Cinderella; or, The Little Glass Slipper and other Stories,

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Cinderella; or, The Little Glass Slipper
Fanny's Telephone Order
The Raindrops' New Dresses
Sir Gobble
What is It?
John's Bright Idea
A Sad Thanksgiving Party
Guy and the Bee
Mean Boy
Naughty Pumpkin's Fate
Something About Fires
The lee-King's Reign.
Malmo, the Wounded Rat
Mama's Happy Christmas
Cured of Carelessness
A Visit from a Prince
Stringing Cranberries
Christmas in California
A Troublesome Call
Bertie's Corn-Popper
Fire! Fire! Fire!
The Dolls and the Other Dolls
Why Did Mamma Change Her Mind?
Clara's Funeral.
The Chickadee-Dee.
The Children's Party
Brave Tomasso
Tommy Frost Sees a Bear
Two Strange Sights
A Cat's Instincts
Diliah's New Year's Presents
Night Flowers
The First Snow Storm
Fred's Stolen Ride
A Valentine Party
The Venturesome Rat
The Bear's Feast
Babie's Curls.
The Red Apples
A Horse Who Wore Snow Shoes
The Angry Bobolink
How Hiram Spent His Shrimp Money
The Ant's House
The Foolish Pug
The Silhouette Party
The Snow Birds
A Kind Heart
Towser Talks
Just as She Pleased


Once there was a gentleman who married for his second wife the
proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had by a
former husband two daughters of her own humor, who were, indeed,
exactly like her in all things. He had likewise, by another wife,
a young daughter, but of unparalleled goodness and sweetness of
temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature
in the world.

No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the
mother-in-law began to show herself in her true colors. She could
not bear the good qualities of this pretty girl, and the less
because they made her own daughters appear the more odious. She
employed her in meanest work of the house: she scoured the
dishes, tables, etc., and scrubbed madam's chamber and those of
misses, her daughters; she lay up in a sorry garret, upon a
wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms, with
floors all inlaid, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and
where they had looking-glasses so large that they might see
themselves at their full length from head to foot.

The poor girl bore all patiently and dared not tell her father,
who would have rattled her off; for his wife governed him
entirely. When she had done her work she used to go into the
chimney-corner and sit down among cinders and ashes, which made
her commonly be called a cinder maid; but the youngest, who was
not so rude and uncivil as the eldest, called her Cinderella.
However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her mean apparel, was a
hundred times handsomer than her sisters, though they were always
dressed very richly.

It happened that the King's son gave a ball and invited all
persons, of fashion to it. Our young misses were also invited,
for they cut a very grand figure among the quality. They were
mightily delighted at this invitation, and wonderfully busy in
choosing out such gowns, petticoats, and head-clothes as might
become them. This was a new trouble to Cinderella, for it was she
who ironed her sisters' linen and plaited their ruffles. They
talked all day long of nothing but how they should be dressed.

"For my part," said the eldest, "I will wear my red velvet suit
with French trimming."

"And I," said the youngest, "shall have my usual petticoat; but
then, to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered
manteau and my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the
most ordinary one in the world."

They sent for the best tire-woman they could get to make up their
headdresses and adjust their double pinners, and they had their
red brushes and patches from Mademoiselle de la Poche.

Cinderella was likewise called up to them to be consulted in all
these matters, for she had excellent notions and advised them
always for the best, nay, and offered her services to dress their
heads, which they were very willing she should do. As she was
doing this they said to her:

"Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?"

"Alas!" said she, "you only jeer me. It is not for such as I am
to go thither."

"Thou art in the right of it," replied they. "It would make the
people laugh to see a cinder wench at a ball."

Any one but Cinderella would have dressed their heads awry, but
she was very good and dressed them perfectly well. They were
almost two days without eating, so much they were transported
with joy. They broke above a dozen of laces in trying to be laced
up close, that they might have a fine, slender shape, and they
were continually at their looking-glass. At last the happy day
came. They went to Court, and Cinderella followed them with her
eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of them
she fell a-crying.

Her Godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the

"I wish I could--I wish I could--"

She was not able to speak the rest being interrupted by her tears
and sobbing.

This Godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her: "Thou
wishest thou could'st go to the ball. Is it not so?"

"Y--es," cried Cinderella, with a great sigh.

"Well," said her Godmother, "be but a good girl, and I will
contrive that thou shalt go." Then she took her into her chamber
and said to her: "Run into the garden and bring me a pumpkin."

Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get
and brought it to her Godmother, not being able to imagine how
this pumpkin could make her go to the ball. Her Godmother scooped
out all the inside of it, having left nothing but the rind; which
done, she struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was instantly
turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold.

She then went to look into her mousetrap, where she found six
mice all alive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the
trapdoor, when, giving each mouse as it went out a little tap
with her wand, the mouse was that moment turned into a fine
horse, which altogether made a very fine set of six horses of a
beautiful mouse-colored dapple-gray. Being at a loss for a
coachman, Cinderella said:

"I will go and see if there is never a rat in the rattrap--we may
make a coachman of him."

"Thou art in the right," replied her Godmother. "Go and look."

Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three
huge rats. The fairy made choice of one of the three which had
the largest beard, and having touched him with her wand he was
turned into a fat, jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers
eyes ever beheld. After that she said to her:

"Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind
the watering-pot. Bring them to me."

She had no sooner done so but her Godmother turned them into six
footmen,who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their
liveries all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close
behind each other as if they had done nothing else their whole
lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella:

"Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with. Are
you not pleased with it?"

"Oh! yes," cried she; "but must I go thither as I am, in these
dirty rags?"

Her Godmother only just touched her with her wand, and at the
same instant her clothes were turned into cloth-of-gold and
silver, all beset with jewels. Ah! who can describe a robe made
by the fairies? It was white as snow, and as dazzling; round the
hem hung a fringe of diamonds, sparkling like dewdrops in the
sunshine. The lace about the throat and arms could only have been
spun by fairy spiders. Surely it was a dream! Cinderella put her
daintily gloved hand to her throat, and softly touched the pearls
that encircled her neck.

"Come, child," said the Godmother, "or you will be late."

As Cinderella moved, the firelight shone upon her dainty shoes.

"They are of diamonds," she said.

"No," answered her Godmother, smiling; "they are better than
that--they are of glass, made by the fairies. And now, child, go,
and enjoy yourself to your heart's content."

But her Godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay
till after midnight, telling her at the same time that if she
stayed one moment longer the coach would be a pumpkin again, her
horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and her
clothes become just as they were before.

She promised her Godmother she would not fail of leaving the ball
before midnight, and then away she drives, scarce able to contain
herself for joy. The King's son, who was told that a great
Princess, whom nobody knew, was come, ran out to receive her. He
gave her his hand as she alighted out of the coach; and led her
into the hall among all the company. There was immediately
a profound silence, they left off dancing, and the violins ceased
to play, so attentive was every one to contemplate the singular
beauties of the unknown newcomer. Nothing was then heard but a
confused noise of "Ha! how handsome she is! Ha! how handsome she

The King himself, old as he was, could not help watching her and
telling the Queen softly that it was a long time since he had
seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.

All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and
headdress, that they might have some made next day after the same
pattern, provided they could meet with such fine materials and as
able hands to make them.

The King's son conducted her to the most honorable seat and
afterward took her out to dance with him. She danced so very
gracefully that they all more and more admired her. A fine
collation was served up, whereof the young Prince ate not a
morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her.

She went and sat down by her sisters, showing them a thousand
civilities, giving them part of the oranges and citrons which the
Prince had presented her with, which very much surprised them,
for they did not know her. While Cinderella was thus amusing her
sisters, she heard the clock strike eleven and three-quarters,
whereupon she immediately made a courtesy to the company and
hastened away as fast as she could.

Being got home, she ran to seek out her Godmother, and after
having thanked her she said she could not but heartily wish she
might go next day to the ball, because the King's son had desired

As she was eagerly telling her Godmother what had passed at the
ball her two sisters knocked at the door, which Cinderella ran
and opened.

"How long you have stayed!" cried she, gaping, rubbing her eyes,
and stretching herself as if she had been just waked out of her
sleep. She had not, however, had any manner of inclination to
sleep since they went from home.

"If thou hadst been at the ball," said one of her sisters, "thou
would'st not have been tired with it. There came thither the
finest Princess, the most beautiful ever was seen with mortal
eyes. She showed us a thousand civilities and gave us oranges and

Cinderella seemed very indifferent in the matter. Indeed, she
asked them the name of that Princess, but they told her they did
not know it, and that the King's son was very uneasy on her
account, and would give all the world to know who she was. At
this Cinderella, smiling, replied:

"She must, then, be very beautiful indeed. How happy you have
been! Could not I see her? Ah! dear Miss Charlotte, do lend me
your yellow suit of clothes which you wear every day."

"Ay, to be sure," cried Miss Charlotte; "lend my clothes to such
it dirty cinder maid as thou art! I should be a fool."

Cinderella expected well such answer and was very glad of the
refusal, for she would have been sadly put to it if her sister
had lent her what she asked for jestingly.

The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was
Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The
King's son was always by her, and never ceased his compliments
and kind speeches to her, to whom all this was so far from being
tiresome that she quite forgot what her Godmother had recommended
to her, so that she at last counted the clock striking twelve
when she took it to be no more than eleven. She then rose up and
fled as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but could not
overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which
the Prince took up most carefully. She got home, but quite out of
breath, and in her old clothes, having nothing left her of all
her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow to that she
dropped. The guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not
seen a Prinecess go out.

They said they had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very
meanly dressed, and who had more of the air of a poor country
girl than a gentlewoman.

When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them
if they had been well diverted and if the beautiful Princess had
been there.

They told her yes, but that she hurried away immediately when the
clock struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one
of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which
the King's son had taken up; that he had done nothing but look at
her all the time at the ball, and that most certainly he was very
much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass

What they said was very true, for a few days after the King's son
caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would
marry her whose foot this slipper would just fit. They whom he
employed began to try it upon the Princesses, then the Duchesses
and all the Court, but in vain. It was brought to the two
sisters, who did all they possibly could to thrust their feet
into the slipper, but they could not effect it.

On the following morning there was a great noise of trumpets and
drums, and a procession passed through the town, at the head of
which rode the King's son. Behind him came a herald, bearing a
velvet cushion, upon which rested a little glass slipper. The
herald blew a blast upon the trumpet, and then read a
proclamation saying that the King's son would wed any lady in the
land who could fit the slipper upon her foot, if she could
produce another to match it.

