Citation
Little footprints

Material Information

Title:
Little footprints
Creator:
Roe, E. T. ( Editor )
Donohue, Henneberry & Co ( Publisher )
Donohue & Henneberry ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
Chicago
Publisher:
Donohue, Henneberry & Co.
Manufacturer:
Donohue & Henneberry, Printers and binders
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
1 v. (unpaged) : ill. ; 26 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1892 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1892 ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1892 ( rbgenr )
Baldwin -- 1892 ( local )
Genre:
Children's stories
Children's poetry
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Publisher's advertisements on back cover.
General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
Statement of Responsibility:
edited by E.T. Roe.

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:
026635594 ( ALEPH )
ALG4250 ( NOTIS )
212375359 ( OCLC )

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FUSELY ILLUSTRATED

PRO

EDITED BY

ROB.

B. T.

CHICAGO:
DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO.

1892.





ee
CopyriGHTED, 1892,
BY

Donouve, Henneperry & Co.







DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY,
PRINTERS AND Binvers,

CHICAGO,



































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































TIE ClrsSyY BOY.

A little gipsy boy am I,
Contented with my lot,

I never grudge, or grieve, or sigh
To be what I am not.

I never was within a town,
Nor do I wish to be:

I'd rather ramble up and down
The forest fresh and free.

I'd rather hear the tuneful lark,
Who soars on buoyant wing,
And flies beyond the vapors dark

Ere. she begins to sing,

Than wander through the gaping crowd
Upon the dusty street,

And hear the laughter rude and loud
Of all the folks I meet.

’

But, gipsy though I am, my hands
Can weave the pliant straw,

And prettier baskets I can make
Than town-boys ever saw.

I gather nuts, and berries too,
From off the woodland-tree,

And could you see me then, I know
That you would envy me.













































































































































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THE GIPSY BOY.



WILLIE’S STAY-AT-HOME
HEADACHES.

Little Willie Langly did not like to go to school
very much at any time, and whenever there was
anything to make it specially desirable to remain
at home, he found a ready excuse for doing so.
If there was to be a circus in town, Willie was
certain to say to his mother that morning, ““Mam-
ma,I don’t want to go to school today, I’ve got
such a terrible headache. ”

One fine morning last winter Willie woke up to
find the ground covered with snow, and at once he
discovered that he had that ‘‘terrible headache”
again. As usual, he persuaded his mamma to
allow him to stay home trom school, and you see him
in the picture explaining to his school-mate, Charlie
Adams, why he was not at school that day... Don’t
‘you feel sorry for the poor little sick boy out there
in the cold, damp snow, without his over-coat or
.gloves? I wonder if his mamma knows he’s out!

SCHOOL HAS BEGUN.

SCHOOL has begun, so come every one, Little boys, when you grow to be men,
And come with smiling faces, And fill some useful station,

For happy are they who learn when they may; If you should once be found.out as a dunce,
So come, and take your places. O, think of your vexation!

Here you will find your teachers are kind, Little girls, too, a lesson for you
And with their help succeeding; To learn is now your duty,

The older you grow, the more you will know, Or no one will deem you worthy esteem,
And soon you'll love your reading Whate’er your youth or beauty.



WILLIE’S STAY-AT-HOME
HEADACHES.

Little Willie Langly did not like to go to school
very much at any time, and whenever there was
anything to make it specially desirable to remain
at home, he found a ready excuse for doing so.
If there was to be a circus in town, Willie was
certain to say to his mother that morning, ““Mam-
ma,I don’t want to go to school today, I’ve got
such a terrible headache. ”

One fine morning last winter Willie woke up to
find the ground covered with snow, and at once he
discovered that he had that ‘‘terrible headache”
again. As usual, he persuaded his mamma to
allow him to stay home trom school, and you see him
in the picture explaining to his school-mate, Charlie
Adams, why he was not at school that day... Don’t
‘you feel sorry for the poor little sick boy out there
in the cold, damp snow, without his over-coat or
.gloves? I wonder if his mamma knows he’s out!

SCHOOL HAS BEGUN.

SCHOOL has begun, so come every one, Little boys, when you grow to be men,
And come with smiling faces, And fill some useful station,

For happy are they who learn when they may; If you should once be found.out as a dunce,
So come, and take your places. O, think of your vexation!

Here you will find your teachers are kind, Little girls, too, a lesson for you
And with their help succeeding; To learn is now your duty,

The older you grow, the more you will know, Or no one will deem you worthy esteem,
And soon you'll love your reading Whate’er your youth or beauty.

























































































































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WILLIE EXPLAINS TO CHARLIE.



CHARLIE’S SAD LESSON.

Eddie Winslow was six years old and his brother
Charlie was nine. They both attended a school
near their home in the little country town of B
The brothers were usually very kind to one another,
but sometimes little Eddie would get in his brother's
way while going to school, and if the boys were
hurrying in order not to be “tardy,” Charlie would
speak crossly to Eddie, and roughly push him
aside. One morning when they were later than
usual both little boys ran nearly all the way to
school. Eddie got the start and arrived at the
school steps just ahead of his brother. But Charlie
was determined to get into school first, so hurrying
up with all his might he reached Eddie just as he
was entering the door, and pulled him back. Ed-
die fell down the flight of steps and was so badly
hurt that he had to be carried home. Fora whole
week the little fellow was compelled to keep to his
bed, and I need not tell you that his brother was _
very unhappy during that time. Charlie felt so
bad for what he had done to his little brother that
he willingly would have done anything in his power
to make up for his unbrotherly act. He never for-
got the lesson which the sad result of his conduct
taught him, and he and Eddie were the best of
friends ever afterwards.





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CHARLIE ASKS EDDIE’S FORGIVENESS.



A DOG'S KINDNESS TO A KITTEN.

A lady who is fond of animals owned a fine
spaniel and a beautiful black and white kitten, which
‘were on the very best terms with each other and
with the children. They were both very kindly
treated, but the kitten was inclined to be mischievous
notwithstanding. On one occasion Miss Kitty
helped herself to some fish which was placed be-
fore the kitchen fire. ‘‘ Discipline must be main-
tained,” even when dealing with kittens; so pussy
waspunished. Thedog seeing her friend in trouble,
went across the kitchen to the kitten, laid her paws
round her neck, embraced her, and finally lay down
by her and licked her all over, showing by every
means the tenderest of sympathy and affection.
From that time on the spaniel took the greatest care
of kitty; let her sleep with her, and in every way
treated her as if she were a little puppy and herself
a good mother. 2

It is often remarked of people who quarrel with
their neighbors, that they are like “dog and cat.”
Cruel ane thoughtless men and boys are apt to urge
dogs to run after andfrighten poorcats. The dogs
think therefore that they are only following “orders”
in hurting the cats. If they were, when young,
better trained, cats and dogs would probably live in
peace together and be good friends, like those in
this pretty picture by Harrison Weir.

































































































“THE SPANIEL AND KITTY.”











HOW JAMIE CAUGHT THE RABBIT.

“Mamma, why don't rabbits have longer tails 2”
said little Jamie Miller to his mother one winter
_ morning when the ground was covered with snow.

“Why, what a funny question, Jamie,” replied
his mother : “why do you ask ?”

“Because, said Jamie, “I was wondering if
God made their tails so short Just to keep us boys
from catching them.”

Jamie had been rabbit hunting the day before,
and failed to catch a single rabbit. But then he
had no gun, nothing but a stick, and the rabbits
Ore toc tar na One hole. cd up some
footprints made by rabbits in the snow, and found
that they led to a brush heap near the woods. He
got down on his knees in the snow and peered into
the brush, and there sure enough he saw two fine
fat rabbits. Very quietly he slipped his right hand
through an opening in the heap, and made a grab
for one of the rabbits. But before he knew what
had happened he saw the two rabbits making
double-quick time across the snow. Jamie gave —
them a speedy chase, but the bunnies were too
quick for him. In his hurry and excitement he
lost his balance and tumbled i in the snow.

“T had one of them sure,” he said to his mother
when relating his adventure. “Then why didn’t
you hold on to him?” replied his mother. “Be-
cause, said Jamie “I only caught him where his
tail ought to be, and there was nothing there to
hold on to.”































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































TOO QUICK FOR HIM.



OLD SPECKLED HEN.

Have you e’er seen my speckled hen,
_ That stole into a keg.
And after, cackled long and loud,

Because she laid an egg?

This dear old cackling, speckled hen,
Was quiet in her way,

And wisely cackled only when
She laid an egg each day.

But soon she fluttered in and out,
Her feathers all awry ;

I wondered what ’twas all about,
And thought she sure would die.

Now she would cluck and strut as fine
As any king or queen,

When she came off her nest to dine,
Or getting drink was seen.

But silently she kept her house,
And lay upon her bed,

As quiet as a churchyard mouse,
And never raised her head.

And when three weeks. had rolled around,
A chirping sound I heard,

And, looking in the old keg, there
I saw a yellow bird!

It’s little eyes were black and bright,
It cuddled in the nest ;
And on its head were spots of brown,—
In softest down ’twas dressed,

Chirp ! chirp! I searched and saw some more,
The old hen looked knowing ;
I counted them, one! two! three! four!
The cockerel was crowing !

The hen flew out with cluck and clack,
Her ten chicks followed slow ;

The chicks were bright, the hen was proud
As any hen I know.











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OLD SPECKLED HEN.

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BESSIE

When little Bessie Grey was young,
A dear good child was she,

Her home was in a fisher’s cot
Beside the sounding sea.

