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diff --git a/old/69223-0.txt b/old/69223-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 095880d..0000000 --- a/old/69223-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4847 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Queer little people, by Harriet -Beecher Stowe - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Queer little people - -Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe - -Release Date: October 24, 2022 [eBook #69223] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE *** - - - - - - -MRS. STOWE’S HOME STORIES. - - - _MY WIFE AND I._ 12mo. Illustrated $1.50 - _WE AND OUR NEIGHBORS._ 12mo. Illustrated 1.50 - _POGANUC PEOPLE, THEIR LOVES AND LIVES._ Illustrated 1.50 - _BETTY’S BRIGHT IDEA; DEACON PITKIN’S FARM; and Other Tales._ - Illustrated. Paper .35 - -FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. - - _A DOG’S MISSION; and Other Stories._ Small 4to. Illustrated $1.25 - _LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW; and THE MINISTER’S WATERMELONS._ Small - 4to. Illustrated 1.25 - _QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE. Stories of Pets and Animals._ Small - 4to. Illustrated 1.25 - -⁂ _To be had of all Booksellers, or mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers, -on receipt of price._ - - - - - QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE. - - BY - HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. - - Illustrated. - - NEW YORK: - FORDS, HOWARD, AND HULBERT. - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by - TICKNOR AND FIELDS, - in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of - Massachusetts - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 1 - - THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE 14 - - THE HISTORY OF TIP-TOP 26 - - MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET 39 - - MOTHER MAGPIE’S MISCHIEF 48 - - THE SQUIRRELS THAT LIVE IN A HOUSE 57 - - HUM, THE SON OF BUZ 67 - - OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS 80 - - OUR DOGS 91 - - DOGS AND CATS 141 - - AUNT ESTHER’S RULES 152 - - AUNT ESTHER’S STORIES 158 - - SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS DOGS 167 - - COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN 176 - - - - -THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS. - -A STORY. - - -[Illustration] - -Once there was a nice young hen that we will call Mrs. Feathertop. She -was a hen of most excellent family, being a direct descendant of the -Bolton Grays, and as pretty a young fowl as you should wish to see of a -summer’s day. She was, moreover, as fortunately situated in life as it -was possible for a hen to be. She was bought by young Master Fred Little -John, with four or five family connections of hers, and a lively young -cock, who was held to be as brisk a scratcher and as capable a head of a -family as any half-dozen sensible hens could desire. - -I can’t say that at first Mrs. Feathertop was a very sensible hen. -She was very pretty and lively, to be sure, and a great favorite with -Master Bolton Gray Cock, on account of her bright eyes, her finely -shaded feathers, and certain saucy dashing ways that she had, which -seemed greatly to take his fancy. But old Mrs. Scratchard, living in -the neighboring yard, assured all the neighborhood that Gray Cock was -a fool for thinking so much of that flighty young thing,—that she had -not the smallest notion how to get on in life, and thought of nothing -in the world but her own pretty feathers. “Wait till she comes to have -chickens,” said Mrs. Scratchard. “Then you will see. I have brought -up ten broods myself,—as likely and respectable chickens as ever were -a blessing to society,—and I think I ought to know a good hatcher and -brooder when I see her; and I know _that_ fine piece of trumpery, with -her white feathers tipped with gray, never will come down to family life. -_She_ scratch for chickens! Bless me, she never did anything in all her -days but run round and eat the worms which somebody else scratched up for -her.” - -When Master Bolton Gray heard this he crowed very loudly, like a cock of -spirit, and declared that old Mrs. Scratchard was envious, because she -had lost all her own tail-feathers, and looked more like a worn-out old -feather-duster than a respectable hen, and that therefore she was filled -with sheer envy of anybody that was young and pretty. So young Mrs. -Feathertop cackled gay defiance at her busy rubbishy neighbor, as she -sunned herself under the bushes on fine June afternoons. - -Now Master Fred Little John had been allowed to have these hens by his -mamma on the condition that he would build their house himself, and take -all the care of it; and, to do Master Fred justice, he executed the job -in a small way quite creditably. He chose a sunny sloping bank covered -with a thick growth of bushes, and erected there a nice little hen-house, -with two glass windows, a little door, and a good pole for his family to -roost on. He made, moreover, a row of nice little boxes with hay in them -for nests, and he bought three or four little smooth white china eggs to -put in them, so that, when his hens _did_ lay, he might carry off their -eggs without their being missed. This hen-house stood in a little grove -that sloped down to a wide river, just where there was a little cove -which reached almost to the hen-house. - -This situation inspired one of Master Fred’s boy advisers with a new -scheme in relation to his poultry enterprise. “Hullo! I say, Fred,” said -Tom Seymour, “you ought to raise ducks—you’ve got a capital place for -ducks there.” - -“Yes,—but I’ve bought _hens_, you see,” said Freddy; “so it’s no use -trying.” - -“No use! Of course there is! Just as if your hens couldn’t hatch ducks’ -eggs. Now you just wait till one of your hens wants to set, and you put -ducks’ eggs under her, and you’ll have a family of ducks in a twinkling. -You can buy ducks’ eggs, a plenty, of old Sam under the hill; he always -has hens hatch his ducks.” - -So Freddy thought it would be a good experiment, and informed his mother -the next morning that he intended to furnish the ducks for the next -Christmas dinner; and when she wondered how he was to come by them, he -said, mysteriously, “O, I will show you how!” but did not further explain -himself. The next day he went with Tom Seymour, and made a trade with old -Sam, and gave him a middle-aged jack-knife for eight of his ducks’ eggs. -Sam, by the by, was a woolly-headed old negro man, who lived by the pond -hard by, and who had long cast envying eyes on Fred’s jack-knife, because -it was of extra-fine steel, having been a Christmas present the year -before. But Fred knew very well there were any number more of jack-knives -where that came from, and that, in order to get a new one, he must -dispose of the old; so he made the trade and came home rejoicing. - -Now about this time Mrs. Feathertop, having laid her eggs daily with -great credit to herself, notwithstanding Mrs. Scratchard’s predictions, -began to find herself suddenly attacked with nervous symptoms. She -lost her gay spirits, grew dumpish and morose, stuck up her feathers -in a bristling way, and pecked at her neighbors if they did so much as -look at her. Master Gray Cock was greatly concerned, and went to old -Doctor Peppercorn, who looked solemn, and recommended an infusion of -angle-worms, and said he would look in on the patient twice a day till -she was better. - -“Gracious me, Gray Cock!” said old Goody Kertarkut, who had been lolling -at the corner as he passed, “a’n’t you a fool?—cocks always are fools. -Don’t you know what’s the matter with your wife? She wants to set,—that’s -all; and you just let her set! A fiddlestick for Doctor Peppercorn! Why, -any good old hen that has brought up a family knows more than a doctor -about such things. You just go home and tell her to set, if she wants to, -and behave herself.” - -When Gray Cock came home, he found that Master Freddy had been before -him, and established Mrs. Feathertop upon eight nice eggs, where she -was sitting in gloomy grandeur. He tried to make a little affable -conversation with her, and to relate his interview with the doctor and -Goody Kertarkut, but she was morose and sullen, and only pecked at him -now and then in a very sharp, unpleasant way; so after a few more efforts -to make himself agreeable, he left her, and went out promenading with the -captivating Mrs. Red Comb, a charming young Spanish widow, who had just -been imported into the neighboring yard. - -“Bless my soul!” said he, “you’ve no idea how cross my wife is.” - -“O you horrid creature!” said Mrs. Red Comb; “how little you feel for the -weaknesses of us poor hens!” - -“On my word, ma’am,” said Gray Cock, “you do me injustice. But when a -hen gives way to temper, ma’am, and no longer meets her husband with a -smile,—when she even pecks at him whom she is bound to honor and obey—” - -“Horrid monster! talking of obedience! I should say, sir, you came -straight from Turkey!” and Mrs. Red Comb tossed her head with a most -bewitching air, and pretended to run away, and old Mrs. Scratchard looked -out of her coop and called to Goody Kertarkut,— - -“Look how Mr. Gray Cock is flirting with that widow. I always knew she -was a baggage.” - -“And his poor wife left at home alone,” said Goody Kertarkut. “It’s the -way with ’em all!” - -“Yes, yes,” said Dame Scratchard, “she’ll know what real life is now, -and she won’t go about holding her head so high, and looking down on her -practical neighbors that have raised families.” - -“Poor thing, what’ll she do with a family?” said Goody Kertarkut. - -“Well, what business have such young flirts to get married?” said Dame -Scratchard. “I don’t expect she’ll raise a single chick; and there’s Gray -Cock flirting about, fine as ever. Folks didn’t do so when I was young. -I’m sure my husband knew what treatment a setting hen ought to have,—poor -old Long Spur,—he never minded a peck or so now and then. I must say -these modern fowls a’n’t what fowls used to be.” - -Meanwhile the sun rose and set, and Master Fred was almost the only -friend and associate of poor little Mrs. Feathertop, whom he fed daily -with meal and water, and only interrupted her sad reflections by pulling -her up occasionally to see how the eggs were coming on. - -At last, “Peep, peep, peep!” began to be heard in the nest, and one -little downy head after another poked forth from under the feathers, -surveying the world with round, bright, winking eyes; and gradually the -brood were hatched, and Mrs. Feathertop arose, a proud and happy mother, -with all the bustling, scratching, care-taking instincts of family-life -warm within her breast. She clucked and scratched, and cuddled the little -downy bits of things as handily and discreetly as a seven-year-old hen -could have done, exciting thereby the wonder of the community. - -Master Gray Cock came home in high spirits, and complimented her; told -her she was looking charmingly once more, and said, “Very well, very -nice!” as he surveyed the young brood. So that Mrs. Feathertop began -to feel the world going well with her,—when suddenly in came Dame -Scratchard and Goody Kertarkut to make a morning call. - -“Let’s see the chicks,” said Dame Scratchard. - -“Goodness me,” said Goody Kertarkut, “what a likeness to their dear papa!” - -“Well, but bless me, what’s the matter with their bills?” said Dame -Scratchard. “Why, my dear, these chicks are deformed! I’m sorry for you, -my dear, but it’s all the result of your inexperience; you ought to have -eaten pebble-stones with your meal when you were setting. Don’t you see, -Dame Kertarkut, what bills they have? That’ll increase, and they’ll be -frightful!” - -“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Feathertop, now greatly alarmed. - -“Nothing, as I know of,” said Dame Scratchard, “since you didn’t come to -me before you set. I could have told you all about it. Maybe it won’t -kill ’em, but they’ll always be deformed.” - -And so the gossips departed, leaving a sting under the pin-feathers of -the poor little hen mamma, who began to see that her darlings had curious -little spoon-bills, different from her own, and to worry and fret about -it. - -“My dear,” she said to her spouse, “do get Dr. Peppercorn to come in and -look at their bills, and see if anything can be done.” - -Dr. Peppercorn came in, and put on a monstrous pair of spectacles, and -said, “Hum! Ha! Extraordinary case,—very singular!” - -“Did you ever see anything like it, Doctor?” said both parents, in a -breath. - -“I’ve read of such cases. It’s a calcareous enlargement of the vascular -bony tissue, threatening ossification,” said the Doctor. - -“O, dreadful!—can it be possible?” shrieked both parents. “Can anything -be done?” - -“Well, I should recommend a daily lotion made of mosquitoes’ horns and -bicarbonate of frogs’ toes, together with a powder, to be taken morning -and night, of muriate of fleas. One thing you must be careful about: they -must never wet their feet, nor drink any water.” - -“Dear me, Doctor, I don’t know what I _shall_ do, for they seem to have a -particular fancy for getting into water.” - -“Yes, a morbid tendency often found in these cases of bony tumification -of the vascular tissue of the mouth; but you must resist it, ma’am, as -their life depends upon it”;—and with that Dr. Peppercorn glared gloomily -on the young ducks, who were stealthily poking the objectionable little -spoon-bills out from under their mother’s feathers. - -After this poor Mrs. Feathertop led a weary life of it; for the young fry -were as healthy and enterprising a brood of young ducks as ever carried -saucepans on the end of their noses, and they most utterly set themselves -against the Doctor’s prescriptions, murmured at the muriate of fleas -and the bicarbonate of frogs’ toes, and took every opportunity to waddle -their little ways down to the mud and water which was in their near -vicinity. So their bills grew larger and larger, as did the rest of their -bodies, and family government grew weaker and weaker. - -“You’ll wear me out, children, you certainly will,” said poor Mrs. -Feathertop. - -“You’ll go to destruction,—do ye hear?” said Master Gray Cock. - -“Did you ever see such frights as poor Mrs. Feathertop has got?” said -Dame Scratchard. “I knew what would come of _her_ family,—all deformed, -and with a dreadful sort of madness, which makes them love to shovel mud -with those shocking spoon-bills of theirs.” - -“It’s a kind of idiocy,” said Goody Kertarkut. “Poor things! they can’t -be kept from the water, nor made to take powders, and so they get worse -and worse.” - -“I understand it’s affecting their feet so that they can’t walk, and -a dreadful sort of net is growing between their toes; what a shocking -visitation!” - -“She brought it on herself,” said Dame Scratchard. “Why didn’t she come -to me before she set? She was always an upstart, self-conceited thing, -but I’m sure I pity her.” - -Meanwhile the young ducks throve apace. Their necks grew glossy, like -changeable green and gold satin, and though they would not take the -doctor’s medicine, and would waddle in the mud and water,—for which they -always felt themselves to be very naughty ducks,—yet they grew quite -vigorous and hearty. At last one day the whole little tribe waddled off -down to the bank of the river. It was a beautiful day, and the river was -dancing and dimpling and winking as the little breezes shook the trees -that hung over it. - -“Well,” said the biggest of the little ducks, “in spite of Dr. -Peppercorn, I can’t help longing for the water. I don’t believe it is -going to hurt me,—at any rate, here goes”;—and in he plumped, and in -went every duck after him, and they threw out their great brown feet as -cleverly as if they had taken rowing lessons all their lives, and sailed -off on the river, away, away among the ferns, under the pink azalias, -through reeds and rushes, and arrow-heads and pickerel-weed, the happiest -ducks that ever were born; and soon they were quite out of sight. - -“Well, Mrs. Feathertop, this is a dispensation!” said Mrs. Scratchard. -“Your children are all drowned at last, just as I knew they’d be. The old -music-teacher, Master Bullfrog, that lives down in Water-Dock Lane, saw -’em all plump madly into the water together this morning; that’s what -comes of not knowing how to bring up a family.” - -Mrs. Feathertop gave only one shriek and fainted dead away, and was -carried home on a cabbage-leaf, and Mr. Gray Cock was sent for, where he -was waiting on Mrs. Red Comb through the squash-vines. - -“It’s a serious time in your family, sir,” said Goody Kertarkut, “and -you ought to be at home supporting your wife. Send for Doctor Peppercorn -without delay.” - -Now as the case was a very dreadful one, Doctor Peppercorn called a -council from the barn-yard of the Squire, two miles off, and a brisk -young Doctor Partlett appeared, in a fine suit of brown and gold, with -tail-feathers like meteors. A fine young fellow he was, lately from -Paris, with all the modern scientific improvements fresh in his head. - -When he had listened to the whole story, he clapped his spur into the -ground, and leaning back, laughed so loud that all the cocks in the -neighborhood crowed. - -Mrs. Feathertop rose up out of her swoon, and Mr. Gray Cock was greatly -enraged. - -“What do you mean, sir, by such behavior in the house of mourning?” - -“My dear sir, pardon me,—but there is no occasion for mourning. My dear -madam, let me congratulate you. There is no harm done. The simple matter -is, dear madam, you have been under a hallucination all along. The -neighborhood and my learned friend the doctor have all made a mistake in -thinking that these children of yours were hens at all. They are ducks, -ma’am, evidently ducks, and very finely formed ducks I dare say.” - -At this moment a quack was heard, and at a distance the whole tribe were -seen coming waddling home, their feathers gleaming in green and gold, and -they themselves in high good spirits. - -“Such a splendid day as we have had!” they all cried in a breath. “And -we know now how to get our own living; we can take care of ourselves in -future, so you need have no further trouble with us.” - -“Madam,” said the doctor, making a bow with an air which displayed his -tail-feathers to advantage, “let me congratulate you on the charming -family you have raised. A finer brood of young, healthy ducks I never -saw. Give claw, my dear friend,” he said, addressing the elder son. “In -our barn-yard no family is more respected than that of the ducks.” - -And so Madam Feathertop came off glorious at last; and when after this -the ducks used to go swimming up and down the river like so many nabobs -among the admiring hens, Doctor Peppercorn used to look after them and -say, “Ah! I had the care of their infancy!” and Mr. Gray Cock and his -wife used to say, “It was our system of education did that!” - - - - -THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE. - - -[Illustration] - -Mr. and Mrs. Nutcracker were as respectable a pair of squirrels as ever -wore gray brushes over their backs. They were