Of course, the sisters tried to squeeze their feet into the
slipper, but it was of no use--they were much too large. Then
Cinderella shyly begged that she might try. How the sisters
laughed with scorn when the Prince knelt to fit the slipper on
the cinder maid's foot; but what was their surprise when it
slipped on with the greatest ease, and the next moment Cinderella
produced the other from her pocket! Once more she stood in the
slippers, and once more the sisters saw before them the lovely
Princess who was to be the Prince's bride. For at the touch of
the magic shoes the little gray frock disappeared forever, and in
place of it she wore the beautiful robe the fairy Godmother had
given to her.

The sisters hung their heads with sorrow and vexation; but kind
little Cinderella put her arms round their necks, kissed them,
and forgave them for all their unkindness, so that they could not
help but love her.

The Prince could not bear to part from his little love again, so
he carried her back to the palace in his grand coach, and they
were married that very day. Cinderella's stepsisters were present
at the feast, but in the place of honor sat the fairy Godmother.

So the poor little cinder maid married the Prince, and in time
they came to be King and Queen, and lived happily ever after.


Little Fanny Desmond was a dear child, and, like a good many
other little children, she liked to do whatever she saw the grown
people do.

She would listen with great interest when she saw her mother use
the telephone. She was especially surprised when her mother
ordered things, and later in the day they would be brought to the

"I wish I had a telephone of my own," she said to her papa. "Mama
just puts her mouth up to that funny thing, and gets whatever she
asks for. Yesterday she asked somebody to send us ice-cream for
dinner, and sure enough, it came."

Papa laughed. "It does seem a very convenient thing," he said. "I
will try to arrange one for you." So papa took a horn which had
been put away in a closet and hung it up where Fanny could talk
into it. "There, that shall be your own private telephone," he

"Now, shall I get whatever I ask for?" said Fanny.

"Not if you ask for impossible things," replied her papa.

"But what are impossible things?" asked Fanny.

"Well," laughed papa, "I think if you should ask for the moon you
would not get it."

"But I don't want the moon," said Fanny.

"Ask for something before I go down-town," said papa.

Fanny thought a moment, and then spoke up quite distinctly:

"Please send me some peppermints, and some new shoes for my doll,
and a bunch of pansies for my mama, and a new bicycle for my
papa, and--and--that's all this time. Good-bye."

"That's a very good order," said her papa, "but kiss me good-bye,
for I must be off."

About half an hour later the front door-bell rang. Very soon the
maid appeared with a package directed to Miss Fanny Desmond. In
great excitement, Fanny opened it. It was a box of peppermints.
The child's delight was great, but when, in another half hour,
there came a bundle which proved to be a new pair of shoes for
her doll, she was too happy for words. But that surprise was
hardly over when another package was brought her. She opened it
in great excitement, and behold there was a bunch of beautiful

"They are for you, mama," she cried, "and now everything has come
but papa's new bicycle."

Just then she looked out of the window, and there was her papa
coming up the drive on a fine new wheel. She rushed down to meet
him, exclaiming, as she threw herself into his arms:

"Oh, papa, papa, I did get everything; my telephone is beautiful,
and the man at the other end is just lovely!"

"Ah," said papa, "I am delighted he is so satisfactory."


"We're so tired of these gray dresses!"
Cried the little drops of rain,
As they came down helter-skelter
From the Nimbus cloud fast train.

And they bobbed against each other
In a spiteful sort of way,
Just like children when bad temper
Gets the upper hand some day.

Then the Sun peeped out a minute.
"Dears, be good and do not fight,
I have ordered you new dresses,
Dainty robes of purest white."

Ah! then all the tiny raindrops
Hummed a merry glad refrain,
And the old folks cried: "How pleasant
Is the music of the rain!"

Just at even, when the children
Had been safely tucked in bed,
There was such a rush and bustle
In the dark clouds overhead!

Then those raindrops hurried earthward,
At the North Wind's call, you know,
And the wee folks, in the morning,
Laughed to see the flakes of snow.


Bessie Curtis was in a great deal of trouble. She was spending a
year in the country while her father and mother were in Europe.
It was not that which was troubling her. She liked the country,
she loved her uncle and aunt with whom she lived, and she
heard every week from her father and mother. But something
disturbed her. As the summer passed, and the autumn came, she had
moments when she looked very sober. What was the reason?

I will tell you.

Early in the spring her uncle had given her a young turkey.

"There, Bessie," he had said, "that is one of the prettiest
turkeys I have ever seen. I will give him into your care, and on
Thanksgiving Day we will have him on the dinner-table."

For some time Bessie fed the turkey every day without feeling
particularly fond of him. Very soon, however, he began to know
her; he not only ran to meet her when she brought him his corn
and meal, but he would follow her about just the way Mary's
little lamb followed HER about.

Her uncle often called after her: "And everywhere that Bessie
goes, the turkey's sure to go."

Yes, round the garden, up and down the avenue, and even into the
house itself the turkey followed Bessie.

Then why was she so sad?

Alas! she remembered her uncle's words when he gave her the
turkey, "On Thanksgiving Day we will have him on the table."

Thanksgiving Day would be here in a week.

Now, if Bessie had been like some little girls, she would have
told her trouble to her uncle. But she never mentioned it to any
one, although she cried herself to sleep several nights before
Thanksgiving Day.

At last the day came, and Bessie, instead of going out to the
fowlyard as usual, kept in the house all the morning. She was
afraid that, if she went, she would not find her beloved friend.
Dinner-time came, and, with a heavy heart, she seated herself at
the table. Her uncle and aunt noticed her sober face, and thought
that she missed her father and mother.

"Come, come, said her uncle, "we must cheer up; no sad looks on
Thanksgiving Day. Maria, BRING IN THE TURKEY."

Poor Bessie! she could not look up as the door opened, and
something was brought in on a big platter. But, as the platter
was placed on the table, she saw that it did indeed hold her
turkey, but he was alive and well.

She looked so astonished that suddenly her uncle understood all
her past troubles.

"Why, Bessie," he said, "did you think I would kill your pet? No,
indeed, but I told you he should be on the table Thanksgiving
Day, so here he is."

Then Bessie's uncle struck the turkey gently with his
carving-knife, the way the queen strikes a man with a sword when
she makes him a knight.

"Behold!" said Bessie's uncle, "I dub you 'Sir Gobble;' you shall
never be killed, but die a natural death, and never be parted
from Bessie."


What is that ugly thing I see
Which follows, follows, follows me,
Which ever way I turn or go?
What is that thing? I want to know.

If I but turn to left or right
It does the same with all its might;
It looks so ugly and so black
When o'er my shoulder I look back.

Sometimes it runs ahead of me,
Sometimes quite short it seems to be,
And then again it's very tall;
I don't know what it is at all.

I'll climb into my little bed,
And on my pillow lay my bead,
For when I'm there I never see
That thing in front or back of me.


Mrs. Meredith was a most kind and thoughtful woman. She spent a
great deal of time visiting the poor. One morning she told her
children about a family which she had visited the day before.
There was a man sick in bed, his wife who took care of him, and
could not go out to work, and their little boy. The little
boy--his name was Bernard--had interested her very much.

"I wish you could see him," she said to her own children, John,
Harry, and Clara, "he is such a help to his mother. He wants very
much to earn some money, but I don't see what he can do."

After their mother had left the room, the children sat thinking
about little Bernard.

"I wish we could help him to earn money," said little Clara.

"So do I, said Harry.

For some moments John said nothing, but, suddenly, he sprang to
his feet and cried:

"I have an idea!"

The other children also jumped up all attention. When John had an
idea, it was sure to be a good one.

"I tell you what we can do," said John. "You know that big box
of corn Uncle Sam sent us for popping? Well, we can pop it, and
put it into paper bags, and Bernard can take it round to the
houses and sell."

When Mrs. Meredith heard of John's idea, she, too, thought it a
good one.

Very soon the children were busy popping the corn, while their
mother went out to buy the paper bags. When she came back, she
brought Bernard with her.

In a short time, he started out on his new business, and, much
sooner than could be expected, returned with an empty basket.

Tucked into one of his mittens were ten nickels. He had never
earned so much money before in his life. When he found that it
was all to be his, he was so delighted he could hardly speak, but
his bright smiling face spoke for him. After he had run home to
take the money to his mother, John said:

"We have corn enough left to send Bernard out ever so many times.
May we do it again?"

"Yes, said Mrs. Meredith, "you may send him every Saturday
morning, if you will pop the corn for him yourselves. John, will
you agree to take charge of the work?"

"Indeed I will," replied John, and he kept his word. For many
weeks, every Saturday morning, no matter what plan was on foot,
no matter how good the coasting or skating, he saw that the corn
was all popped, the paper bags filled, and arranged in the basket
when Bernard arrived.

People began to watch for the "little pop-corn boy," and every
week he had at least fifty cents to take home, and often more.
And all this was because of John's bright idea, and the way he
carried it out.


Four hungry-looking animals
All seated in a row;
Why does not some one speak to them?
That's what I want to know.

They all of them were bidden to
A fine Thanksgiving feast,
And now, it seems to me, their host
Might welcome them, at least.

'Twas Master Pug invited them,
Why does he not appear?
'Tis plain they think his absence looks
Extremely rude and queer.

Alas! poor Pug's in trouble sore,
The host he cannot play;
No feast for self or friends has he
On this Thanksgiving Day.

He saw a turkey, large and fat,
Upon the kitchen shelf.
"That's just the very thing I want,"
Said he unto himself.

He caught the turkey, but the cook
Caught him with firmer grasp,
And shook him till he could not bark
But only choke and gasp.

Meanwhile, those hungry animals,
Who'd waited there in vain,
Declared they never would be guest
Of Mr. Pug again.


One day a jolly bumble-bee,
In coat of black and yellow,
Got caught inside a window-pane;
The silly little fellow.

He buzzed and buzzed against the glass,
To Guy's great enjoyment,
Who thought to watch this funny thing
Was just the best employment.

But soon to touch those gauzy wings,
Became Guy's great desire,
Although mama had told him that
A bee could sting like fire.

But Guy, silly as the bee,
Paid no heed to mama,
He touched the bee, then gave a howl
Which could be heard afar.

Mama a soothing poultice mixed,
And on his finger laid.
"Another time you'll be more wise,"
Was everything she said.


Harry Burton woke one night and heard a strange noise in his
closet. He got out of bed, crossed the floor in his bare feet,
and carefully opened the closet door. The noise stopped,

"Ah!" said Harry, "I knew it was mice made that noise. How I wish
I could catch them."

The next morning he told his mother about the noises he had

"I will get you a mouse-trap," she said.

"I don't want the kind that kills the mice, I only want to catch
them and tame them," said Harry.