And there she helped to spread the nets
Upon the yellow sands,

Or gathered cockles and sea-ware,
With quick and willing hands,

To help her father,—for he was
So busy, and so good,

And many smiling little ones
Looked to his hand for food.

Yet Bessie was a cripple girl,
Could scarcely run or walk,
Although with willing heart she toiled
To help the older folk.

But, ah! there came a sad, sad time,
When father left the bay

With sails all gaily spread, to fish
Fuli many a mile away.

But, though they watched for his return,
His face they saw no more!

Next day, the boat all broken lay, -
Upon the wreck-strewn shore

Poor mother could not bear the shock,
But faded day by day,

And ere another year had fled
She, too, had passed away.

Oh, oe to see, five little ones
Deserted and alone,

All crowding round the cripple girl
Upon the cold hearth-stone !

Oh, sad to hear their helpless cries,
As clasping her around,

They whispered, “why has mother gone
Away, below the ground Pu

GREY.

“She is not there,” the girl replied«
(To whom child’s faith was given),

“The angels carried her to God ;
Dear mother is in Heaven !”’

But now, how could she help them all?
How could she earn them bread ?

Those darling babes, now father dear,
And mother, too, were dead.

That saddest day,-a lady came
With loving heart and mild,

She took poor Bessie by the hand,
And soothed the weeping child.

Then gently led her to a Home,
Where cripple children dwell.

. “And was she happy?” happier far

Than I could ever tell!

For kind friends took the little ones,’
And they were cared for, too,
Until to honest men and maids
The little children grew.

And Bessie learned to knit and sew,
And make the finest lace,

And when she sold it, oh, how bright
And Dy was her face !

The money earned she laid aside
To help her brothers dear,

And little sisters who were brought
To see her every year.

‘And did she live to grow quite old ?”
No. One bright summer day,

The cripple children said “Farewell,”
To Little Bessie Grey.

But ere she died she kissed them all.
And lovingly said she,

“Pll tell my mother up in Heaven
How kind you were to me.’’







































































































































































































BESSIE GREY.



THE IRISH WOLF-DOG

Wolf-dogs are mentioned in the Irish annals at
the earliest period of history. The hero Finn Mac
Coul had a famous hound called Bran; and Cu-
culain, a warrior who lived at the beginning of the
Christian era, got his name from having killed one
of these animals during his boyhood. He was the
nephew of the king of Ireland, and was brought
up in a military school that was attached to the
palace, where boys of good family were trained in
athletic sports, and taught to fight with little wooden
shield’ and small spears, and after a certain time
were made knights. Cu-culain was much younger
than his companions, but he was tall and strong
for his age, and easily overcame them in their
games. He afterwards became a great hero, and
his valiant deeds were celebrated by the Irish-bards,
some of whose poems exist to the present day.

When there was no longer wolves in Ireland to
hunt, the breed of wolf-dogs was still kept up by
the Irish nobility and gentry, on account of their
majestic and imposing appearance; for they were —
useless for ordinary sport, and would follow neither
deer nor fox. But their number grew less and
less, till at the beginning of the present century
there were very few left of the genuine breed, and
they may now be said to be extinct.







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IRISH WOLF-DOG.



MEDICINE FOR MONKEYS. |

The manager of a silk manufactoryin Bengal was
driven nearly to his wits’ end by the mischief com-
mitted among his mulberry-trees by a flock of
monkeys who lived in the neighboring jungle.
At last he resorted to the following strange method
to get rid of them. Having captured one of the
youngest of the monkeys, he procured a large bowl
of molasses and a bottle of tartar emetic—a drug
that makes one dreadfully sick-—he well mixed a
pretty strong dose with the molasses and sponged
the youngster with the mixture from head to foot;
then, holding him firmly by the back of the neck and
tail, hecarriedand placed him on the ground beneath
a large clump of trees, from the branches of which
the flock had been watching the proceedings.
Having retreated to a safe distance he waited the
result. The little chap, on first being released,
scrambled up a tree, and was soon joined by his
companions, who first began pulling him about, but
finding him sweet and sticky, at once proceeded to
lick him clean;and as the molasses at first was
much to their taste, they jostled and fought one
another till nearly all were smeared and began
licking themselves clean. But a change soon took
place; first one and then another dropped from
the tree, until they were all: rolling on the ground
in such agonies of sickness that you might have
caught fifty. The physic proved quite enough for
them, as they scrambled away as soon as they were
able to crawl, and never came back. |





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MEDICINE FOR MONKEY’S.



THE TRICKS OF GRAVITY.

Gravity, gravity, gravity,
So clever Sir Isaac found, ‘
Brings the rosy-cheeked apple
Down with a flop on the ground ;
For if there were no gravity
The pippin would never drop out of the tree;
And if we jumped up into the air,
We should be ever more floating there—
A funny thing that would be !

Gravity, gravity, gravity,
And nothing else at all, |
Brought famous Humpty Dumpty
Down with a bump from the wall ;
He might have sat on it till now,
Quizzing us all, and making a row,
Poking his fun, not caring a rap ;
But gravity said, “Come down, old chap,”
And down he came no-how !

Humpty Dumpty the Second I spied
Stand on a treacherous Stair,
When thechildren were makng Christmastide
What it ought to be, pleasant and fair ;
With holly, and ivy, and box, and yew,
And a gaily blazoned text or two ;
That Eve how busy the young folk were,
And busy old Gravity, too, was there,
His mischievous pranks to do!

Poor Jack aspired, as Jacks aspire,
The foremost man to be;

“[’]] stick my holly a wee bit higher
Than any one else, you'll see.”

So up he climbed as high as the door,

And down he came with a terrible roar ;
And Lily, and Gussy, and Addy, and I,
Didn’t know whether to laugh or cry,

As he measured his length on the floor.

Gravity, gravity, gravity,
We’ve shown up your tricks, in verse ;

Jack felt your mischief, sore and stiff,
But oh! that you never did worse !

Never did more than cause a spill,

Or make the ripe apple fall down at your will;
Never did ought.to make men weep, eo
At the foot of the high crag, stern and steep, ,

‘

Where a mangled form lies still. -





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TRICKS OF GRAVITY.
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A BRAVE MOTHER-MOUSE.

A. farmer while digging potatoes in a field
unearthed a large mouse and six little ones. ‘The
old mouse at first was dazed and frightened, —
and sought shelter in a neighboring clump ofbushes.
The farmer caught up the six little wigglers and
placed them in a basin, then hid himself near by
to observe what the mother mouse would do.

Meantime the mother had been watching every
movement the farmer made. Her long ears
quivered with terror, her eyes glistened like dew-
drops, and she was an object to move the coldest
heart. Presently, out she ran, tripping lightly over
the clods, and sniffing right and left, she came to
the basin, ran round it, looked, and jumped in.
Presently, out she came, bearing in her mouth one
of her children. In her agitation she dropped it,
but she returned and recovered the kicking ball of
velvet, and bore it safely off toa row of cabbages,
twenty feet away. She came tripping back, and
carried off another and then another until she had
taken them all.

The brave mother was soon busily plying feet
and nose in burrowing a new home for her family.
The farmer kindly left them undisturbed, and it is
to be hoped that mother mouse and her little ones
were duly grateful to the kind farmer for his good-
ness to them, and ever after refrained from nibbling
at his grain. :









A BRAVE MOTHER MOUSE



i DOGS (Bia RY,

Major was a large handsome spaniel. He was
a great favorite with his young master, Willie, who
used to enjoy taking him along with him when he
went to the creek to hunt ducks. The brave dog’s
devotion to Willie proved the means of losing his
lite. This is how it happened: One day while
Willie and his brother Ben were out hunting ducks,
they went into the creek after two birds they had
“winged” while Major was off somewhat hunting
on his own account. As Willie arrived within
reach of one of the ducks, a piercing cry was heard
from. Ben, who was up to his chin in water, and.
Willie on looking round saw a large snake swim-
ming towards him, evidently with the intention of
disputing his right to the duck.. But the snake
was not to have it all his own way, for at this crit-
ical moment Major suddenly appeared, sprang into
the water, siezed the reptile, and swam to the bank
with itin his mouth; and although the snake bit
the faithful dog in several places, he would not
drop his burden until the boys were out of reach;
and when he saw they were safe, he went up to
them and showed by his playfulness the joy he felt
at having saved their lives. :

The brave dog was treated for snake-bite by every
available means, but he died ina couple of days, to
the regret of all the family, and especially of his
young master Willie.







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NG HIS MASTER.

MAJOR SAVI



BEING A BOY.

But say what you will about the general useful-
ness of boys, a farm without a boy would very soon
come to grief. Heis alwaysin demand. In the
first place, he is todo all the errands, go to the
store, the post-office, and to carry all sorts of mes-
sages. He would like to have as many legs asa
wheel has spokes, and rotate about in the same
way. This he sometimes tries to do, and people
who have seen him ‘turning cart-wheels” along the
side of the road have supposed he was amusing
himself and idling his time. He was only trying
to invent a new mode of locomotion, so that he
could economize his legs and do his errands with
greater dispatch. Leap-frog is one of his methods
of gettng over the ground quickly. He has a
natural genius for combining pleasure with business.

Cuarztes DupLEY WARNER.

DICK’S DINNER.

Dear little Dickie, come hop down here,

From your perch on that tree so brown
and bare;

. All your pretty companions with sum-
mer are flown,

And poor little Robin is left alone.