animals of a settled and -serious turn of mind, not disposed to run after vanities and novelties, -but filling their station in life with prudence and sobriety. Nutcracker -Lodge was a hole in a sturdy old chestnut overhanging a shady dell, -and was held to be as respectably kept an establishment as there was -in the whole forest. Even Miss Jenny Wren, the greatest gossip of the -neighborhood, never found anything to criticise in its arrangements, and -old Parson Too-whit, a venerable owl who inhabited a branch somewhat more -exalted, as became his profession, was in the habit of saving himself -much trouble in his parochial exhortations by telling his parishioners in -short to “look at the Nutcrackers” if they wanted to see what it was to -live a virtuous life. Everything had gone on prosperously with them, and -they had reared many successive families of young Nutcrackers, who went -forth to assume their places in the forest of life, and to reflect credit -on their bringing-up,—so that naturally enough they began to have a very -easy way of considering themselves models of wisdom. - -But at last it came along, in the course of events, that they had a -son named Featherhead, who was destined to bring them a great deal of -anxiety. Nobody knows what the reason is, but the fact was, that Master -Featherhead was as different from all the former children of this worthy -couple as if he had been dropped out of the moon into their nest, instead -of coming into it in the general way. Young Featherhead was a squirrel -of good parts and a lively disposition, but he was sulky and contrary -and unreasonable, and always finding matter of complaint in everything -his respectable papa and mamma did. Instead of assisting in the cares -of a family,—picking up nuts and learning other lessons proper to a -young squirrel,—he seemed to settle himself from his earliest years into -a sort of lofty contempt for the Nutcrackers, for Nutcracker Lodge, -and for all the good old ways and institutions of the domestic hole, -which he declared to be stupid and unreasonable, and entirely behind -the times. To be sure, he was always on hand at meal-times, and played -a very lively tooth on the nuts which his mother had collected, always -selecting the very best for himself; but he seasoned his nibbling with so -much grumbling and discontent, and so many severe remarks, as to give the -impression that he considered himself a peculiarly ill-used squirrel in -having to “eat their old grub,” as he very unceremoniously called it. - -Papa Nutcracker, on these occasions, was often fiercely indignant, and -poor little Mamma Nutcracker would shed tears, and beg her darling to -be a little more reasonable; but the young gentleman seemed always to -consider himself as the injured party. - -Now nobody could tell why or wherefore Master Featherhead looked upon -himself as injured and aggrieved, since he was living in a good hole, -with plenty to eat, and without the least care or labor of his own; but -he seemed rather to value himself upon being gloomy and dissatisfied. -While his parents and brothers and sisters were cheerfully racing up and -down the branches, busy in their domestic toils, and laying up stores for -the winter, Featherhead sat gloomily apart, declaring himself weary of -existence, and feeling himself at liberty to quarrel with everybody and -everything about him. Nobody understood him, he said;—he was a squirrel -of a peculiar nature, and needed peculiar treatment, and nobody treated -him in a way that did not grate on the finer nerves of his feelings. -He had higher notions of existence than could be bounded by that old -rotten hole in a hollow tree; he had thoughts that soared far above the -miserable, petty details of everyday life, and he _could_ not and _would_ -not bring down these soaring aspirations to the contemptible toil of -laying up a few chestnuts or hickory-nuts for winter. - -“Depend upon it, my dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker solemnly, “that fellow -must be a genius.” - -“Fiddlestick on his genius!” said old Mr. Nutcracker; “what does he _do_?” - -“O nothing, of course; that’s one of the first marks of genius. Geniuses, -you know, never can come down to common life.” - -“He eats enough for any two,” remarked old Nutcracker, “and he never -helps gather nuts.” - -“My dear, ask Parson Too-whit; he has conversed with him, and quite -agrees with me that he says very uncommon things for a squirrel of his -age; he has such fine feelings,—so much above those of the common crowd.” - -“Fine feelings be hanged!” said old Nutcracker. “When a fellow eats -all the nuts that his mother gives him, and then grumbles at her, I -don’t believe much in his fine feelings. Why don’t he set himself about -something? I’m going to tell my fine young gentleman, that, if he doesn’t -behave himself, I’ll tumble him out of the nest, neck and crop, and see -if hunger won’t do something towards bringing down his fine airs.” - -But then Mrs. Nutcracker fell on her husband’s neck with both paws, and -wept, and besought him so piteously to have patience with her darling, -that old Nutcracker, who was himself a soft-hearted old squirrel, -was prevailed upon to put up with the airs and graces of his young -scape-grace a little longer; and secretly in his silly old heart he -revolved the question whether possibly it might not be that a great -genius was actually to come of his household. - -The Nutcrackers belonged to the old established race of the Grays, but -they were sociable, friendly people, and kept on the best of terms with -all branches of the Nutcracker family. The Chipmunks of Chipmunk Hollow -were a very lively, cheerful, sociable race, and on the very best of -terms with the Nutcracker Grays. Young Tip Chipmunk, the oldest son, was -in all respects a perfect contrast to Master Featherhead. He was always -lively and cheerful, and so very alert in providing for the family, that -old Mr. and Mrs. Chipmunk had very little care, but could sit sociably -at the door of their hole and chat with neighbors, quite sure that Tip -would bring everything out right for them, and have plenty laid up for -winter. - -Now Featherhead took it upon him, for some reason or other, to look down -upon Tip Chipmunk, and on every occasion to disparage him in the social -circle, as a very common kind of squirrel, with whom it would be best not -to associate too freely. - -“My dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker one day, when he was expressing these -ideas, “it seems to me that you are too hard on poor Tip; he is a most -excellent son and brother, and I wish you would be civil to him.” - -“O, I don’t doubt that Tip is _good_ enough,” said Featherhead, -carelessly; “but then he is so very common! he hasn’t an idea in his -skull above his nuts and his hole. He is good-natured enough, to be -sure,—these very ordinary people often are good-natured,—but he wants -manner; he has really no manner at all; and as to the deeper feelings, -Tip hasn’t the remotest idea of them. I mean always to be civil to Tip -when he comes in my way, but I think the less we see of that sort of -people the better; and I hope, mother, you won’t invite the Chipmunks at -Christmas,—these family dinners are such a bore!” - -“But, my dear, your father thinks a great deal of the Chipmunks; and it -is an old family custom to have all the relatives here at Christmas.” - -“And an awful bore it is! Why must people of refinement and elevation be -forever tied down because of some distant relationship? Now there are our -cousins the High-Flyers,—if we could get them, there would be some sense -in it. Young Whisk rather promised me for Christmas; but it’s seldom now -you can get a flying squirrel to show himself in our parts, and if we are -intimate with the Chipmunks it isn’t to be expected.” - -“Confound him for a puppy!” said old Nutcracker, when his wife repeated -these sayings to him. “Featherhead is a fool. Common, forsooth! I wish -good, industrious, painstaking sons like Tip Chipmunk _were_ common. For -my part, I find these uncommon people the most tiresome; they are not -content with letting us carry the whole load, but they sit on it, and -scold at us while we carry them.” - -But old Mr. Nutcracker, like many other good old gentlemen squirrels, -found that Christmas dinners and other things were apt to go as his wife -said, and his wife was apt to go as young Featherhead said; and so, when -Christmas came, the Chipmunks were not invited, for the first time in -many years. The Chipmunks, however, took all pleasantly, and accepted -poor old Mrs. Nutcracker’s awkward apologies with the best possible -grace, and young Tip looked in on Christmas morning with the compliments -of the season and a few beech-nuts, which he had secured as a great -dainty. The fact was, that Tip’s little striped fur coat was so filled up -and overflowing with cheerful good-will to all, that he never could be -made to understand that any of his relations could want to cut him; and -therefore Featherhead looked down on him with contempt, and said he had -no tact, and couldn’t see when he was not wanted. - -It was wonderful to see how, by means of persisting in remarks like -these, young Featherhead at last got all his family to look up to him -as something uncommon. Though he added nothing to the family, and -required more to be done for him than all the others put together,—though -he showed not the smallest real perseverance or ability in anything -useful,—yet somehow all his brothers and sisters, and his poor foolish -old mother, got into a way of regarding him as something wonderful, and -delighting in his sharp sayings as if they had been the wisest things in -the world. - -But at last old papa declared that it was time for Featherhead to settle -himself to some business in life, roundly declaring that he could not -always have him as a hanger-on in the paternal hole. - -“What are you going to do, my boy?” said Tip Chipmunk to him one day. “We -are driving now a thriving trade in hickory-nuts, and if you would like -to join us—” - -“Thank you,” said Featherhead; “but I confess I have no fancy for -anything so slow as the hickory trade; I never was made to grub and delve -in that way.” - -The fact was, that Featherhead had lately been forming alliances such -as no reputable squirrel should even think of. He had more than once -been seen going out evenings with the Rats of Rat Hollow,—a race -whose reputation for honesty was more than doubtful. The fact was, -further, that old Longtooth Rat, an old sharper and money-lender, had -long had his eye on Featherhead as just about silly enough for their -purposes,—engaging him in what he called a speculation, but which was -neither more nor less than downright stealing. - -Near by the chestnut-tree where Nutcracker Lodge was situated was a large -barn filled with corn and grain, besides many bushels of hazelnuts, -chestnuts, and walnuts. Now old Longtooth proposed to young Featherhead -that he should nibble a passage into this loft, and there establish -himself in the commission business, passing the nuts and corn to him as -he wanted them. Old Longtooth knew what he was about in the proposal, -for he had heard talk of a brisk Scotch terrier that was about to be -bought to keep the rats from the grain; but you may be sure he kept his -knowledge to himself, so that Featherhead was none the wiser for it. - -“The nonsense of fellows like Tip Chipmunk!” said Featherhead to his -admiring brothers and sisters. “The perfectly stupid nonsense! There he -goes, delving and poking, picking up a nut here and a grain there, when -_I_ step into property at once.” - -“But I hope, my son, you are careful to be honest in your dealings,” said -old Nutcracker, who was a very moral squirrel. - -With that, young Featherhead threw his tail saucily over one shoulder, -winked knowingly at his brothers, and said, “Certainly, sir! If honesty -consists in getting what you can while it is going, I mean to be honest.” - -Very soon Featherhead appeared to his admiring companions in the -height of prosperity. He had a splendid hole in the midst of a heap of -chestnuts, and he literally seemed to be rolling in wealth; he never came -home without showering lavish gifts on his mother and sisters; he wore -his tail over his back with a buckish air, and patronized Tip Chipmunk -with a gracious nod whenever he met him, and thought that the world was -going well with him. - -But one luckless day, as Featherhead was lolling in his hole, up came two -boys with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch terrier you ever saw. His eyes -blazed like torches, and poor Featherhead’s heart died within him as he -heard the boys say, “Now we’ll see if we can’t catch the rascal that eats -our grain.” - -Featherhead tried to slink out at the hole he had gnawed to come in by, -but found it stopped. - -“O, you are there, are you, Mister?” said the boy. “Well, you don’t get -out; and now for a chase!” - -And, sure enough, poor Featherhead ran distracted with terror up and -down, through the bundles of hay, between barrels, and over casks; -but with the barking terrier ever at his heels, and the boys running, -shouting, and cheering his pursuer on. He was glad at last to escape -through a crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him,—for -Master Wasp the terrier made a snap at it just as he was going, and -cleaned all the hair off of it, so that it was bare as a rat’s tail. - -[Illustration] - -Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten and bedraggled, with the -boys and dog still after him; and they would have caught him, after all, -if Tip Chipmunk’s hole had not stood hospitably open to receive him. Tip -took him in, like a good-natured fellow as he was, and took the best of -care of him; but the glory of Featherhead’s tail had departed forever. He -had sprained his left paw, and got a chronic rheumatism, and the fright -and fatigue which he had gone through had broken up his constitution, -so that he never again could be what he had been; but Tip gave him a -situation as under-clerk in his establishment, and from that time he was -a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he ever had been before. - - - - -THE HISTORY OF TIP-TOP. - - -[Illustration] - -Under the window of a certain pretty little cottage there grew a great -old apple-tree, which in the spring had thousands and thousands of lovely -pink blossoms on it, and in the autumn had about half as many bright red -apples as it had blossoms in the spring. - -The nursery of this cottage was a little bower of a room, papered with -mossy-green paper, and curtained with white muslin; and here five little -children used to come, in their white nightgowns, to be dressed and have -their hair brushed and curled every morning. - -First, there were Alice and Mary, bright-eyed, laughing little girls, of -seven and eight years, and then came stout little Jamie, and Charlie, and -finally little Puss, whose real name was Ellen, but who was called Puss, -and Pussy, and Birdie, and Toddlie, and any other pet name that came to -mind. - -Now it used to happen, every morning, that the five little heads would -be peeping out of the window, together, into the flowery boughs of the -apple-tree; and the reason was this. A pair of robins had built a very -pretty, smooth-lined nest in a fork of the limb that came directly under -the window, and the building of this nest had been superintended, day by -day, by the five pairs of bright eyes of these five children. The robins -at first had been rather shy of this inspection; but, as they got better -acquainted, they seemed to think no more of the little curly heads in -the window, than of the pink blossoms about them, or the daisies and -buttercups at the foot of the tree. - -All the little hands were forward to help; some threw out flossy bits of -cotton,—for which, we grieve to say, Charlie had cut a hole in the crib -quilt,—and some threw out bits of thread and yarn, and Allie ravelled -out a considerable piece from one of her garters, which she threw out -as a contribution; and they exulted in seeing the skill with which the -little builders wove everything in. “Little birds, little birds,” they -would say, “you shall be kept warm, for we have given you cotton out of -our crib quilt, and yarn out of our stockings.” Nay, so far did this -generosity proceed, that Charlie cut a flossy, golden curl from Toddlie’s -head and threw it out; and when the birds caught it up the whole flock -laughed to see Toddlie’s golden hair figuring in a bird’s-nest. - -When the little thing was finished, it was so neat, and trim, and -workman-like, that the children all exulted over it, and called it “our -nest,” and the two robins they called “our birds.” But wonderful was -the joy when the little eyes, opening one morning, saw in the nest a -beautiful pale-green egg; and the joy grew from day to day, for every day -there came another egg, and so on till there were five little eggs; and -then the oldest girl, Alice, said, “There are five eggs; that makes one -for each of us, and each of us will have a little bird by and by”;—at -which all the children laughed and jumped for glee. - -When the five little eggs were all laid, the mother-bird began to sit -on them; and at any time of day or night, when a little head peeped out -of the nursery window, might be seen a round, bright, patient pair of -bird’s eyes contentedly waiting for the young birds to come. It seemed a -long time for the children to wait; but every day they put some bread and -cake from their luncheon on the window-sill, so that the birds might have -something to eat; but still there she was, patiently watching! - -“How long, long, long she waits!” said Jamie, impatiently. “I don’t -believe she’s ever going to hatch.” - -“O, yes she is!” said grave little Alice. “Jamie, you don’t understand -about these things; it takes a long, long time to hatch eggs. Old Sam -says his hens set three weeks;—only think, almost a month!” - -Three weeks looked a long time to the five bright pairs of little -watching eyes; but Jamie said, the eggs were so much smaller than hens’ -eggs, that it wouldn’t take so long to hatch them, he knew. Jamie always -thought he knew all about everything, and was so sure of it that he -rather took the lead among the children. But one morning, when they -pushed their five heads out of the window, the round, patient little -bird-eyes were gone, and there seemed to be nothing in the nest but a -bunch of something hairy. - -Upon this they all cried out, “O mamma, _do_ come here! the bird is gone -and left her nest!” And when they cried out, they saw five wide little -red mouths open in the nest, and saw that the hairy bunch of stuff was -indeed the first of five little birds. - -“They are dreadful-looking things,” said Mary; “I didn’t know that little -birds began by looking so badly.” - -“They seem to be all mouth,” said Jamie. - -“We must feed them,” said Charlie. - -“Here, little birds, here’s some gingerbread for you,” he said; and he -threw a bit of his gingerbread, which fortunately only hit the nest on -the outside, and fell down among the buttercups, where