His mother laughed and told him when he had tamed his mice he
must keep them well out of her way.

The trap was set, the mice were caught, and sure enough, in a
short time were so tame they would eat from Harry's hand. He made
a little house for them, and kept in it his bedroom. Whenever he
went out, he always shut the door carefully.

Now it happened that among Harry's acquaintances, there was one
very disagreeable boy. His name was Dick Taft. Harry did not play
with him very often, for he was so ugly it was hard to get along
with him.

Dick never liked to be beaten at any game, and sometimes made it
very uncomfortable for the one who got ahead of him.

One day Harry happened to beat him at one of their school games.
Dick called after him when it was over, "I'll pay you for this,
see if I don't."

Harry only laughed as he walked away going in the opposite
direction from his own house.

When he was out of sight, Dick ran to Harry's house, made some
excuse to go up in his bedroom, and let in the big cat, who was
eagerly watching outside.

When Harry came home, the mouse house was open, and not one of
his pets was to be seen. The poor fellow was almost heart-broken.
He asked every one in the house who had left his door open. The
maid told him she thought it must have been that boy he sent up
to his room.

She described the boy, and Harry knew in a moment that it was
Dick Taft.

"So that is the way he paid me for beating him at a game," cried
Harry. "Well, never again, so long as I live, will I play with a
boy who is mean enough to do such a trick as that."

And he kept his word.


A queer little pumpkin, a jolly fat fellow,
Stood close to his mother so rotund and yellow.
"What a stupid old place! how I long to aspire,"
Cried he, "I was destined for something much higher."

"My son," said the mother, "pray do be content,
There's great satisfaction in life that's well spent!"
But he shrugged up his shoulders, this pumpkin, 't is true,
And acted just like some bad children will do.

With a shout and a whoop, in the garden they ran,
Tom and Ned, for they'd thought of the loveliest plan
To astonish their friends from the city, you see,
With a fine Jack-o'-lantern--"Ah, this one suits me!"

Neddie seized the bad pumpkin, and dug out his brains,
Till he felt so light-headed and brimful of pains;
Then two eyes, a long nose, and a mouth big and wide,
They cut in a minute, and laid him aside

Until night, when they hung him upon a stout limb,
With a candle inside; how his poor head did swim,
As they twisted him this way, then twirled him round that,
Till at last, with a crash, he fell on the ground flat,

A wreck of the once jolly, fat little fellow,
Who stood by his mother so rotund and yellow.
Just then a lean cow, who was passing that way,
Ate him up, just to finish HER "Thanksgiving Day."


It was a cold day. Fred was tired of reading, tired of looking
out of the window, and so he poked the fire for a change.

"I suppose there are a good many different sorts of fires," he
said to his mamma, as he laid down the poker.

"Yes, indeed," she answered. "It is very interesting to know how
people keep warm in all parts of the world, especially where fuel
is scarce and dear. In Iceland, for example, fires are often made
of fish-bones! Think of that. In Holland and other countries a
kind of turf called peat is dug up in great quantities and used
for fuel. And in France a coarse yellow and brown sea-weed, which
is found in Finistere, is carefully dried and piled up for winter
use. A false log, resembling wood, but made of some composition
which does not consume, is often used in that country. It absorbs
and throws out the heat, and adds to the looks of the hearth and
to the comfort of the room.

"The French have also a movable stove, which can be wheeled from
room to room, or even carried up or down stairs while full of
burning coke. In Russia the poorer people use a large porcelain
stove, flat on top like a great table, with a small fire inside
which gives out a gentle, summer-like warmth. It often serves
as a bed for the whole family, who sleep on top of it.

"There are, besides gas-stoves, oil-stoves, various methods of
obtaining warmth by heated air and steam, and, doubtless, other
devices that I never heard of.

"In some countries, however, no fires are needed. In looking at
pictures of tropical towns you will at once notice the absence of

Fred looked admiringly at his mamma as she paused.

"There never was such a little mother," he said; "you can think
of something to say about everything."

His mamma was pleased at this pleasant compliment.

"Oh!" she replied, laughing, "I could go on and tell you more
about bonfires, beacon-fires, signals, drift-wood fires, and
gypsy-tea fires; but I have told you enough for to-day."


The sun had gone down with promises sweet,
When, keen from the north, the wind
Came blustering along on its coursers fleet,
And left frozen tracks behind.

Maude stood at the window; the moon shimmered down
On whirling leaves, stiff and dead,
All piteously driven; she turned with a frown,
And soft to herself she said:--

"The old tyrant Winter leaves nothing to prize,
Leaves nothing that's bright or fair;
He has stolen the blue from the bending skies,
The warmth from the earth and air.

"The summer's dear blossoms are withered and dead;
My garden is brown and bare;
The chipper of birds in the nest overhead
Is hushed, for no birdlings are here.

"The woodlands no longer are shady and sweet,
Dry leafage encumbers the ground;
The pathways, once verdant and soft to my feet,
In fetters of ice are bound.

"The pride of the barn-yard sits humped with the cold,
One frozen foot under his wing;
And the sheep huddle closely, for warmth, in their fold;
The ice tyrant reigns as king."

She turns from this picture of ruin and death,
And seeks the broad casement again;
And, lo! from the dews of her wasted breath
Great forests have grown on the pane.

Such beautiful trees! such ferns! and such flowers!
Such rivers and mountains bold!
Such charming cascades! she gazes for hours,
And worships the ice king cold.


A poor man saw, by the roadside, a large white rat. It seemed
to be dead. Moving it gently he found it was alive, but had a
broken leg. He took it up and carried it to his lonely home. He
bound up the bruised leg, fed the poor creature, and soon it was
quite well.

Sam Tills trained the rat to gentle ways, and taught it many
little tricks. Malmo was the only company Sam had. He worked
in a cotton mill, and took Malmo with him. He rode in his
master's coat-pocket. It looked droll to see his white head
peeping out.

Sundays both went to dine with Sam's sister. Malmo's funny
ways made everybody laugh. When Sam said, "Malmo, go sit in
my hat," he went at once. He curled himself up in it, and nodded
off to sleep.

When his master said, "Malmo, we're going now; slip in," the
droll pet jumped from the hat, ran up to his pocket-nest, said
good-by in his own fashion, and was ready to start. Evenings,
when Sam was reading or singing from his mother's hymn-book,
Malmo had a nap on his master's head. When it was time to go
to bed Sam stroked Malmo's soft fur. The rat rubbed himself
against his master's hand. It was their good-night to each other.
Then Malmo crept into his basket, and the candle was blown out.
Soon both were fast asleep.


It had seemed to the little Wendell children that they would have
a very sad Christmas. Mama had been very ill, and papa had been
so anxious about mama that he could not think of anything else.

When Christmas Day came, however, mama was so much better that
she could lie on the lounge. The children all brought their
stockings into her room to open them.

"You children all seem as happy as if you had had your usual
Christmas tree," said mama, as they sat around her.

"Why, I NEVER had such a happy Christmas before," said sweet
little Agnes. "And it's just because you are well again."

"Now I think you must all run out for the rest of the day," said
the nurse, "because your mama wants to see you all again this

"I wish we could get up something expressly for mama's
amusement," said Agnes, when they had gone into the nursery.

"How would you like to have some tableaux in here?" asked their
French governess, Miss Marcelle.

"Oh, yes," they all cried, "it would be fun, mama loves

So all day long they were busy arranging five tableaux for the
evening. The tableaux were to be in the room which had
folding-doors opening into Mrs. Wendell's sitting-room.

At the proper time Miss Marcelle stepped outside the
folding-doors and made a pretty little speech. She said that some
young ladies and a young gentleman had asked permission to show
some tableaux to Mrs. Wendell if she would like to see them. Mrs.
Wendell replied that she would be charmed.

Then mademoiselle announced the tableaux; opening the doors wide
for each one. This is a list of the tableaux: First, The Sleeping
Beauty; second, Little Red Riding Hood third, The Fairy Queen;
fourth, Old Mother Hubbard; fifth, The Lord High Admiral.

Miss Marcelle had arranged everything so nicely, and Celeste,
the French maid, helped so much with the dressing, that the
pictures all went off without a single mistake.

Mama was delighted. She said she must kiss those dear young
ladies, and that delightful young man who had given her such a
charming surprise.

So all the children came in rosy and smiling.

"Why, didn't you know us?" asked the little Lord Admiral.

"I know this," said mama, "I am like Agnes. I NEVER had such a
happy Christmas before."


Mrs. Bertram sat reading a book one morning, or trying to. It was
not easy to do so, for her little boy, Roger, was out in the hall
playing with his drum. Suddenly the drumming ceased, and in a
moment Roger rushed into the room crying as if his heart would

"I've burst it. I've burst it," he sobbed.

"Your drum asked his mother. "How did you do that?"

"I was beating it with the poker and the tongs and--"

"With the poker and tongs!" exclaimed his mother. "Why, where
were your drum-sticks?"

Then Roger stopped crying, and hung his head with shame.

"Where are your drum-sticks?" asked his mother, again.

"I--I--don't know," sobbed Roger.

"Have you lost those, too?" said Mrs. Bertram. She needed no
words for answer. Roger's manner was quite enough. "You know,
dear, what I said would happen the next time you lost anything."

"Yes," said Roger, "I you said I must give away all my toys to
some little boys who would take care of them."

"Yes," said his mother. "I see you remember. I shall send them
all to-night to the Children's Hospital."

"But, mama," said Roger, "if I don't have any toys to take care
of, how can I learn to take care of them?"

Mrs. Bertram had to turn away so that Roger should not see her

"I shall have to think of some other way to teach you to be
careful. Now go and bring me all your toys."

Roger went out of the room to do as his mother said. When he had
gone, Mrs. Bertram sat thinking until he came back.

"I have decided that I want you to dust the library every

Roger looked astonished. "Boys don't dust," he said.

"Sometimes," said his mother, smilingly. "Your Uncle Fred had to
dust his own room when he was at West Point. Now if you dust the
library every morning for two months faithfully, and do not break
a single ornament, I shall know you have grown careful in one
way, and that may help you to be careful in another."

The next morning Roger began his work. At first he disliked it
very much, but after a while he grew very particular. It was not
pleasant to be without any toys, and he determined to earn them.

The day when his trial of two months would be up, would be
Christmas Day. He did not know if his presents this year would be
toys or useful things. All his mother had said about his work
was, "My dear, you are improving."

Christmas night came, and with it a beautiful tree. Imagine
Roger's delight when he saw on and about it new skates, a new
sled, a new violin and a new drum.

