left. — D,
HOW BUTTEROUP WENT TO CHURCH.

HOW BUTTERCUP WENT TO CHURCH.

It was a pretty church, and all about it were fields of daisies,
and sweet-smelling clover.

Now when Buttercup went to this church, she did not go to
the regular service, but to Sunday-school. Buttercup was a large
yellow cow, who belonged in a field next to the church in which
she ought to have stayed. There was plenty of nice grass there for
her breakfast, dinner and supper. But Buttercup, like a good
many people, wanted a change, and when she saw all the boys
and girls going into the church door she thought she would like
to go. So she tried all the rails of the fence till she found one
that was loose. Then she jerked her head up and down, till she
unfastened it so she could crawl through on her knees. ~

The Sunday-school had begun by this time, but Buttercup did
not mind that. She walked into the church quietly, and as the
children and their teachers were all singing no one noticed her
at first. The children were sitting in the pews nearest the
chancel, so Buttercup got half-way up the aisle before any one
saw her. Then one little boy turned his head. He was so
frightened his hymnal fell on the floor; and he cried out, “Oh,
see the cow!” Then it seemed as if everybody screamed. One of
the teachers got on the top of the little cabinet organ, and two
or three stood up on the seats.

Buttercup, however, paid no attention to them. She saw a
nice red apple sticking out of a boy’s pocket and she thought
she would like to have it. The boy, who was Jack Nicholls, did
not know what she wanted, so when she came near he jumped
HOW BUTTERCUP WENT TO CHURCH.

over into the next pew and knocked little Daisy Finlay’s hat off ;
that made Daisy cry. .

What Buttercup would have done next I don’t know, so many
people cried “shoo,” and there was so much noise, she might
have got frightened herself, and a frightened cow can do a great
deal of damage in a church; but Miss Lloyd, who was the
superintendent, called to every one to be quiet. Then two or
three of the bigger boys said if they had a stick they thought
they could get her out. ;

But Miss Lloyd spoke again. “If there is any boy here whom

the cow knows,” she said,

“JT think she would follow
him out, and that would be

better than trying to drive
her.” |

“She’s my grandfather’s
cow,” said Bruce Smith, “ and
I guess she will follow me.”
So he went in front of her
Ak and called “ Buttercup, Butter-
w cup!” and, sure enough, she
went after him.

Now the vestry door was
open, and just opposite that



was another door opening

BUTTERCUP SEES THE PEOPLE GOING TO CHURCHe

out on the grass.

“As soon as Buttercup caught sight of the nice grass, she ran out
and began to nibble the fresh bits around the doorstep. Then,
as much as to say “good-by,” she kicked up her feet, tossed her
head, and trotted off to her own field. — Gwendolin Lloyd.


NG THE CHILDREN TO BAPTISM.

CARRYI




A LAZY BOY’S WISH.





A LAZY BOY’S WISHES.

“T wish for a magical ring (like the boy’s in the story, you know),
To make me grow big in a minute;
I wish for a top that will go,
Without my having to spin it.

“TI wish for some chocolate creams, like those in the candy store,
So soft that you don’t need to bite ’em;
And for lessons I’ve learned before,
So ’twon’t be hard to recite ’em.”
—Amy Elizabeth Leigh.




A LITTLE LADY. — From the Painting by F. E. Millais, R. A. !


SIMPLICITY. (Jom a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds.)

Se


AELEN SS VISIT.

HELEN’S VISIT.

“ Ding-ding,” said the bell; “+tchoo-tchoo,” puffed the engine;
and the long ride began.

Two nights and two days they rode—mamma, papa, and
Helen—and, at the end of the last day, the train stopped at
the station not far from uncle Tom’s farm. How tired, and dusty,
and warm they all were! ,

When they left the train, and uncle Tom took Helen in his
arms, he had to look her face all over to find a clean place to
kiss, and that was right under her little pink ear.

While papa and uncle Tom were getting the trunks, mamma
and Helen went through the dépét, and there stood old Billy and
the wagon. Soon they all got in and uncle Tom taking up the
reins said: “Get up, old Bill,’ and off they went to the farm-
house. ‘

It stood by the roadside, at the foot of a long hill. Across
the road was the big barn. Old Bill tried to go to the barn,
but uncle Tom reined him under the big maple tree by the front
gate. |

There stood aunt Frank, and when old Billy stopped, she
reached up and took Helen in her arms and kissed her without
looking for a clean place, and called her her “Morning Glory!”
How could she be aunt Frank’s Morning Glory when she had
never seen her before, and when she wasn’t a flower ‘at all?

Well, they went into the house, and aunt Frank brought some
nice, fresh milk, and Helen began to drink —and she never knew
when she stopped, for her eyes closed and her little head tipped
HELEN’S VISIT

cight over on one side, and pretty
-yoon she was clean and sweet and fast
asleep in bed, where she slept all night
without waking once.
Cock-a-do-dle-do-o-o ! (Zz
That was the first thing Helen heard L ANB
ihe next morning.
‘When she heard

# her eyes popped 4
wide open. She ~
heard it again,
and she slipped off
the bed and went
to the window.















HELEN. THE DUCKS. THE FARM HOUSE.
HELEN’S VISIT.

There was a big rooster, half as tall as she, right under the
window. When he saw that brown head and those blue eyes
peeping over the window-sill, he shouted “CUT! cur! cut!”
and Helen said, “ Pitty well.”

Then all the hens said, “Cut! cut!” and a lot of little chick-
ens with bright, black eyes and yellow bills, scratched their heads
a second with their yellow claws, then stretched up their little
necks, and peeped just the sweetest peep that anybody ever heard.
And all the little ducks stood straight up on their webbed. feet
and said “Quack-quack.” What do you think that little girl did?

She jumped right up and down; she said: “Yes, I will, you
darlingest, bestest, dearest chickens that ever was; ” and then she
ran out in her nightgown to aunt Frank and told her that the
chickens (she called them all chickens) wouldn’t be “ say-tis-
fwy’ed” unless she fed them her “own self.”

Aunt Frank put on Helen’s head a large blue sunbonnet. Its
cape fell far below her shoulders, and she looked like the morn-
ing-elory which aunt Frank had called her. Then she took in her
hands a bright tin dish full of dough, and went with aunt Frank
to the door, and called “ Biddy! Biddy!” as loud as she could.

How all the hens and chickens ran and flew, while the spoon in
the small baby-hand threw the dough all over the grass, and all
over the step, and all over the white nightgown, until there
wasn’t any fresh morning-glory any more; and when the dough
was all thrown out, mamma came and said that the morning-
glory was changed into a little pig!

All summer long the morning-glory grew; all summer long
the little pig grew; and one morning when the three started for
home, the morning-glory had some tear-drops—I mean some dew-
drops —on its sweet petals, and the little pig cried. — Uncle Bod.

‘er
THE SIX LITTLE HATS.

&

THE SIX LITTLE HATS.

Six little straw hats on the Ist of May,
Shining and shapely, jaunty and gay,
Properly placed as by measure and rule,

On six “little figures” starting for school.
Six little straw hats on the Ist of June,
We sing of them now toa different tune,
And each little hat by itself alone,

For everyone now has a style of its own;
For one is all crown without any brim —

It is anything now but proper and prim —
And one is all brim with just enough crown
To carry the ribbon with ends hanging down.

And one is so tattered you never could tell —
How it managed to hang together so well,
And one has a droop and a pitiful air,
Tho’ such as it is it is all of it there.
And one is so blackened —or should I say tanned—
It seems proper to call it the contraband,
And one is so queer as to shape that I know,
It would do quite well for a Paris chapeau.
Oh, six little hats, if you only could say
How you have been used since the Ist of May,
And where you have been, the wonder would he
That there is a bit of you left to see.

—M.CC


ROSES:
GRUB AND GRUNTER.

GRUB AND GRUNTER.



Last summer a lady whe
lives near my little home in
the country told me a funny
story about two pigs named
Grub and Grunter.