The cold, cold snow falls fast and thick
On your feathery coat, my poor little
Dick !

_ But God made the coat, and it’s warmer

maybe

Than we may quite think in that leafless
tree.

See at my window, Dick, how I’ve spread

All about dainty crumbs of soft white
bread,

For your dinner, my birdie ; and every
day

You'll always find some, if you come
this way.

“Pick, pecky, pick !” how I love the
sound

Of your sharp little beak on the
frosty ground !

Then your sweet “ chirrup twee !” as
away you fly,

I’m sure it means “Thank you! good-
bye, good-bye! ”

Come then, my blithe little birdie
dear,

And eat the nice dinner I’ve spread
for you here;

Then off to your tree you can flutter
away,

And sing us your song through the
winter day.



BEING A BOY.

But say what you will about the general useful-
ness of boys, a farm without a boy would very soon
come to grief. Heis alwaysin demand. In the
first place, he is todo all the errands, go to the
store, the post-office, and to carry all sorts of mes-
sages. He would like to have as many legs asa
wheel has spokes, and rotate about in the same
way. This he sometimes tries to do, and people
who have seen him ‘turning cart-wheels” along the
side of the road have supposed he was amusing
himself and idling his time. He was only trying
to invent a new mode of locomotion, so that he
could economize his legs and do his errands with
greater dispatch. Leap-frog is one of his methods
of gettng over the ground quickly. He has a
natural genius for combining pleasure with business.

Cuarztes DupLEY WARNER.

DICK’S DINNER.

Dear little Dickie, come hop down here,

From your perch on that tree so brown
and bare;

. All your pretty companions with sum-
mer are flown,

And poor little Robin is left alone.

The cold, cold snow falls fast and thick
On your feathery coat, my poor little
Dick !

_ But God made the coat, and it’s warmer

maybe

Than we may quite think in that leafless
tree.

See at my window, Dick, how I’ve spread

All about dainty crumbs of soft white
bread,

For your dinner, my birdie ; and every
day

You'll always find some, if you come
this way.

“Pick, pecky, pick !” how I love the
sound

Of your sharp little beak on the
frosty ground !

Then your sweet “ chirrup twee !” as
away you fly,

I’m sure it means “Thank you! good-
bye, good-bye! ”

Come then, my blithe little birdie
dear,

And eat the nice dinner I’ve spread
for you here;

Then off to your tree you can flutter
away,

And sing us your song through the
winter day.





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DICK’S DINNER.











WILY WOLVES.

One day a farmer in Illinois discovered seven
wolf cubs snugly esconced in a large hollow log.
They were very young, therefore he knew that the
parents were not far away. Being resolved to
secure the old couple as well as their progeny, the
farmer dug a hole at the open end of the log, placed
a trap in it, and covered it with earth. ;

Now it is well known that wolves when caught
in atrap will gnaw off their own feet in order to
escape, therefore he kept watch in the neighbor-
hood with some dogs. -

Presently the dogs grew uneasy, and then gave
chase to a large male wolf who had approached the
log, though carefully avoiding the trap. After a
time the dogs returned, having apparently lost the
scent.

Next morning upon examining the log, the trap
was found unsprung and intact; but a hole had
been scraped in the side of the log, and all the
little wolves carried away. This was doubtless the
work of the mother wolf, who had occupied herself
thus while her sagacious partner was throwing dust,
so to speak, in the eyes of the farmer and his dogs.

However, the sagacity of the parents did not
save the lives of their little ones, for the seven little
wolves were discovered about a mile away, snugly
settled under a heap of leaves. Of course they
were all taken and destroyed.











THE WILY WOLF.



LITTLE JACK HORNER.

The story of “Little Jack Horner,” with therhyme
about him, is founded ona real incident.

When the monasteries were dissolved, and their
property seized by. Henry VIII. in 1539, Abbot
Whiting, the Abbot of Glastonbury, refused to sur-
render his monastery, so he was ordered to send all
his titledeeds to the Royal Commissioners in
London. After some delay the Abbot resolved to
send them, but he was at a loss to know how to do |
so without running the risk of their being seized on
the way. At length he hit upon the novel idea of
putting them in a pie, and sending it as a present
to the Commissioners. “There was a boy named
Jack Horner, the son of poor parents living in the
neighborhood of Mells Abbey, and him the Abbot
chose as his messenger, thinking that no one would
interfere with a poor boy carrying a pie tied up in
a cloth. ,

So Jack set out with the pie on his weary journey
towards London. He grew tired and sat down by
the way-side to rest; and worse still; he grew
hungry. So he opened his parcel and looked
longingly at the pie. There must be something _
very nice inside, he thought—perhaps plums! Could.
he not get one without the pie being any the worse? |







LITTLE JACK

HORNER.

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He would try: so, inserting his thumb under the
upper crust, he gently raised it, and pulled out—a
musty old folded-up piece of parchment. Great
was Jack’s astonishment and disappointment. He
peeped into the pie and found to his dismay that
there was nothing in it but parchments. Now
Jack could not read, but thinking that the parch-
ment he had pulled out might be worth money,
instead of replacing it in the pie, he put it in his
pocket, and tying up his parcel again, he made his
way to London, and delivered the pie to the
Commissioners.

_ When they had opened it they found that the
deed which related to the Abbey and Grange of
Mells was missing; and as Abbot Whiting had
refused to give up his monastery, it was believed
that he had purposely withheld the deed; so an
order was sent down for his immediate execution,
and the last Abbot of Glastonbury was hanged

without trial. :

An old parchment was afterwards found in the
possession of the Horner family, which proved to
be the title-deed to the Abbey and estate of Mells;
and the circumstance of its preservation was
believed to have suggested the rhyme:

“Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
Eating a Christmas pie;
He stuck in his thumb,
And pulled out a plumb,
And said, What a good boy am I!’”









































































































































GOOD AND NAUGHTY WILLIE.

Willie Glenn was five years old, and his sister
' May was nine. Some persons who had seen
Willie only when he was on his good behavior
nicknamed him Willie.Good, for he seemed to them
to be goodness itself, he was so pleasant and gen- |
tle. But others, who saw him at home, sometimes
when he was in a tantrum, said he ought to be
called Willie Naughty. Naturally Willie was good
tempered, but he had been teased so much by his |
older brothers that he grew to be very “touchy,”
and would hardly ever allow his brothers or his
sister to say anything to him, without giving them
some naughty, unkind reply. Once when his sister
May picked up a little picture book of his, Willie
flew into a furious rage, grabbed the book away
from her, and threatened to throw it at her head.
One of his older brothers laughed at his naughty
conduct and encouraged him in it. But the other
brother seemed to feel how wrong such action was,
and after looking grave for a moment he called
Willie aside and told him a secret. And what do
you think it was? Why, that May had saved up
all the pennies she had received from papa for a
long, long time, and had bought a rocker-horse for
Willie, as a present for his next birthday. That
secret taught Willie something of how much his
sister loved him and thought of his happiness. It
was a long time before Willie forgot that lesson, or
failed to prove to all around him that he deserved

to be called, not Willie Naughty, but Willie Good. |





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WILLIE NAUGHTY.



THE DUCKLING.

A poor little duckling was hatched in the shed

By an old speckled hen, with a cap on her head ;
She did nothing all day but strut round and scold,
And call the wee duckling ungrateful and bold,
Because she once asked to go out.and swim round
The clear little brook in the east pasture ground.

“Tt’s too early in spring for you to go out,”
Said the cross old hen as she bustled about,
Got ready to go to the kitchen herself

To pick up the daintiest food on the shelf;
While the duckling off in the corner sat,
And was left in the care of the old black cat.

The duckling kept whisp’ring softly and low

“O that sweet, lovely brook! I wish I could go!”
But the cat had sharp ears; she heard ev’ry word;
“Stop your mutt’ring,” she said ; ‘*‘’tis very absurd.
What a crazy idea—you wanting to swim !

Who ever heard such a nonsensical whim !

‘‘I’m a great-grandmother cat, wiser by far

Than a foolish young duckling, such as you are.

Can you bend your back? Can you purr or give
sparks?

Of course not. Then please make no more remarks ;

How would your good mother, the hen, and I look

A-swimming around in the east pasture brook?” .

The duckling sat still, and she spoke not again ;
To try to stop wishing, though, was but in vain.
When the sunshine came in, and the cool fresh air,
And she saw the cat lying fast asleep there,

She crept softly out of the old, dingy shed,

And off to the brook in the east pasture fled.

She made but one plunge in the cléar cold water,

When she heard the hen : “We’ve caught her! we’ve
caught her!

You must come right back to your place in the shed.”

But the duckling splashed in the brook, and said

“Can you swim? Can you dive ? Then speak not a
word ; :

Standing there on the shore you look so absurd !”

The cat and the old hen held down their wise heads,
And both slowly walked off to their dingy old sheds.
“It beats me,” said the cat, “why the young folks do
Such unheard-of things nowadays—don’t it you?”
The hen replied “How very strange! Till this time
I didn’t notice her feet were diff’rent from mine!”

—Mrs, Susan T, Perry,

















































ON THE WAY TO THE BROOK.





HOW SAM TURNED HIS DOLLAR.