And up in the highest branches, in letters of gold, these words:
"For the boy who has proved he can be careful when he tries."


Harry was playing with his letter blocks one afternoon, when a
prince came to visit him.

Harry knew the prince very well, indeed. As soon as the prince
came into the room Harry said:

"Hullo, old fellow, is that you?"

Was not that a very strange way to greet a prince?

And wasn't it stranger yet for Harry to say next:

@"Come, sit up, old boy, and give us your--"

Was it hand Harry was going to say? No, indeed, it was paw. "Sit
up, old boy, and give us your paw."

Prince was a beautiful dog, as black as a coal. Indeed, his real
name, his whole name, was Edward, the Black Prince. Now you must
ask somebody to tell you about the man who was called the "Black
Prince," the man for whom Harry's dog was named.

When Harry asked Prince to give his paw, the dog did not do it as
quickly as he ought to have done.

Did Harry beat him for that? No, indeed. Did he say, "Never mind,
Prince, you need not obey me if you do not want to?" No, indeed,

He sat up himself, and then he made Prince sit up on his hind
legs. Then he ordered Prince to give his paw. Prince did so. Then
Harry made him do it again, then again and again and again, until
the dog seemed to understand that he must learn to obey when he
was spoken to.

After Prince appeared to have learned that lesson quite
perfectly, Harry taught him something new.

He taught him to stand on his hind legs and hold a pipe in his

This he soon did so well that Harry clapped his hands and cried,
"Good, good, you smoke as well as his royal highness, the Black
Prince, himself."

Which remark showed that Harry had not yet begun to study
history. If he had, he would have known that in the country where
the Black Prince lived, tobacco was never heard of until many,
many, MANY years after his death.


Arthur Bancroft was feeling very cross one morning in December.
He had a bad cold, and his mother did not think it would be wise
for him to go out-of-doors. That was why he was cross. The
skating was finer than it had been that season; every other boy
he knew was enjoying it.

He walked about the house with a very sulky face; would take no
notice of books or games, and seemed determined to be miserable.

He was standing looking out of the window when his sister Laura
came into the room. Laura carried in her hand a basket filled
with cranberries.

She put the basket on the table, took a needle from her mother's
needle book, threaded it with a long, stout thread, and began
stringing the berries.

Laura was a dear little thing! She was always busy. No one ever
heard her say, "I wish I had something to do." And she was
generally doing something for some one else.

She made a sweet little picture as she sat bending over the
basket of crimson cranberries. Some such idea may have come into
Arthur's mind as he turned and looked at her. As he watched her
silently for some moments, the cross expression on his face
became a little less cross.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Stringing cranberries for the Mullins' Christmas tree," answered
Laura. "Don't you want to help me?"

"It's girls' work," replied Arthur.

"Isn't a boy smart enouhg to do a girl's work?" asked Laura.

"Of course, he's SMART enough. I don't mean that! Perhaps he
doesn't want to."

"Oh," said Laura, "I wish you did want to."

"Why?" asked Arthur.

"I promised to string all these for the Mullins' Christmas tree"
replied Laura. "The market-man brought them so late, I have not
much time now."

"Thread another needle," said Arthur.

In a few moments he was working as busily as Laura, herself.
As Arthur finished his last long string, he tied the ends
together and threw it around Laura's neck. When she bent her head
a little, it reached the floor.

"There," said he, "that proves that a boy can do a girl's work."

"Yes," said Laura, "when"--then she stopped and smiled.

"When what?" asked Arthur.

"When he has a girl to show him how," laughed Laura, as she
danced out of the room with the cranberry strings.


"To think that this is Christmas Day!"
Said Harold to his aunt,
"I know it really is, and yet,
Believe it--well, I can't!
I've had a tree, my stocking, too,
This morning full I found,
But how can I believe it
With no snow upon the ground?

Look at the sea so bright and blue,
And feel the soft, warm air,
And there are roses all in bloom,
And lilies, I declare!
I think that California
Is lovely, but it's queer,
How different Christmas is at home
From what it is out here."

"Ah, Harold!" gently said his aunt,
"No matter where you go,
In country strewn with flowers like this,
Or clad in ice and snow,
The birthday of the Christ-child is
The same in every place,
And happy greetings in His name,
Bring smiles to every face."


We were going, on Saturday, ever so far,--
My mamma and I,--to the Dollies' Bazaar,
Where fifty wax dollies,--the loveliest show,
Went walking about when they wound 'em, you know.

You wouldn't believe half the things they could do:
Why, one said "Good morning," as plainly as you.
One played the piano, and one, dressed in lace,
Walked up to a mirror and powdered her face.

Well, when we were ready we stepped in the hall,
And there was a lady a-coming to call.
She said she just chanced to be passing that way,
And she really had only a minute to stay.

We waited and waited, and hoped she would go,
Till I saw it was almost the time for the show,
For I heard the clocks striking all over the town,
And I knew that the dollies would all be run down.

And so I just said, "I should s'pose, Mrs. Black,
Your little girl wonders why don't you come back."
That's all that I spoke, every 'dentical word;
But she said, "Little girls should be seen and not heard."

I guess that's a proverb, so maybe 'tis true;
But, if people won't see, what can little girls do?
My mamma looked queer, but that ended the call,
And we went to the Dollies' Bazaar, after all.


Bertie had the desire of his heart,--a corn-popper! He had wanted
it for a long time,--three weeks, at least. Mamma brought it when
she came home from the city, and gave it to him for his very own.
A bushel of corn, ready popped, would not have been half so good.
There was all the delight of popping in store for the long winter

Bertie could hardly wait to eat his supper before he tried his
corn-popper. It proved to be a very good one. He popped corn that
evening, and the next, and the next. He fed all the family, gave
some to all his playmates, and carried a bag of pop-corn to
school for his teacher.

Trip, the shaggy, little, yellow dog, came in for a share, and
Mintie too. Who or what was Mintie?

Mintie was a bantam biddy, very small, white as snow, and very
pretty. She had been left an orphan chick, and for a while kept
in the house, near the kitchen fire. She had been Bertie's
especial charge, and he fed and tended her faithfully.

As she grew older she would rove about with the larger hens, but
was very tame, and always liked the house. She would come in very
often. When Bertie happened to pop corn in the daytime she was
pretty apt to be around, and pick up the kernels he threw to her.

One night he left his corn-popper on the kitchen table. It was
open, and two or three small kernels were still in it.

Early next morning, long before Bertie was dressed, Mintie came
into the kitchen. She flew up on the table, and helped herself to
the corn in the popper. The girl was busy getting breakfast, and
did not mind much about her. Presently she went down cellar, and
Mintie had the room to herself.

When Bertie came down to breakfast there was a white egg in
the corn-popper! It was so small that it looked almost like a
bird's; but it was Mintie's first egg.

Bertie clapped his hands; he was very much pleased.

"Mamma! mamma!" he shouted. "See this pretty egg! Mintie put it
into my popper, and must have meant to give it to me."

And mamma said, "Very likely she did."


Where is it? Where is it? Why, it is in the water! Isn't tbat
funny? But you see it isn't a real fire, but only a fire-fish.*
Sweet creature, isn't he? Suppose you were a little, innocent
mermaid, swimming alone for the first time; how would you feel if
you were to meet this fellow darting towards you with his great
red mouth open? Why, you would scream with fright, and swim to
your mother as fast as you could, and catch hold of her tail for
protection. At least, that is what I should do if I were a
mermaid. But Mrs. Mermaid won't tell you that the fire-fish will
not hurt you unless you hurt him first, in which case he will
prick you dreadfully with his long, sharp spines.

I never see his picture without thinking of a red Indian in his
warpaint and feathers. Perhaps--who knows?-perhaps when Indians
are greedy, and eat too much fish, they may turn into fire-fish,
and have to swim about forever under water, and never see a green
forest again. If you are an Indian I advise you to be careful, my

Nobody knows why this fish has such enormous, wing-like fins.
Wise men used to think that he could raise himself out of the
water with them, like the flying-fish; but it is now proved that
he cannot, and there seems to be no reason why a set of plain,
small fins would not serve him just as well for swimming. He
prefers warm water to cold; so he lives in the tropical seas,
swimming about the coasts of India, Africa, and Australia. The
natives of Ceylon call him Gini-maha, and they think he is very
good to eat. They take great care in catching him, for they are
very much afraid of him, thinking that his sharp spines are
poisoned, and can inflict a deadly wound. But in this they are
too hard upon the fellow. He can prick them deeply and painfully,
and he will if they meddle with him; but he is a perfectly
respectable fish, and would not think of such a cowardly thing
as poisoning anybody.


"Mamma," little Nellie asked, "is it right to give away things
that have been given to you?"

Her mamma replied that it might be quite right sometimes; and she
said, "But I should feel sorry if I had made a little friend a
present she did not value, and so was glad to part with it."

"O mamma!" said Nellie, "you know how I value my dollies, every
one, that my dear aunts and cousins sent me because I was sick.
Now I am well again. To-morrow is New-Year's. Some sick little
girls in the hospital want dollies. Could I, if I knew which one
to choose, keep only one for myself, and send the whole five of
them for those poor children who haven't any?"

Her mamma liked the plan. She gave Nellie a box, and Nellie began
kissing her babies, and laying them, one after another, in the

There were two of nearly the same size, that were very dear to
this little mother. She called them twins. They wore white frocks
and blue kid boots. They had real blonde hair and their eyes
would open and shut.

These lovely twins Nellie held in her arms a long time before she
could decide which to part with. When she did place one in the
box, to be her own no more, a tear was on the doll's cheek. I do
not think the drop came from dolly's eye.

A few days after the dolls were given Nellie's mamma let her
invite three little girls to play with her. Each girl brought her
Christmas or her New-Year's doll; and the three dolls, with
Nellie's, looked sweetly sitting together in a row.

By and by Nellie's mamma came to her room, which she had given
to the party for its use that afternoon. She told the children
she would give them a little supper of cakes and pears and
grapes, and it would be ready as soon as Biddy could bring the
ice-cream from down street.

The smiling child-visitors gathered around the kind lady, saying,
"We thank you, and we love you ever so much."

Nellie said softly, "Mamma dear, I wouldn't take my dollies back
if I could. I love to think they amuse the sick children. But I
do wish that for just a minute we had as many at this party."

Her mamma turned to her dressing-case. It stood low enough for
the smallest child to look into the mirror at the back easily.
Moving off the toilet cushions and cologne-bottles, the lady put
the four dolls in front of the looking-glass. Their reflection in
the glass showed four more.

"Six, seven, eight," cried the girls, delighted. "And all are
twins--four pairs of twins!"