She said that the man who
usually took care of their pigs,
~y was gone from them for a month

Ska ee ease or two and his work had toe
be done by the other people, and she herself took care of these
two young pigs. They were pretty little white fellows with

funny pink eyes, and she soon grew quite fond of them.
GRUB AND GRUNTER.

I suppose she took more care of them than they really needed.
and talked to them, as we ‘do to other pets, for they soon
grew to know her step and voice, and to follow her about
whenever they. were let out of their pen. They were so little
and white and clean, that this pleased her, instead of troubling
her, until one day when'it was quite too much of a good
thing. She had promised to spend the day with a friend who
lived on a farm a mile or two distant across lots; and, after
hurrying through her morning’s work, was fairly started on her
way, when what should she hear but a squealing in the dis-
tance behind her, and looking back, sure enough, there were
Grub and Grunter running along the path as fast as their funny
short legs could carry their fat little bodies.

“OQ dear!” she said, “I forgot I had not shut their pen;
what shall I do? I am late already, I can’t go back!”

Then she remembered that she would soon have to cross a
creek on a log, and she thought, as they could not do that, they
would turn back home. So she hurried on to the creek. But
when she had crossed, and looked back to see what they would
do, what do you think! They stood and squealed for a minute
or two, and then Grunter started to cross the log, and Grub
followed. It was wet and slippery, ana they couldn’t reach up
and take hold of the railing that was nailed to it, for people to
hold on by, and they had as hard a time as little boys and —
girls do when they get on roller skates for the first time; but
they slipped and sprawled and scrambled across somehow, and stood
safe on the other side. It was out of the question now to take
them back, so their mistress took them with her, and when she
reached her friend’s they shut them up in an old hen coop so
that they shouldn’t spoil the garden. — Henrietta R. Eliot.
MY FIRST YACHT.

MY FIRST YACHT.

THE LAUNCH OF THE LUCY.



I am a man now, and
I own a big sail-yacht.
Her name is Llectra.
She’s a splendid yacht
and a swift yacht. But
T don’t think I get half
as much fun out of her
as ‘I did out of my

first yacht.

The name of my first
yacht was Lucy. I
named her for the little
girl who used to sit
next me at school. She
used to share her candy
with me, and I gave her
half my apples, and took
her on my sled in winter.

The Lucy was thirty-
two inches long. When

she was finished we had a regular launch. Lucy poured a

teaspoonful of water made pink with cranberry juice on her
prow, and she sailed off as proudly as ever the lectra did.
All the boys and girls were there, and Lucy brought her best

doll to see the launch.

The Lucy had one drawback, you could not sail in her. —&
HECTOR AND J.

HECTOR AND I.

Hector is just as old as I am. We were born on the same
day, my mother says. So we have the same birthday, October
17. We are seven years old.

We always have a birthday party, and all the boys bring
their dogs. I have a birthday cake, and Hector has a birthday —
cake. The cake is pound cake frosted. Hector has just as many
candles on his cake as he is years old, and I have just as many
candles on my cake as I am years old.

Hector’s cake is cut into as many pieces as there are dogs.
Then he helps them all round. He takes the piece that is left
for himself. It would not do to let the dogs help themselves,
for some of them are so greedy they would eat the whole cake.
Hector is never greedy.

So, you see, when I was one year old, Hector was one year
old —with a difference.

I was still a baby, and could not walk. But Hector was no
longer a puppy. He was a big dog. He could run about every-
where, and take care of himself.

I wonder why babies are not made so they can run about and
take care of themselves, when they are one year old.

Hector used to take care of me too. He watched by me when
I was asleep. He ran after me when I crept, to see that I did
not get into mischief or get hurt.

He takes care of me now that Im a big boy. “My mother
says she isn’t afraid of tramps or of my getting drowned i
Hector is with me; and he is always with me. —s


IRONING DAY.


GYPSY.

GYPSY.

~ Gypsy and his little mistress are a
very happy pair. Gypsy is fifteen years
old, and Annie is but seven. They live
by the seashore, and Gypsy carries
Annie to school. The little white school
house where less than a dozen boys and
girls go to school is more than a mile



from Annie’s home, so Gypsy is harnessed

GYPSY. every morning to a pretty little buck-
board, and Annie mounts to her seat, takes up the reins, and
Gypsy starts off upon a quiet steady trot. The good-natured
horse knows very well that his driver is a sweet little girl with
no strength to make him mind, and he is very good to her. When
they get to the schoolhouse Annie ties the reins and fastens them
to the dashboard, and Gypsy turns quietly around and goes
home.

Gypsy has ideas of his own about the rights of horses. As
I have said he is always good to Annie, but he often takes
his own way with other people.

If he is left standing longer than he thinks is proper, he will
turn round and start for home; if he is hitched and left alone,
he thinks there is no fun in that, and unfastens himself, and
finds a place where he can nibble.

He has many delightful excursions with his little eee and
sometimes she invites a little friend to join her, and this seems
to please Gypsy. — Mrs. M. F. Butts.
UNCLE JOHN’S LETTER FROM DENMARK.

UNCLE JOHN’S LETTER FROM DENMARK.

My Darune LitTLe
OLLIE : .

I got your letter with
its dear little blots and
its round kiss in the
corner, and my letter ig
all going to be about
three little girls that
live on this side of the
big Atlantic Ocean.

The first time I saw
Lisbeth, the little goose-
girl, she was sitting on
the grass beside a pond,
reading. Her geese were
all about her, swimming
in the pond, eating the
grass, and once in a





while a saucy goose
would nibble at her bare
toes. But Lisbeth never looked up. I crept up and peeped over her
shoulder to see what it was she liked so well. It was the Danish
Wonder Book, by Hans Christian Andersen. She was reading
the story of “The Ugly Duckling.” She did not know I was
there, and we read on and on together—how the dear little
duckling was driven out of the yard; how he lived all alone

BABETTE, THE MERRY LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER,
UNCLE JOHN'S LETTER FROM DENMARK.

and almost froze in the cold winter; how the dogs like to have
got him; how the cat scorned him because he couldn’t arch
his back and purr; how the hen turned up her beak at. him
because he couldn’t lay eggs; and how at last the ugly duckling
grew into a beautiful white swan and the little children loved
him for his grace and beauty. And, says the story, “It matters
nothing if one is born in a duck-yard if one has only lain in
a swan’s egg.” And as we read that Lisbeth looked up and saw
me, and I sat down be- {«&
side her and we had a
good long talk,

Babette is my merry
little housekeeper; she
brings me my breakfasts ;
she does my errands. She
sings; she laughs from
morning till night. She
asks millions of questions
and all about America.

I was a long time get-
ting to know shy little
Christine. She would
come and look at my
box of colors, and peep
at my sketches, but if I
spoke to her, would run
off like a wild deer. But eee er es



I gave her a brush and colors and paper, and now she watches
me when I paint, and makes little pictures herself; and I shouldn't
wonder if sometime shy little Christine were a painter. ae





















































































































































































THEIR FROG POND.

THEIR FROG POND.

“What are you going to do with
those frogs, boys?” asked mamma. She













saw that the boys had six poor fright-
ened frogs in their cart. |

Boys and frogs all answered at once.
“Going to have a frog pond in the gar-
den,” said the boys. “Croak, croak,”
said the frogs. “We want to keep the
frogs in the kitchen to-night, please,”
said the boys. “Croak, said the frogs.

“Take us away from these boys.” .
e “Cook would not like such
company in the kitchen. You
had better put them in the
tool-house,” said mamma.

The frogs were put in the
tool-house and the boys then



Raves
LR eo

~ den. Just before they went
_to bed they poured twelve

= dug a big hole in the gar-

GOING BACK TO HIS OWN POND. _ pails of water into it. As
soon as they were dressed next morning they rushed out to their
pond. It was gone! only the hole was left. They went to the
tool-house. The frogs too, were gone! gone home to their own pond.

“Well,” said Bertie, “I-guess we won’t have a pond any way.
1 don’t like frogs.” “ Neither do I,” said Hal. “Nor I,” said
Richie. _ —Abby C. Philbrooke,






































A LITTLE GARDENER,


SOME THINGS ABOUT LITTLE AH SIN’S COUNTRY.