two crickets made -a meal of it, and agreed that it was as excellent gingerbread as if old -Mother Cricket herself had made it. - -“Take care, Charlie,” said his mamma; “we do not know enough to feed -young birds. We must leave it to their papa and mamma, who probably -started out bright and early in the morning to get breakfast for them.” - -Sure enough, while they were speaking, back came Mr. and Mrs. Robin, -whirring through the green shadows of the apple-tree; and thereupon all -the five little red mouths flew open, and the birds put something into -each. - -It was great amusement, after this, to watch the daily feeding of the -little birds, and to observe how, when not feeding them, the mother -sat brooding on the nest, warming them under her soft wings, while the -father-bird sat on the tip-top bough of the apple-tree and sang to them. -In time they grew and grew, and, instead of a nest full of little red -mouths, there was a nest full of little, fat, speckled robins, with -round, bright, cunning eyes, just like their parents; and the children -began to talk together about their birds. - -“I’m going to give my robin a name,” said Mary. “I call him Brown-Eyes.” - -“And I call mine Tip-Top,” said Jamie, “because I know he’ll be a tip-top -bird.” - -“And I call mine singer,” said Alice. - -“I ’all mine Toddy,” said little Toddlie, who would not be behindhand in -anything that was going on. - -“Hurrah for Toddlie!” said Charlie, “hers is the best of all. For my -part, I call mine Speckle.” - -So then the birds were all made separate characters by having each a -separate name given it. Brown-Eyes, Tip-Top, Singer, Toddy, and Speckle -made, as they grew bigger, a very crowded nestful of birds. - -Now the children had early been taught to say in a little hymn:— - - “Birds in their little nests agree, - And ’tis a shameful sight - When children of one family - Fall out, and chide, and fight”;— - -and they thought anything really written and printed in a hymn must be -true; therefore they were very much astonished to see, from day to day, -that _their_ little birds in their nests did _not_ agree. - -Tip-Top was the biggest and strongest bird, and he was always shuffling -and crowding the others, and clamoring for the most food; and when Mrs. -Robin came in with a nice bit of anything, Tip-Top’s red mouth opened so -wide, and he was so noisy, that one would think the nest was all his. His -mother used to correct him for these gluttonous ways, and sometimes made -him wait till all the rest were helped before she gave him a mouthful; -but he generally revenged himself in her absence by crowding the others -and making the nest generally uncomfortable. Speckle, however, was a -bird of spirit, and he used to peck at Tip-Top; so they would sometimes -have a regular sparring-match across poor Brown-Eyes, who was a meek, -tender little fellow, and would sit winking and blinking in fear while -his big brothers quarrelled. As to Toddy and Singer, they turned out to -be sister birds, and showed quite a feminine talent for chattering; they -used to scold their badly behaving brothers in a way that made the nest -quite lively. - -On the whole, Mr. and Mrs. Robin did not find their family circle the -peaceable place the poet represents. - -“I say,” said Tip-Top one day to them, “this old nest is a dull, mean, -crowded hole, and it’s quite time some of us were out of it; just give us -lessons in flying, won’t you, and let us go.” - -“My dear boy,” said Mother Robin, “we shall teach you to fly as soon as -your wings are strong enough.” - -“You are a very little bird,” said his father, “and ought to be good and -obedient, and wait patiently till your wing-feathers grow; and then you -can soar away to some purpose.” - -“Wait for my wing-feathers? Humbug!” Tip-Top would say, as he sat -balancing with his little short tail on the edge of the nest, and looking -down through the grass and clover-heads below, and up into the blue -clouds above. “Father and mother are slow old birds; keep a fellow back -with their confounded notions. If they don’t hurry up, I’ll take matters -into my own claws, and be off some day before they know it. Look at those -swallows, skimming and diving through the blue air! That’s the way I want -to do.” - -“But, dear brother, the way to learn to do that is to be good and -obedient while we are little, and wait till our parents think it best for -us to begin.” - -“Shut up your preaching,” said Tip-Top; “what do you girls know of -flying?” - -“About as much as _you_,” said Speckle. “However, I’m sure I don’t care -how soon you take yourself off, for you take up more room than all the -rest put together.” - -“You mind yourself, Master Speckle, or you’ll get something you don’t -like,” said Tip-Top, still strutting in a very cavalier way on the edge -of the nest, and sticking up his little short tail quite valiantly. - -“O my darlings,” said the mamma, now fluttering home, “cannot I ever -teach you to live in love?” - -“It’s all Tip-Top’s fault,” screamed the other birds in a flutter. - -“My fault? Of course, everything in this nest that goes wrong is laid -to me,” said Tip-Top; “and I’ll leave it to anybody, now, if I crowd -anybody. I’ve been sitting outside, on the very edge of the nest, and -there’s Speckle has got my place.” - -“Who wants your place?” said Speckle. “I’m sure you can come in, if you -please.” - -“My dear boy,” said the mother, “do go into the nest and be a good little -bird, and then you will be happy.” - -“That’s always the talk,” said Tip-Top. “I’m too big for the nest, and I -want to see the world. It’s full of beautiful things, I know. Now there’s -the most lovely creature, with bright eyes, that comes under the tree -every day, and wants me to come down in the grass and play with her.” - -“My son, my son, beware!” said the frightened mother; “that lovely -seeming creature is our dreadful enemy, the cat,—a horrid monster, with -teeth and claws.” - -At this, all the little birds shuddered and cuddled deeper in the nest; -only Tip-Top, in his heart, disbelieved it. “I’m too old a bird,” said -he to himself, “to believe _that_ story; mother is chaffing me. But I’ll -show her that I can take care of myself.” - -So the next morning, after the father and mother were gone, Tip-Top got -on the edge of the nest again, and looked over and saw lovely Miss Pussy -washing her face among the daisies under the tree, and her hair was -sleek and white as the daisies, and her eyes were yellow and beautiful -to behold, and she looked up to the tree bewitchingly, and said, “Little -birds, little birds, come down; Pussy wants to play with you.” - -“Only look at her!” said Tip-Top; “her eyes are like gold.” - -“No, don’t look,” said Singer and Speckle. “She will bewitch you and then -eat you up.” - -“I’d like to see her try to eat me up,” said Tip-Top, again balancing his -short tail over the nest. “Just as if she would. She’s just the nicest, -most innocent creature going, and only wants us to have fun. We never do -have any fun in this old nest!” - -Then the yellow eyes below shot a bewildering light into Tip-Top’s eyes, -and a voice sounded sweet as silver: “Little birds, little birds, come -down; Pussy wants to play with you.” - -“Her paws are as white as velvet,” said Tip-Top; “and so soft! I don’t -believe she has any claws.” - -“Don’t go, brother, don’t!” screamed both sisters. - -All we know about it is, that a moment after a direful scream was heard -from the nursery window. “O mamma, mamma, do come here! Tip-Top’s fallen -out of the nest, and the cat has got him!” - -Away ran Pussy with foolish little Tip-Top in her mouth, and he squeaked -dolefully when he felt her sharp teeth. Wicked Miss Pussy had no mind to -eat him at once; she meant just as she said, to “play with him.” So she -ran off to a private place among the currant-bushes, while all the little -curly heads were scattered up and down looking for her. - -Did you ever see a cat play with a bird or a mouse? She sets it down, and -seems to go off and leave it; but the moment it makes the first movement -to get away,—pounce! she springs on it, and shakes it in her mouth; and -so she teases and tantalizes it, till she gets ready to kill and eat it. -I can’t say why she does it, except that it is a cat’s nature; and it is -a very bad nature for foolish young robins to get acquainted with. - -“O, where is he? where is he? Do find my poor Tip-Top,” said Jamie, -crying as loud as he could scream. “I’ll kill that horrid cat,—I’ll kill -her!” - -Mr. and Mrs. Robin, who had come home meantime, joined their plaintive -chirping to the general confusion; and Mrs. Robin’s bright eyes soon -discovered her poor little son, where Pussy was patting and rolling him -from one paw to the other under the currant-bushes; and settling on the -bush above, she called the little folks to the spot by her cries. - -Jamie plunged under the bush, and caught the cat with luckless Tip-Top in -her mouth; and, with one or two good thumps, he obliged her to let him -go. Tip-Top was not dead, but in a sadly draggled and torn state. Some -of his feathers were torn out, and one of his wings was broken, and hung -down in a melancholy way. - -“O, what _shall_ we do for him? He will die. Poor Tip-Top!” said the -children. - -“Let’s put him back into the nest, children,” said mamma. “His mother -will know best what to do with him.” - -So a ladder was got, and papa climbed up and put poor Tip-Top safely into -the nest. The cat had shaken all the nonsense well out of him; he was a -dreadfully humbled young robin. - -The time came at last when all the other birds in the nest learned to -fly, and fluttered and flew about everywhere; but poor melancholy Tip-Top -was still confined to the nest with a broken wing. Finally, as it became -evident that it would be long before he could fly, Jamie took him out of -the nest, and made a nice little cage for him, and used to feed him every -day, and he would hop about and seem tolerably contented; but it was -evident that he would be a lame-winged robin all his days. - -Jamie’s mother told him that Tip-Top’s history was an allegory. - -“I don’t know what you mean, mamma,” said Jamie. - -“When something in a bird’s life is like something in a boy’s life, -or when a story is similar in its meaning to reality, we call it an -allegory. Little boys, when they are about half grown up, sometimes do -just as Tip-Top did. They are in a great hurry to get away from home into -the great world; and then Temptation comes, with bright eyes and smooth -velvet paws, and promises them fun; and they go to bad places; they get -to smoking, and then to drinking; and, finally, the bad habit gets them -in its teeth and claws, and plays with them as a cat does with a mouse. -They try to reform, just as your robin tried to get away from the cat; -but their bad habits pounce on them and drag them back. And so, when the -time comes that they want to begin life, they are miserable, broken-down -creatures, like your broken-winged robin. - -“So, Jamie, remember, and don’t try to be a man before your time, and let -your parents judge for you while you are young; and never believe in any -soft white Pussy, with golden eyes, that comes and wants to tempt you to -come down and play with her. If a big boy offers to teach you to smoke a -cigar, that is Pussy. If a boy wants you to go into a billiard-saloon, -that is Pussy. If a boy wants you to learn to drink anything with spirit -in it, however sweetened and disguised, remember, Pussy is there; and -Pussy’s claws are long, and Pussy’s teeth are strong; and if she gives -you one shake in your youth, you will be like a broken-winged robin all -your days.” - - - - -MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET. - - -Miss Katy-did sat on the branch of a flowering Azalia, in her best suit -of fine green and silver, with wings of point-lace from Mother Nature’s -finest web. - -Miss Katy was in the very highest possible spirits, because her gallant -cousin, Colonel Katy-did, had looked in to make her a morning visit. It -was a fine morning, too, which goes for as much among the Katy-dids as -among men and women. It was, in fact, a morning that Miss Katy thought -must have been made on purpose for her to enjoy herself in. There had -been a patter of rain the night before, which had kept the leaves awake -talking to each other till nearly morning, but by dawn the small winds -had blown brisk little puffs, and whisked the heavens clear and bright -with their tiny wings, as you have seen Susan clear away the cobwebs in -your mamma’s parlor; and so now there were only left a thousand blinking, -burning water-drops, hanging like convex mirrors at the end of each leaf, -and Miss Katy admired herself in each one. - -“Certainly I am a pretty creature,” she said to herself; and when the -gallant Colonel said something about being dazzled by her beauty, she -only tossed her head and took it as quite a matter of course. - -“The fact is, my dear Colonel,” she said, “I am thinking of giving a -party, and you must help me make out the lists.” - -“My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-dids.” - -“Now,” said Miss Katy-did, drawing an azalia-leaf towards her, “let us -see,—whom shall we have? The Fireflies, of course; everybody wants them, -they are so brilliant;—a little unsteady, to be sure, but quite in the -higher circles.” - -“Yes, we must have the Fireflies,” echoed the Colonel. - -“Well, then,—and the Butterflies and the Moths. Now, there’s a trouble. -There’s such an everlasting tribe of those Moths; and if you invite dull -people they’re always sure all to come, every one of them. Still, if you -have the Butterflies, you can’t leave out the Moths. - -“Old Mrs. Moth has been laid up lately with a gastric fever, and that may -keep two or three of the Misses Moth at home,” said the Colonel. - -“Whatever could give the old lady such a turn?” said Miss Katy. “I -thought she never was sick.” - -“I suspect it’s high living. I understand she and her family ate up a -whole ermine cape last month, and it disagreed with them. - -“For my part, I can’t conceive how the Moths can live as they do,” said -Miss Katy, with a face of disgust. “Why, I could no more eat worsted and -fur, as they do—” - -“That is quite evident from the fairy-like delicacy of your appearance,” -said the Colonel. “One can see that nothing so gross or material has ever -entered into your system.” - -“I’m sure,” said Miss Katy, “mamma says she don’t know what does keep me -alive; half a dewdrop and a little bit of the nicest part of a rose-leaf, -I assure you, often last me for a day. But we are forgetting our list. -Let’s see,—the Fireflies, Butterflies, Moths. The Bees must come, I -suppose.” - -“The Bees are a worthy family,” said the Colonel. - -“Worthy enough, but dreadfully humdrum,” said Miss Katy. “They never talk -about anything but honey and housekeeping; still, they are a class of -people one cannot neglect.” - -“Well, then, there are the Bumble-Bees.” - -“O, I doat on them! General Bumble is one of the most dashing, brilliant -fellows of the day.” - -“I think he is shockingly corpulent,” said Colonel Katy-did, not at all -pleased to hear him praised;—“don’t you?” - -“I don’t know but he _is_ a little stout,” said Miss Katy; “but so -distinguished and elegant in his manners,—something martial and breezy -about him.” - -“Well, if you invite the Bumble-Bees you must have the Hornets.” - -“Those spiteful Hornets,—I detest them!” - -“Nevertheless, dear Miss Katy, one does not like to offend the Hornets.” - -“No, one can’t. There are those five Misses Hornet,—dreadful old -maids!—as full of spite as they can live. You may be sure they will every -one come, and be looking about to make spiteful remarks. Put down the -Hornets, though.” - -“How about the Mosquitos?” said the Colonel. - -“Those horrid Mosquitos,—they are dreadfully plebeian! Can’t one cut -them?” - -“Well, dear Miss Katy,” said the Colonel, “if you ask my candid opinion -as a friend, I should say _not_. There’s young Mosquito, who graduated -last year, has gone into literature, and is connected with some of our -leading papers, and they say he carries the sharpest pen of all the -writers. It won’t do to offend him.” - -“And so I suppose we must have his old aunts, and all six of his sisters, -and all his dreadfully common relations.” - -“It is a pity,” said the Colonel, “but one must pay one’s tax to society.” - -Just at this moment the conference was interrupted by a visitor, Miss -Keziah Cricket, who came in with her work-bag on her arm to ask a -subscription for a poor family of Ants who had just had their house hoed -up in clearing the garden-walks. - -“How stupid of them,” said Katy, “not to know better than to put their -house in the garden-walk; that’s just like those Ants!” - -“Well, they are in great trouble; all their stores destroyed, and their -father killed,—cut quite in two by a hoe.” - -“How very shocking! I don’t like to hear of such disagreeable things,—it -affects my nerves terribly. Well, I’m sure I haven’t anything to give. -Mamma said yesterday she was sure she didn’t know how our bills were to -be paid,—and there’s my green satin with point-lace yet to come home.” -And Miss Katy-did shrugged her shoulders and affected to be very busy -with Colonel Katy-did, in just the way that young ladies sometimes do -when they wish to signify to visitors that they had better leave. - -Little Miss Cricket perceived how the case stood, and so hopped briskly -off, without giving herself even time to be offended. “Poor extravagant -little thing!” said she to herself, “it was hardly worth while to ask -her.” - -“Pray, shall you invite the Crickets?” said Colonel Katy-did. - -“Who? I? Why, Colonel, what a question! Invite the Crickets? Of what can -you be thinking?” - -“And shall you not ask the Locusts, or the Grasshoppers?” - -“Certainly. The Locusts, of course,—a very old and distinguished family; -and the Grasshoppers are pretty well, and ought to be asked. But we must -draw a line somewhere,—and the Crickets! why, it’s shocking even to think -of!” - -“I thought they were nice, respectable people.” - -“O, perfectly nice and respectable,—very good people, in fact, so far as -that goes. But then you must see the difficulty.” - -“My dear cousin, I am afraid you must explain.” - -“Why, their _color_, to be sure. Don’t you see?” - -“Oh!” said the Colonel. “That’s it, is it? Excuse me, but I have been -living in France, where these distinctions are wholly unknown, and I have -not yet got myself in the train of fashionable ideas here.” - -“Well, then, let me teach you,” said Miss Katy. “You know we republicans -go for no distinctions except those created by Nature herself, and we -found our rank upon _color_, because that is clearly a thing that none -has any hand in but our Maker. You see?” - -“Yes; but who decides what color shall be the reigning color?” - -“I’m surprised to hear the question! The only true color—the only proper -one—is _our_ color, to be sure. A lovely pea-green is the precise shade -on which to found aristocratic distinction. But then we are liberal;—we -associate with the Moths, who are gray; with the Butterflies, who are -blue-and-gold-colored; with the Grasshoppers, yellow and brown;—and -society would become dreadfully mixed if it were not fortunately -ordered that the Crickets are black as jet. The fact is, that a class -to be looked down upon is necessary to all elegant society, and if -the Crickets were not black, we could not keep them down, because, -as everybody knows, they are often a great deal cleverer than we are. -They have a vast talent for music and dancing; they are very quick at -learning, and would be getting to the very top of the ladder if we once -allowed them to climb. But their being black is a convenience,—because, -as long as we are green and they black, we have a superiority that can -never be taken from us. Don’t you see, now?” - -“O yes, I see exactly,” said the Colonel. - -“Now that Keziah Cricket, who just came in here, is quite a musician, and -her old father plays the violin beautifully;—by the way, we might engage -him for our orchestra.” - -[Illustration] - -And so Miss Katy’s ball came off, and the performers kept it up from -sundown till daybreak, so that it seemed as if every leaf in the forest -were alive. The Katy-dids, and the Mosquitos, and the Locusts, and a full -orchestra of Crickets made the air perfectly vibrate, insomuch that old -Parson Too-Whit, who was preaching a Thursday evening lecture to a very -small audience, announced to his hearers that he should certainly write a -discourse against dancing for the next weekly occasion. - -The good Doctor was even with his word in the matter, and gave out some -very sonorous discourses, without in the least stopping the round of -gayeties kept up by these dissipated Katy-dids, which ran on, night -after night, till the celebrated Jack Frost epidemic, which occurred -somewhere about the first of September. - -Poor Miss Katy, with her flimsy green satin and point-lace, was one of -the first victims, and fell from the bough in company with a sad shower -of last year’s leaves. The worthy Cricket family, however, avoided Jack -Frost by emigrating in time to the chimney-corner of a nice little -cottage that had been built in the wood that summer. - -There good old Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, with sprightly Miss Keziah and her -brothers and sisters, found a warm and welcome home; and when the storm -howled without, and lashed the poor naked trees, the Crickets on the warm -hearth would chirp out cheery welcome to papa as he came in from the -snowy path, or mamma as she sat at her work-basket. - -“Cheep, cheep, cheep!” little Freddy would say. “Mamma, who is it says -‘cheep’?” - -“Dear Freddy, it’s our own dear little cricket, who loves us and comes to -sing to us when the snow is on the ground.” - -So when poor Miss Katy-did’s satin and lace were all swept away, the warm -home-talents of the Crickets made for them a welcome refuge. - - - - -MOTHER MAGPIE’S MISCHIEF. - - -Old Mother Magpie was about the busiest character in the forest. But you -must know that there is a great difference between being busy and being -industrious. One may be very busy all the time, and yet not in the least -industrious; and this was the case with Mother Magpie. - -She was always full of everybody’s business but her own,—up and down, -here and there, everywhere but in her own nest, knowing every one’s -affairs, telling what everybody had been doing or ought to do, and ready -to cast her advice _gratis_ at every bird and beast of the woods. - -Now she bustled up to the parsonage at the top of the oak-tree, to tell -old Parson Too-Whit what she thought he ought to preach for his next -sermon, and how dreadful the morals of the parish were becoming. Then, -having perfectly bewildered the poor old gentleman, who was always sleepy -of a Monday morning, Mother Magpie would take a peep into Mrs. Oriole’s -nest, sit chattering on a bough above, and pour forth floods of advice, -which, poor little Mrs. Oriole used to say to her husband, bewildered her -more than a hard northeast storm. - -“Depend upon it, my dear,” Mother Magpie would say, “that this way of -building your nest, swinging like an old empty stocking from a bough, -isn’t at all the thing. I never built one so in my life, and I never have -headaches. Now you complain always that your head aches whenever I call -upon you. It’s all on account of this way of swinging and swaying about -in such an absurd manner.” - -“But, my dear,” piped Mrs. Oriole, timidly, “the Orioles always have -built in this manner, and it suits our constitution.” - -“A fiddle on your constitution! How can you tell what agrees with your -constitution unless you try? You own you are not well; you are subject -to headaches, and every physician will tell you that a tilting motion -disorders the stomach and acts upon the brain. Ask old Dr. Kite. I was -talking with him about your case only yesterday, and says he, ‘Mrs. -Magpie, I perfectly agree with you.’” - -“But my husband prefers this style of building.” - -“That’s only because he isn’t properly instructed. Pray, did you ever -attend Dr. Kite’s lectures on the nervous system?” - -“No, I have no time to attend lectures. Who would set on the eggs?” - -“Why, your husband, to be sure; don’t he take his turn in setting? If -he don’t, he ought to. I shall speak to him about it. My husband always -sets regularly half the time, that I might have time to go about and -exercise.” - -“O Mrs. Magpie, pray don’t speak to my husband; he will think I’ve been -complaining.” - -“No, no, he won’t! Let me alone. I understand just how to say the thing. -I’ve advised hundreds of young husbands in my day, and I never give -offence.” - -“But I tell you, Mrs. Magpie, I don’t want any interference between my -husband and me, and I will not have it,” says Mrs. Oriole, with her -little round eyes flashing with indignation. - -“Don’t put yourself in a passion, my dear; the more you talk, the more -sure I am that your nervous system is running down, or you wouldn’t -forget good manners in this way. You’d better take my advice, for I -understand just what to do,”—and away sails Mother Magpie; and presently -young Oriole comes home, all in a flutter. - -“I say, my dear, if you will persist in gossiping over our private family -matters with that old Mother Magpie—” - -“My dear, I don’t gossip; she comes and bores me to death with talking, -and then goes off and mistakes what she has been saying for what I said.” - -“But you must _cut_ her.” - -“I try to, all I can; but she won’t _be_ cut.” - -“It’s enough to make a bird swear,” said Tommy Oriole. - -Tommy Oriole, to say the truth, had as good a heart as ever beat under -bird’s feathers; but then he had a weakness for concerts and general -society, because he was held to be, by all odds, the handsomest bird in -the woods, and sung like an angel; and so the truth was he didn’t confine -himself so much to the domestic nest as Tom Titmouse or Billy Wren. But -he determined that he wouldn’t have old Mother Magpie interfering with -his affairs. - -“The fact is,” quoth Tommy, “I am a society bird, and Nature has marked -out for me a course beyond the range of the commonplace, and my wife -must learn to accommodate. If she has a brilliant husband, whose success -gratifies her ambition and places her in a distinguished public position, -she must pay something for it. I’m sure Billy Wren’s wife would give her -very bill to see her husband in the circles where I am quite at home. To -say the truth, my wife was all well enough content till old Mother Magpie -interfered. It is quite my duty to take strong ground, and show that I -cannot be dictated to.” - -So, after this, Tommy Oriole went to rather more concerts, and spent less -time at home than ever he did before, which was all that Mother Magpie -effected in that quarter. I confess this was very bad in Tommy; but then -birds are no better than men in domestic matters, and sometimes will take -the most unreasonable courses, if a meddlesome Magpie gets her claw into -their nest. - -But old Mother Magpie had now got a new business in hand in another -quarter. She bustled off down to Waterdock Lane, where, as we said in a -former narrative, lived the old music-teacher, Dr. Bullfrog. The poor -old Doctor was a simple-minded, good, amiable creature, who had played -the double-bass and led the forest choir on all public occasions since -nobody knows when. Latterly some youngsters had arisen who sneered at his -performances as behind the age. In fact, since a great city had grown -up in the vicinity of the forest, tribes of wandering boys broke up the -simple tastes and quiet habits which old Mother Nature had always kept -up in those parts. They pulled the young checkerberry before it even had -time to blossom, rooted up the sassafras shrubs and gnawed their roots, -fired off guns at the birds, and, on several occasions when old Dr. -Bullfrog was leading a concert, had dashed in and broken up the choir by -throwing stones. - -This was not the worst of it. The little varlets had a way of jeering at -the simple old Doctor and his concerts, and mimicking the tones of his -bass-viol. “There you go, Paddy-go-donk, Paddy-go-donk—umph—chunk,” some -rascal of a boy would shout, while poor old Bullfrog’s yellow spectacles -would be bedewed with tears of honest indignation. In time, the jeers of -these little savages began to tell on the society in the forest, and to -corrupt their simple manners; and it was whispered among the younger and -more heavy birds and squirrels, that old Bullfrog was a bore, and that it -was time to get up a new style of music in the parish, and to give the -charge of it to some more modern performer. - -Poor old Dr. Bullfrog knew nothing of this, however, and was doing his -simple best, in peace, when Mother Magpie called in upon him, one morning. - -[Illustration] - -“Well, neighbor, how unreasonable people are! Who would have thought -that the youth of our generation should have no more consideration for -established merit? Now, for my part, _I_ think your music-teaching never -was better; and as for our choir, I maintain constantly that it never was -in better order, but—Well, one may wear her tongue out, but one can never -make these young folks listen to reason.” - -“I really don’t understand you, ma’am,” said poor Dr. Bullfrog. - -“What! you haven’t heard of a committee that is going to call on you, to -ask you to resign the care of the parish music?” - -“Madam,” said Dr. Bullfrog, with all that energy of tone for which he was -remarkable, “I don’t believe it,—I _can’t_ believe it. You must have made -a mistake.” - -“I mistake! No, no, my good friend; I never make mistakes. What I know, -I know certainly. Wasn’t it I that said I knew there was an engagement -between Tim Chipmunk and Nancy Nibble, who are married this blessed day? -I knew that thing six weeks before any bird or beast in our parts; and I -can tell you, you are going to be scandalously and ungratefully treated, -Dr. Bullfrog.” - -“Bless me, we shall all be ruined!” said Mrs. Bullfrog; “my poor husband—” - -“O, as to that, if you take things in time, and listen to my advice,” -said Mother Magpie, “we may yet pull you through. You must alter your -style a little,—adapt it to modern times. Everybody now is a little -touched with the operatic fever, and there’s Tommy Oriole has been to New -Orleans and brought back a touch of the artistic. If you would try his -style a little,—something Tyrolean, you see.” - -“Dear madam, consider my voice. I never could hit the high notes.” - -“How do you know? It’s all practice; Tommy Oriole says so. Just try the -scales. As to your voice, your manner of living has a great deal to do -with it. I always did tell you that your passion for water injured your -singing. Suppose Tommy Oriole should sit half his days up to his hips -in water, as you do,—his voice would be as hoarse and rough as yours. -Come up on the bank, and learn to perch, as we birds do. We are the true -musical race.” - -And so, poor Mr. Bullfrog was persuaded to forego his pleasant little -cottage under the cat-tails, where his green spectacles and honest round -back had excited, even in the minds of the boys, sentiments of respect -and compassion. He came up into the garden, and established himself under -a burdock, and began to practise Italian scales. - -The result was, that poor old Dr. Bullfrog, instead of being considered -as a respectable old bore, got himself universally laughed at for aping -fashionable manners. Every bird and beast in the forest had a gibe at -him; and even old Parson Too-Whit thought it worth his while to make him -a pastoral call, and admonish him about courses unbefitting his age and -standing. As to Mother Magpie, you may be sure that she assured every -one how sorry she was that dear old Dr. Bullfrog had made such a fool of -himself; if he had taken her advice, he would have kept on respectably as -a nice old Bullfrog should. - -But the tragedy for the poor old music-teacher grew even more melancholy -in its termination; for one day as he was sitting disconsolately under a -currant-bush in the garden, practising his poor old notes in a quiet way, -_thump_ came a great blow of a hoe, which nearly broke his back. - -“Hullo! what ugly beast have we got here?” said Tom Noakes, the -gardener’s boy. “Here, here, Wasp, my boy.” - -What a fright for a poor, quiet, old Bullfrog, as little wiry, wicked -Wasp came at him, barking and yelping. He jumped with all his force sheer -over a patch of bushes into the river, and swam back to his old home -among the cat-tails. And always after that it was observable that he was -very low-spirited, and took very dark views of life; but nothing made him -so angry as any allusion to Mother Magpie, of whom, from that time, he -never spoke except as _Old Mother Mischief_. - - - - -THE SQUIRRELS THAT LIVE IN A HOUSE. - - -Once upon a time a gentleman went out into a great forest, and cut away -the trees, and built there a very nice little cottage. It was set very -low on the ground, and had very large bow-windows, and so much of it was -glass that one could look through it on every side and see what was going -on in the forest. You could see the shadows of the fern-leaves, as they -flickered and wavered over the ground, and the scarlet partridge-berry -and wintergreen plums that matted round the roots of the trees, and -the bright spots of sunshine that fell through their branches and -went dancing about among the bushes and leaves at their roots. You -could see the little chipping sparrows and thrushes and robins and -bluebirds building their nests here and there among the branches, and -watch them from day to day as they laid their eggs and hatched their -young. You could also see red squirrels, and gray squirrels, and little -striped chip-squirrels, darting and springing about, here and there -and everywhere, running races with each other from bough to bough, and -chattering at each other in the gayest possible manner. - -You may be sure that such a strange thing as a great mortal house for -human beings to live in did not come into this wild wood without making -quite a stir and excitement among the inhabitants that lived there -before. All the time it was building, there was the greatest possible -commotion in the breasts of all the older population; and there wasn’t -even a black ant, or a cricket, that did not have his own opinion about -it, and did not tell the other ants and crickets just what he thought the -world was coming to in consequence. - -Old Mrs. Rabbit declared that the hammering and pounding made her -nervous, and gave her most melancholy forebodings of evil times. “Depend -upon it, children,” she said to her long-eared family, “no good will come -to us from this establishment. Where man is, there comes always trouble -for us poor rabbits.” - -The old chestnut-tree, that grew on the edge of the woodland ravine, -drew a great sigh which shook all his leaves, and expressed it as his -conviction that no good would ever come of it,—a conviction that at once -struck to the heart of every chestnut-burr. The squirrels talked together -of the dreadful state of things that would ensue. “Why!” said old Father -Gray, “it’s evident that Nature made the nuts for us; but one of these -great human creatures will carry off and gormandize upon what would keep -a hundred poor families of squirrels in comfort.” Old Ground-mole said it -did not require very sharp eyes to see into the future, and it would just -end in bringing down the price of real estate in the whole vicinity, -so that every decent-minded and respectable quadruped would be obliged -to move away;—for his part, he was ready to sell out for anything he -could get. The bluebirds and bobolinks, it is true, took more cheerful -views of matters; but then, as old Mrs. Ground-mole observed, they were -a flighty set,—half their time careering and dissipating in the Southern -States,—and could not be expected to have that patriotic attachment -to their native soil that those had who had grubbed in it from their -earliest days. - -“This race of man,” said the old chestnut-tree, “is never ceasing in -its restless warfare on Nature. In our forest solitudes, hitherto, how -peacefully, how quietly, how regularly has everything gone on! Not a -flower has missed its appointed time of blossoming, or failed to perfect -its fruit. No matter how hard has been the winter, how loud the winds -have roared, and how high the snow-banks have been piled, all has come -right again in spring. Not the least root has lost itself under the -snows, so as not to be ready with its fresh leaves and blossoms when -the sun returns to melt the frosty chains of winter. We have storms -sometimes that threaten to shake everything to pieces,—the thunder -roars, the lightning flashes, and the winds howl and beat; but, when -all is past, everything comes out better and brighter than before,—not -a bird is killed, not the frailest flower destroyed. But man comes, -and in one day he will make a desolation that centuries cannot repair. -Ignorant boor that he is, and all incapable of appreciating the glorious -works of Nature, it seems to be his glory to be able to destroy in a -few hours what it was the work of ages to produce. The noble oak, that -has been cut away to build this contemptible human dwelling, had a life -older and wiser than that of any man in this country. That tree has -seen generations of men come and go. It was a fresh young tree when -Shakespeare was born; it was hardly a middle-aged tree when he died; it -was growing here when the first ship brought the white men to our shores, -and hundreds and hundreds of those whom they call bravest, wisest, -strongest,—warriors, statesmen, orators, and poets,—have been born, -have grown up, lived, and died, while yet it has outlived them all. It -has seen more wisdom than the best of them; but two or three hours of -brutal strength sufficed to lay it low. Which of these dolts could make -a tree? I’d like to see them do anything like it. How noisy and clumsy -are all their movements,—chopping, pounding, rasping, hammering! And, -after all, what do they build? In the forest we do everything so quietly. -A tree would be ashamed of itself that could not get its growth