After supper they made, the twins sit, and stand, and dance, bow
and shake hands, before the looking-glass. So they played till
dusk, when the other little girls' mammas sent to take them home,
after kissing Nellie good-night.


Mamma Miller told Fay and Lonnie that they might have a party,
so they tried to get ready for it. But the party was very
different to what they expected. It always happens so about
everything, if we pay no regard to one another's wishes.

Mrs. Miller said they might invite ten children.

"You write to five little girls, Fay," said she, "and Lonnie will
write to the five little boys."

So they went into the library. Lonnie sat down in papa's big
chair, while Fay climbed up on one arm, close beside him, and
they tried to think whom they would like to come to their party.

"Make out your list first," said Lonnie. Fay did, and her brother
agreed to all the girls. But as soon as Lonnie commenced writing
his names, Fay began to find fault.

"I don't like boys, anyway," said Fay, "only you, Lonnie. Let's
have all girls at our party."

"But it won't be my party," said Lonnie, "if you have all girls."

"I don't care, all those are horrid," pointing to his paper.

"You say that because you don't like boys." And then he told his
sister that every little fellow whose name he had written was
just as good as gold. And so they were just as good as Lonnie
Miller, and he was one of the best boys that ever lived, so
everybody said.

"I sha'n't play with him if he comes," Fay kept saying to every
name Lonnie wrote.

"You can have your party," said Lonnie, getting up out of the
easy-chair and sitting down in a smaller one, "you and your
girls. I'm going to learn some new pieces," taking up his little
silver blower.

"I don't like boys," Fay kept saying, jumping down off the arm of
the chair, and aiming a blow at the spot where her brother had
sat with the rustic stick their sister Lucia had brought home May

Lucia was passing the door just then, so she thought she would
see what all the noise was about.

"I'd better call you to lunch," said she, and there they were
just through breakfast.

Mamma herself came hurrying in at sound of the bell. When they
told her about the invitations, she said, "I shall not let you
have any party at all, now."

"What makes you change your mind?" said Fay.

"Mamma will give her little girl just one week to find out why
she has changed her mind," said Mrs. Miller.

And for all Fay's coaxing, she could not be persuaded to stay a
minute longer.


Clara was the most unfortunate of dollies. She had had the mumps
and whooping cough; and no sooner did she recover from the
scarlet fever than she contracted pneumonia and nearly died. One
morning Blanche was applying hot bandages to relieve bronchitis,
and before night Clara had the small-pox.

The next day mamma stopped at the nursery door.

"Good morning, little nurse," she said; "how is poor Clara this

"She's DEADED," said Blanche, with a long face.

"Dreadful! What did she die of, small-pox? It seems to me that
that was what she was suffering from last evening."

"No'm'" said Blanche, "'twasn't small-pox. She DID have that
bad; but I think she DIED of measles. The SUNERAL (Blanche could
not say 'funeral') is to be at twelve sharp. Will you come,

"I'm so sorry, darling, but I must go to lunch with Mrs. Mathews
at one. But Jack will go."

The "suneral" took place at noon, and Blanche and Daisy, Jack and
old Hector followed poor Clara in Benny's wagon to the grave yard
at the bottom of the orchard. It was rather a jolly "suneral,"
for they had "refreshments" under the trees afterward.

In the afternoon, as mamma, came up the orchard path, she was
surprised to see a doll's foot and leg sticking straight up out
of the ground.

"Why did you leave her foot out in this way?" asked mamma.

"Well," said Blanche, "I thought perhaps she could get to Heaven


Little darling of the snow,
Careless how the winds may blow,
Happy as a bird can be,
Singing, oh, so cheerily,
Chickadee-dee! Chickadee-dee!

When the skies are cold and gray,
When he trills his happiest lay,
Through the clouds he seems to see
Hidden things to you and me.
Chickadee-dee! chickadee-dee!

Very likely little birds
Have their thoughts too deep for word,
But we know, and all agree,
That the world would dreary be
Without birds, dear chickadee!


What a merry, merry rout!
See the wee ones dance about!
Dickie's leading off the ball;
There,--he almost had a fall.

Who's his partner in the whirls,
--Rosiest of all the girls?
But a doll--a DOLL you say;
Dancing in that sprightly way?

Well I never! Oh, see there,
See--just see those horses tear!
Meg and Madge will sure be thrown.
What a vicious looking roan!

Not a real live horse you say,
Prancing in that frightful way?
Well, I never! Toys to-day
Surely seem more "real" than "play."


There were once two very beautiful cats named Tomasso and Lilia.
It would be very hard indeed to say which was more beautiful than
the other, Tomasso the husband, or Lilia his wife.

They were about the same size, although, perhaps, Tomasso was a
little the stouter of the two. There could be no question that at
times the expression of his face was decidedly more fierce than
that of his gentle wife.

The fur of each of them was as white as the driven snow, and as
soft, and fine, and glossy as the most perfect silk gloss.

Add to these natural charms the fact that they always kept
themselves beautifully clean, and always wore round their necks
cravats made of the richest satin ribbon, and I am sure you will
agree with me in thinking that they were cats of very high

Their neighbors considered them extremely proud and haughty. They
never were known to play with any of the cats in their street. To
be with each other was all they asked. Sometimes these neighbors
took a great deal of pains to get a glimpse of Tomasso and Lilia
as, paw in paw, they danced a minuet together.

Even the most grumpy grimalkin declared it was a beautiful sight.
There was no doubt the young couple was very graceful and their
manners were perfect. Then he said that cats brought up as
Tomasso and his wife had always lived, OUGHT to be amiable and
beautiful. He understood that a jar of Orange County cream was
ordered for them every day. Then he muttered something which
sounded very much as if he thought Tomasso would be not over
courageous in a moment of danger. "Alone, white tail is all very
fine," said he, "but mark my word, at a sudden fright it would
turn into a white feather. I should pity his wife if she had no
one but him to protect her."

Now it happened that that very afternoon Tomasso's courage was
put to the test. As he and Lilia were taking a quiet walk,
suddenly a huge dog rushed out at them. In an instant Tomasso
placed himself across Lilia's trembling body. She had fallen to
the ground in terror. The great dog made a jump at Tomasso, but
was met with such a snarl, and then such a blow from a set of
sharp claws that he ran away howling.

That night the news of Tomasso's bravery spread through the whole
neighborhood. But he was very quiet and modest. His proud wife
was much disturbed at a bad scratch Tomasso had received in the
struggle. They both examined it carefully with the aid of a

"I hope it will not leave a scar," said Lilia, "but if it does it
will only be a proof of the noble courage of my brave Tomasso."


Tommy Frost was making his first visit in the country. He was
enjoying it very much. He liked to ramble about in the woods
close by the house of his aunt, Mrs. Drew. Tommy had never even
seen any birds before this, but pigeons and sparrows. That is,
any birds out of cages. He had lived all his short life in the
centre of a great city. He wanted very much to see a wild animal.
He had heard Mr. Drew and some of his friends talking about "bear
tracks" in the woods. Mr. Drew said they must go off some day and
hunt for that bear.

Now Tommy had no idea what a bear was like. He wished very much
that he might see one. Every day he said to himself, "If I could
only find the one the big men were talking about I'd feel proud."
One day as he was strolling about, he suddenly saw something
moving in one of the trees. He stopped, and looked up excitedly,
then he rushed for the house screaming at the top of his voice,
"Aunt Maria! Aunt Maria! come quick, I've seen it, it's in the

"What is in the woods?" asked Mrs. Drew.

"The bear!" cried Tommy.

"The bear?" repeated Mrs. Drew, hardly understanding.

Then she drew a long breath and turned very white as she stood a
moment shielding her eyes from the sun, looking in the direction
in which Tommy pointed. Then she ran back into the house, and
came out in a moment, bringing with her a huge horn. It was a
megaphone. She was trembling so she could scarcely lift it, but
she managed to raise it to her mouth and call through it. "John!
Murray! come! come this instant! The bear is in the woods back of
the house."

In a few moments her husband and brother came running from the
field where they were at work.

They stopped for no questions, but rushed into the house for
their guns. But as they came out Mr. Drew asked, "Who saw it?
When, where?"

"I did, said Tommy, not a bit frightened, but feeling very
excited and proud. "I did, back there in a tree."

"In a tree?" cried Mrs. Drew's brother, stopping in his quick run
for the woods.

"Yes," said Tommy, "it was a bear, but it looked,--it LOOKED just
like my picture of a wiggle-tail."

"Oh," cried Mrs. Drew, as she sank on the door-step, "the child
has seen a gray squirrel!"


One little head so smooth and round,
With soft hair covered, golden or brown,
One little forehead smooth and white,
Two little eye-brows dark or light.
Two little eyes that we see through.
See us looking, now, at you?
Two little cheeks so plump and round,
Where the red rose of health is found.
Two little ears where sound comes in;
One little nose and mouth and chin.
Rows of little teeth all in white;
Ready for use when lunch is in sight.
One little tongue kind words to say--
Bright little smiles which round them play.
One little head where all are seen.
One little neck which stands between
Head and shoulders to hold them fast.
Now are we ready to find, at last,
One little body with arms and hands
Two legs and two feet on which it stands.


"Oh come into the dining-room!"
Cries Fred, "come, grandma, dear.
For something very strange indeed
Is going on in here!"
And sure enough, when grandma comes,
Perhaps at first with fright,
She stands quite still, astonished at
An unexpected sight.

For there upon the woollen rug,
A jug between her feet,
Sits Freddy's little sister Bess
Absorbed in pleasures sweet.
Her finger in the syrup now
Behold she slyly dips,
And carries it with great delight
To her own rosy lips.

"You little witch!" cries grandmama,
"You're like the naughty rat
I found within the cellar once,
Who on a barrel sat,
Filled with molasses, which he reached
By dipping in the hole
His great long tail from which he licked
The sweets he thus had stole.

"The rat was shot, but grandma's babe,
Well, till she's learned to know
Such tricks are wrong, why we of course
Must naught but patience show."
Then grandma took her little pet,
And washed her sticky face,
Then put that tempting syrup-jug
Up in a safer place.


"Take that! and that! and that!" These words came from an angry
little girl. She was leaning over a big gray puss which she was
holding down with one hand, while with the other she struck him a
sharp blow every time she said "THAT."

It is a wonder puss did not bite her, for he was so strong he
could have done so. He was a very gentle cat. "Gentle?" I hear
some one ask. Then why did he deserve such a whipping as the
little girl was giving him?