Sam was a little black boy of an inquiring mind,
‘but whose education had been neglected, and as he
waited at his master’s table, he listened to the con-
versation going on amongst the guests. Now his
master’s friends were men of business, and their
talk was of money. Sam could not be in the room
all the time, so he only heard fragments of their
discourse, such as, ‘‘Tomkyns is making money!”
‘Ah,’ said another, ‘‘he has put five thousand dollars
in his ground.” “It will soon grow,” said a third
guest. ‘He will turn it all over. It will double
itself in a year. :

Sam listened intently; he thought he had found
out why ‘“‘de bosses’ had so much money—they put
it in the ground and it grew; so as soon as he got
possession of a dollar he determined to put his
newly-acquired knowledge into practice. Slipping
into the garden, when he thought he was unob-
served, he dug a hole under some magnolias; and
after patting his dollar affectionately and telling it
to “‘be a good boy and grow quick,” he placed it in
the hole and carefully covered it up. - After wait-
ing for a few weeks he went again, and digging up
the ground he turned the dollar over, and, cover-
ing it up, left it untouched for several months.
When he again paid it a visit he found it without
a single cent of increase, he gazed at it ruefully,
and exclaiming ‘‘Him not grow a bit!” he put it
in his pocket and went sadly away.



































































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NOT GROW A BIT.”



MY BRAVE LADDIE.

Tap, tap, along the pavement, tap,
It came, a little crutch.

A pale-faced lad looked up at me;
“T do not mind it much,” :

He answered to my pitying look;
“It might be worse, you know;

Some fellows have to stay in bed,
While I quite fast can go.

“Oh, yes, I used to run about,
Perhaps I may again;

The doctor says its wonderful —
I have so little pain.

‘It hurts me now and then, of course,
Well—ever since the fall;

But I’m so very glad, you see,
That I can walk at all.”

Tap, tap, the little crutch went on,
I saw the golden hair,

The brown eyes wide and all aglow,
The noble, manly air;

And somehow tears a moment came,
And made my vision dim,

While still the laddie’s cheerful words
Were sweet as sweetest hymn.

“Tam so very glad, you see,
That I can walk at all.”
Why, that’s the way for us to feel
When troubles may befall.
There’s always blue sky somewhere, friend,
Though clouds around you meet,
And patience will the Master send,
If sought at His dear feet.













































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































“MY BRAVE LADDIE.”



TOMMY’S WISHES.

No fairyland I care to know,

This world is good enough for me ;
I like it very much, although

Some changes I would like to see.

I wish that study were like play,
And school a circus of delight,

And that ‘twere summer every day,
And all the rain would fall at night.

I wish that luscious as ice-cream
Were castor-oil and ipecac,

And that the dentist’s chair would seem
To me my frisky pony’s back.

I wish that whippings made me gay
And happy, and would never hurt,

And that I had ten meals a day,
And each one nothing but dessert.











“GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.”



PERSEVERANCE.

It is said that perseverance will overcome every
obstacle ; and so it will, if it is in the right direc-
tion, and guided by judgment. But a man may
try all day to unlock a box, yet he will never suc-
ceed in opening it ifhe has got the wrong key, no
matter how he perseveres in his efforts. I once
had a cat which was the most persevering creature
I ever knew. There was a crevice between the
boards of the kitchen-floor and the hearth, and
pussy could not only hear the mice squeaking
below, but could see them ; and there she would
patiently watch every moment she could spare from
eating and sleeping. The mice were quite close
to her, under the boards, and sometimes there would
be a scuffle below or a little paw would be thrust
up through the crack; and then she would make
a tremendous spring, as though she could plunge
down on her prey through the narrow crevice. But
her patience and perseverance were useless. She >
could not squeeze her fat body through the open-
ing, and the mice knew better than to enlarge it
and come up to her; so whilst a few kept her
attention engaged, the rest were foraging in the
pantry at their leisure. That persevering cat never
_ caught any of those mice. |



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PERSEVERANCE.



A TRIBUTE TO WATER.

Where is the liquor which God, the eternal, brews
for all His children? Not in the simmering still,
over smoky fires choked with poisonous gases, and
surrounded with the stench of sickening odors and
rank corruptions, doth your Father in heaven pre-
pare the precious essence of life—the pure cold water.
But in the green glade and grassy dell, where the
red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there
God brews it. And down, low down in the deep-
est valleys, where the fountains murmur and the
' rills sing: and high upon the tall mountain tops,

where thenaked granite glitters like gold in the sun;
where the storm-cloud broods,and the thunder storms
crash: and away far out on the wide, wild sea
where the hurricane howls music, and the big waves
_roar, the chorus sweeping the march of God: there
He brews it—that beverage of lifeand health-giving
water. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty ;
gleaming in the dew-drop, singing in’ the summer
rain, shining in the ice-gem till the leaves all
seemed turned to living jewels, spreading a golden
veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around
the midnight moon.

Still always it is beautiful, that life-giving water;
no poison bubbles on its brink; its foam brings not
madness and murder: no blood stains its liquid
glass; pale widows and starving orphans weep no
burning tears in its depths; no drunken, shrieking
ghost from the grave curses itin the words of eternal
despair. Speak, my friends, would you exchange it
for demon’s drink, alcohol ? Joun B. Goucu. |













































°

A DRINK OF COLD WATER



NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT.



. SLUMBER SONG.
BY EUGENE FIELD.



The mill goes toiling slowly around, -
With steady and solemn creak,

And my little one hears in the kindly , esund
The voice of the old mill speak;

While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,

My little one hears that the old mill sings,
«Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” |

The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And over his pot of beer

The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer;

He mocks at winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep,

But we—we love their lullaby-song
Of “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” |

Shaggy old Fritz in slumber sound,
Groans of the stony mart—
To-morrow how proudly he’ll trot you round
Hitched to our new milk cart! — .
And you shall help me blanket the kine,
And fold the gentle sheep,
And set the herring a-soak in brine—
But now, little tulip, sleep!

A Dream-One comes to button the eyes
--That wearily droop and blink,
While the old mill buffets the frowning skies
And scolds at the stars that wink;
Over your face the misty wings
Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep,
And rocking your cradle, she softly sings:
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”











































































































































THE OLD MILL.





. of the young

nay they found

ons, madeon their

other of tampering

, but this was stren-

ched a climax when

enced a picture of the

zoing to his work in the

et “the Madonna painted

rey could not imagine, as it

Fould have painted it: so they
‘che mysterious circumstance,

rae head. He was surprised at its

Pid thinking Sebastian must know

Fs he slept in the room every night, he

= boy that unless he found out the unknown

P< by the following morning, he should be

everely whipped.

The poor little mulatto was in an agony of terror,









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MURILLO’S LITTLE SLAVE-BOY.



for he himself was the mysterious painter. Hav-
ing a natural genius and intense love for art,
he had all this time been secretly studying and
practising painting on the canvases of the students
before they came in the morning, and listening
earnestly to the master whilst he was giving them
instruction; and being but a slave, and in dread of
the scourge, he thought that if he confessed it were
he, it would only subject him to still worse punish-
ment for his presumption; so he resolved to expunge
the Madonna’s head, and never paint any more.

But when he rose early in the morning to carry
out his intention, and looked at the beautiful face,
he had not the heart to rub it out, but set to work
to finish it instead. And soabsorbed was he as the
time went by, that it was only on hearing a rustle
behind him that he turned his head and beheld
the students, with the master himself, looking on
in admiration. :

The poor little slave fell on his knees, imploring
pardon; but Murillo, kindly raising him up, asked
him what reward he should give him for his skill
and industry. Sebastian only asked for his father’s
freedom, which Murillo at once granted, and giv- —
ing him his own liberty also, received him amongst
his pupils. He soon distinguished himself, and
became a celebrated painter; but he was better
known as Murillo’s mulatto than by his propername
of Sebastian Gomez. He died in 1690, having
survived his master but a few years. His princt-
pal works may still be seen in Seville.



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PERFORMING BEARS.

I presume nearly every little reader of this book
has heard of, if not seen, performing bears, such

- as is shown in the accompanying picture. But I

doubt if any of you ever heard of a more remark-
able performance by a bear than the one I am
_ about to relate. 7

A. little three-year-old, named, Fleming, whose
parents live in northern Michigan, being missed
one afternoon, her parents tracked her to some
bushes, in the field about forty rods from the house,
at which point the child’s tracks disappeared, and
those of a large bear were found leading into the
woods. ‘The horrified father, aided by neighbors,
followed up the bear, which had carried off the
child, as fast as possible ; but night set in, and they
were obliged to wait till morning, when the pursuit
was recommenced.

In a short time, as the pursuers were passing a
swampy spot, they heard the child’s voice calling
aloud. They rushed forward, heard a splash in
the water and soon saw the child standing on a log
stretching over a pond. ‘The bear, the child said, |
was carrying her across the log and had just jumped
into the water and swam away. The bear had
not hurt the child in the least, but had been caress-
ing in its manner and had lain down at night with
its arms around the little one, as if to shield her
from harm. The bear had just lost her cub and
seemed to wish to adopt the child in its place.





PERFORMING BEARS.



SET PREE:

Little Clarence Gray set two traps in his father’s
meadow to catch any foolish little birds that might
be enticed into them. Before any bird had been
caught, however, Clarence was taken sick and
confined to his bed for several days. One day,
while his brother Charlie was sitting by his bed
reading to him, his little sister Elzan came running
into the room, her face beaming with pleasant
excitement, and cried out, “Oh! Clarence, there's
a bird in your trap.” Charlie hastened out to see,
and sure enough the trap was sprung, and impris-
oned therein was a badly frightened little lark.
Charlie ran back to the house and told Clarence
that Elzan was right, and wished to know if he
should bring the little captive in for him to see.
“No,” said Clarence, “Mamma says I will be well
enough to go out doors to-morrow, and then I will
have the pleasure of taking the little bird out of his —
prison myself.” :

- But when the time arrived, Clarence surprised —
his brother and sister by saying ‘‘Come, let us go
out and set the little captive free.” They followed
him out to the trap, and when he lifted the lid,
they seemed as much pleased as he to see the little
liberated lark wing his way towards the sky. Clar-
ence felt so grateful at being free himself once more
that he wanted the poor little imprisoned lark to
participate in his happiness.



