SOME THINGS ABOUT LITTLE AH SIN’S COUNTRY.

[

es



LITTLE AH SIN.



In little Ah Sin’s country they
have queer music; that is, we should
think it queer music. If one boy
should beat two big tin covers to-
gether just as hard as he could;

and another should ring a big bell

just as hard as he could; and another
should blow hard on a whistle, al-
together the noise they would make
would sound very much as a Chinese
band does to us. But the Chinaman
thinks his band music fine. Little Ah
Sin has a fiddle with two strings, -
and he thinks the music he gets out
of it very pretty music.

Little Ah Sin’s country is in the far-Hast. One of the com-
monest gifts in the far-Hast is a fan. There is the “ tailed fan,”
and the folded fan. The “tailed fan” is so called from the han-

dle by which we move it.

The folding fan is of higher rank

than the tailed fan, because you can fold it up and carry it in

your big sleeve—if you are a Japanese and wear big sleeves.

A Chinese Mandarin or high officer, once sent a fan to Mr,

Longfellow. On this fan was printed that poem of Mr. Long
fellow’s called “The Psalm of Life.” It begins thus:

Tell me not in mournful numbers
Life is but an empty dream;

For the soul is dead that slumbers
And things are not what they seem.
SOME THINGS ABOUT LITTLE AH SIN’S COUNTRY

This poem was printed in Chinese. Mr. Longfellow gave a
dinner in honor of the fan, which he called “The Mandarin-Fan
Dinner.” Among the guests was Charles Sumner, who was a dear
and life-long friend of Mr. Longfellow.

Little Ah Sin eats his dinner with chopsticks. He takes up
his food just as neatly with his chopsticks as you do with



A CHINESE DINNER PARTY.

your fork or spoon. He does not have to sit in a high chair
at a high table when he eats. He sits on his heels upon the
floor; and the table is only about six inches high. —Z.



O, I would be a gentleman,
One without alloy;

And the way, they say,

Is to be each day
A gentlemanly boy.

— Emilie Poulsson.
BLACKBERRIES.



BLACKBERRIES.

Such a dusty little maiden.
As came singing up the lane,
With a cat, and dog, and kitten
That followed in her. train.

The boughs had caught her curly hair,
But the breeze had blown it free,

And where the sun had kissed her cheeks
I counted freckles three.

She’d a straw hat, torn and ragged,
And an apron stained with red,
And “I’ve found, oh, lots of berries,”

This little maiden said.

Then the cat, and dog, and kitten
All winked hard at what she said,
For her basket was quite empty;

But her mouth was stained with red.
— Harriette P. Ricnardson.
THE GOOD-NIGHT STORY.

THE “GOOD-NIGHT” STORY.

Little boy Ted climbs to grandma’s knee,
He is just as tired as tired can be.

He looks into grandma’s dear old face
And thinks her lap the very best place
In all the world, though a little white bed
Is waiting up-stairs for tired brown head.

2?

“ Grandma,’ he opens his blue eyes bright,
“Tell me a real true story to-night.”
“Well,” she begins, “at this very minute
I know of a room with a grandma in it.
This grandma wears a white, white cap,

And a white, white apron covers her lap..

«And on this apron a little boy lies

With rumpled head and two sleepy eyes.
The grandma wears a long gray dress
With something in it—can thee guess?

‘A great big pocket, that’s right, but oh!
That pocket’s not empty I happen to know.

“Yes; put in thy wee hand and feel all around.”
Then off grandma’s lap Teddy jumps with a bound.
“An apple! O grandma, how large, and so red!
That was a nice story, dear grandma,” says Ted.
“Good-night and I love you.” He turned at the door,
“But not for the apple; I loved you before.”

—C. L. Brine.
A SURPRISH FOR PAPA.

A SURPRISE FOR PAPA.

(A Christmas Story.)

My little girl Sadie is five years old. She is very happy
and busy getting a Christmas present ready for her papa. But
I do not believe that one of the little boys or girls that read
this, can guess what it is going to be. So I will have to tell
you. She is going to surprise him by having learned to read!
She began twelve weeks ago. And just think! Her papa don’t
know that she can read one single word! ‘One day he came right
into the nursery when Sadie was reading her lesson! O how quick
she stopped, and stuck the book under her apron! Her little face
got as red as a rose.

“ Why, Sadie!” he said, “what is your face so flushed for?” Then
he said to me, “Mamma, I’m afraid you’ve got the room too hot.”

So I opened the door, and began quickly to talk about some-
thing else, to make him forget about Sadie. In a few minutes
he went out again. I guess that was the only time Sadie was
ever glad to have her papa go away. She was so afraid he
saw the book, that she could hardly keep from crying. But I
told her I was almost sure he did not, and she was happy again.

She says when Christmas comes she is going to wrap her
Reader in a nice piece of paper, and write on it, “Sadie’s pres-
ent to papa,” and tie it to the tree. “He'll think it’s a mistake
when he takes the paper off,” she says, “but Ill say, ‘please
give the book to me, papa,’ and then I’ll just open it and read,
and read, and read, till he’s so surprised he can’t speak!”

— Henrietta R. Eliot,


UCK.”?

AND “)

?

“PAUS

CH DOGS.

£wo DUT
CORNELIA’S JEWELS.















































































































































































































































































































































A CHRISTMAS DINNER FOR TWO.



CORNELIA’S JEWELS.

Many, many years ago, in the then proud city of Rome, some
‘women were sitting together one day in the shade of its splen-
did porticoes. Among other things, they must have been talking
of dress, as women do now.

For by and by, each began to show her jewels — sparkling
diamonds, lovely pearls, blood-red rubies, blue sapphires.

But Cornelia sat silent. She wore no jewels.

“What, have you no jewels?” the other women asked.

She went away, but soon returned, leading her two young sons.

“These,” she said, with an arm ‘around each, “these are my
4ewels.” —H.










(Page 286.)

“(7WESE ARE MY JEWELS!’? SAID CORNELIA.
HOUSES TO LET.

HOUSES TO LET.

Houses to let! Houses
to let

Up in the chestnut-
tree ;

~ Houses to let the win-
ter through,

Houses yellow and red

and blue;

Houses to let, rent
free!

Houses to let! Houses
to let!

_ Snug as a house can
be;

Just a hole for a small front door,

Straw piled thick to cover the floor;



Houses to let, rent free!

Houses to let! Houses to let!
Up in the chestnut-tree.
Skies are sullen, and winds are chill,
Snow is drifted on field and hill;
Houses to let, rent free!
—H. R. Hudson.












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































IRS

SSS SS SS SS
SSS ee Se SS



“THIS IS TOO BAD,” HOWLED VICK.
LITTLE NAN’S “DOL HOUS.”

LITTLE NAN’S “DOL HOUS.”



Little Nan sat in the bay-win.
dow busily writing with a very
stubby pencil. There were two
wrinkles just above her nose, be-
tween her eyebrows. The letter
she was writing was a very
smooched, very crooked little let-
tre. It read thus:

deer Santi Claws plees bring me a dol hous
and 25 dols Nan Goodwin.

Little Nan put the letter in an
envelope directed to “Santi Claws,
North Pole,” and then put on her
“things” and trotted down to the

oye gee eee une oeeeUes = poct-oiliccs Sle stoodmon: tiptocn 10
reach up to give it to the postmaster. He looked at it and
smiled. Then he dropped it into Box 275. That box ee
to little Nan’s father.

Then little Nan went off for a slide with Teddy and Guy.
She told Teddy all about the letter, and Christmas morning he
called bright and early to see the “dol hous.’ There it was

































































































































under Nan’s stocking. It had a mansard roof and plenty of
chimneys, and inside were “25 dols”! .

Nan’s stocking was stuffed full of nice things, but she only
looked at the lovely “dol hous.” — Abby C. Philbrooke.




HELPING GRANDFATHER GRAFT.
THE CHRISTMAS WAITS.