That is a question we must try to have answered. For my part I do
not believe he deserved it at all. Let us see what happened next.
Just as the little girl struck the last blow her Aunt Margaret
came into the room. Aunt Margaret stopped in the doorway,

"Why Flora," she said, as puss darted out of the room, "what are
you beating Griffin for?"

"What do you think he was doing?" cried Flora, her cheeks still
flushed with anger. "He was on the table just ready to spring at
this beautiful bird in my new hat. If I had not come he would
have torn it to pieces."

"But he knew no better, said Aunt Margaret, "it is perfectly
natural for a cat to spring at a bird. Yes, and for him to kill
it too, if he has not been trained to do otherwise."

"But it would have made me feel dreadfully to have this beautiful
bird torn to bits. I really love it. Besides, it was killed long

"Yes," said Aunt Margaret, "killed that you might wear it on a

There was something in Aunt Margaret's voice which made Flora
and the little girls who were visiting her stand very still and
look up.

"You say," continued Aunt Margaret very gently, "you say you love
your beautiful bird. That you would feel dreadfully if it were
torn to bits. How do you think its bird-mother felt when it was
torn from her nest, and she never saw it again?"

"Oh," said Flora, "I never thought of that before. I'm afraid,--
I'm afraid I'm more to blame than the cat."


Dinah Morris is a colored girl. She lives in the South. By South
we mean in the southern part of the United States.

Dinah is one of the most good-natured children that ever lived,
but she is very, very lazy. There is nothing she likes, or used
to like, so much as to curl up in some warm corner in the sun and
do nothing.

Dinah's mother wished very much that her child should learn to
read, but the lady who tried to teach her soon gave it up. "It is
no use," she said, "Dinah will not learn. She is not a stupid
child, but she is too lazy for anything."

It happened, soon after this, that a young man from Massachusetts
came to the house where Dinah lived. He brought with him
something no one else in the neighborhood had ever seen before--a
pair of roller-skates.

When Dinah saw the young man going rapidly up and down the piazza
on his skates she was so astonished she hardly knew what to
think. She ran after him like a cat, her black eyes shining as
they had never shone before.

One day the young man allowed her to try on the skates. The child
was too happy for words. Of course she fell down, and sprawled
about the floor, but did not mind at all.

"Look here, Dinah," said the young man, "I understand that my
aunt has been trying to teach you to read."

Dinah answered that she certainly had.

"Why didn't you learn?" asked the young man. "You need not
trouble to answer," said he, "it was just because you are too
lazy. Now, if, on the first of January, you can read, I tell you
what I will do. I will send you as good a pair of roller-skates
as I can buy in Boston."

How Dinah's eyes snapped. For a moment she said nothing, then
exclaimed decidedly, "I'll have those skates, sure."

And she did. When she bent her mind on her work she could always
do it well, no matter what it was.

The lady who had before this found her such a difficult child to
teach, now had no trouble. If Dinah showed the least sign of her
former laziness the word SKATES! was enough to make her bend her
mind on her lesson instantly.

On New Year's morning she received a box marked in large printed

Care of Mrs. Lawrence Delaney,

If she can read what is on the outside of
this box she can have what is inside.

And as Dinah read every word plainly and quickly, of course she
had for her very own the fine roller-skates the box held. And now
sitting curled up in the sun, doing nothing, is not the thing she
likes to do best.


There are some flowers that never see the sun. One of the most
curious is the "evening primrose." About six o'clock it suddenly
bursts open, with a popping sound, and at six next morning

If you watch that pretty flower, and listen, you can hear
this strange performance.

This is why it does so. The little calyx holds the petals in such
a way that the moment it turns back they are let loose. At
once it bursts out into full flower, with this funny noise, like
a pop-gun.

So the "night-blooming cereus" blossom in the night, only for an
hour, giving out its sweet fragrance, and then dies. Just think
of never seeing the sun at all!

In a far Eastern country there is a kind of jasmine called the
"sorrowful tree." It droops as if sick in the daytime, and at
night grows fresh and bright. It opens its lovely flowers with a
very pleasant odor till morning, and then wilts and looks
wretched again.


Away off on a warm sunny island, little Harry Hall was born.
Flowers bloomed all the year round. The sun shone most of
the time, although now and then there were thunder-showers.

Many wonderful plants grew wild, while on the shore shells
and seaweed and queer little fishes were often to be found.

When Harry was six years old his parents took a journey to
New York.

It seemed very odd to the little boy to live in a place where
there were so many people, and such great houses. After a while
the weather grew cold, and he had to wear thick woollen clothing.
The house in which they lived was heated by a furnace; but one
day they had a fire of logs on the hearth. Harry enjoyed it very
much, and thought the bright blaze so pretty.

The sky was gray and cloudy one afternoon, and Harry had
been standing by the window watching the street cars. Suddenly
the air grew thick, and he could scarcely see the houses
opposite. Something white and feathery fell slowly down and
rested on the window ledge. Then it disappeared. But more and
more of the little flakes came, until there was quite a ridge
outside of the window.

Harry opened the sash gently, fearing it might fly away. He
was surprised when he touched it to find it so cold. He took
some up in his hand, but in a moment it was only a drop of water.

By that time the street and the men's hats and coats were
quite white. Harry was puzzled to find a name for the beautiful
white substance, so he ran to his mamma and asked her about it.

She told him it was snow, and because the air was so warm
on the beautiful island where he was born they never had any.

The next morning he saw the little children of the neighborhood
playing in it; but before noon the sun was so bright and
warm the snow had all melted away.

When the second snow-storm came Harry's papa brought home a
beautiful sleigh, and gave his little boy great pleasure by
drawing him up and down the street.

Harry soon learned to go out by himself, and made many friends;
especially of the little girls, as he was very generous with his

But he has never forgotten his surprise when he saw the first


One day little Fred's motber, who bad been sick a long time, told
him she was going out with a friend to take a drive. Fred wanted
to go, too, but his mother said there would not be room in the
buggy. Fred felt very cross and unhappy, and sat down on the
front steps, ready to cry as soon as he should see his mother go

A buggy came to the gate, and the gentleman who was driving went
into the house. Fred ran out and climbed into the buggy to sit
there until his mother came out.

In looking around he saw there was a wide space under the seat,
in which a boy might hide. He crawled in, thinking he would take
a ride, and his mother would not know it.

He waited a long time, but no one came, and at last he grew tired
and fell asleep.

He was waked by feeling a big jolt, as a wheel of the buggy
struck a stone; but he kept still. After what seemed to him a
long time the buggy stopped and he heard some one taking the
horse from the shafts. He waited until all was quiet, and then
crawled out from his hiding-place.

He found it was almost dark, and everything about him was
strange. He was very much frightened, but he jumped down and went
to a farm-house close by. A woman he had never seen before came
to the door. When he told her where he lived she said he was
fifteen miles from home, and he found that he had taken his
stolen ride in the buggy of a man who had called to see his
father on business.

It was too late for Fred to go home that night, and he had to
stay at the farmer's house until the next day. Then he was taken
home, and I am very sure he never tried to steal another ride.


The children had a valentine party, the very nicest party,--they
all declared, that they had ever been to in their lives. All the
cousins in the neighborhood--and there were a lot of them--were

What fun they had opening their valentines, which a "really"
postman brought with his gray uniform and his whistle and his
great leather pack.

"Dear me," he said, pretending to groan, as he handed the
missives, "if you had a party every day here I think I should
be completey worn out!" But his eyes twinkled merrily.

Such shouts and exclamations as the valentines were opened and
read! And such fun looking at everybody else's. Here are two,
Bessie's and Fred's:--

I'm for the boy
Who can stand on his head,
And who NEVER likes
To go to bed.
If there's more than one of them,--
I'm for FRED!

I bring a kiss
From far away;
It's travelled many
Miles to-day.

Take it, my dear,
And send one back
To your old, loving
Uncle Jack.

Don't you think that the children OUGHT to have had a good time
if all received as dear little valentines as these?


He was a fine young rat and lived with his father and mother,
and brothers and sisters in a farm-cellar.

Now this young rat was not of a very quiet disposition. In fact
he was quite gay, and thought the life in the farm-cellar was
very dull and stupid and longed to see more of the world.

He sat near his father and mother one day when they were
entertaining a caller, a stranger who seemed to have travelled
all over the world, and told in a very interesting manner of the
many wonderful things he had seen. "Why," said the caller, "how
you can be contented to live as you do I cannot imagine, and to
bring up your children in such ignorance fills me with surprise.
They would learn more in one night prowling through the big house
to which this farm belongs than they will learn here for the rest
of their lives."

After this caller had taken his leave, the young rat decided that
he would venture forth himself. He would that very night visit
the big house and see what was to be seen there. He pretended to
cuddle down on his own bed, and go sound asleep. He was really
watching his parents out of the corners of his wicked eyes, and
as soon as they were sound asleep, off he started. He found his
way to the house much more easily than he had expected; in short,
almost before he could believe it, he was in a fine great pantry.
A pantry whose shelves were covered with such good things to eat
as he had never seen. Rich cake, pies, cookies, and cheese such
as he had heard the caller describe. The first nibble fairly
melted in his mouth.

After he had eaten his fill he began looking about the pantry for
other means of amusement. Suddenly he saw a curious thing; it
seemed to be a little house or hut made of wire. Inside the hut
was a piece of cheese. "I really think I have eaten enough," said
the young rat, "but if that cheese is so fine that it is kept in
a house by itself it must be very fine indeed." With these words
he- crawled into the hole in the side of the hut and ate the
cheese, but when, later, he tried to get out he could not to save
his life.

Hours and hours he remained there until the night passed, and the
day came. Indeed he had fallen into a little nap when he was
awakened by a loud cry. Some one was shouting, "we've caught the
rascal at last, now we'll drown him."

The poor little fellow knew they were wrong; he could not be the
rascal they meant, for this was the first time he had ever been
in the house. At that moment a boy's voice was heard to say. "Let
me see him. No, you shall not drown him. I will tame him if I

And so it came about that the young rat did see a good deal of
the world, but how? THROUGH THE BARS OF A CAGE.


A man had come to town with two tame bears. They were very clever
bears, and could climb posts and trees, dance and turn summersets
and do a great many other tricks besides.

One day the man was taken ill and had to stay in the house all
day. He thought the bears were locked up in the barn. But the
bears decided they would go for a walk by themselves. They
managed to get away without being seen and started in the
direction of the schoolhouse.

The children were at recess when they suddenly saw the bears.
They were frightened and ran screaming into the school-house.

The bears were very tame and kind and wanted to make friends with
the children, so they followed them.

The children jumped on the desks screaming and crying and the
teachers were frightened too.

When the bears saw that they could not make friends or play they
began quietly walking about the school-room.