without -making such a noise and dust and fuss. Our life is the perfection of good -manners. For my part, I feel degraded at the mere presence of these human -beings; but, alas! I am old;—a hollow place at my heart warns me of the -progress of decay, and probably it will be seized upon by these rapacious -creatures as an excuse for laying me as low as my noble green brother.” - -In spite of all this disquiet about it, the little cottage grew and was -finished. The walls were covered with pretty paper, the floors carpeted -with pretty carpets; and, in fact, when it was all arranged, and the -garden walks laid out, and beds of flowers planted around, it began to be -confessed, even among the most critical, that it was not after all so bad -a thing as was to have been feared. - -A black ant went in one day and made a tour of exploration up and down, -over chairs and tables, up the ceilings and down again, and, coming out, -wrote an article for the Crickets’ Gazette, in which he described the new -abode as a veritable palace. Several butterflies fluttered in and sailed -about and were wonderfully delighted, and then a bumble-bee and two or -three honey-bees, who expressed themselves well pleased with the house, -but more especially enchanted with the garden. In fact, when it was found -that the proprietors were very fond of the rural solitudes of Nature, and -had come out there for the purpose of enjoying them undisturbed,—that -they watched and spared the anemones, and the violets, and bloodroots, -and dog’s-tooth violets, and little woolly rolls of fern that began to -grow up under the trees in spring,—that they never allowed a gun to be -fired to scare the birds, and watched the building of their nests with -the greatest interest,—then an opinion in favor of human beings began -to gain ground, and every cricket and bird and beast was loud in their -praise. - -“Mamma,” said young Tit-bit, a frisky young squirrel, to his mother one -day, “why won’t you let Frisky and me go into that pretty new cottage to -play?” - -“My dear,” said his mother, who was a very wary and careful old squirrel, -“how can you think of it? The race of man are full of devices for traps -and pitfalls, and who could say what might happen, if you put yourself in -their power? If you had wings like the butterflies and bees, you might -fly in and out again, and so gratify your curiosity; but, as matters -stand, it’s best for you to keep well out of their way.” - -“But mother, there is such a nice, good lady lives there! I believe -she is a good fairy, and she seems to love us all so; she sits in the -bow-window and watches us for hours, and she scatters corn all round at -the roots of the tree for us to eat.” - -“She is nice enough,” said the old mother-squirrel, “if you keep far -enough off; but I tell you, you can’t be too careful.” - -Now this good fairy that the squirrels discoursed about was a nice little -old lady that the children used to call Aunt Esther, and she was a dear -lover of birds and squirrels, and all sorts of animals, and had studied -their little ways till she knew just what would please them; and so she -would every day throw out crumbs for the sparrows, and little bits of -bread and wool and cotton to help the birds that were building their -nests, and would scatter corn and nuts for the squirrels; and while she -sat at her work in the bow-window she would smile to see the birds flying -away with the wool, and the squirrels nibbling their nuts. After a while -the birds grew so tame that they would hop into the bow-window, and eat -their crumbs off the carpet. - -“There, mamma,” said Tit-bit and Frisky, “only see! Jenny Wren and Cock -Robin have been in at the bow-window, and it didn’t hurt them, and why -can’t we go?” - -“Well, my dears,” said old Mother Squirrel, “you must do it very -carefully: never forget that you haven’t wings like Jenny Wren and Cock -Robin.” - -So the next day Aunt Esther laid a train of corn from the roots of the -trees to the bow-window, and then from the bow-window to her work-basket, -which stood on the floor beside her; and then she put quite a handful of -corn in the work-basket, and sat down by it, and seemed intent on her -sewing. Very soon, creep, creep, creep, came Tit-bit and Frisky to the -window, and then into the room, just as sly and as still as could be, -and Aunt Esther sat just like a statue for fear of disturbing them. -They looked all around in high glee, and when they came to the basket it -seemed to them a wonderful little summer-house, made on purpose for them -to play in. They nosed about in it, and turned over the scissors and the -needle-book, and took a nibble at her white wax, and jostled the spools, -meanwhile stowing away the corn each side of their little chops, till -they both of them looked as if they had the mumps. - -At last Aunt Esther put out her hand to touch them, when, whisk-frisk, -out they went, and up the trees, chattering and laughing before she had -time even to wink. - -But after this they used to come in every day, and when she put corn in -her hand and held it very still they would eat out of it; and, finally, -they would get into her hand, until one day she gently closed it over -them, and Frisky and Tit-bit were fairly caught. - -O, how their hearts beat! but the good fairy only spoke gently to them, -and soon unclosed her hand and let them go again. So, day after day, they -grew to have more and more faith in her, till they would climb into her -work-basket, sit on her shoulder, or nestle away in her lap as she sat -sewing. They made also long exploring voyages all over the house, up and -through all the chambers, till finally, I grieve to say, poor Frisky came -to an untimely end by being drowned in the water-tank at the top of the -house. - -The dear good fairy passed away from the house in time, and went to -a land where the flowers never fade, and the birds never die; but the -squirrels still continue to make the place a favorite resort. - -[Illustration] - -“In fact, my dear,” said old Mother Red one winter to her mate, “what is -the use of one’s living in this cold, hollow tree, when these amiable -people have erected this pretty cottage where there is plenty of room -for us and them too? Now I have examined between the eaves, and there -is a charming place where we can store our nuts, and where we can whip -in and out of the garret, and have the free range of the house; and, -say what you will, these humans have delightful ways of being warm and -comfortable in winter.” - -So Mr. and Mrs. Red set up housekeeping in the cottage, and had no end -of nuts and other good things stored up there. The trouble of all this -was, that, as Mrs. Red was a notable body, and got up to begin her -housekeeping operations, and woke up all her children, at four o’clock in -the morning, the good people often were disturbed by a great rattling and -fuss in the walls, while yet it seemed dark night. Then sometimes, too, -I grieve to say, Mrs. Squirrel would give her husband vigorous curtain -lectures in the night, which made him so indignant that he would rattle -off to another quarter of the garret to sleep by himself; and all this -broke the rest of the worthy people who built the house. - -What is to be done about this we don’t know. What would you do about it? -Would you let the squirrels live in your house, or not? When our good -people come down of a cold winter morning, and see the squirrels dancing -and frisking down the trees, and chasing each other so merrily over the -garden-chair between them, or sitting with their tails saucily over their -backs, they look so jolly and jaunty and pretty that they almost forgive -them for disturbing their night’s rest, and think that they will not do -anything to drive them out of the garret to-day. And so it goes on; but -how long the squirrels will rent the cottage in this fashion, I’m sure I -dare not undertake to say. - - - - -HUM, THE SON OF BUZ. - - -At Rye Beach, during our summer’s vacation, there came, as there always -will to seaside visitors, two or three cold, chilly, rainy days,—days -when the skies that long had not rained a drop seemed suddenly to bethink -themselves of their remissness, and to pour down water, not by drops, -but by pailfuls. The chilly wind blew and whistled, the water dashed -along the ground, and careered in foamy rills along the roadside, and the -bushes bent beneath the constant flood. It was plain that there was to -be no sea-bathing on such a day, no walks, no rides; and so, shivering -and drawing our blanket-shawls close about us, we sat down to the window -to watch the storm outside. The rose-bushes under the window hung -dripping under their load of moisture, each spray shedding a constant -shower on the spray below it. On one of these lower sprays, under the -perpetual drip, what should we see but a poor little humming-bird, drawn -up into the tiniest shivering ball, and clinging with a desperate grasp -to his uncomfortable perch. A humming-bird we knew him to be at once, -though his feathers were so matted and glued down by the rain that he -looked not much bigger than a honey-bee, and as different as possible -from the smart, pert, airy little character that we had so often seen -flirting with the flowers. He was evidently a humming-bird in adversity, -and whether he ever would hum again looked to us exceedingly doubtful. -Immediately, however, we sent out to have him taken in. When the friendly -hand seized him, he gave a little, faint, watery squeak, evidently -thinking that his last hour was come, and that grim Death was about to -carry him off to the land of dead birds. What a time we had reviving -him,—holding the little wet thing in the warm hollow of our hands, and -feeling him shiver and palpitate! His eyes were fast closed; his tiny -claws, which looked slender as cobwebs, were knotted close to his body, -and it was long before one could feel the least motion in them. Finally, -to our great joy, we felt a brisk little kick, and then a flutter of -wings, and then a determined peck of the beak, which showed that there -was some bird left in him yet, and that he meant at any rate to find out -where he was. - -Unclosing our hands a small space, out popped the little head with a pair -of round brilliant eyes. Then we bethought ourselves of feeding him, and -forthwith prepared him a stiff glass of sugar and water, a drop of which -we held to his bill. After turning his head attentively, like a bird who -knew what he was about and didn’t mean to be chaffed, he briskly put out -a long, flexible tongue, slightly forked at the end, and licked off the -comfortable beverage with great relish. Immediately he was pronounced -out of danger by the small humane society which had undertaken the -charge of his restoration, and we began to cast about for getting him a -settled establishment in our apartment. I gave up my work-box to him for -a sleeping-room, and it was medically ordered that he should take a nap. -So we filled the box with cotton, and he was formally put to bed with a -folded cambric handkerchief round his neck, to keep him from beating his -wings. Out of his white wrappings he looked forth green and grave as any -judge with his bright round eyes. Like a bird of discretion, he seemed to -understand what was being done to him, and resigned himself sensibly to -go to sleep. - -The box was covered with a sheet of paper perforated with holes for -purposes of ventilation; for even humming-birds have a little pair of -lungs, and need their own little portion of air to fill them, so that -they may make bright scarlet little drops of blood to keep life’s fire -burning in their tiny bodies. Our bird’s lungs manufactured brilliant -blood, as we found out by experience; for in his first nap he contrived -to nestle himself into the cotton of which his bed was made, and to -get more of it than he needed into his long bill. We pulled it out as -carefully as we could, but there came out of his bill two round, bright, -scarlet, little drops of blood. Our chief medical authority looked grave, -pronounced a probable hemorrhage from the lungs, and gave him over at -once. We, less scientific, declared that we had only cut his little -tongue by drawing out the filaments of cotton, and that he would do well -enough in time,—as it afterward appeared he did,—for from that day there -was no more bleeding. In the course of the second day he began to take -short flights about the room, though he seemed to prefer to return to -us,—perching on our fingers or heads or shoulders, and sometimes choosing -to sit in this way for half an hour at a time. “These great giants,” he -seemed to say to himself, “are not bad people after all; they have a -comfortable way with them; how nicely they dried and warmed me! Truly a -bird might do worse than to live with them.” - -So he made up his mind to form a fourth in the little company of three -that usually sat and read, worked and sketched, in that apartment, and -we christened him “Hum, the son of Buz.” He became an individuality, a -character, whose little doings formed a part of every letter, and some -extracts from these will show what some of his little ways were. - -“Hum has learned to sit upon my finger, and eat his sugar and water -out of a teaspoon with most Christian-like decorum. He has but one -weakness,—he will occasionally jump into the spoon and sit in his sugar -and water, and then appear to wonder where it goes to. His plumage is -in rather a drabbled state, owing to these performances. I have sketched -him as he sat to-day on a bit of Spiræa which I brought in for him. When -absorbed in reflection, he sits with his bill straight up in the air, as -I have drawn him. Mr. A⸺ reads Macaulay to us, and you should see the -wise air with which, perched on Jenny’s thumb, he cocked his head now -one side and then the other, apparently listening with most critical -attention. His confidence in us seems unbounded; he lets us stroke his -head, smooth his feathers, without a flutter; and is never better pleased -than sitting, as he has been doing all this while, on my hand, turning up -his bill, and watching my face with great edification. - -“I have just been having a sort of maternal struggle to make him go -to bed in his box; but he evidently considers himself sufficiently -convalescent to make a stand for his rights as a bird, and so scratched -indignantly out of his wrappings, and set himself up to roost on the -edge of the box, with an air worthy of a turkey, at the very least. -Having brought in a lamp, he has opened his eyes round and wide, and sits -cocking his little head at me reflectively.” - -When the weather cleared away, and the sun came out bright, Hum became -entirely well, and seemed resolved to take the measure of his new life -with us. Our windows were closed in the lower part of the sash by frames -with mosquito gauze, so that the sun and air found free admission, and -yet our little rover could not pass out. On the first sunny day he took -an exact survey of our apartment from ceiling to floor, humming about, -examining every point with his bill,—all the crevices, mouldings, each -little indentation in the bed-posts, each window-pane, each chair and -stand; and, as it was a very simply furnished seaside apartment, his -scrutiny was soon finished. We wondered, at first, what this was all -about; but, on watching him more closely, we found that he was actively -engaged in getting his living, by darting out his long tongue hither -and thither, and drawing in all the tiny flies and insects which in -summer-time are to be found in an apartment. In short, we found that, -though the nectar of flowers was his dessert, yet he had his roast beef -and mutton-chop to look after, and that his bright, brilliant blood was -not made out of a simple vegetarian diet. Very shrewd and keen he was, -too, in measuring the size of insects before he attempted to swallow -them. The smallest class were whisked off with lightning speed; but about -larger ones he would sometimes wheel and hum for some minutes, darting -hither and thither, and surveying them warily; and if satisfied that -they could be carried, he would come down with a quick, central dart -which would finish the unfortunate at a snap. The larger flies seemed to -irritate him,—especially when they intimated to him that his plumage -was sugary, by settling on his wings and tail; when he would lay about -him spitefully, wielding his bill like a sword. A grasshopper that -strayed in, and was sunning himself on the window-seat, gave him great -discomposure. Hum evidently considered him an intruder, and seemed to -long to make a dive at him; but, with characteristic prudence, confined -himself to threatening movements, which did not exactly hit. He saw -evidently that he could not swallow him whole, and what might ensue from -trying him piecemeal he wisely forbore to essay. - -Hum had his own favorite places and perches. From the first day he chose -for his nightly roost a towel-line which had been drawn across the corner -over the wash-stand, where he every night established himself with one -claw in the edge of the towel and the other clasping the line, and, -ruffling up his feathers till he looked like a little chestnut-burr, he -would resign himself to the soundest sleep. He did not tuck his head -under his wing, but seemed to sink it down between his shoulders, with -his bill almost straight up in the air. One evening one of us, going to -use the towel, jarred the line, and soon after found that Hum had been -thrown from his perch, and was hanging head downward, fast asleep, still -clinging to the line. Another evening, being discomposed by somebody -coming to the towel-line after he had settled himself, he fluttered off; -but so sleepy that he had not discretion to poise himself again, and was -found clinging, like a little bunch of green floss silk, to the mosquito -netting of the window. - -A day after this we brought in a large green bough, and put it up over -the looking-glass. Hum noticed it before it had been there five minutes, -flew to it, and began a regular survey, perching now here, now there, -till he seemed to find a twig that exactly suited him; and after that -he roosted there every night. Who does not see in this change all the -signs of reflection and reason that are shown by us in thinking over our -circumstances, and trying to better them? It seemed to say in so many -words: “That towel-line is an unsafe place for a bird; I get frightened, -and wake from bad dreams to find myself head downwards; so I will find a -better roost on this twig.” - -When our little Jenny one day put on a clean white muslin gown -embellished with red sprigs, Hum flew towards her, and with his bill made -instant examination of these new appearances; and one day, being very -affectionately disposed, perched himself on her shoulder, and sat some -time. On another occasion, while Mr. A⸺ was reading, Hum established -himself on the top of his head just over the middle of his forehead, -in the precise place where our young belles have lately worn stuffed -humming-birds, making him look as if dressed out for a party. Hum’s -most favorite perch was the back of the