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































SET FREE.



ON THE SLIDE.

Where will you find a healthy, hearty boy who
does not like to slide ; Hardly anywhere, I should
think. Oh! what fun it is on a brisk winter
morning, with Jack Frost nipping at your ears, to
run and slide down hill with a lot of jolly boys and
girls. To besure there is a little danger in it—
danger of losing your cap, and your balance in
attempting to recover it—and falling ‘“‘kerplump”
into the snow. But that’s a part of the fun, isn't
it? Just look at the boys in the picture and see how
they are holding out their hands to keep their bal-
ance. Onehas lost his cap and is making a des-
perate effort to keep from losing his balance. Do
you think he can save himself from falling?

WINTER’S SNOWS.

Summer joys are o'er ;

Flow’rets bloom no more,
Wintry winds are sweeping
Through the snow-drifts peeping,

Cheerful evergreen

Rarely now is seen.

Now no plumed throng
’ Charms the wood with song ;
Ice-bound trees are glittering ;
Merry snow-birds twittering,
Fondly strive to cheer
Scenes so cold and drear.

Winter, still 1 see
Many charms in thee—
I love thy chilly greeting,
Snow-storms fiercely beating,
And dear delights
Of the long, long nights.



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ON THE SLIDE:





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Lucy Lei THESE WORDS . THIS’ PICTURE, BY A:BRENNAN.
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FUSELY ILLUSTRATED

PRO

EDITED BY

ROB.

B. T.

CHICAGO:
DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO.

1892.


ee
CopyriGHTED, 1892,
BY

Donouve, Henneperry & Co.







DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY,
PRINTERS AND Binvers,

CHICAGO,





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































TIE ClrsSyY BOY.

A little gipsy boy am I,
Contented with my lot,

I never grudge, or grieve, or sigh
To be what I am not.

I never was within a town,
Nor do I wish to be:

I'd rather ramble up and down
The forest fresh and free.

I'd rather hear the tuneful lark,
Who soars on buoyant wing,
And flies beyond the vapors dark

Ere. she begins to sing,

Than wander through the gaping crowd
Upon the dusty street,

And hear the laughter rude and loud
Of all the folks I meet.

’

But, gipsy though I am, my hands
Can weave the pliant straw,

And prettier baskets I can make
Than town-boys ever saw.

I gather nuts, and berries too,
From off the woodland-tree,

And could you see me then, I know
That you would envy me.










































































































































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THE GIPSY BOY.
WILLIE’S STAY-AT-HOME
HEADACHES.

Little Willie Langly did not like to go to school
very much at any time, and whenever there was
anything to make it specially desirable to remain
at home, he found a ready excuse for doing so.
If there was to be a circus in town, Willie was
certain to say to his mother that morning, ““Mam-
ma,I don’t want to go to school today, I’ve got
such a terrible headache. ”

One fine morning last winter Willie woke up to
find the ground covered with snow, and at once he
discovered that he had that ‘‘terrible headache”
again. As usual, he persuaded his mamma to
allow him to stay home trom school, and you see him
in the picture explaining to his school-mate, Charlie
Adams, why he was not at school that day... Don’t
‘you feel sorry for the poor little sick boy out there
in the cold, damp snow, without his over-coat or
.gloves? I wonder if his mamma knows he’s out!

SCHOOL HAS BEGUN.

SCHOOL has begun, so come every one, Little boys, when you grow to be men,
And come with smiling faces, And fill some useful station,

For happy are they who learn when they may; If you should once be found.out as a dunce,
So come, and take your places. O, think of your vexation!

Here you will find your teachers are kind, Little girls, too, a lesson for you
And with their help succeeding; To learn is now your duty,

The older you grow, the more you will know, Or no one will deem you worthy esteem,
And soon you'll love your reading Whate’er your youth or beauty.






















































































































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WILLIE EXPLAINS TO CHARLIE.
CHARLIE’S SAD LESSON.

Eddie Winslow was six years old and his brother
Charlie was nine. They both attended a school
near their home in the little country town of B
The brothers were usually very kind to one another,
but sometimes little Eddie would get in his brother's
way while going to school, and if the boys were
hurrying in order not to be “tardy,” Charlie would
speak crossly to Eddie, and roughly push him
aside. One morning when they were later than
usual both little boys ran nearly all the way to
school. Eddie got the start and arrived at the
school steps just ahead of his brother. But Charlie
was determined to get into school first, so hurrying
up with all his might he reached Eddie just as he
was entering the door, and pulled him back. Ed-
die fell down the flight of steps and was so badly
hurt that he had to be carried home. Fora whole
week the little fellow was compelled to keep to his
bed, and I need not tell you that his brother was _
very unhappy during that time. Charlie felt so
bad for what he had done to his little brother that
he willingly would have done anything in his power
to make up for his unbrotherly act. He never for-
got the lesson which the sad result of his conduct
taught him, and he and Eddie were the best of
friends ever afterwards.


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CHARLIE ASKS EDDIE’S FORGIVENESS.
A DOG'S KINDNESS TO A KITTEN.

A lady who is fond of animals owned a fine
spaniel and a beautiful black and white kitten, which
‘were on the very best terms with each other and
with the children. They were both very kindly
treated, but the kitten was inclined to be mischievous
notwithstanding. On one occasion Miss Kitty
helped herself to some fish which was placed be-
fore the kitchen fire. ‘‘ Discipline must be main-
tained,” even when dealing with kittens; so pussy
waspunished. Thedog seeing her friend in trouble,
went across the kitchen to the kitten, laid her paws
round her neck, embraced her, and finally lay down
by her and licked her all over, showing by every
means the tenderest of sympathy and affection.
From that time on the spaniel took the greatest care
of kitty; let her sleep with her, and in every way
treated her as if she were a little puppy and herself
a good mother. 2

It is often remarked of people who quarrel with
their neighbors, that they are like “dog and cat.”
Cruel ane thoughtless men and boys are apt to urge
dogs to run after andfrighten poorcats. The dogs
think therefore that they are only following “orders”
in hurting the cats. If they were, when young,
better trained, cats and dogs would probably live in
peace together and be good friends, like those in
this pretty picture by Harrison Weir.






























































































“THE SPANIEL AND KITTY.”








HOW JAMIE CAUGHT THE RABBIT.

“Mamma, why don't rabbits have longer tails 2”
said little Jamie Miller to his mother one winter
_ morning when the ground was covered with snow.

“Why, what a funny question, Jamie,” replied
his mother : “why do you ask ?”

“Because, said Jamie, “I was wondering if
God made their tails so short Just to keep us boys
from catching them.”

Jamie had been rabbit hunting the day before,
and failed to catch a single rabbit. But then he
had no gun, nothing but a stick, and the rabbits
Ore toc tar na One hole. cd up some
footprints made by rabbits in the snow, and found
that they led to a brush heap near the woods. He
got down on his knees in the snow and peered into
the brush, and there sure enough he saw two fine
fat rabbits. Very quietly he slipped his right hand
through an opening in the heap, and made a grab
for one of the rabbits. But before he knew what
had happened he saw the two rabbits making
double-quick time across the snow. Jamie gave —
them a speedy chase, but the bunnies were too
quick for him. In his hurry and excitement he
lost his balance and tumbled i in the snow.

“T had one of them sure,” he said to his mother
when relating his adventure. “Then why didn’t
you hold on to him?” replied his mother. “Be-
cause, said Jamie “I only caught him where his
tail ought to be, and there was nothing there to
hold on to.”




























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































TOO QUICK FOR HIM.
OLD SPECKLED HEN.

Have you e’er seen my speckled hen,
_ That stole into a keg.
And after, cackled long and loud,

Because she laid an egg?

This dear old cackling, speckled hen,
Was quiet in her way,

And wisely cackled only when
She laid an egg each day.

But soon she fluttered in and out,
Her feathers all awry ;

I wondered what ’twas all about,
And thought she sure would die.

Now she would cluck and strut as fine
As any king or queen,

When she came off her nest to dine,
Or getting drink was seen.

But silently she kept her house,
And lay upon her bed,

As quiet as a churchyard mouse,
And never raised her head.

And when three weeks. had rolled around,
A chirping sound I heard,

And, looking in the old keg, there
I saw a yellow bird!

It’s little eyes were black and bright,
It cuddled in the nest ;
And on its head were spots of brown,—
In softest down ’twas dressed,

Chirp ! chirp! I searched and saw some more,
The old hen looked knowing ;
I counted them, one! two! three! four!
The cockerel was crowing !

The hen flew out with cluck and clack,
Her ten chicks followed slow ;

The chicks were bright, the hen was proud
As any hen I know.








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OLD SPECKLED HEN.

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BESSIE

When little Bessie Grey was young,
A dear good child was she,

Her home was in a fisher’s cot
Beside the sounding sea.

And there she helped to spread the nets
Upon the yellow sands,

Or gathered cockles and sea-ware,
With quick and willing hands,

To help her father,—for he was
So busy, and so good,

And many smiling little ones
Looked to his hand for food.