Finally they came to the dressing-room where all the dinner-pails
and baskets were hanging.

Smelling the food, they managed to knock some of the baskets down
and then such a feast as they had!

They sat on their haunches and ate sandwiches and fruit and
drank milk out of the bottles just as the children would do.
When they had eaten enough they quietly left the school-house and
trotted down the road toward home.

After the bears were gone the children became calm again and
returned to their lessons.

The man and the bears disappeared the next day and were never
seen again.


"I've been reading Bible stories,"
Patty said, "and I believe
That Adam's name MEANT "Morning,'
Because his wife was 'Eve.'"


Little Bessie Boothby
Had a little sister Sue:
And a baby brother,
Whom she thought the world of, too.

Only one thing troubled
These dear little girls;
'Though baby Tom was pretty,
He hadn't any curls.

They found a box of vaseline
And rubbed it on his head;
But even then no hair would grow:
It made his head quite red.

Bessie once was brushing
Dollie's golden hair,
When off it fell, alas! and left
Poor dollie's head quite bare.

Little Sue was frightened,
But to comfort, Bessie said,
"Susie dear, do listen,
'Tis just like babie's head.

"Let's put the wig on baby Tom,
And then he'll have some curls;
I would not even be surprised
If he looked just like us girls."

When Mamma saw her baby boy
With all this growth of hair,
She laughed until she nearly cried,
At the naughty little pair.


One windy day in March Kitty Miller was on her way to school,
when she spied in a store window, a great pile of lovely red

"Oh", she said, "how lovely! if Mamma could only have one!"

Kittie's mother was very poor. She had been a dress-maker ever
since Mr. Miller died, and had worked so hard to earn a living
for herself and Kitty that she had become sick. She was obliged
to lie in bed all day, and when Kitty was away at school, the
house was very lonesome to the invalid.

When Kitty reached the school that day her thoughts were full of
her sick mother and the lovely apples.

She was usually a good scholar, but to-day she made so many
blunders that the teacher looked at her in surprise. The little
girl could only sit at her desk, with her book before her, and
dream of those red apples. When school was dismissed, Kitty
started slowly homeward. She had gone only a short distance when
she saw a gentleman in front of her drop his purse. Running
quickly forward she picked it up. It felt quite heavy in Kittie's
little hand.

"There must be a good deal of money in it," thought Kitty. "How
I wish I could keep it. Then I could buy Mamma a red apple and so
many other things she needs."

But she knew this would not be right, so she hurried after the
gentleman. Touching him on the arm, she said, "Please, Sir, you
dropped your purse."

"Thank you, dear," said the gentleman taking the purse.

Then noticing how poorly dressed she was, he said, "Why did you
not keep the purse, my child?"

"Because that would be stealing," replied Kitty. "But," she
continued honestly, "before I thought I must give it back to
you, I did wish I could keep it, for then I could buy Mamma a
red apple."

The gentleman smiled kindly and said, "You are a good little
girl to return my purse. I would like to give you a little
present and then you can buy a red apple."

He handed her a silver dollar and then bade her good-by.

Kitty was so surprised that she started hastily for home,
forgetting all about the red apples until she stood in front of
the store.

The store-keeper happened to look out and saw the same little
girl who stood looking so longingly in at his window in the
morning. He quickly picked out the biggest, roundest, reddest
apple he could find and taking it out to Kitty said, "Would you
like this, my dear?"

She took the apple, looking so pleased and thanking him so
prettily, that the good man thought of it for many a day. When
Kitty reached home with her treasures she found her mother
fast asleep. So she put the apple and silver piece on a plate
where her mother could see them when she awoke.

When Mrs. Miller was told the wonderful story, she kissed her
little daughter and said, "You see, dear, it always pays to be
honest and truthful."


"Now, Tommie, what will you do while I write letters this

"Blow soap bubbles, Mamma, please," and Tommie jumped up and
down, clapping his hands for pleasure.

"Well, run and get me your pipe and bowl and I will mix you some

The soap-suds were soon ready, and Tommie took his favorite
position on the broad window-sill with the bowl in his lap.

Mamma, writing in the next room, could hear the Oh's and squeals
of delight, as the bubbles grew larger and rounder.

"Why is Tommie in all the bubbles?" asked the little boy at last.

"Because, said Mamma, "the bubbles are like a mirror, and when
my little boy is near enough to look at them, he will be
reflected in them, just the same as when he looks in Mamma's long

"But the mirror doesn't break like the bubbles," said Tommie.
"Where do they go when they break, Mamma?"

"They evaporate, dear; that is a big word for my little boy.
Spell it after Mamma and then perhaps you will remember.
E-v-a-p-o-r-a-t-e evaporate."

"What does evaporate mean," asked Tommie bringing out the long
word with a jerk.

"Do you remember, dear," answered Mamma, "that early in the
morning when the grass is all wet with dew, my little boy cannot
run in it without his rubbers? But before long it is all dry and
then my little boy takes off his rubbers and does not get his
feet wet. The sun and the air absorb or suck up the water and
carry it off to their homes. Now, the bubbles are made of a
little water and a little air. The water is on the end of the
pipe, and Tommie blows the air into the pipe, and the bubble
grows big and round. When it breaks, the air sucks up the water,
which was the outside of the bubble, and the air which was inside
mixes with the air in the room."

"Now do you suppose you can tell Papa all about it, when he comes
home to dinner?" asked Mamma.

"Of course I can," said Tommie, proudly. "Haven't you just told
me all about it?"


Mr. Brown had to go to his camp at Pine Tree Valley, which is in
the midst of the mountains in California.

His men were cutting down the giant trees, and piling them in
readiness for the Spring freshet, or floods of the river, when
the snows melted. Then they would slide them down the mountain
sides to the little villages below.

There was a great deal of snow on the mountains, and Mr. Brown
knew it would be hard work climbing to the camp, but Lady Gray
was strong, and used to it.

Lady Gray was Mr. Brown's pet horse, and carried him everywhere.
She was always happy when her master was in the saddle.

But to-day the snow was very deep and soon Mr. Brown had to get
off, throw away the saddle, and lead her. They had to stop very
often, and lean against the trees and rocks for support, while
they rested and regained their breath.

In places the snow was so deep and soft, that they sank above
their knees. Late in the afternoon they reached the camp nearly
exhausted, and it was several days before they were able to

The snow was still deep and Mr. Brown knew he must go back on
snow-shoes, but he was afraid Lady Gray would have to be left

Finally one of the men suggested making her some snow-shoes.
They cut four round pieces of board, twelve inches across, and
fastened them on with rope. Lady Gray seemed to understand what
they were for and tried very hard to walk in them.

She was very awkward at first and could hardly stand up, but by
practicing a little every day she was soon able to manage nicely.

So Mr. Brown and Lady Gray both returned on snow-shoes, and how
every one did laugh when they saw them.

But Lady Gray never could have done it if she had not tried.


Pretty little bobolink
In your satin coat,
Trimmed with white across the neck
Black about the throat,
Why so angry do you seem?
Why so fierce your mien?
That you're scolding somebody
Plainly can be seen.

"Don't you know," says bobolink,
As he shakes his head,
That my nest is hidden in
This soft grassy bed?
Somebody has come too near,
And I wish to say
There is no admittance here
Pass the other way.

"If my gentle little wife
Sits so calm above,
It's because she knows I'll guard
This dear nest we love."
Fear not, pretty bobolink,
Sing your joyous song,
Never will I trouble you,
Sing, the whole day long.


"I wish my mother had a ring like those the ladies wear at the
hotel," said Hiram Green to himself one day. "There isn't one of
those ladies as pretty as my mother; she ought to wear rings

Hiram was the son of a fisherman, but the fisherman had died when
Hiram was a little boy. Hiram's mother took in sewing and fancy
work to earn money to support herself and her son. He helped her
what he could out of school hours, and in vacation. He had two
uncles who wad taught him how to catch shrimps. With the money he
earned by selling them he could buy things for his own use or
pleasure. He had a bank almost full of what he called his
"shrimp-money." He did not mean to count his money until the bank
was full.

Now Hiram loved his mother more than anything else in the world.
Whenever he dreamed of being rich some time, as boys often do, it
was not for himself he wanted the money, but that his dear little
mother might drive in a carriage, drawn by a pair of horses with
clanking chains.

The sight of the flashing gems on the hands of some of the summer
visitors at the fishing village in which he lived had added a new
article to the list of beautiful things his mother was some day
to own. He had heard that just one single diamond was sometimes
worth five hundred dollars or more. This had discouraged him very
much. But one day happening to pass a shop in the neighboring
town he saw a number of rings displayed in the window. Diamond
rings which flashed and sparkled, it seemed to him, just as those
worn by the ladies in the hotels. He stopped fascinated, ana
pressed his face against the glass eagerly to see if any prices
were marked upon them. Imagine his surprise when he saw upon the
largest one a tag marked $4.75. He looked again to see if he had
not made a mistake. Perhaps it was $475.00. But no, he knew
enough about figures to see that he was right the first time.

Home he went as fast as he could get there, and ran up into his
bedroom. Then, for the first time since he had begun to save his
"shrimp-money" he opened his bank and counted its contents.
"Three dollars and twenty-two cents!" he cried, "almost enough. I
was going to buy something for myself this time, but I'll have
that ring before another week."

Hiram worked early and late for the next few days. He caught more
shrimps than he had ever caught in the same length of time, and
sold them readily.

"I think there must be something you are wanting, very much, my
boy," said his mother.

"Yes, there is," replied Hiram.

At the end of the week he had the sum he desired. Hurrying to the
shop where he had seen the ring, before going inside he gave one
hasty, almost frightened look into the window. Could it be gone!
No, there it was flashing and sparkling as before.

That evening, he placed it on his mother's finger. She looked at
it in surprise. "It is yours, mother," he cried, proudly, "your
very own, I bought it with my shrimp money. I was determined my
mother should have a ring as handsome as those ladies wear."

"My dear boy," said his mother, while something as bright as the
shining stone flashed in her eyes, "Not one of those ladies can
value their rings as I shall value mine."

Years afterwards Hiram learned that what he had bought for a
diamond was only a bit of glass.

"Did you know it then, mother?" he asked.

His mother nodded. "And you never told me."

"It was brighter to me than any real diamond," she said, "the
brightness I saw flash in it was the unselfish love of my boy."


"What a curious picture that is at the head of this story." That
is what I think I hear some of the "Little Ones" say. "What does
it mean?" some one asks. It looks like a procession of ants. That
is just what it is. A procession of ants all marching off to find
a new home. Some one has destroyed their old one. Let us hope no
one did it on purpose.