great rocking-chair, which, -being covered by a tidy, gave some hold into which he could catch his -little claws. There he would sit, balancing himself cleverly if its -occupant chose to swing to and fro, and seeming to be listening to the -conversation or reading. - -Hum had his different moods, like human beings. On cold, cloudy, gray -days he appeared to be somewhat depressed in spirits, hummed less about -the room, and sat humped up with his feathers ruffled, looking as much -like a bird in a great-coat as possible. But on hot, sunny days, every -feather sleeked itself down, and his little body looked natty and trim, -his head alert, his eyes bright, and it was impossible to come near him, -for his agility. Then let mosquitoes and little flies look about them! -Hum snapped them up without mercy, and seemed to be all over the ceiling -in a moment, and resisted all our efforts at any personal familiarity -with a saucy alacrity. - -Hum had his established institutions in our room, the chief of which -was a tumbler with a little sugar and water mixed in it, and a spoon -laid across, out of which he helped himself whenever he felt in the -mood,—sitting on the edge of the tumbler, and dipping his long bill, -and lapping with his little forked tongue like a kitten. When he found -his spoon accidentally dry, he would stoop over and dip his bill in the -water in the tumbler,—which caused the prophecy on the part of some -of his guardians, that he would fall in some day and be drowned. For -which reason it was agreed to keep only an inch in depth of the fluid -at the bottom of the tumbler. A wise precaution this proved; for the -next morning I was awaked, not by the usual hum over my head, but by -a sharp little flutter, and found Mr. Hum beating his wings in the -tumbler,—having actually tumbled in during his energetic efforts to get -his morning coffee before I was awake. - -[Illustration] - -Hum seemed perfectly happy and satisfied in his quarters,—but one day, -when the door was left open, made a dart out, and so into the open -sunshine. Then, to be sure, we thought we had lost him. We took the -mosquito netting out of all the windows, and, setting his tumbler of -sugar and water in a conspicuous place, went about our usual occupations. -We saw him joyous and brisk among the honeysuckles outside the window, -and it was gravely predicted that he would return no more. But at -dinner-time in came Hum, familiar as possible, and sat down to his spoon -as if nothing had happened; instantly we closed our windows and had him -secure once more. - -At another time I was going to ride to the Atlantic House, about a mile -from my boarding-place. I left all secure, as I supposed, at home. While -gathering moss on the walls there, I was surprised by a little green -humming-bird flying familiarly right towards my face, and humming above -my head. I called out, “Here is Hum’s very brother.” But, on returning -home, I saw that the door of the room was open, and Hum was gone. Now -certainly we gave him up for lost. I sat down to painting, and in a few -minutes in flew Hum, and settled on the edge of my tumbler in a social, -confidential way, which seemed to say, “O, you’ve got back then.” After -taking his usual drink of sugar and water, he began to fly about the -ceiling as usual, and we gladly shut him in. - -When our five weeks at the seaside were up, and it was time to go home, -we had great questionings what was to be done with Hum. To get him home -with us was our desire,—but who ever heard of a humming-bird travelling -by railroad? Great were the consultings; a little basket of Indian work -was filled up with cambric handkerchiefs, and a bottle of sugar and water -provided, and we started with him for a day’s journey. When we arrived at -night the first care was to see what had become of Hum, who had not been -looked at since we fed him with sugar and water in Boston. We found him -alive and well, but so dead asleep that we could not wake him to roost; -so we put him to bed on a toilet cushion, and arranged his tumbler for -morning. The next day found him alive and humming, exploring the room -and pictures, perching now here and now there; but, as the weather was -chilly, he sat for the most part of the time in a humped-up state on the -tip of a pair of stag’s horns. We moved him to a more sunny apartment; -but, alas! the equinoctial storm came on, and there was no sun to be had -for days. Hum was blue; the pleasant seaside days were over; his room -was lonely, the pleasant three that had enlivened the apartment at Rye -no longer came in and out; evidently he was lonesome, and gave way to -depression. One chilly morning he managed again to fall into his tumbler, -and wet himself through; and notwithstanding warm bathings and tender -nursings, the poor little fellow seemed to get diphtheria, or something -quite as bad for humming-birds. - -We carried him to a neighboring sunny parlor, where ivy embowers all the -walls, and the sun lies all day. There he revived a little, danced up -and down, perched on a green spray that was wreathed across the breast -of a Psyche, and looked then like a little flitting soul returning to -its rest. Towards evening he drooped; and, having been nursed and warmed -and cared for, he was put to sleep on a green twig laid on the piano. In -that sleep the little head drooped—nodded—fell; and little Hum went where -other bright dreams go,—to the Land of the Hereafter. - - - - -OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. - - -We have just built our house in rather an out-of-the-way place,—on -the bank of a river, and under the shade of a patch of woods which is -a veritable remain of quite an ancient forest. The checkerberry and -partridge-plum, with their glossy green leaves and scarlet berries, still -carpet the ground under its deep shadows; and prince’s-pine and other -kindred evergreens declare its native wildness,—for these are children of -the wild woods, that never come after plough and harrow has once broken a -soil. - -When we tried to look out the spot for our house, we had to get a -surveyor to go before us and cut a path through the dense underbrush that -was laced together in a general network of boughs and leaves, and grew so -high as to overtop our heads. Where the house stands, four or five great -old oaks and chestnuts had to be cut away to let it in; and now it stands -on the bank of the river, the edges of which are still overhung with old -forest-trees, chestnuts and oaks, which look at themselves in the glassy -stream. - -A little knoll near the house was chosen for a garden-spot; a dense, -dark mass of trees above, of bushes in mid-air, and of all sorts of -ferns and wild-flowers and creeping vines on the ground. All these had -to be cleared out, and a dozen great trees cut down and dragged off to -a neighboring saw-mill, there to be transformed into boards to finish -off our house. Then, fetching a great machine, such as might be used -to pull a giant’s teeth, with ropes, pulleys, oxen, and men, and might -and main, we pulled out the stumps, with their great prongs and their -network of roots and fibres; and then, alas! we had to begin with all the -pretty wild, lovely bushes, and the checkerberries and ferns and wild -blackberries and huckleberry-bushes, and dig them up remorselessly, that -we might plant our corn and squashes. And so we got a house and a garden -right out of the heart of our piece of wild wood, about a mile from the -city of H⸺. - -Well, then, people said it was a lonely place, and far from neighbors,—by -which they meant that it was a good way for them to come to see us. But -we soon found that whoever goes into the woods to live finds neighbors of -a new kind, and some to whom it is rather hard to become accustomed. - -For instance, on a fine day early in April, as we were crossing over to -superintend the building of our house, we were startled by a striped -snake, with his little bright eyes, raising himself to look at us, and -putting out his red, forked tongue. Now there is no more harm in these -little garden-snakes than there is in a robin or a squirrel; they are -poor little, peaceable, timid creatures, which could not do any harm if -they would; but the prejudices of society are so strong against them, -that one does not like to cultivate too much intimacy with them. So -we tried to turn out of our path into a tangle of bushes; and there, -instead of one, we found four snakes. We turned on the other side, and -there were two more. In short, everywhere we looked, the dry leaves were -rustling and coiling with them; and we were in despair. In vain we said -that they were harmless as kittens, and tried to persuade ourselves -that their little bright eyes were pretty, and that their serpentine -movements were in the exact line of beauty; for the life of us, we could -not help remembering their family name and connections; we thought of -those disagreeable gentlemen, the anacondas, the rattlesnakes, and the -copperheads, and all of that bad line, immediate family friends of the -old serpent to whom we are indebted for all the mischief that is done -in this world. So we were quite apprehensive when we saw how our new -neighborhood was infested by them, until a neighbor calmed our fears -by telling us that snakes always crawled out of their holes to sun -themselves in the spring, and that in a day or two they would all be gone. - -So it proved. It was evident they were all out merely to do their spring -shopping, or something that serves with them the same purpose that -spring shopping does with us; and where they went afterwards we do not -know. People speak of snakes’ holes, and we have seen them disappearing -into such subterranean chambers; but we never opened one to see what sort -of underground housekeeping went on there. After the first few days of -spring, a snake was a rare visitor, though now and then one appeared. - -One was discovered taking his noontide repast one day in a manner which -excited much prejudice. He was, in fact, regaling himself by sucking down -into his maw a small frog, which he had begun to swallow at the toes, and -had drawn about half down. The frog, it must be confessed, seemed to view -this arrangement with great indifference, making no struggle, and sitting -solemnly, with his great unwinking eyes, to be sucked in at the leisure -of his captor. There was immense sympathy, however, excited for him in -the family circle; and it was voted that a snake which indulged in such -very disagreeable modes of eating his dinner was not to be tolerated in -our vicinity. So I have reason to believe that that was his last meal. - -Another of our wild woodland neighbors made us some trouble. It was no -other than a veritable woodchuck, whose hole we had often wondered at -when we were scrambling through the underbrush after spring flowers. -The hole was about the size of a peck-measure, and had two openings -about six feet apart. The occupant was a gentleman we never had had the -pleasure of seeing; but we soon learned his existence from his ravages in -our garden. He had a taste, it appears, for the very kind of things we -wanted to eat ourselves, and helped himself without asking. We had a row -of fine, crisp heads of lettuce, which were the pride of our gardening, -and out of which he would from day to day select for his table just the -plants we had marked for ours. He also nibbled our young beans; and so at -last we were reluctantly obliged to let John Gardiner set a trap for him. -Poor old simple-minded hermit, he was too artless for this world! He was -caught at the very first snap, and found dead in the trap,—the agitation -and distress having broken his poor woodland heart, and killed him. We -were grieved to the very soul when the poor fat old fellow was dragged -out, with his useless paws standing up stiff and imploring. As it was, he -was given to Denis, our pig, which, without a single scruple of delicacy, -ate him up as thoroughly as he ate up the lettuce. - -This business of eating, it appears, must go on all through creation. We -eat ducks, turkeys, and chickens, though we don’t swallow them whole, -feathers and all. Our four-footed friends, less civilized, take things -with more directness and simplicity, and chew each other up without -ceremony, or swallow each other alive. Of these unceremonious habits we -had other instances. - -Our house had a central court on the southern side, into which looked -the library, dining-room, and front hall, as well as several of the -upper chambers. It was designed to be closed in with glass, to serve as -a conservatory in winter; and meanwhile we had filled it with splendid -plumy ferns, taken up out of the neighboring wood. In the centre was a -fountain surrounded by stones, shells, mosses, and various water-plants. -We had bought three little goldfish to swim in our basin; and the spray -of it, as it rose in the air and rippled back into the water, was the -pleasantest possible sound of a hot day. We used to lie on the sofa -in the hall, and look into the court, and fancy we saw some scene of -fairy-land, and water-sprites coming up from the fountain. Suddenly a -new-comer presented himself,—no other than an immense bullfrog, that had -hopped up from the neighboring river, apparently with a view to making a -permanent settlement in and about our fountain. He was to be seen, often -for hours, sitting reflectively on the edge of it, beneath the broad -shadow of the calla-leaves. When sometimes missed thence, he would be -found under the ample shield of a great bignonia, whose striped leaves -grew hard by. - -[Illustration] - -The family were prejudiced against him. What did he want there? It was -surely some sinister motive impelled him. He was probably watching for -an opportunity to gobble up the goldfish. We took his part, however, -and strenuously defended his moral character, and patronized him in -all ways. We gave him the name of Unke, and maintained that he was a -well-conducted, philosophical old water-sprite, who showed his good taste -in wanting to take up his abode in our conservatory. We even defended his -personal appearance, praised the invisible-green coat which he wore on -his back, and his gray vest, and solemn gold spectacles; and though he -always felt remarkably slimy when we touched him, yet, as he would sit -still, and allow us to stroke his head and pat his back, we concluded his -social feelings might be warm, notwithstanding a cold exterior. Who knew, -after all, but he might be a beautiful young prince, enchanted there -till the princess should come to drop the golden ball into the fountain, -and so give him a chance to marry her, and turn into a man again? Such -things, we are credibly informed, are matters of frequent occurrence in -Germany. Why not here? - -By and by there came to our fountain another visitor,—a frisky, green -young frog of the identical kind spoken of by the poet:— - - “There was a frog lived in a well, - Rig dum pully metakimo.” - -This thoughtless, dapper individual, with his bright green coat, his -faultless white vest, and sea-green tights, became rather the popular -favorite. He seemed just rakish and gallant enough to fulfil the -conditions of the song:— - - “The frog he would a courting ride, - With sword and pistol by his side.” - -This lively young fellow, whom we shall Cri-Cri, like other frisky and -gay young people, carried the day quite over the head of the solemn old -philosopher under the calla-leaves. At night, when all was still, he -would trill a joyous little note in his throat, while old Unke would -answer only with a cracked gutteral more singular than agreeable; and to -all outward appearance the two were as good friends as their different -natures would allow. - -One day, however, the conservatory became a scene of a tragedy of the -deepest dye. We were summoned below by shrieks and howls of horror. “Do -pray come down and see what this vile, nasty, horrid old frog has been -doing!” Down we came; and there sat our virtuous old philosopher, with -his poor little brother’s hind legs still sticking out of the corner -of his mouth, as if he were smoking them for a cigar, all helplessly -palpitating as they were. In fact, our solemn old friend had done what -many a solemn hypocrite before has done,—swallowed his poor brother, neck -and crop,—and sat there with the most brazen indifference, looking as if -he had done the most proper and virtuous thing in the world. - -Immediately he was marched out of the conservatory at the point of the -walking-stick, and made to hop down into the river, into whose waters -he splashed; and we saw him no more. We regret to say that the popular -indignation was so precipitate in its results; otherwise the special -artist who sketched Hum, the son of Buz, intended to have made a sketch -of the old villain, as he sat with his luckless victim’s hind legs -projecting from his solemn mouth. With all his moral faults, he was a -good sitter, and would probably have sat immovable any length of time -that could be desired. - -Of other woodland neighbors there were some which we saw occasionally. -The shores of the river were lined here and there with the holes of the -muskrats; and, in rowing by their settlements, we were sometimes strongly -reminded of them by the overpowering odor of the perfume from which they -get their name. There were also owls, whose nests were high up in some of -the old chestnut-trees. Often in the lonely hours of the night we could -hear them gibbering with a sort of wild, hollow laugh among the distant -trees. But one tenant of the woods made us some trouble in the autumn. -It was a little flying-squirrel, who took to making excursions into -our house in the night season, coming down chimney into the chambers, -rustling about among the clothes, cracking nuts or nibbling at any -morsels of anything that suited his fancy. For a long time the inmates of -the rooms were awakened in the night by mysterious noises, thumps, and -rappings, and so lighted candles, and searched in vain to find whence -they came; for the moment any movement was made, the rogue whipped up -chimney, and left us a prey to the most mysterious alarms. What could it -be? - -But one night our fine gentleman bounced in at the window of another -room, which had no fireplace; and the fair occupant, rising in the night, -shut the window, without suspecting that she had cut off the retreat -of any of her woodland neighbors. The next morning she was startled by -what she thought a gray rat running past her bed. She rose to pursue -him, when he ran up the wall, and clung against the plastering, showing -himself very plainly a gray flying-squirrel, with large, soft eyes, and -wings which consisted of a membrane uniting the fore paws to the hind -ones, like those of a bat. He was chased into the conservatory, and, a -window being opened, out he flew upon the ground, and made away for his -native woods, and thus put an end to many fears as to the nature of our -nocturnal rappings. - -So you see how many neighbors we found by living in the woods, and, after -all, no worse ones than are found in the great world. - - - - -OUR DOGS. - - -I. - -We who live in