THE CHRISTMAS WAITS.

Before I began to write this paper, I looked into the big dics
tionary to find out what it said about “ Waits.’ This is what
it said: .

Waits. 3. (pl.) Hautboys or oboes; not used in the singular.

4. (pl.) Musicians who perform at night or in the early
morning; serenaders. ee

‘So the dictionary man knew. 4. (pl.) is right. The Waits
sing on Christmas Eve and early on Christmas morning. This
was an old English custom. In some parts of England, now, the
Waits sing on Christmas Eve. They sing the sweet old Christmas
Carols such as you American children sing in the churches on
Christmas. Here is one of the quaint old hymns they used to

sing:
Behold a simple tender Babe The inns are full, no man will yield’
In freezing winter night, This little Pilgrim bed;
In homely manger trembling laid, But forced he is with silly beasts
Alas! a piteous sight. In crib to shroud his head.

(In old English “silly” did not mean what it does now. It
meant innocent or harmless. So “silly beasts” meant harmless
beasts.)

Sometimes the children sang this song:

We have got a little purse We want a little of your money
Made of stretching leather skin, To line it well within.
The Waits always expected the people at whose house they

sang to give them a “Christmas Box,” that is, a Christmas gift.
—D.








SADIE AND HER MAMMA TALKING ABOUT THE ‘SURPRISE.’
GRANDPAS STORY.

GRANDPA’S STORY.



‘9 SEND US A KING!”

lily pads, and bugs.

Once upon a time, the frogs
wanted a king, and they clam-
ored to Jupiter to send one.
They had plenty of water, mud,
“But O,
send us a king, Father Jupi-
they shouted. So Jupiter
dropped .down a log, that had

1 ??

ter

- grown on Olympus, and it fell

into the water with an awful
“That a king!” cried
the frogs, and they crawled all

plash.

over it, to show their contempt. So Jupiter then sent a stork. The
silly frogs at once fell in love with his fine white feathers, his slen-

der neck, his red bill and shoes,
and his slim legs. But almost be-
fore they had time to shout:
“Tong live the king!” he be-
gan to gobble up his subjects, one
fat frog after another, until it
seemed as though he would soon
be a king without a people.

“The moral of this is, chil-
dren,” said grandpa, spreading
wide his hands, “Jet well enough

alone.” ae] s





“LONG LIVE THE KING!”?
=

ee



GRANDPA’S STORY.






“ay
a
Sew
a
Ly ee
CAN 1
ee
SAN
oe
SSW
PSA. R ‘ S ~ aa REESE OS
Es oo 3 (ea
oe SS A Sten) EN i SRA
SS = aS wh Meher ails WM
< Ae PO Re ONE, |
s SSSeees as eS WMS MW,
SS =~ 5 sah



IN THE GARDEN OF THE TUILERIKS,

a


































FRENCH CHILDREN AT PLAY.
CHRISTMAS MORNING.—BABY’S FIRST TOOTH.

CHRISTMAS MORNING.

My darling little baby
girls,

With laughing eyes and fluffy
curls,

Sat Christmas morning in the



<< sun,
one by one.

They joyed to find, so sweet and small,
The dogs they'd wished for most of all,
And wondered Santa Claus could tell
The thing they wanted most, so well.

They pondered on it .for a while;

Then Mabel, with a happy smile,

Said, “Rosie, I guess I know now—

The telephone,” she said, “that’s how.”

— Belle Waldron.



BABY’S FIRST TOOTH.

“Come here, grandpa,” cries mamma, “come here, May and Ruth,

Just as sure as anything, baby’s got a tooth!”

“Such a fuss about one tooth,” pouts a little cousin,

“Guess you'd better look at me, I’ve got three, four dozen.”
—AHarriot Brewer.
A LOVELY FAMILY.

You are the baddest boy
That ever I did see,

To talk in such a horrid way
"Bout my dear family.

To say that Dinah Black
Hasn’t got a feature,

When everybody knows that she
Is such a faithful creature ;

And takes such splendid care
Of Mat and Fan and Lu

When they have whooping cough and things
And lets me sleep right through.

_ We don’t love folks for looks;
And Mat’s a beauty bright —
You know she is, and Fanny, too,
And Lu’s my heart's delight.

Topsy’s a scatter-brain,
But cute as she can be;
And take them all in all they are
A lovely family.
— Mrs. M. F. Butts.
MARY HAD A LITTLE FROG.













Mary had a little lamb—O, no, it was a frog,
That in its babyhood had been a little pollywog.

When Mary heard his little bleat—Imean she heard his croak,
‘She said, “Tll make this little frog a pretty little cloak.”

When in the cloak she saw him frisk—Imean she saw him swim,
Then Mary laughed until with tears her pretty eyes were dim.

So long we’ve sung that little lamb, with fleece so snowy white,
That when I'd praise a little frog that lamb skips into sight.
— Jenny Wallis.
@ gman.



THE LOVELY FAMILY.
WHAT JHSSIE FOUND.

WHAT JESSIE FOUND.

It was too early for butterflies.

The buds had come, phoebe-

birds, wrens and robins, but not the butterflies. Still Jessie was
out with her net, hoping to find. just one for her collection.
She caught beautiful things, but not butterflies. She carried in to’

dinner rosy cheeks, bright spar-
kles in her brown eyes, cherry-
-yed tints on her lips, and a
good appetite. After dinner she
went out again under the apple-
trees; and this time she found a
treasure up in the branches.
What do you think it was ?

The apple-tree under which
she stood was down in one cor-
ner of the great orchard where
she seldom went. But she re-
membered that sweet white vio-
lets grew in the grass around its

roots, and she went down hoping:

to find some. As she looked up
in the tree, she saw a long white
banner waving among the green
leaves. She looked again, and
there was a white-lace scarf —











A DECORATED NEST.

yes, the very one that mamma had missed two weeks ago, float-
ing among the branches—and wound and woven fast into a

cobin’s nest !

— Sara E. Farman.






SS





See.

iy lk Asay

s i NO Wt} iss

iY NNN
Sa \ AY | nt a \ Wa th

W
(

JESSIE, WATCHING FOR BUTTERFLIES.
FLOWER FAIRIES.

FLOWER FAIRIES.

A little girl was picking flowers one day when sne heard a
soft sound like music, and a sweet voice said, “I’m dying!”

As the little girl took the next to break its stem, she said,
«Don’t you want to be picked, little flowers?”

A sweet voice replied, “I do not want to die; a fairy




: a (



FLOWER FAIRIES.

lives in every flower; and when you pick the flower the fairy dies.”
The little girl began to cry, and when her tears touched the
broken stems, new flowers sprang up. Then the little flower said —
“When children feel sorry they have given the flowers pain, their
tears make the fairies live again.” — Abby C. Philbrooke.


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































A LESSON IN HOUSEHOLD CLEANLINESS,
SEEING THE WORLD.

Granny was sure something would happen that day — something
bad. She “felt it in her bones,” she said. Granny lives in a
tiny cottage; her little granddaughter, Janet, lives with her.

. Granny owns a cow; a pretty
cow with wide-spreading horns;
her name is Clover.

Clover has a little calf. Granny
is going to keep that calf and so
have another cow. Janet has
named the calf “ Cowslip,” which
is avery pretty name for a calf.

Then granny has a flock of
very fine geese. She sells eggs,
and live geese feathers and some-
times a fat goose.

These geese generally feed on
a common near the cottage.
There is a pond on the common,
where they can swim as much
as they like. But this morning
they wanted to go somewhere
else. They were tired of the
common.

_ “My children,” said old Mother
Wisehead, the prone tice of all the geese, “ you had much better stay



LITTLE JANET.

where yoa are. I fear you will only get into trouble if you wander off.”
SHEING THE WORLD.

“ Pooh!” said Sir Webfoot, and he looked at Mother Wisehead
with great scorn. “ How can geese ever know anything, if they
never go out to see the world. Now over there is a fine green
field; just the place to show off our white feathers.”

“And there are those queer creatures called boys, playing a
game. I, for one, should like to know what that game is like.
I propose that we all go over and see for ourselves.”