The ants are very busy and very nice little creatures. If their
houses are stepped upon, or injured so as to be useless the ants
immediately go to work to repair damages. They do not sit down
and fuss about it first, but I have no doubt they let each other
know what they think. And how do you suppose they do this? By
touching each other with their tiny feelers.

After they have talked in this way, and decided what is to be
done some of them take the eggs from the ruins and carry them to
a safe place. Look carefully at the pictures, and you will see
that almost every ant is carrying an egg. They know that if they
lose the eggs all the young ants inside the eggs will be lost

While ants do not seem to have a very keen sense of hearing,
their sense of smell is very strong. And where do you think it
lies ? In the same little feelers with which they talk to each
other. The first ant's house seen in the round picture has been
cut in two to show you how wonderfully these little creatures can

It was made by the ants that live in tropical countries. The
house at the back of the picture has not been disturbed. Does
it not look as if an architect had planned it? Ask some of the
older people in your family to tell you something more about
ants. There is much more of interest in regard to them than I
have space to write you.


A pompous pug once thought that he
A dashing swell would try to be,
And on his neighbors one and all,
Sat out to make a stylish call.

He wore a glass upon one eye,
And on his head a silk hat high;
A wide, stiff collar around his throat,
And last an English overcoat.

So fine and splendid was his air
The very birds stood still to stare,
As walking on his two hind feet
He sauntered boldly down the street.

But oh, alas! it comes to all
To learn that pride must have a fall,
And e'er the corner he had turned
Poor pug that bitter lesson learned.

A saucy maid with one great whack,
Brought down her broom upon his back,
And as he raised a frightened wail
Another soused him from her pail.

Poor pug! that night he sat and thought
Of all the trouble he had brought
Upon himself, because that he
A foolish dude had tried to be.


"Children," said Grandpa, one afternoon, "I am going to build a
bonfire this evening, to burn up this rubbish, so you may have a
silhouette party."

"Why, what is a silhouette party?" asked Lucy, opening her eyes
very wide.

"I know," said Ralph, "it is funny black pictures on something

"That's right," laughed Grandpa. "Now you fly round and write
your friends and Grandma and I will get everything ready."

When the young people arrived at half past seven, they found a
blazing fire, and in front of it was stretched a sheet between
two large apple trees.

Quite a distance in front of the sheet were some seats, where
Grandpa told some of the children to sit, while the others took
part in the pictures.

He then disappeared with them in a tent close by where Grandma
was waiting to dress them in their different costumes. Shouts of
laughter came from the tent as the children put on their odd
dresses; indeed there was so much fun that it took quite some

When all was ready Grandpa came out and addressing the children
who were waiting said, "These are to be Mother Goose pictures,
which you will all know. You must guess whom they represent
and the one who guesses correctly the largest number will receive
a prize."

He threw a large pine knot on the fire, which burned up brightly,
and there the children saw a shadow on the sheet, a little bent
figure with a broom over its shoulder.

"The old woman who swept the cob-webs out of the sky," cried some

Following this, came a figure with a long cloak and tall peaked
hat, leading a dog.

"Old Mother Hubbard," guessed another.

Then came a boy and a girl carrying a pail.

"Jack and Jill," chorused the children.

After this a girl with a shepherd's crook.

"Little Bo-peep," again was guessed.

"Now," said Grandpa, "it is time the others had their turn at

So the exchange being made, the pictures continued.

"Jack Horner," "Little Miss Muffet," "Old King Cole," and "Mary,
who had a little lamb," followed in quick succeission.

Then Grandpa announced that the pictures were over.

"As we cannot decide who has guessed the largest number of
pictures," said he, "I will give you each a prize. And he passed
them each a card.

It proved to be a picture of Ralph and Lucy cut from black paper
and pasted on a white card.

"These," said Grandpa, "are silhouette pictures too. Will you
always know what a silhouette picture is now?"

"Oh yes," said the children.


It had snowed very hard. Ralph and Edward, who were visiting
Grandma in the country, had to stay in the house all day.

When they went to bed it was still snowing, and every time they
woke up during the night, they could hear the wind sighing and
whistling around the house, and through he branches of the old
pine tres.

But the next morning the sun was shining brightly. Such a
glorious day! How the branches of the pine trees did sparkle.

"It looks as if they had been sprinkled with gold dust and
diamonds," exclaimed Ralph.

"Oh Grandma! Please do hurry breakfast. We are going out to
build a fort," cried the boys, bursting into the dining-room.

Grandma smiled and told them to eat a good breakfast, for
building a fort was hard work.

They were soon out in the snow, and what a splendid time they
did have.

The fort did not grow very fast, for they had to stop so often to
snow-ball each other.

When Grandma called them in to dinner they wondered where the
time had gone since breakfast.

After dinner, Ralph was looking out of the window, when he spied
two little birds cuddled up on a branch of a pine-tree.

"Oh, Edward! come here," he called. "See those poor little
birds. They look half frozen and so hungry."

"Poor little things," replied Edward. "Doesn't it make you feel
mean to think what a jolly time we had this morning out of the
snow which has covered up the places where they get their food?"

"Let us get some food from Grandma and throw it out to them,"
said Ralph. "Perhaps they will find it."

The little birds were soon chirpping and flying about merrily and
Ralph said it sounded as if they kept saying, "thank you."

Will not other little children be as kind as Ralph and Edward?


The day Ethel Brown was seven years old she had a tea party.

Mrs. Brown had sent tiny cards of invitation to all the little
girls on the street to come and bring their dolls. She also sent
one to Nellie Day, her washer-woman's little girl, at Ethel's
special request.

"She is a nice little girl," said Ethel, "and doesn't ever go
anywhere like me. May I have her at my party?"

"That is right, little daughter," said Mrs. Brown. "Always be
kind to those who have less pleasure than yourself. Of course she
may come to your party."

They all arrived at four o'clock and looked very pretty in their
white dresses and bright ribbons, and the dolls looked nearly as
pretty as the little girls themselves.

Ethel noticed that Nellie Day did not have a doll with her. "So,
thought she, "I will ask her to pour the tea and then she won't
feel bad because she hasn't one."

The little girls talked and played games and Ethel's grown up
sister played on the piano and then they sang.

"Now," said Mrs. Brown, coming into the room, "if you will choose
partners, Florence will play for you and you can march out to

During the confusion Ethel said to her mamma, "I shall ask Nellie
to pour the tea because she has not any doll."

"Very well, dear," answered Mrs. Brown.

But when they turned to find her, she was not with the others.

"Where can she be?" exclaimed Ethel.

And then began the search. Tea was delayed and they hunted the
house over for her. Finally Mrs. Brown went out on a side porch
seldom used, and there she found the little girl.

The child had brought a cushion to sit on, and clasped tightly in
her arms were three of Ethel's dolls. Mrs. Brown persuaded her
to come in with the promise that she might keep the dolls.

So Ethel rang the bell, and they all marched in to tea again,
with Nellie Day leading the line, holding her three dollies.

"Mamma," said Ethel, as the little girls were going home, "may I
give Nellie Day the dolls? I have so many and she has not one."

"Yes indeed replied Mrs. Brown, as she kissed her little
daughter. "I am sure it will make her very happy."

And Nellie Day went home that night, the happiest little girl in
the town.


I am not a big dog and I don't know very much, but I know more
than I used to. The reason why I know more than I used to is
because I asked Carlo some questions once. I asked him what made
him so gaunt and thin and why he had such an enquiring expression
on his face and such a hump on the top of his head. He didn't
answer right away, and--I noticed the enquiring expression
vanished. He looked quite decided. Then something happened,--I
don't know exactly what, but Mary, the cook, told the butler that
it made her dizzy just to look on. And then Carlo said:--

"One reason why I am gaunt and thin is because I am not a little
up-start of a pug,--of no earthly use under Heaven, and nothing
to do but waddle around and accumulate fat.

"The reason I have an enquiring expression on my face is because
I am ever on the outlook to anticipate my master's will and do
his slightest bidding.

"As for the hump on the top of my head, that is a mark given by
the Creator only to dogs that have intellect. Pray that yours may

That is all he said, but it was enough for one day and has
furnished me food for thought ever since.


"Now, children, I am tired of you; I am going down stairs for the
rest of the morning," and Polly started to leave the nursery.

"Put your dolls away before you go," said Nurse, "I don't want
them left in the middle of the floor."

"I won't. I did not put them there." Polly tossed her head and
ran quickly out of the room.

Nurse had baby in her lap and could not run after her.

The little girl went to the kitchen, but cook was cross and said
she would not have Polly bothering her.

Then she went to the library hoping to find her Uncle Edward, but
he was not there.

She wandered from room to room and could find nothing to amuse

She wanted to go back into the nursery, but she had told a lie
when she said she had not put the dolls on the floor, and she was
afraid to.

She felt lonesome and a few tears ran down her face.

At that moment Uncle Edward entered the room, and, seeing the
doleful little face, took her in his arms, tossing her into the

As he did so, he knocked over a vase which fell to the floor,

"Oh! see what you have done," cried Polly.

"I don't care. I sball say I didn't do it," replied Uncle Edward.

"Oh! But that would be a lie," said Polly.

"Well, who put the dolls on the nursery floor?"

"Nurse must have told you. But I am sorry," and Polly began to
cry again.

"There, there!" said Uncle Edward. "We will go up and tell Nurse
we are sorry."

They went up to the nursery but Nurse and baby had gone and the
dolls were still on the floor.

Polly wanted to play circus and Uncle Edward made believe he was
the elephant and gave the dollies a ride. He kicked so once that
black Diana fell off and broke her neck.

After a while Nurse came in with baby and interrupted the frolic.

When Polly told her she was sorry because she had told a lie,
Nursie said she would forgive her and Polly promised not to do
so again.


I wonder if you know that the smallest insects you see about you
have tools given them to do their work with. There is a little
fly called a saw-fly, because it has a saw to work with. It is
really a very much nicer saw than you could make, if you were
ever so old.

The fly uses it to make places where the eggs will be safe. What
is more strange, it has a sort of homemade glue which fastens
them where they are laid.

Some insects have cutting instruments that work just as your
scissors do. The poppy-bee is one of them, whose work is
wonderful. This bee has a boring tool, too. Its nest is usually
made in old wood. This borer cleans out the nest ready for use.
When all is ready the insect cuts out pieces of leaves to line
the nest and to make the cells. These linings are out in the
shape of the cells. You, would be surprised to see the care taken
to have every piece of just the right size, so that it will fit.
When they are. fitted, the pieces are nicely fastened together
and put into the nest.


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