Cunopolis are a dog-loving family. We have a warm side -towards everything that goes upon four paws, and the consequence has been -that, taking things first and last, we have been always kept in confusion -and under the paw, so to speak, of some honest four-footed tyrant, who -would go beyond his privilege and overrun the whole house. Years ago -this begun, when our household consisted of a papa, a mamma, and three -or four noisy boys and girls, and a kind Miss Anna who acted as a second -mamma to the whole. There was also one more of our number, the youngest, -dear little bright-eyed Charley, who was king over us all, and rode in a -wicker wagon for a chariot, and had a nice little nurse devoted to him; -and it was through him that our first dog came. - -One day Charley’s nurse took him quite a way to a neighbor’s house to -spend the afternoon; and, he being well amused, they stayed till after -nightfall. The kind old lady of the mansion was concerned that the little -prince in his little coach, with his little maid, had to travel so far -in the twilight shadows, and so she called a big dog named Carlo, and -gave the establishment into his charge. - -Carlo was a great, tawny-yellow mastiff, as big as a calf, with great, -clear, honest eyes, and stiff, wiry hair; and the good lady called him to -the side of the little wagon, and said, “Now, Carlo, you must take good -care of Charley, and you mustn’t let anything hurt him.” - -Carlo wagged his tail in promise of protection, and away he trotted, home -with the wicker wagon; and when he arrived, he was received with so much -applause by four little folks, who dearly loved the very sight of a dog, -he was so stroked and petted and caressed, that he concluded that he -liked the place better than the home he came from, where were only very -grave elderly people. He tarried all night, and slept at the foot of the -boys’ bed, who could hardly go to sleep for the things they found to say -to him, and who were awake ever so early in the morning, stroking his -rough, tawny back, and hugging him. - -At his own home Carlo had a kennel all to himself, where he was expected -to live quite alone, and do duty by watching and guarding the place. -Nobody petted him, or stroked his rough hide, or said, “Poor dog!” to -him, and so it appears he had a feeling that he was not appreciated, -and liked our warm-hearted little folks, who told him stories, gave him -half of their own supper, and took him to bed with them sociably. Carlo -was a dog that had a mind of his own, though he couldn’t say much about -it, and in his dog fashion proclaimed his likes and dislikes quite as -strongly as if he could speak. When the time came for taking him home, -he growled and showed his teeth dangerously at the man who was sent for -him, and it was necessary to drag him back by force, and tie him into -his kennel. However, he soon settled that matter by gnawing the rope -in two and padding down again and appearing among his little friends, -quite to their delight. Two or three times was he taken back and tied -or chained; but he howled so dismally, and snapped at people in such a -misanthropic manner, that finally the kind old lady thought it better to -have no dog at all than a dog soured by blighted affection. So she loosed -his rope, and said, “There, Carlo, go and stay where you like”; and so -Carlo came to us, and a joy and delight was he to all in the house. He -loved one and all; but he declared himself as more than all the slave -and property of our little Prince Charley. He would lie on the floor as -still as a door-mat, and let him pull his hair, and roll over him, and -examine his eyes with his little fat fingers; and Carlo submitted to all -these personal freedoms with as good an understanding as papa himself. -When Charley slept, Carlo stretched himself along under the crib; rising -now and then, and standing with his broad breast on a level with the -slats of the crib, he would look down upon him with an air of grave -protection. He also took a great fancy to papa, and would sometimes pat -with tiptoe care into his study, and sit quietly down by him when he was -busy over his Greek or Latin books, waiting for a word or two of praise -or encouragement. If none came, he would lay his rough horny paw on his -knee, and look in his face with such an honest, imploring expression, -that the professor was forced to break off to say, “Why, Carlo, you -poor, good, honest fellow,—did he want to be talked to?—so he did. Well, -he shall be talked to;—he’s a nice, good dog”;—and during all these -praises Carlo’s transports and the thumps of his rough tail are not to be -described. - -[Illustration] - -He had great, honest yellowish-brown eyes,—not remarkable for their -beauty, but which used to look as if he longed to speak, and he seemed -to have a yearning for praise and love and caresses that even all our -attentions could scarcely satisfy. His master would say to him sometimes, -“Carlo, you poor, good, homely dog,—how loving you are!” - -Carlo was a full-blooded mastiff, and his beauty, if he had any, -consisted in his having all the good points of his race. He was a dog of -blood, come of real old mastiff lineage; his stiff, wiry hair, his big, -rough paws, and great brawny chest, were all made for strength rather -than beauty; but for all that he was a dog of tender sentiments. Yet, if -any one intruded on his rights and dignities, Carlo showed that he had -hot blood in him; his lips would go back, and show a glistening row of -ivories, that one would not like to encounter, and if any trenched on -his privileges, he would give a deep warning growl,—as much as to say, -“I am your slave for love, but you must treat me well, or I shall be -dangerous.” A blow he would not bear from any one: the fire would flash -from his great yellow eyes, and he would snap like a rifle;—yet he would -let his own Prince Charley pound on his ribs with both baby fists, and -pull his tail till he yelped, without even a show of resistance. - -At last came a time when the merry voice of little Charley was heard no -more, and his little feet no more pattered through the halls; he lay pale -and silent in his little crib, with his dear life ebbing away, and no one -knew how to stop its going. Poor old Carlo lay under the crib when they -would let him, sometimes rising up to look in with an earnest, sorrowful -face; and sometimes he would stretch himself out in the entry before the -door of little Charley’s room, watching with his great open eyes lest the -thief should come in the night to steal away our treasure. - -But one morning when the children woke, one little soul had gone in the -night,—gone upward to the angels; and then the cold, pale little form -that used to be the life of the house was laid away tenderly in the yard -of a neighboring church. - -Poor old Carlo would pit-pat silently about the house in those days of -grief, looking first into one face and then another, but no one could -tell him where his gay little master had gone. The other children had hid -the baby-wagon away in the lumber-room lest their mamma should see it; -and so passed a week or two, and Carlo saw no trace of Charley about the -house. But then a lady in the neighborhood, who had a sick baby, sent to -borrow the wicker wagon, and it was taken from its hiding-place to go to -her. Carlo came to the door just as it was being drawn out of the gate -into the street. Immediately he sprung, cleared the fence with a great -bound, and ran after it. He overtook it, and poked his nose between the -curtains,—there was no one there. Immediately he turned away, and padded -dejectedly home. What words could have spoken plainer of love and memory -than this one action? - -Carlo lived with us a year after this, when a time came for the whole -family hive to be taken up and moved away from the flowery banks of the -Ohio, to the piny shores of Maine. All our household goods were being -uprooted, disordered, packed, and sold; and the question daily arose, -“What shall we do with Carlo?” There was hard begging on the part of the -boys that he might go with them, and one even volunteered to travel all -the way in baggage cars to keep Carlo company. But papa said no, and so -it was decided to send Carlo up the river to the home of a very genial -lady who had visited in our family, and who appreciated his parts, and -offered him a home in hers. - -The matter was anxiously talked over one day in the family circle while -Carlo lay under the table, and it was agreed that papa and Willie should -take him to the steamboat landing the next morning. But the next morning -Mr. Carlo was nowhere to be found. In vain was he called, from garret -to cellar; nor was it till papa and Willie had gone to the city that he -came out of his hiding-place. For two or three days it was impossible to -catch him, but after a while his suspicions were laid, and we learned not -to speak out our plans in his presence, and so the transfer at last was -prosperously effected. - -We heard from him once in his new home, as being a highly appreciated -member of society, and adorning his new situation with all sorts of dog -virtues, while we wended our ways to the coast of Maine. But our hearts -were sore for want of him; the family circle seemed incomplete, until a -new favorite appeared to take his place, of which I shall tell you next -month. - - -II. - -A neighbor, blessed with an extensive litter of Newfoundland pups, -commenced one chapter in our family history by giving us a puppy, brisk, -funny, and lively enough, who was received in our house with acclamations -of joy, and christened “Rover.” An auspicious name we all thought, -for his four or five human playfellows were all rovers,—rovers in the -woods, rovers by the banks of a neighboring patch of water, where they -dashed and splashed, made rafts, inaugurated boats, and lived among the -cat-tails and sweet flags as familiarly as so many muskrats. Rovers also -they were, every few days, down to the shores of the great sea, where -they caught fish, rowed boats, dug clams,—both girls and boys,—and one -sex quite as handily as the other. Rover came into such a lively circle -quite as one of them, and from the very first seemed to regard himself -as part and parcel of all that was going on, in doors or out. But his -exuberant spirits at times brought him into sad scrapes. His vivacity was -such as to amount to decided insanity,—and mamma and Miss Anna and papa -had many grave looks over his capers. Once he actually tore off the leg -of a new pair of trousers that Johnny had just donned, and came racing -home with it in his mouth, with its bare-legged little owner behind, -screaming threats and maledictions on the robber. What a commotion! -The new trousers had just been painfully finished, in those days when -sewing was sewing, and not a mere jig on a sewing-machine; but Rover, -so far from being abashed or ashamed, displayed an impish glee in his -performance, bounding and leaping hither and thither with his trophy in -his mouth, now growling and mangling it, and shaking it at us in elfish -triumph as we chased him hither and thither,—over the wood-pile, into the -wood-house, through the barn, out of the stable door,—vowing all sorts -of dreadful punishments when we caught him. But we might well say that, -for the little wretch would never be caught; after one of his tricks, he -always managed to keep himself out of arm’s length till the thing was a -little blown over, when in he would come, airy as ever, and wagging his -little pudgy puppy tail with an air of the most perfect assurance in the -world. - -There is no saying what youthful errors were pardoned to him. Once he -ate a hole in the bed-quilt as his night’s employment, when one of -the boys had surreptitiously got him into bed with them; he nibbled -and variously maltreated sundry sheets; and once actually tore up and -chewed off a corner of the bedroom carpet, to stay his stomach during the -night season. What he did it for, no mortal knows; certainly it could -not be because he was hungry, for there were five little pairs of hands -incessantly feeding him from morning till night. Beside which, he had a -boundless appetite for shoes, which he mumbled, and shook, and tore, and -ruined, greatly to the vexation of their rightful owners,—rushing in and -carrying them from the bedsides in the night-watches, racing off with -them to any out-of-the-way corner that hit his fancy, and leaving them -when he was tired of the fun. So there is no telling of the disgrace into -which he brought his little masters and mistresses, and the tears and -threats and scoldings which were all wasted on him, as he would stand -quite at his ease, lolling out his red, saucy tongue, and never deigning -to tell what he had done with his spoils. - -Notwithstanding all these sins, Rover grew up to dog-hood, the pride and -pet of the family,—and in truth a very handsome dog he was. - -[Illustration] - -It is quite evident from his looks that his Newfoundland blood had been -mingled with that of some other races; for he never attained the full -size of that race, and his points in some respects resembled those of a -good setter. He was grizzled black and white, and spotted on the sides in -little inky drops about the size of a three-cent piece; his hair was long -and silky, his ears beautifully fringed, and his tail long and feathery. -His eyes were bright, soft, and full of expression, and a jollier, -livelier, more loving creature never wore dog-skin. To be sure, his -hunting blood sometimes brought us and him into scrapes. A neighbor now -and then would call with a bill for ducks, chickens, or young turkeys, -which Rover had killed. The last time this occurred it was decided that -something must be done; so Rover was shut up a whole day in a cold -lumber-room, with the murdered duck tied round his neck. Poor fellow! how -dejected and ashamed he looked, and how grateful he was when his little -friends would steal in to sit with him, and “poor” him in his disgrace! -The punishment so improved his principles that he let poultry alone from -that time, except now and then, when he would snap up a young chick or -turkey, in pure absence of mind, before he really knew what he was about. -We had great dread lest he should take to killing sheep, of which there -were many flocks in the neighborhood. A dog which once kills sheep is -a doomed beast,—as much as a man who has committed murder; and if our -Rover, through the hunting blood that was in him, should once mistake a -sheep for a deer, and kill him, we should be obliged to give him up to -justice,—all his good looks and good qualities could not save him. - -What anxieties his training under this head cost us! When we were driving -out along the clean sandy roads, among the piny groves of Maine, it was -half our enjoyment to see Rover, with ears and tail wild and flying -with excitement and enjoyment, bounding and barking, now on this side -the carriage, now on that,—now darting through the woods straight as -an arrow, in his leaps after birds or squirrels, and anon returning to -trot obediently by the carriage, and, wagging his tail, to ask applause -for his performances. But anon a flock of sheep appeared in a distant -field, and away would go Rover in full bow-wow, plunging in among them, -scattering them hither and thither in dire confusion. Then Johnny and -Bill and all hands would spring from the carriage in full chase of -the rogue; and all of us shouted vainly in the rear; and finally the -rascal would be dragged back, panting and crestfallen, to be admonished, -scolded, and cuffed with salutary discipline, heartily administered by -his best friends for the sake of saving his life. “Rover, you naughty -dog! Don’t you know you mustn’t chase the sheep? You’ll be killed, -some of these days.” Admonitions of this kind, well shaken and thumped -in, at last seemed to reform him thoroughly. He grew so conscientious, -that, when a flock of sheep appeared on the side of the road, he would -immediately go to the other side of the carriage, and turn away his head, -rolling up his eyes meanwhile to us for praise at his extraordinary good -conduct. “Good dog, Rove! nice dog! good fellow! he doesn’t touch the -sheep,—no, he doesn’t.” Such were the rewards of virtue which sweetened -his self-denial; hearing which, he would plume up his feathery tail, and -loll out his tongue, with an air of virtuous assurance quite edifying to -behold. - -Another of Rover’s dangers was a habit he had of running races and -cutting capers with the railroad engines as they passed near our dwelling. - -We lived in plain sight of the track, and three or four times a day the -old, puffing, smoky iron horse thundered by, dragging his trains of cars, -and making the very ground shake under him. Rover never could resist -the temptation to run and bark, and race with so lively an antagonist; -and, to say the truth, John and Willy were somewhat of his mind,—so -that, though they were directed to catch and hinder him, they entered -so warmly into his own feelings that they never succeeded in breaking -up the habit. Every day when the distant whistle was heard, away would -go Rover, out of the door or through the window,—no matter which,—race -down to meet the cars, couch down on the track in front of them, barking -with all his might, as if it were only a fellow-dog, and when they came -so near that escape seemed utterly impossible, he would lie flat down -between the rails and suffer the whole train to pass over him, and then -jump up and bark, full of glee, in the rear. Sometimes he varied this -performance more dangerously by jumping out full tilt between two middle -cars when the train had passed half-way over him. Everybody predicted, -of course, that he would be killed or maimed, and the loss of a paw, or -of his fine, saucy tail, was the least of the dreadful things which were -prophesied about him. But Rover lived and throve in his imprudent courses -notwithstanding. - -The engineers and firemen, who began by throwing sticks of wood and bits -of coal at him, at last were quite subdued by his successful impudence, -and came to consider him as a regular institution of the railroad, and, -if any family excursion took him off for a day, they would inquire with -interest, “Where’s our dog?—what’s become of Rover?” As to the female -part of our family, we had so often anticipated piteous scenes when poor -Rover would be brought home with broken paws or without his pretty tail, -that we quite used up our sensibilities, and concluded that some kind -angel, such as is appointed to watch over little children’s pets, must -take special care of our Rover. - -Rover had very tender domestic affections. His attachment to his little -playfellows was most intense; and one time, when all of them were taken -off together on a week’s excursion, and Rover left alone at home, his low -spirits were really pitiful. He refused entirely to eat for the first -day, and finally could only be coaxed to take nourishment, with many -strokings and caresses, by being fed out of Miss Anna’s own hand. What -perfectly boisterous joy he showed when the children came back!