“ Gabble — gabble — gabble ! Cackle —cackle!” said all the geese,
which meant “That is what we think!”

Mother Wisehead sighed and shook her head. She knew it was
of no use to say anything more. Over they all went into the
field. |

The boys were having a game of cricket. The geese looked on
for some time.

“ Well, Mother Wisehead,” said Webfoot, as he strutted about,
“what do you think now? We are having a fine time and nothing
has happened to us.”

Alas, poor Sir Webfoot! That very moment a cricket-ball came
speeding across the field and struck one of his wings. The feathers
flew and Webfoot was sure his wing was broken.

“ Cackle —cackle—cackle! gabble — gabble!” shrieked the geese,
and they turned and ran towards granny’s cottage. Janet heard
them. She ran out and picked up Webfoot.

Granny looked at his bruised wing. Then she shut him up in a
a dark box in the cow-house to stay until he got well.

Mother’ Wisehead went up and looked into the box. “I told
you so!” she said. “I told you so!” Wasn't she provoking?

This happened to the geese in the afternoon. Towards sunset granny
said to Janet, “Go, child, and call Clover. It’s time for the
milking.”
SEEING THE WORLD.

So Janet went out and called “Clo-ver! Clo-ver! co-co-co!”
Then she listened. But Clover did not answer. .

She called again, “Clo-ver! Clo-ver!” but still no answer. It was
strange. - Clover had always answered before. Then granny came
out and called. Then they looked for her. Tommy Leeds and
Dick Rogers: came and looked too. .

“Clover must have wandered off,” said granny. “Go, Janet, with
Tommy and Dick and see if you can find her. It is very strange
indeed. But I felt in my bones something was going to happen
to-day.” | :

So the children went off, calling as they went, “Clo-ver!” By-
and-by they heard a faint sound. They listened.

“ Moo-o0-00!” came through the air.

“That’s Clover!” said Janet joyfully; and they went on towards
the sound. ;

Granny lives not far from the English sea-coast, where there
are high cliffs. And here on one of these high cliffs they found
Clover.

Cowslip was quite tired out. She had lain down to rest. Clover was
standing beside her calling “ Moo-o0-00!”

She knew very well that Janet would hear her and come for
her. Dick and Tommy went back for a cart. They got Cowslip
off the cliff and put her in the cart and took her home. Clover
followed behind.

Clover was poking her nose around the cow-house, when she
came to the box where Sir Webfoot was shut up.

“Did you go to see the world too, Clover?” he asked, thrusting
his head out of the box. ;

“Yes,” said Clover, “and I’ve seen enough of it. I saw the

very end of it.”














CLOVER AND COWSLIP AT THE END OF THE WORLD.


ABOUT COMPOSITIONS.

To-morrow is school composition-day again. That day comes
once in two weeks at my school. I am nearly tired of that day.
I have written a composition on all the subjects. I know about.
The last time before this it was very hard work. If I had not
read in my father’s magazine about mountain goats, I could not
have written that composition. This time I have no subject, so
I cannot read anything about it to write for a composition.
Aunt Lida said if I came out here and sat down, the thoughts
would come. I have come out here and they jo not come.
James Lloyd stood on the floor one forenoon because he would
not try to write one. But I try. I have written about my
tryings here. Any one can see that Ive tried. My teacher says
it is not well to spend too much time in thinking about a “ sub-
ject.” He says you can write about anything which interests you,
and that you do not need a subject.

Well, I was interested once about a tree. It grows in South
America, and people call it a cow-tree. It grows on a rock.
The ground is so thin and stony that the roots can hardly
spread at all. It has large leaves, but they look dried, because
there is so little rain on the roots. Yet that tree is a rich,
juicy tree. Folks bore a hole in the trunk of that tree, and
there flows out a sweet, rich milk. They hold their bowls under
and catch it, and carry it home to their children.

That is what I call an interesting tree.




THE SMALL BOY THAT WRITES THE COMPOSITIONS,
THE HOME OF THE PEAFOWLS.




Swinging up beneath the table!
Robbie, dear, what do you mean?
Such a strange, unseemly antic,
Surely, child, was never seen’!

Holding tight the bar above him,
Tumbled hair and cheeks all red,
“Playing I’m a hanging basket,”
That is what the mischief said.
| Anna R. Henderson,



THE HOME OF THE PEAFOWLS.

You would be delighted if you could see our peafowls.
' We have many of them, sometimes nearly a hundred, and though
we enjoy a fat peafowl for Christmas dinner, we think our chief
pleasure in them comes from watching them; sometimes as they
strut, again as they walk gracefully along carrying their long trains
of feathers just above the grass.

In the springtime, when their feathers are of full length, we some-
times see twenty-five or thirty strutting at once, each tail full spread
and very rich and beautiful. The peacock, you must know, has ¢
THH HOME OF THE PEAFOWLS.

greater variety of colors in his plumage than any other bird. The
peahen is dove colored, with a green neck, and has not a long tail.

Peacocks appear vain, and each one has his favorite place of strut-
ting, and there he spends most of his time in the spring; he comes
to the same spot year after year to display his beauties. One who
spent his time before the sitting-room window was very handsome.
Some one caught him and hung a coin by a cord round his neck,
and it shone there over his glossy blue breast for years.

We have some who are fond of perching on the gate posts, and we
think them handsome ornaments.

They roost far up in the tall forest trees, and sometimes in snowy
weather, do not come down till late in the day. Sometimes when
weighted with snow, they sit down, and their plumage
freezes to the ground, and if not cut loose they would
die. |

In summer they do not go to roost till late, and if rain
is coming on, they utter their strange cries at all times
of the night. I knew a little girl who said she believed Sens
they talked in their sleep, for she thought they could not waa rtansusr
stay awake to call as steadily as they did. The voice icles
of the peafowl is thought to be harsh, but we like it, for it is to us
a home sound. _



Their egos are large. They make their nests in the wheat fields
or orchards, and do not bring their young to the house while small.

In May and June their feathers are ripe for plucking, and after a
heavy rain, while they are too wet- to fly or run fast, boys catch
them and pick out their beautiful tails. As they miss the weight
of their feathers, they stagger around and hide in the bushes for a
few days. .
The peafow’ is said to be a native of India.

Anna R. Henderson.
aA TURKEY’S SOLILOQUY.

A TURKEY’S SOLILOQUY.

I was a small turkey last November,
very young. But I remember. I had
eyes and I used them. I had ears and
I used them. I am a turkey who thinks
about what he has seen and_ heard.
After I have thought upon one subject

_ through one whole year, I am able to

make up my mind about it.

I think that a certain Thursday in 1 the
month of November isa bad day, a Black
Thursday for turkeys —bad for all fowl,
but especially a Fatal Day for turkeys.
I have made up my mind that I shall



leave home for an absence of two weeks

in November. I shall also be away from home two weeks in the a

latter part of December. I shall spend Thanksgiving away from
home, also Christmas.

The Mistress and the Master came out together yesterday and
walked about among us. I felt uneasy as that. blue eye of the
Mistress rested on me.

“What a plump, handsome fellow !” Bald she.

“Yes,” said the Master.

“We will have that one, then, T think,” said the Mistress.

“Yes,” said the Master. “I shall remember.”

So shall I. I shall leave tomorrow morning for the eer
wood lot.

Sa E. Farman.




THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEKPER
THE ITALIAN PIPERS.

The Italian children are born with a taste for music.

When a little Italian boy is quick to catch tunes his father and
mother are glad. They know he will have a sure way to earn money.

They teach him to use a hand organ, or to play pipes, or to sing sweet,
gay little peasant songs. The pipes are much like the famous Scotch bag-
pipes. They teach him how to pet and train monkeys and white mice.

Then, when he is old enough and strong enough, they send him out on
short trips near home to play or sing.

When he is used to the business, and feels full of courage, he bids
good-by to his old home and old friends. He starts for England, or for
America with his pretty white mice, or his cunning little monkey, and
his pipes, or his hand organ.