Yet Bessie was a cripple girl,
Could scarcely run or walk,
Although with willing heart she toiled
To help the older folk.

But, ah! there came a sad, sad time,
When father left the bay

With sails all gaily spread, to fish
Fuli many a mile away.

But, though they watched for his return,
His face they saw no more!

Next day, the boat all broken lay, -
Upon the wreck-strewn shore

Poor mother could not bear the shock,
But faded day by day,

And ere another year had fled
She, too, had passed away.

Oh, oe to see, five little ones
Deserted and alone,

All crowding round the cripple girl
Upon the cold hearth-stone !

Oh, sad to hear their helpless cries,
As clasping her around,

They whispered, “why has mother gone
Away, below the ground Pu

GREY.

“She is not there,” the girl replied«
(To whom child’s faith was given),

“The angels carried her to God ;
Dear mother is in Heaven !”’

But now, how could she help them all?
How could she earn them bread ?

Those darling babes, now father dear,
And mother, too, were dead.

That saddest day,-a lady came
With loving heart and mild,

She took poor Bessie by the hand,
And soothed the weeping child.

Then gently led her to a Home,
Where cripple children dwell.

. “And was she happy?” happier far

Than I could ever tell!

For kind friends took the little ones,’
And they were cared for, too,
Until to honest men and maids
The little children grew.

And Bessie learned to knit and sew,
And make the finest lace,

And when she sold it, oh, how bright
And Dy was her face !

The money earned she laid aside
To help her brothers dear,

And little sisters who were brought
To see her every year.

‘And did she live to grow quite old ?”
No. One bright summer day,

The cripple children said “Farewell,”
To Little Bessie Grey.

But ere she died she kissed them all.
And lovingly said she,

“Pll tell my mother up in Heaven
How kind you were to me.’’




































































































































































































BESSIE GREY.
THE IRISH WOLF-DOG

Wolf-dogs are mentioned in the Irish annals at
the earliest period of history. The hero Finn Mac
Coul had a famous hound called Bran; and Cu-
culain, a warrior who lived at the beginning of the
Christian era, got his name from having killed one
of these animals during his boyhood. He was the
nephew of the king of Ireland, and was brought
up in a military school that was attached to the
palace, where boys of good family were trained in
athletic sports, and taught to fight with little wooden
shield’ and small spears, and after a certain time
were made knights. Cu-culain was much younger
than his companions, but he was tall and strong
for his age, and easily overcame them in their
games. He afterwards became a great hero, and
his valiant deeds were celebrated by the Irish-bards,
some of whose poems exist to the present day.

When there was no longer wolves in Ireland to
hunt, the breed of wolf-dogs was still kept up by
the Irish nobility and gentry, on account of their
majestic and imposing appearance; for they were —
useless for ordinary sport, and would follow neither
deer nor fox. But their number grew less and
less, till at the beginning of the present century
there were very few left of the genuine breed, and
they may now be said to be extinct.




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IRISH WOLF-DOG.
MEDICINE FOR MONKEYS. |

The manager of a silk manufactoryin Bengal was
driven nearly to his wits’ end by the mischief com-
mitted among his mulberry-trees by a flock of
monkeys who lived in the neighboring jungle.
At last he resorted to the following strange method
to get rid of them. Having captured one of the
youngest of the monkeys, he procured a large bowl
of molasses and a bottle of tartar emetic—a drug
that makes one dreadfully sick-—he well mixed a
pretty strong dose with the molasses and sponged
the youngster with the mixture from head to foot;
then, holding him firmly by the back of the neck and
tail, hecarriedand placed him on the ground beneath
a large clump of trees, from the branches of which
the flock had been watching the proceedings.
Having retreated to a safe distance he waited the
result. The little chap, on first being released,
scrambled up a tree, and was soon joined by his
companions, who first began pulling him about, but
finding him sweet and sticky, at once proceeded to
lick him clean;and as the molasses at first was
much to their taste, they jostled and fought one
another till nearly all were smeared and began
licking themselves clean. But a change soon took
place; first one and then another dropped from
the tree, until they were all: rolling on the ground
in such agonies of sickness that you might have
caught fifty. The physic proved quite enough for
them, as they scrambled away as soon as they were
able to crawl, and never came back. |


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MEDICINE FOR MONKEY’S.
THE TRICKS OF GRAVITY.

Gravity, gravity, gravity,
So clever Sir Isaac found, ‘
Brings the rosy-cheeked apple
Down with a flop on the ground ;
For if there were no gravity
The pippin would never drop out of the tree;
And if we jumped up into the air,
We should be ever more floating there—
A funny thing that would be !

Gravity, gravity, gravity,
And nothing else at all, |
Brought famous Humpty Dumpty
Down with a bump from the wall ;
He might have sat on it till now,
Quizzing us all, and making a row,
Poking his fun, not caring a rap ;
But gravity said, “Come down, old chap,”
And down he came no-how !

Humpty Dumpty the Second I spied
Stand on a treacherous Stair,
When thechildren were makng Christmastide
What it ought to be, pleasant and fair ;
With holly, and ivy, and box, and yew,
And a gaily blazoned text or two ;
That Eve how busy the young folk were,
And busy old Gravity, too, was there,
His mischievous pranks to do!

Poor Jack aspired, as Jacks aspire,
The foremost man to be;

“[’]] stick my holly a wee bit higher
Than any one else, you'll see.”

So up he climbed as high as the door,

And down he came with a terrible roar ;
And Lily, and Gussy, and Addy, and I,
Didn’t know whether to laugh or cry,

As he measured his length on the floor.

Gravity, gravity, gravity,
We’ve shown up your tricks, in verse ;

Jack felt your mischief, sore and stiff,
But oh! that you never did worse !

Never did more than cause a spill,

Or make the ripe apple fall down at your will;
Never did ought.to make men weep, eo
At the foot of the high crag, stern and steep, ,

‘

Where a mangled form lies still. -


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TRICKS OF GRAVITY.
4 ee
A BRAVE MOTHER-MOUSE.

A. farmer while digging potatoes in a field
unearthed a large mouse and six little ones. ‘The
old mouse at first was dazed and frightened, —
and sought shelter in a neighboring clump ofbushes.
The farmer caught up the six little wigglers and
placed them in a basin, then hid himself near by
to observe what the mother mouse would do.

Meantime the mother had been watching every
movement the farmer made. Her long ears
quivered with terror, her eyes glistened like dew-
drops, and she was an object to move the coldest
heart. Presently, out she ran, tripping lightly over
the clods, and sniffing right and left, she came to
the basin, ran round it, looked, and jumped in.
Presently, out she came, bearing in her mouth one
of her children. In her agitation she dropped it,
but she returned and recovered the kicking ball of
velvet, and bore it safely off toa row of cabbages,
twenty feet away. She came tripping back, and
carried off another and then another until she had
taken them all.

The brave mother was soon busily plying feet
and nose in burrowing a new home for her family.
The farmer kindly left them undisturbed, and it is
to be hoped that mother mouse and her little ones
were duly grateful to the kind farmer for his good-
ness to them, and ever after refrained from nibbling
at his grain. :






A BRAVE MOTHER MOUSE
i DOGS (Bia RY,

Major was a large handsome spaniel. He was
a great favorite with his young master, Willie, who
used to enjoy taking him along with him when he
went to the creek to hunt ducks. The brave dog’s
devotion to Willie proved the means of losing his
lite. This is how it happened: One day while
Willie and his brother Ben were out hunting ducks,
they went into the creek after two birds they had
“winged” while Major was off somewhat hunting
on his own account. As Willie arrived within
reach of one of the ducks, a piercing cry was heard
from. Ben, who was up to his chin in water, and.
Willie on looking round saw a large snake swim-
ming towards him, evidently with the intention of
disputing his right to the duck.. But the snake
was not to have it all his own way, for at this crit-
ical moment Major suddenly appeared, sprang into
the water, siezed the reptile, and swam to the bank
with itin his mouth; and although the snake bit
the faithful dog in several places, he would not
drop his burden until the boys were out of reach;
and when he saw they were safe, he went up to
them and showed by his playfulness the joy he felt
at having saved their lives. :

The brave dog was treated for snake-bite by every
available means, but he died ina couple of days, to
the regret of all the family, and especially of his
young master Willie.




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NG HIS MASTER.

MAJOR SAVI
BEING A BOY.

But say what you will about the general useful-
ness of boys, a farm without a boy would very soon
come to grief. Heis alwaysin demand. In the
first place, he is todo all the errands, go to the
store, the post-office, and to carry all sorts of mes-
sages. He would like to have as many legs asa
wheel has spokes, and rotate about in the same
way. This he sometimes tries to do, and people
who have seen him ‘turning cart-wheels” along the
side of the road have supposed he was amusing
himself and idling his time. He was only trying
to invent a new mode of locomotion, so that he
could economize his legs and do his errands with
greater dispatch. Leap-frog is one of his methods
of gettng over the ground quickly. He has a
natural genius for combining pleasure with business.

Cuarztes DupLEY WARNER.

DICK’S DINNER.

Dear little Dickie, come hop down here,

From your perch on that tree so brown
and bare;

. All your pretty companions with sum-
mer are flown,

And poor little Robin is left alone.

The cold, cold snow falls fast and thick
On your feathery coat, my poor little
Dick !

_ But God made the coat, and it’s warmer

maybe

Than we may quite think in that leafless
tree.

See at my window, Dick, how I’ve spread

All about dainty crumbs of soft white
bread,

For your dinner, my birdie ; and every
day

You'll always find some, if you come
this way.

“Pick, pecky, pick !” how I love the
sound

Of your sharp little beak on the
frosty ground !

Then your sweet “ chirrup twee !” as
away you fly,

I’m sure it means “Thank you! good-
bye, good-bye! ”

Come then, my blithe little birdie
dear,

And eat the nice dinner I’ve spread
for you here;

Then off to your tree you can flutter
away,

And sing us your song through the
winter day.


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DICK’S DINNER.








WILY WOLVES.

One day a farmer in Illinois discovered seven
wolf cubs snugly esconced in a large hollow log.
They were very young, therefore he knew that the
parents were not far away. Being resolved to
secure the old couple as well as their progeny, the
farmer dug a hole at the open end of the log, placed
a trap in it, and covered it with earth. ;

Now it is well known that wolves when caught
in atrap will gnaw off their own feet in order to
escape, therefore he kept watch in the neighbor-
hood with some dogs. -

Presently the dogs grew uneasy, and then gave
chase to a large male wolf who had approached the
log, though carefully avoiding the trap. After a
time the dogs returned, having apparently lost the
scent.

Next morning upon examining the log, the trap
was found unsprung and intact; but a hole had
been scraped in the side of the log, and all the
little wolves carried away. This was doubtless the
work of the mother wolf, who had occupied herself
thus while her sagacious partner was throwing dust,
so to speak, in the eyes of the farmer and his dogs.

However, the sagacity of the parents did not
save the lives of their little ones, for the seven little
wolves were discovered about a mile away, snugly
settled under a heap of leaves. Of course they
were all taken and destroyed.








THE WILY WOLF.
LITTLE JACK HORNER.

The story of “Little Jack Horner,” with therhyme
about him, is founded ona real incident.

When the monasteries were dissolved, and their
property seized by. Henry VIII. in 1539, Abbot
Whiting, the Abbot of Glastonbury, refused to sur-
render his monastery, so he was ordered to send all
his titledeeds to the Royal Commissioners in
London. After some delay the Abbot resolved to
send them, but he was at a loss to know how to do |
so without running the risk of their being seized on
the way. At length he hit upon the novel idea of
putting them in a pie, and sending it as a present
to the Commissioners. “There was a boy named
Jack Horner, the son of poor parents living in the
neighborhood of Mells Abbey, and him the Abbot
chose as his messenger, thinking that no one would
interfere with a poor boy carrying a pie tied up in
a cloth. ,

So Jack set out with the pie on his weary journey
towards London. He grew tired and sat down by
the way-side to rest; and worse still; he grew
hungry. So he opened his parcel and looked
longingly at the pie. There must be something _
very nice inside, he thought—perhaps plums! Could.
he not get one without the pie being any the worse? |




LITTLE JACK

HORNER.

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He would try: so, inserting his thumb under the
upper crust, he gently raised it, and pulled out—a
musty old folded-up piece of parchment. Great
was Jack’s astonishment and disappointment. He
peeped into the pie and found to his dismay that
there was nothing in it but parchments. Now
Jack could not read, but thinking that the parch-
ment he had pulled out might be worth money,
instead of replacing it in the pie, he put it in his
pocket, and tying up his parcel again, he made his
way to London, and delivered the pie to the
Commissioners.

_ When they had opened it they found that the
deed which related to the Abbey and Grange of
Mells was missing; and as Abbot Whiting had
refused to give up his monastery, it was believed
that he had purposely withheld the deed; so an
order was sent down for his immediate execution,
and the last Abbot of Glastonbury was hanged

without trial. :

An old parchment was afterwards found in the
possession of the Horner family, which proved to
be the title-deed to the Abbey and estate of Mells;
and the circumstance of its preservation was
believed to have suggested the rhyme:

“Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
Eating a Christmas pie;
He stuck in his thumb,
And pulled out a plumb,
And said, What a good boy am I!’”



































































































































GOOD AND NAUGHTY WILLIE.

Willie Glenn was five years old, and his sister
' May was nine. Some persons who had seen
Willie only when he was on his good behavior
nicknamed him Willie.Good, for he seemed to them
to be goodness itself, he was so pleasant and gen- |
tle. But others, who saw him at home, sometimes
when he was in a tantrum, said he ought to be
called Willie Naughty. Naturally Willie was good
tempered, but he had been teased so much by his |
older brothers that he grew to be very “touchy,”
and would hardly ever allow his brothers or his
sister to say anything to him, without giving them
some naughty, unkind reply. Once when his sister
May picked up a little picture book of his, Willie
flew into a furious rage, grabbed the book away
from her, and threatened to throw it at her head.
One of his older brothers laughed at his naughty
conduct and encouraged him in it. But the other
brother seemed to feel how wrong such action was,
and after looking grave for a moment he called
Willie aside and told him a secret. And what do
you think it was? Why, that May had saved up
all the pennies she had received from papa for a
long, long time, and had bought a rocker-horse for
Willie, as a present for his next birthday. That
secret taught Willie something of how much his
sister loved him and thought of his happiness. It
was a long time before Willie forgot that lesson, or
failed to prove to all around him that he deserved

to be called, not Willie Naughty, but Willie Good. |


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WILLIE NAUGHTY.
THE DUCKLING.

A poor little duckling was hatched in the shed

By an old speckled hen, with a cap on her head ;
She did nothing all day but strut round and scold,
And call the wee duckling ungrateful and bold,
Because she once asked to go out.and swim round
The clear little brook in the east pasture ground.

“Tt’s too early in spring for you to go out,”
Said the cross old hen as she bustled about,
Got ready to go to the kitchen herself

To pick up the daintiest food on the shelf;
While the duckling off in the corner sat,
And was left in the care of the old black cat.

The duckling kept whisp’ring softly and low

“O that sweet, lovely brook! I wish I could go!”
But the cat had sharp ears; she heard ev’ry word;
“Stop your mutt’ring,” she said ; ‘*‘’tis very absurd.
What a crazy idea—you wanting to swim !

Who ever heard such a nonsensical whim !

‘‘I’m a great-grandmother cat, wiser by far

Than a foolish young duckling, such as you are.

Can you bend your back? Can you purr or give
sparks?

Of course not. Then please make no more remarks ;

How would your good mother, the hen, and I look

A-swimming around in the east pasture brook?” .

The duckling sat still, and she spoke not again ;
To try to stop wishing, though, was but in vain.
When the sunshine came in, and the cool fresh air,
And she saw the cat lying fast asleep there,

She crept softly out of the old, dingy shed,

And off to the brook in the east pasture fled.

She made but one plunge in the cléar cold water,

When she heard the hen : “We’ve caught her! we’ve
caught her!

You must come right back to your place in the shed.”

But the duckling splashed in the brook, and said

“Can you swim? Can you dive ? Then speak not a
word ; :

Standing there on the shore you look so absurd !”

The cat and the old hen held down their wise heads,
And both slowly walked off to their dingy old sheds.
“It beats me,” said the cat, “why the young folks do
Such unheard-of things nowadays—don’t it you?”
The hen replied “How very strange! Till this time
I didn’t notice her feet were diff’rent from mine!”

—Mrs, Susan T, Perry,














































ON THE WAY TO THE BROOK.


HOW SAM TURNED HIS DOLLAR.

Sam was a little black boy of an inquiring mind,
‘but whose education had been neglected, and as he
waited at his master’s table, he listened to the con-
versation going on amongst the guests. Now his
master’s friends were men of business, and their
talk was of money. Sam could not be in the room
all the time, so he only heard fragments of their
discourse, such as, ‘‘Tomkyns is making money!”
‘Ah,’ said another, ‘‘he has put five thousand dollars
in his ground.” “It will soon grow,” said a third
guest. ‘He will turn it all over. It will double
itself in a year. :

Sam listened intently; he thought he had found
out why ‘“‘de bosses’ had so much money—they put
it in the ground and it grew; so as soon as he got
possession of a dollar he determined to put his
newly-acquired knowledge into practice. Slipping
into the garden, when he thought he was unob-
served, he dug a hole under some magnolias; and
after patting his dollar affectionately and telling it
to “‘be a good boy and grow quick,” he placed it in
the hole and carefully covered it up. - After wait-
ing for a few weeks he went again, and digging up
the ground he turned the dollar over, and, cover-
ing it up, left it untouched for several months.
When he again paid it a visit he found it without
a single cent of increase, he gazed at it ruefully,
and exclaiming ‘‘Him not grow a bit!” he put it
in his pocket and went sadly away.
































































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NOT GROW A BIT.”
MY BRAVE LADDIE.

Tap, tap, along the pavement, tap,
It came, a little crutch.

A pale-faced lad looked up at me;
“T do not mind it much,” :

He answered to my pitying look;
“It might be worse, you know;

Some fellows have to stay in bed,
While I quite fast can go.

“Oh, yes, I used to run about,
Perhaps I may again;

The doctor says its wonderful —
I have so little pain.

‘It hurts me now and then, of course,
Well—ever since the fall;

But I’m so very glad, you see,
That I can walk at all.”

Tap, tap, the little crutch went on,
I saw the golden hair,

The brown eyes wide and all aglow,
The noble, manly air;

And somehow tears a moment came,
And made my vision dim,

While still the laddie’s cheerful words
Were sweet as sweetest hymn.