Sometimes two or three start together. They go on different streets
in the large towns. They stop to play before houses where they see
ladies or children at the windows. If the children stay at the windows
and look pleased, the player will play several tunes. He hopes there
will be a few cents brought to the door or thrown from the window.

The pipe-players and the hand organ men remember those houses
where the people seem pleased and pay them well. They tell each
other, and those houses are sure to get plenty of street music.

These music-makers meet at night. They eat their: cheese and
maccaroni and oranges and chestnuts, and talk about Italy and the
sunny hills and blue lakes and golden skies of their old home. ©

Most of these music-makers “lay up money.” When they have
enough to last all their lives, they go back to their beautiful Italy.


THE ITALIAN PIPERS,


ON DONKEY-BACK. -

Molly’s cousin Ray has gone to Colorado to live. Molly lives fn
Boston, Massachusetts. Ray has written a great deal about Colo-
rado to Molly.

She has written about Pike’s Peak and the wild and rocky cai-
ons and the lovely flowers, and oh, she has written about the donkeys!
She has one to ride of her very own. She rides him every day.

‘donkey.

She wonders why Mas-
sachusetts people don’t
have donkeys. She never
saw one in her life ex-
cept in a circus.

— «Did you ever see a
donkey, Rose?” she ask-
ed. Rose Smythe is Mol-
ly’s dearest friend. ‘Yes,
Rose had seen a donkey.
When she went to Europe
with her papa and mam-

lots of donkeys!” so she



said.

THE WELSH WOMAN AND HER D@NKEY.

Her papa is an artist.
Artists like to go where they can see pretty and queer things.
Rose’s papa went to Wales to sketch. It was lovely in Wales.

Molly wishes she had a.

ma she saw “Oh lots and

ees


ON DONKEY-BACK.

Wales is in the Western part of Great Britian. There Rose saw
the Welsh women with their queer hats and white caps.

She saw this Welsh wom-
an riding on her donkey.
She is on her way to
market. Don’t you think
jhat donkey must be gen-
tle? See, the Welsh wom-
an carries the reins over
her wrist while she knits!
Think of riding on a
donkey and knitting at the
same time!

Then Rose saw a great
many donkeys in Egypt.
When they went to see
the pyramids they rode on





donkeys.

“Papa’s feet almost drag-
ged, his donkey was so
small,’ said Rose. “ He
looked so funny! A lit-
tle donkey-boy ran behind
and kept punching the









donkey to make him go





































faster.”
The smaller the donkey
is, the faster he goes. Large donkeys are good for pulling, like

A DONKEY IN BRITTANY.

oxen. They are handsome but they will not go- fast.
Rose went to Brittany with papa and mamma. | Brittany is a
province of France. There she saw this girl riding on her donkey.
The donkey is well-lcaded. He is walking in a narrow path round a hill.

Donkeys can go in very narrow steep places where horses cannot
go. They are very sure-footed. They never slip. People climb
mountains on donkey-back. I do not suppose a donkey can go up
a ladder. But he can go up and down stairs very well.

The donkey has one bad trait. He is stubborn. He will stop
and will not go till he gets ready. You cannot coax him. You
cannot drive him.

Rose has a little cousin Max who lives in Burgundy, France.
Max has a very tiny donkey and a wagon to match. Rose used
often to ride in Max’s donkey wagon. The donkey’s name was
“The Flying Dutchman.” Just the moment Rose was seated in
the wagon, off would go “The Flying Dutchman” at’ the top of
his speed. How he did go!

Max is a generous little fellow. He said he would give “The
Flying Dutchman” and wagon to Rose. But papa said he could
not think of having a donkey for a _ travelling-companion across
the Atlantic Ocean. |

A FAIRYLAND TRIP.

One day some fairyland news came to Madam Merle’s school.
It came to Leocadie and Leon, the two little pupils. The news
was that papa and mamma Oglethorpe were to stay in Paris all
winter, and that little Leocadie and Leon were to go North tc
grandpa Graham’s. .
A FAIRYLAND TRIP.

To go North! The South-land children looked at the little brother
and sister. ;

To go North, into that white country that glistens with snow:
crust and icicles!

“T ’spose you will throw snowballs!” said one little playmate.

“ You will slide downhill!”
said another,

“You will skate!” said the
next.

Leocadie giggled and clapped









A SOUTHERN GOOD-BY.

her hands. “And I will wear furs,” said she.
“And mittens and leggings and ear pieces to my cap,” said

little Leon, and he jumped about just to think of it. |
Madam Merle’s pupils had read about these things in their
A FAIRYLAND TRIP.

magazines and story-books. They had seen snow-flake and sleigh-
rides in the pictures. But none of them had even geen a flake
of snow, nor a skating pond. So the children started. The jas-
mines were in bloom. The orange blossoms and the green oranges

pena eee ee = and the _ ripe
~~ ;
NS

oranges all hung
on the tree to-
gether. Their
‘schoolmates stood
bareheaded in the
sunshine to say
good-by, and the
mocking-birds
were singing.
The story-books
were true about













the snow. Leo-





cadie and Leon
arrived at grand-
pa’s in the first
snow-storm of the
winter.

















They went out
of doors after
dinner, under



pan na Boar Zl grandpa’s um:

Beet nae brella, and let the
snow-flakes fall on their warm cheeks and melt; and they both
liked it, O, so much!






b







SOME LITTLE MEN OF FRANCE.
ANGUS VISITS HOLLAND.

Fergus and his dog Angus The in Scotland.

Angus is a little Scotch terrier. He spends his time in barking
and, frolickmg and naps. ;

Once he went with Fergus to visit Fergus’ cousin in Holland.

“ What a mean country,” barked Angus. “All plains and dikes
and windmills and geese! No hills, no waterfalls, no sheep, no
deer! Not a sprig of heather!” —

He turned up his little saucy nose and barked very loud about it.

But ah, what did Angus think when he saw the eee of olin
work ?

Dogs work! Yes, work.

All the while Angus was there he never saw one idle dog.

The Holland dogs drew market carts and wagons. just as horses did —
in Scotland.

They drew fish and vegetables and wood from door to door.

When the wagon was empty, the fish woman or tne vegetable
man would jump in and ride home.

They are fed with bread, and treated kindly.

But they did not look happy. They all looked tired and sad.

Angus often went to the door and looked at the poor Holland
dogs as they stood waiting for their masters.

He was glad he was a little Scotch terrier, and not a big Hol-
land dog.

He longed to go home and tear ae the purple heather and
bark at the deer.




































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































IS GLAD HE IS NOT A HOLLAND DOG.

ANGUS
THE FOX.

The fox is an animal. His only valuable part is his fur. He
is also an animal that has a good opinion of himself. A fox
thinks he is smart. It is said that a fox is the only animal that
can laugh like a person.

A fox is much dreaded by hens and their chickens. Also by
all men and women who keep fowls. A fox spends his daytimes
in his hole. He eats the fowl he has caught the night before,
and plans where he will go the next night. He spends his
nights carrying out the plans he has made.

A fox selects shiftless farmers. He selects those men that have
their hens roost on the fences or the trees, or forget to shut
their henhouse door. The fox knows these things as well as a
person does. He plans accordingly. That is why there is a say-
ing, “As cunning as a fox,’ or “As keen as a fox.” I do not
think it is a compliment to a man or a boy, when people say,
“He is as keen as a fox.” Tf it is a man, that man will cheat
you if you buy a horse of him. If it is a boy, he will make-
some trade with you, and get your marbles or your knife. I
do not think I have ever heard a girl spoken of as being “as_
keen as a fox.’ 1 read a story of a. fox. It showed that a fox
is like other folks. A man had a tame fox, but he ran away.
That fox afterwards was chased by hunters. When he gave himself
up for lost, he turned and ran for that man’s house, and the man
protected him. That shows a fox has memory and can plan.
MILY OF FOXES.

A FA








































ARCHIE TAKES A SEA VOYAGE.