“Tam so very glad, you see,
That I can walk at all.”
Why, that’s the way for us to feel
When troubles may befall.
There’s always blue sky somewhere, friend,
Though clouds around you meet,
And patience will the Master send,
If sought at His dear feet.










































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































“MY BRAVE LADDIE.”
TOMMY’S WISHES.

No fairyland I care to know,

This world is good enough for me ;
I like it very much, although

Some changes I would like to see.

I wish that study were like play,
And school a circus of delight,

And that ‘twere summer every day,
And all the rain would fall at night.

I wish that luscious as ice-cream
Were castor-oil and ipecac,

And that the dentist’s chair would seem
To me my frisky pony’s back.

I wish that whippings made me gay
And happy, and would never hurt,

And that I had ten meals a day,
And each one nothing but dessert.








“GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.”
PERSEVERANCE.

It is said that perseverance will overcome every
obstacle ; and so it will, if it is in the right direc-
tion, and guided by judgment. But a man may
try all day to unlock a box, yet he will never suc-
ceed in opening it ifhe has got the wrong key, no
matter how he perseveres in his efforts. I once
had a cat which was the most persevering creature
I ever knew. There was a crevice between the
boards of the kitchen-floor and the hearth, and
pussy could not only hear the mice squeaking
below, but could see them ; and there she would
patiently watch every moment she could spare from
eating and sleeping. The mice were quite close
to her, under the boards, and sometimes there would
be a scuffle below or a little paw would be thrust
up through the crack; and then she would make
a tremendous spring, as though she could plunge
down on her prey through the narrow crevice. But
her patience and perseverance were useless. She >
could not squeeze her fat body through the open-
ing, and the mice knew better than to enlarge it
and come up to her; so whilst a few kept her
attention engaged, the rest were foraging in the
pantry at their leisure. That persevering cat never
_ caught any of those mice. |
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PERSEVERANCE.
A TRIBUTE TO WATER.

Where is the liquor which God, the eternal, brews
for all His children? Not in the simmering still,
over smoky fires choked with poisonous gases, and
surrounded with the stench of sickening odors and
rank corruptions, doth your Father in heaven pre-
pare the precious essence of life—the pure cold water.
But in the green glade and grassy dell, where the
red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there
God brews it. And down, low down in the deep-
est valleys, where the fountains murmur and the
' rills sing: and high upon the tall mountain tops,

where thenaked granite glitters like gold in the sun;
where the storm-cloud broods,and the thunder storms
crash: and away far out on the wide, wild sea
where the hurricane howls music, and the big waves
_roar, the chorus sweeping the march of God: there
He brews it—that beverage of lifeand health-giving
water. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty ;
gleaming in the dew-drop, singing in’ the summer
rain, shining in the ice-gem till the leaves all
seemed turned to living jewels, spreading a golden
veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around
the midnight moon.

Still always it is beautiful, that life-giving water;
no poison bubbles on its brink; its foam brings not
madness and murder: no blood stains its liquid
glass; pale widows and starving orphans weep no
burning tears in its depths; no drunken, shrieking
ghost from the grave curses itin the words of eternal
despair. Speak, my friends, would you exchange it
for demon’s drink, alcohol ? Joun B. Goucu. |










































°

A DRINK OF COLD WATER
NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT.



. SLUMBER SONG.
BY EUGENE FIELD.



The mill goes toiling slowly around, -
With steady and solemn creak,

And my little one hears in the kindly , esund
The voice of the old mill speak;

While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,

My little one hears that the old mill sings,
«Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” |

The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And over his pot of beer

The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer;

He mocks at winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep,

But we—we love their lullaby-song
Of “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” |

Shaggy old Fritz in slumber sound,
Groans of the stony mart—
To-morrow how proudly he’ll trot you round
Hitched to our new milk cart! — .
And you shall help me blanket the kine,
And fold the gentle sheep,
And set the herring a-soak in brine—
But now, little tulip, sleep!

A Dream-One comes to button the eyes
--That wearily droop and blink,
While the old mill buffets the frowning skies
And scolds at the stars that wink;
Over your face the misty wings
Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep,
And rocking your cradle, she softly sings:
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”








































































































































THE OLD MILL.


. of the young

nay they found

ons, madeon their

other of tampering

, but this was stren-

ched a climax when

enced a picture of the

zoing to his work in the

et “the Madonna painted

rey could not imagine, as it

Fould have painted it: so they
‘che mysterious circumstance,

rae head. He was surprised at its

Pid thinking Sebastian must know

Fs he slept in the room every night, he

= boy that unless he found out the unknown

P< by the following morning, he should be

everely whipped.

The poor little mulatto was in an agony of terror,






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MURILLO’S LITTLE SLAVE-BOY.
for he himself was the mysterious painter. Hav-
ing a natural genius and intense love for art,
he had all this time been secretly studying and
practising painting on the canvases of the students
before they came in the morning, and listening
earnestly to the master whilst he was giving them
instruction; and being but a slave, and in dread of
the scourge, he thought that if he confessed it were
he, it would only subject him to still worse punish-
ment for his presumption; so he resolved to expunge
the Madonna’s head, and never paint any more.

But when he rose early in the morning to carry
out his intention, and looked at the beautiful face,
he had not the heart to rub it out, but set to work
to finish it instead. And soabsorbed was he as the
time went by, that it was only on hearing a rustle
behind him that he turned his head and beheld
the students, with the master himself, looking on
in admiration. :

The poor little slave fell on his knees, imploring
pardon; but Murillo, kindly raising him up, asked
him what reward he should give him for his skill
and industry. Sebastian only asked for his father’s
freedom, which Murillo at once granted, and giv- —
ing him his own liberty also, received him amongst
his pupils. He soon distinguished himself, and
became a celebrated painter; but he was better
known as Murillo’s mulatto than by his propername
of Sebastian Gomez. He died in 1690, having
survived his master but a few years. His princt-
pal works may still be seen in Seville.
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PERFORMING BEARS.

I presume nearly every little reader of this book
has heard of, if not seen, performing bears, such

- as is shown in the accompanying picture. But I

doubt if any of you ever heard of a more remark-
able performance by a bear than the one I am
_ about to relate. 7

A. little three-year-old, named, Fleming, whose
parents live in northern Michigan, being missed
one afternoon, her parents tracked her to some
bushes, in the field about forty rods from the house,
at which point the child’s tracks disappeared, and
those of a large bear were found leading into the
woods. ‘The horrified father, aided by neighbors,
followed up the bear, which had carried off the
child, as fast as possible ; but night set in, and they
were obliged to wait till morning, when the pursuit
was recommenced.

In a short time, as the pursuers were passing a
swampy spot, they heard the child’s voice calling
aloud. They rushed forward, heard a splash in
the water and soon saw the child standing on a log
stretching over a pond. ‘The bear, the child said, |
was carrying her across the log and had just jumped
into the water and swam away. The bear had
not hurt the child in the least, but had been caress-
ing in its manner and had lain down at night with
its arms around the little one, as if to shield her
from harm. The bear had just lost her cub and
seemed to wish to adopt the child in its place.


PERFORMING BEARS.
SET PREE:

Little Clarence Gray set two traps in his father’s
meadow to catch any foolish little birds that might
be enticed into them. Before any bird had been
caught, however, Clarence was taken sick and
confined to his bed for several days. One day,
while his brother Charlie was sitting by his bed
reading to him, his little sister Elzan came running
into the room, her face beaming with pleasant
excitement, and cried out, “Oh! Clarence, there's
a bird in your trap.” Charlie hastened out to see,
and sure enough the trap was sprung, and impris-
oned therein was a badly frightened little lark.
Charlie ran back to the house and told Clarence
that Elzan was right, and wished to know if he
should bring the little captive in for him to see.
“No,” said Clarence, “Mamma says I will be well
enough to go out doors to-morrow, and then I will
have the pleasure of taking the little bird out of his —
prison myself.” :

- But when the time arrived, Clarence surprised —
his brother and sister by saying ‘‘Come, let us go
out and set the little captive free.” They followed
him out to the trap, and when he lifted the lid,
they seemed as much pleased as he to see the little
liberated lark wing his way towards the sky. Clar-
ence felt so grateful at being free himself once more
that he wanted the poor little imprisoned lark to
participate in his happiness.
















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































SET FREE.
ON THE SLIDE.

Where will you find a healthy, hearty boy who
does not like to slide ; Hardly anywhere, I should
think. Oh! what fun it is on a brisk winter
morning, with Jack Frost nipping at your ears, to
run and slide down hill with a lot of jolly boys and
girls. To besure there is a little danger in it—
danger of losing your cap, and your balance in
attempting to recover it—and falling ‘“‘kerplump”
into the snow. But that’s a part of the fun, isn't
it? Just look at the boys in the picture and see how
they are holding out their hands to keep their bal-
ance. Onehas lost his cap and is making a des-
perate effort to keep from losing his balance. Do
you think he can save himself from falling?

WINTER’S SNOWS.

Summer joys are o'er ;

Flow’rets bloom no more,
Wintry winds are sweeping
Through the snow-drifts peeping,

Cheerful evergreen

Rarely now is seen.

Now no plumed throng
’ Charms the wood with song ;
Ice-bound trees are glittering ;
Merry snow-birds twittering,
Fondly strive to cheer
Scenes so cold and drear.

Winter, still 1 see
Many charms in thee—
I love thy chilly greeting,
Snow-storms fiercely beating,
And dear delights
Of the long, long nights.
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ON THE SLIDE:


Seceee
Lucy Lei THESE WORDS . THIS’ PICTURE, BY A:BRENNAN.
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“No one tookt je

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