It was a long voyage. Archie was five years
old when he took it. He was born in India.
Now India is a very hot country; it is so
very hot it is not good for little white chil-
dren to live there. The little brown Hindoo
children do not mind the heat; but the
little white children soon grow sick.

So papa and mamma made up their minds
‘to send Archie to grandmamma,: who lives
in England. It took them a good while to



; make up their minds to send Archie away.
“KISS ME, DOLLY!” Miss him! Do. you suppose papa and
mamma would miss you, if you went away off to Australia?
But at last they did make up their minds, and Archie set sail
for England in a big ship, called the Hmeline.
Captain Brown said he would look out for Archie, and _ his

ON
ARCHIE TAKES A SEA VOYAGF.

nurse went with him. The nurse is called the ayah in India. The
ayah was a brown Hindoo woman, and she wore a white muslin



turban with long gold earrings, and a great



inns

aan

many gold chains around her neck, and bracelets
on her wrists and ankles. She could not speak
a word of English, but Archie could talk
Hindostanee with her.

aes ae
Seen

Boone nie








£4.05

There were a good many people on board
the ship. First, there were all the sailors;
no ship could get along without sailors. Then
there were Captain Brown, and the first: officer,
and the second officer, and the third officer,
and the captain’s wife.



There was a lovely lady



who was a passengcr
like Archie; her name
was Lady Florence, and
she told mamma _ she
would look after Archie,
too. There were Robert
the cabin hoy, and the



aie

Reet Saag st esl ctor rem captain’s little daughter
. Dolly.

Every one of these people petted Archie, so you see he had
good times. He played on the deck with Robert and Dolly, while
the ayah sat in the sun and slept. You see the ayah, being a
Hindoo, could never get enough of the sun.

Robert had four little dogs, and he gave one of them to
Archie, and Archie named her “Emeline,” after the ship. Captain
Brown had a monkey, and this monkey was very fond of the
ARCHIE TAKES A SEA VOYAGE.

dogs, and would take them up and hug them till they squealed.
One day Romeo (that was the monkey’s name) seized Emeline

and ran up one of the masts with her. Emeline kicked and.

tried hard to get away, and everybody was afraid that Romeo.
would drop her; but he didn’t. He ran out on one of the arms
of the mast and sat there a long time and rocked her.

There were a number of pets on board the ship: The captain

had a parrot that used to perch on his shoulder and shout, “Ship.
} ahoy! down with the top-gallant main-sail! aye, aye, sir! star-
board yer helm! heav-yo! heav-yo!” :

The parrot’s name was “Grif,” and a very saucy parrot he was.
He was’ brimful of mischief. oe ;

One day he was in the cabin, when he spied a gown
lying on the arm of a chair. It belonged to Lady Florence, and
it had a row of bright buttons down the skirt. No sooner did
Grif spy these buttons, than he began to bite them off, one after
the other, and when Lady Florence came for her gown, there
they were, in a neat little pile on the floor.

Dolly had a pretty little macaw, that used to sit on her perch,
and say, “Kiss me, Dolly! kiss me, Dolly! quick, quick! Give
Polly cracker; there’s a duck!” a

Well, the ship Zmeline sailed through ‘the Indian Ocean, and
the Red Sea, and through the Suez Canal into the blue Mediter-
ranean, and there something happened that I must tell you
about. - .

One day everybody had gone down below to eat dinner; every-
body but the man at the wheel, Lady Florence, Archie, and the
ayah. Though the ayah might just as well have been eating her
dinner, for all the good she was; for she was sitting in the sun,
as usual, fast asleep. |

ad
ARCHIE TAKES A SEA VOYAGE.

Well, Archie was playing about on deck, when suddenly the ship gave
a great lurch, and over he went into the deep, deep sea! Lady Florence
was reading; but she dropped her book, and without waiting an
instant, sprang into the water after Archie, swam out to where his little
brown head was just coming up, held him up in her arms and waited.
The man at the helm shouted, “Boy overboard!” and then everybody
4 rushed up on deck, and down
went the boat, and in went the
sailors into the boat, and off they
rowed, so fast, so fast. Oh, if you
have never seen sailors work,
you don’t know how fast they _
can work !

In a few minutes they had
Lady Florence and Archie in the
boat safe and sound. Archie was
handed up to the captain drippmg
wet, and when the ayah saw
him, such a howl as she set up.
So you see what a fortunate
thing it was for Archie that Lady
Florence knew how to swim. I
hope every boy and girl who
reads this will learn how to swim.

After that, Archie grew very
fond of Lady Florence, and



mamma wrote her a beautiful lets

NOW ARCHIE Is AN ENGLISH BOY.

. ter when she heard all about nite
When Archie got to England, grandma gaid she must make an
English boy of him. So she laid aside the pretty muslins he wore
KITTY CLOVER AT THE SEASIDE.

in India, and put on a dress with kilt and pockets, and got him a
sailor hat, and stout shoes, and a sturdy little fellow he has grown

to be; and next year papa and mamma are coming home to Eng:
land, too.



JOHNNY IN SPAIN.

Johnny had a good time in Spain. Do
you know where Spain is? Johnny had
to cross the Atlantic Ocean to get there.
They staid in Seville through the winter.
Mamma thought it was cold in Seville.
In Spain, the houses are not heated with
stoves and furnaces. When the people feel
chilly, they sit near a big pan of char-
coal. This pan is called a brazier.



But Johnny wasn’t cold, not he! He
was running about all the time, and that
kept him warm. He saw so many new and queer things.

He saw the fishwives with their baskets of fish. He saw a
great many beggars. They looked sick, but they were not sick.

A SPANISH FISH WIFE.
JOHNNY IN SPAIN.

He saw one beggar boy who had his leg tied up in such a way
that he looked as if he hadn’t but one leg! He did that se
people would pity him, and give him money.

= He saw the beautiful
Spanish ladies with veils
on their heads, instead of
bonnets. And then the
oranges! “ Why, mamma,”
said Johnny, “I can buy
a heap of oranges for one
-eent!” Just think of
that!

Then he saw lots of
donkeys.

The donkeys carried
=i great water jars and bas-
kets of vegetables. One
day he. saw a donkey
going down a flight of
stairs. He carried a man
on his back and two

bundles of wood.
IN A SPANISH STREET. i
A



woman was walk-
ing near by, with a great jar on top of her head. As she walked
she spun flax on her distaff. Johnny wanted a donkey to ride,
and mamma said when spring came he should have one.

In the sprmg they went back among the hills. There they saw
ylenty of donkeys. ‘The peasants ploughed with them.

“ Now, mamma,” said Johnny, “when can I have my donkey ?”

“To-morrow I will let you choose,” said mamma. So the next
JOHNNY IN SPAIN.

day they went where a number of donkeys were pastured. Johnny
found it difficult to choose at first.

They looked very much alike. They gazed at Johnny, and
shut and opened their eyes, and moved their long ears back and
forth.

At last Johnny said, “I will choose this nice big one. He
looks good-natured. ©, 1 hope he will go tast.”

Then mamma bought him a saddle and bridle, and Johnny
felt very grand. .

He had planned ever so many rides with mamma on the
hills. ic
“But you must learn to ride first,”’.said mamma. hy

So Johnny mounted his donkey and said, “Klk! go “long!” :



IN A DONKEY PASTURE,

But as the donkey was a Spanish donkey, perhaps he did not | | S
understand English. At any rate he did not go.

“Kik! go along,” said Johnny again. But the donkey did not
move. .

ow
JOHNNY IN SPAIN.

Then Johnny struck him with his whip, and the donkey raised
his hind legs, and bowed his head, and over went Johnny. He

Wee,



OVER WENT JOHNNY.

turned a complete somersault and when he got up he was very
angry. a
“Perhaps you had better choose another one,” said mamma.
“No,” said Johnny, “I-am not going to give in to a donkey.
I shall learn to ride this one.” And he did; and mamma and
he had many pleasant rides over the hills of Spain.


THE ORIOLE.

THE ORIOLE.

Lady-locket lost her pocket,
Lost it out in the orchard grass,

And a little fellow clad in yellow
Found it as he chanced to pass.

And he said, or sang it, “Ho, Tl hang it”—
These were his very singsong words —

“ Where bloom comes quickest, and bloom is thickest,
Tll hang it up for my baby birds!”

It looked so funny—a bag for money,
A grass-cloth pouch so quaint and odd—
With a woven, shining, silken lining
Made from a broken milk-weed pod.
Leaves were growing and buds were blowing,
And he did his wisest and his best
To try to hide it, but some one spied it,
A boy, who cried, “A hang-bird’s nest!

“Oh, sister-locket, it is your pocket
Swinging here in the apple-tree!

If the tree were smaller and I were taller
Td get it for you again, maybe!”

The wind grew merry over this, very,
And laughed as he tossed the nest-hung bough,

“Tf you don’t mind falling and headlong sprawling,
And bumps and bruises, try it now!”

-~-Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.
ne

















































































































































































































































































































































































































































GOING TO MARKET WITH SISTER.
~ “CONTRARY MARY.”

T think it is interesting to stand still and look at birds and bugs.
If you meet a bird or a bug and you pass on, you do not see any-
thing interesting. But if you wait you see the interesting things.

IT noticed seven birds this spring. They came from the
South together, I think; for they were flying along overhead
together, and all settled down in an alder thicket where there was
some old hay, and some last year’s sunflowers, and other tangled
stuff. They lit on the limbs, and tried spots and notches, as if
to see if those were good building-places, and they flew down
and picked and pulled -at the hay and stuff, and they talked
and turned heads to look at one another, and appeared pleased,
or vexed, or scornful, or inquiring, like people. One bird, Con-
trary Mary, was contrary, I tell you: They all called her Con-
trary Mary. They really did. She would sccld, and then fly
away, and the others would call after her:

“Mary! Mary! Contrary Mary! Mary Quite Contrary!”

Then she would come back and scold again: “I tell you, I
will not build here and live like a rustic! I will build in a
door-yard maple, or I will not build at all! I will build where
there are little girls with snarly curls so that I can furnish my
nest in brown or yellow silk! you have no style!”

Then some one would peck her, and down both would tumble
to the ground and fight until the others would separate them.

I do not think they built in the alders.




















































“ CONTRARY MARY.??


THE RUNAWAY.



































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































SHE RAN AWAY.

“THE RUNAWAY.

This jolly little runaway,

With flying hair

And feet quite bare,
Slipped out one showery summer day,
While mamma thought asleep she iay.

A pretty bird sang merrily
Among the leaves
Below the eaves,


A GYMNASIUM FOR DOGS.

“Rain-drops fall thick, but can’t touch me,
The brook is full, come out and see.

My mate sits swinging in the tree.
Under her breast
A soft round nest
And hungry birdies one, two, three
Without a feather, come and see.”

And then the bird sang saucily,

“Her shoes are gone

Her dress is torn
She’s just as wet as she can be;
She run away; come out and see.” Louis Hall.





A GYMNASIUM FOR DOGS,

Te ee
MY AUNT CARRIE

My teacher said “Camels” would be a good: subject for a com
position. But I rather write about my aunt Carrie.

I know a great deal about my aunt Carrie, and I feel like
writing about her. I don’t like her. I thought I should when
she came, but I didn’t. She is visiting at our house, you
know. She is only two years older than I am, but she thinks

she is a young lady, and that I am only a boy. She don’t like

boys, nor children. She has brought a dog with her, and. she
likes the dog. Bah!
She is always going walks, to give that dog an airing. He is

too fine to walk himself, and so she carries him. That dog!

I have a pretty little sister, but aunt Carrie never takes her
to walk. She likes a dog best. I like a dog, too, as well as any
boy, but I don’t like a dog that is carried in your arms. No, |
don’t. That dog has a basket, and a down bed, and a silk bed-
quilt, and real sheets and pillow cases I tell you, sir, I don’t
like it! I don’t think it is right. I can’t tell you why, but I

. know it isn’t right. A boy knows some things, sir!

One day my little sister hurt herself bad, but my aunt Carrie
never noticed it. But if that dog whines the least in the world,
my aunt Carrie runs to see what is the matter. Do you call
that right? J don’t. And I am as kind to animals as any boy.

‘PI defend them any time, and I belong to a society for it.

But I won’t carry them around on my arm.


“THN LITTLE INDIANS.”

«TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”
ONE LITTLE INDIAN.

One little Indian lying on a board.
He is called a papoose, and his name is Moxmox. The board

that he is strapped to is fastened to his mother’s back, when
she ek to carry him, He is NA in a blanket and has









SVN

eC)

ONE LITTLE INDIAN.
no hat on, so the sun shines down on his little red face and

makes him blink his tiny eyes. When he cries, his mother
shakes the board up and down, instead of rocking him. By and by
she will hang the board to a bough or stand itagainst a tree, while
she cooks supper. Then Moxmox will clap his little hands and
crow in funny Indian baby fashion. — Helen E. Sweet.

wd

\
; ~o Bek pane tee


MY “SWHETHEART” MAMMA,

MY “SWEETHEART” MAMMA.

| (A Valentine Story.)

This I am about
to tell you happened
when I was a little
boy. My papa and
mamma put me to




off thousands of miles
away in the big ship of which my
papa was captain. And O how homesick

the other boys should not hear me. And I
would steal away by myself when the other
boys were at play, and think and think about
my dear mamma, till it seemed to me I must
die if I did not see her.

I was born at sea and had never been
away from my mamma a single day before.
IT had never staid much on land, and every-

I WAS HOMESICK FOR MAMMA.

thing was very strange to me at first.
The boys would laugh when I called the stairs the “gang-
way,” and a bureau a “locker,” and the kitchen the “galley,”

and my bed a “bunk.” And I had been so used to walking

on the deck of’ a tumbling ship, that I hardly knew how to
walk on a floor that kept still. And that made the boys laugh.
Well, one evening in February, Dick and Tuck (Tucker) who



get eed

school, and then went -

I was! I used to ery nights — softly, so.

Yo en TT

Set EET

y

|














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































A DANCING LESSON,









































































































































































































































































































































































































































MY “SWEETHEART” MAMMA.

shared my study with me, got out their paper to write “Valk
entines,” they said. And when I asked what a Valentine was
they just stared.

“A Valentine, Goosey!” for that was what they called me
when they thought me very stupid. “Why, a Valentine is— is
— what is it, Dick?” said Tuck. “Why, it’s a—a— Valentine!
And that was all Dick could say. And so I looked in the dic-
tionary. And it said first that a Valentine was a “ sweetheart”

chosen on St. Valentine’s. day. And then it said that it was ie

letter of “love sent’ from one person to another on St. Valen-
tine’s day.” And I cried harder than ever that night, because
“sweetheart” was my name for mamma. :

It was the prettiest of all the pet names my papa called her.

Well, a few ,
days after, a let-
ter came with.
gilt edges, and,
in one corner, a
gilt boy, with a
pair of. wings. I
opened it and
sure enough it
was a Valentine
from my “sweet-
heart” mamma:



and this was

it: : - DICK AND TUCK WRITING VALENTINES.
Fly, little boy, with wings of gold A thousand kisses, the truest tove
And bear to that boy of mine From his dearest Vaientine.

Dick and Tuck said it was splendid, and they wished their
mothers could write poetry. =) A. He






































MAMMA WRITL





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































NG MY VALENTINE,

MY ‘SWEETHEART’?

cS










Ppa nares UES wes T Pie Rd . _ RS ees







Lent see the use ofa pocket, |'n Sure,
ae little Miss eee fee

Â¥ handkerchiek sali
: at | carry, TEs small
= And mi o eS as as in Ty belt.”
- No one irl woul make such a remark,

eplied ie er fYOundabout Straw

Ow SOME might say irls,

\vJith their bangs and Keir curls,
wert useless! butpockets 9






shaw |

always have Seven, and frequen ly eight
| wish: [ne twelve ot or Ehirteen! ae
Or ine one that you wear | _ c

‘ does certainly

seem, rather mean!” oe
aa GS S



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