—careering -round and round, picking up chips and bits of sticks, and coming and -offering them to one and another, in the fulness of his doggish heart, to -show how much he wanted to give them something. - -This mode of signifying his love by bringing something in his mouth -was one of his most characteristic tricks. At one time he followed the -carriage from Brunswick to Bath, and in the streets of the city somehow -lost his way, so that he was gone all night. Many a little heart went -to bed anxious and sorrowful for the loss of its shaggy playfellow that -night, and Rover doubtless was remembered in many little prayers; what, -therefore, was the joy of being awakened by a joyful barking under -the window the next morning, when his little friends rushed in their -nightgowns to behold Rover back again, fresh and frisky, bearing in his -mouth a branch of a tree about six feet long, as his offering of joy. - -When the family removed to Zion Hill, Rover went with them, the trusty -and established family friend. Age had somewhat matured his early -friskiness. Perhaps the grave neighborhood of a theological seminary -and the responsibility of being a Professor’s dog might have something -to do with it, but Rover gained an established character as a dog of -respectable habits, and used to march to the post-office at the heels of -his master twice a day, as regularly as any theological student. - -Little Charley the second—the youngest of the brood, who took the place -of our lost little Prince Charley—was yet padding about in short robes, -and seemed to regard Rover in the light of a discreet older brother, and -Rover’s manners to him were of most protecting gentleness. Charley seemed -to consider Rover in all things as such a model, that he overlooked the -difference between a dog and a boy, and wearied himself with fruitless -attempts to scratch his ear with his foot as Rover did, and one day was -brought in dripping from a neighboring swamp, where he had been lying -down in the water, because Rover did. - -Once in a while a wild oat or two from Rover’s old sack would seem to -entangle him. Sometimes, when we were driving out, he would, in his races -after the carriage, make a flying leap into a farmer’s yard, and, if he -lighted in a flock of chickens or turkeys, gobble one off-hand, and be -off again and a mile ahead before the mother hen had recovered from her -astonishment. Sometimes, too, he would have a race with the steam-engine -just for old acquaintance’ sake. But these were comparatively transient -follies; in general, no members of the grave institutions around him -behaved with more dignity and decorum than Rover. He tried to listen to -his master’s theological lectures, and to attend chapel on Sundays; but -the prejudices of society were against him, and so he meekly submitted to -be shut out, and waited outside the door on these occasions. - -He formed a part of every domestic scene. At family prayers, stretched -out beside his master, he looked up reflectively with his great soft -eyes, and seemed to join in the serious feeling of the hour. When all -were gay, when singing, or frolicking, or games were going on, Rover -barked and frisked in higher glee than any. At night it was his joy to -stretch his furry length by our bedside, where he slept with one ear on -cock for any noise which it might be his business to watch and attend to. -It was a comfort to hear the tinkle of his collar when he moved in the -night, or to be wakened by his cold nose pushed against one’s hand if one -slept late in the morning. And then he was always so glad when we woke; -and when any member of the family circle was gone for a few days, Rover’s -warm delight and welcome were not the least of the pleasures of return. - -And what became of him? Alas! the fashion came up of poisoning dogs, and -this poor, good, fond, faithful creature was enticed into swallowing -poisoned meat. One day he came in suddenly, ill and frightened, and -ran to the friends who always had protected him,—but in vain. In a -few moments he was in convulsions, and all the tears and sobs of his -playfellows could not help him; he closed his bright, loving eyes, and -died in their arms. - -If those who throw poison to dogs could only see the real grief it brings -into a family to lose the friend and playfellow who has grown up with -the children, and shared their plays, and been for years in every family -scene,—if they could know how sorrowful it is to see the poor dumb friend -suffer agonies which they cannot relieve,—if they could see all this, we -have faith to believe they never would do so more. - -Our poor Rover was buried with decent care near the house, and a mound of -petunias over him kept his memory ever bright; but it will be long before -his friends will get another as true. - - -III. - -After the sad fate of Rover, there came a long interval in which we had -no dog. Our hearts were too sore to want another. His collar, tied with -black crape, hung under a pretty engraving of Landseer’s, called “My -Dog,” which we used to fancy to be an exact resemblance of our pet. - -The children were some of them grown up and gone to school, or scattered -about the world. If ever the question of another dog was agitated, papa -cut it short with, “I won’t have another; I won’t be made to feel again -as I did about Rover.” But somehow Mr. Charley the younger got his eye on -a promising litter of puppies, and at last he begged papa into consenting -that he might have one of them. - -It was a little black mongrel, of no particular race or breed,—a mere -common cur, without any pretensions to family, but the best-natured, -jolliest little low-bred pup that ever boy had for a playmate. To be -sure, he had the usual puppy sins; he would run away with papa’s slippers -and boots, and stockings; he would be under everybody’s feet, at the -most inconvenient moment; he chewed up a hearth-broom or two, and pulled -one of Charley’s caps to pieces in the night, with an industry worthy of -a better cause;—still, because he was dear to Charley, papa and mamma -winked very hard at his transgressions. - -The name of this little black individual was Stromion—a name taken from -a German fairy tale, which the Professor was very fond of reading in the -domestic circle; and Stromion, by dint of much patience, much feeding, -and very indulgent treatment, grew up into a very fat, common-looking -black cur dog, not very prepossessing in appearance and manners, but -possessed of the very best heart in the world, and most inconceivably -affectionate and good-natured. Sometimes some of the older members of the -family would trouble Charley’s enjoyment in his playfellow by suggesting -that he was no blood dog, and that he belonged to no particular dog -family that could be named. Papa comforted him by the assurance that -Stromion did belong to a very old and respectable breed,—that he was a -_mongrel_; and Charley after that valued him excessively under this head; -and if any one tauntingly remarked that Stromion was only a cur, he would -flame up in his defence,—“He isn’t a cur, he’s a mongrel,” introducing -him to strangers with the addition to all his other virtues, that he was -a “pure mongrel,—papa says so.” - -The edict against dogs in the family having once been broken down, Master -Will proceeded to gratify his own impulses, and soon led home to the -family circle an enormous old black Newfoundland, of pure breed, which -had been presented him by a man who was leaving the place, Prince was -in the decline of his days, but a fine, majestic old fellow. He had a -sagacity and capacity of personal affection which were uncommon. Many -dogs will change from master to master without the least discomposure. -A good bone will compensate for any loss of the heart, and make a new -friend seem quite as good as an old one. But Prince had his affections -quite as distinctly as a human being, and we learned this to our sorrow -when he had to be weaned from his old master under our roof. His howls -and lamentations were so dismal and protracted, that the house could not -contain him; we were obliged to put him into an outhouse to compose his -mind, and we still have a vivid image of him sitting, the picture of -despair, over an untasted mutton shank, with his nose in the air, and -the most dismal howls proceeding from his mouth. Time, the comforter, -however, assuaged his grief, and he came at last to transfer all his -stores of affection to Will, and to consider himself once more as a dog -with a master. - -Prince used to inhabit his young master’s apartment, from the window of -which he would howl dismally when Will left him to go to the academy -near by, and yelp triumphant welcomes when he saw him returning. He was -really and passionately fond of music, and, though strictly forbidden the -parlor, would push and elbow his way there with dogged determination when -there was playing or singing. Any one who should have seen Prince’s air -when he had a point to carry, would understand why quiet obstinacy is -called doggedness. - -The female members of the family, seeing that two dogs had gained -admission to the circle, had cast their eyes admiringly on a charming -little Italian greyhound, that was living in doleful captivity at a -dog-fancier’s in Boston, and resolved to set him free and have him -for their own. Accordingly they returned one day in triumph, with him -in their arms,—a fair, delicate creature, white as snow, except one -mouse-colored ear. He was received with enthusiasm, and christened -Giglio; the honors of his first bath and toilette were performed by -Mademoiselles the young ladies on their knees, as if he had been in -reality young Prince Giglio from fairy-land. - -Of all beautiful shapes in dog form, never was there one more perfect -than this. His hair shone like spun glass, and his skin was as fine and -pink as that of a baby; his paws and ears were translucent like fine -china, and he had great, soft, tremulous dark eyes; his every movement -seemed more graceful than the last. Whether running or leaping, or -sitting in graceful attitudes on the parlor table among the ladies’ -embroidery-frames, with a great rose-colored bow under his throat, he was -alike a thing of beauty, and his beauty alone won all hearts to him. - -[Illustration] - -When the papa first learned that a third dog had been introduced into -the household, his patience gave way. The thing was getting desperate; -we were being overrun with dogs; our house was no more a house, but a -kennel; it ought to be called Cunopolis,—a city of dogs; he could not and -would not have it so; but papa, like most other indulgent old gentlemen, -was soon reconciled to the children’s pets. In fact, Giglio was found -cowering under the bed-clothes at the Professor’s feet not two mornings -after his arrival, and the good gentleman descended with him in his arms -to breakfast, talking to him in the most devoted manner:—“Poor little -Giglio, was he cold last night? and did he want to get into papa’s bed? -he should be brought down stairs, that he should”;—all which, addressed -to a young rascal whose sinews were all like steel, and who could have -jumped from the top stair to the bottom like a feather, was sufficiently -amusing. - -Giglio’s singular beauty and grace were his only merits; he had no -love nor power of loving; he liked to be petted and kept warm, but it -mattered nothing to him who did it. He was as ready to run off with a -stranger as with his very best friend,—would follow any whistle or any -caller,—was, in fact, such a gay rover, that we came very near losing -him many times; and more than once he was brought back from the Boston -cars, on board which he had followed a stranger. He also had, we grieve -to say, very careless habits; and after being washed white as snow, -and adorned with choice rose-colored ribbons, would be brought back -soiled and ill-smelling from a neighbor’s livery-stable, where he had -been indulging in low society. For all that, he was very lordly and -aristocratic in his airs with poor Stromion, who was a dog with a good, -loving heart, if he was black and homely. Stromion admired Giglio with -the most evident devotion; he would always get up to give him the warm -corner, and would sit humbly in the distance and gaze on him with most -longing admiration,—for all of which my fine gentleman rewarded him only -with an occasional snarl or a nip, as he went by him. Sometimes Giglio -would condescend to have a romp with Stromion for the sake of passing -the time, and then Stromion would be perfectly delighted, and frisk and -roll his clumsy body over the carpet with his graceful antagonist, all -whose motions were a study for an artist. When Giglio was tired of play, -he would give Stromion a nip that would send him yelping from the field; -and then he would tick, tick gracefully away to some embroidered ottoman -forbidden to all but himself, where he would sit graceful and classical -as some Etruscan vase, and look down superior on the humble companion who -looked up to him with respectful admiration. - -Giglio knew his own good points, and was possessed with the very spirit -of a coquette. He would sometimes obstinately refuse the caresses and -offered lap of his mistresses, and seek to ingratiate himself with some -stolid theological visitor, for no other earthly purpose that we could -see than that he was determined to make himself the object of attention. -We have seen him persist in jumping time and again on the hard, bony -knees of some man who hated dogs, and did not mean to notice him, until -he won attention and caresses, when immediately he would spring down and -tick away perfectly contented. He assumed lofty, fine-gentleman airs with -Prince also, for which sometimes he got his reward,—for Prince, the old, -remembered that he was a dog of blood, and would not take any nonsense -from him. - -Like many old dogs, Prince had a very powerful doggy smell, which was a -great personal objection to him, and Giglio was always in a civil way -making reflections upon this weak point. Prince was fond of indulging -himself with an afternoon nap on the door-mat, and sometimes when he rose -from his repose, Giglio would spring gracefully from the table where he -had been overlooking him, and, picking his way daintily to the mat, would -snuff at it, with his long, thin nose, with an air of extreme disgust. -It was evidently a dog insult, done according to the politest modes of -refined society, and said as plain as words could say,—“My dear sir, -excuse me, but can you tell what makes this peculiar smell where you have -been lying?” At any rate, Prince understood the sarcasm, for a deep angry -growl and a sharp nip would now and then teach my fine gentleman to mind -his own business. - -Giglio’s lot at last was to travel in foreign lands, for his young -mistresses, being sent to school in Paris, took him with them to finish -his education and acquire foreign graces. He was smuggled on board the -Fulton, and placed in an upper berth, well wrapped in a blanket; and the -last we saw of him was his long, thin Italian nose, and dark, tremulous -eyes looking wistfully at us from the folds of the flannel in which he -shivered. Sensitiveness to cold was one of his great peculiarities. In -winter he wore little blankets, which his fond mistresses made with -anxious care, and on which his initials were embroidered with their own -hands. In the winter weather on Zion Hill he was often severely put to it -to gratify his love of roving in the cold snows; he would hold up first -one leg, and then the other, and contrive to get along on three, so as -to save himself as much as possible; and more than once he caught severe -colds, requiring careful nursing and medical treatment to bring him round -again. - -The Fulton sailed early in March. It was chilly, stormy weather, so that -the passengers all suffered somewhat with cold, and Master Giglio was -glad to lie rolled in his blanket, looking like a sea-sick gentleman. -The captain very generously allowed him a free passage, and in pleasant -weather he used to promenade the deck, where his beauty won for him -caresses and attentions innumerable. The stewards and cooks always had -choice morsels for him, and fed him to such a degree as would have -spoiled any other dog’s figure; but his could not be spoiled. All the -ladies vied with each other in seeking his good graces, and after -dinner he pattered from one to another, to be fed with sweet things and -confectionery, and hear his own praises, like a gay buck of fashion as he -was. - -Landed in Paris, he met a warm reception at the Pension of Madame B⸺; but -ambition filled his breast. He was in the great, gay city of Paris, the -place where a handsome dog has but to appear to make his fortune, and so -Giglio resolved to seek out for himself a more brilliant destiny. - -One day, when he was being led to take the air in the court, he slipped -his leash, sped through the gate, and away down the street like the wind. -It was idle to attempt to follow him; he was gone like a bird in the air, -and left the hearts of his young mistresses quite desolate. - -Some months after, as they were one evening eating ices in the Champs -Elysées, a splendid carriage drove up, from which descended a liveried -servant, with a dog in his arms. It was Giglio, the faithless Giglio, -with his one mouse-colored ear, that marked him from all other dogs! -He had evidently accomplished his destiny, and become the darling of -rank and fashion, rode in an elegant carriage, and had a servant in -livery devoted to him. Of course he did not pretend to notice his former -friends. The footman, who had come out apparently to give him an airing, -led him up and down close by where they were sitting, and bestowed on -him the most devoted attentions. Of course there was no use in trying to -reclaim him, and so they took their last look of the fair inconstant, and -left him to his brilliant destiny. And thus ends the history of PRINCE -GIGLIO. - - -IV. - -After Prince Giglio deserted us and proved so faithless, we were for -a while determined not to have another pet. They were all good for -nothing,—all alike ungrateful; we forswore the whole race of dogs. But -the next winter we went to live in the beautiful city of Florence, in -Italy, and there, in spite of all our protestations, our hearts were -again ensnared. - -You must know that in the neighborhood of Florence is a celebrated villa, -owned by a Russian nobleman, Prince Demidoff, and that among other fine -things that are to be found there are a very nice breed of King Charles -spaniels, which are called Demidoffs, after the place. One of these, -a pretty little creature, was presented to us by a kind lady, and our -resolution against having any more pets all melted away in view of the -soft, beseeching eyes, the fine, silky ears, the glossy, wavy hair, -and bright chestnut paws of the new favorite. She was exactly such a -pretty creature as one sees painted in some of the splendid old Italian -pictures, and which Mr. Ruskin describes as belonging to the race of -“fringy paws.” The little creature was warmly received among us; an -ottoman was set apart for her to lie on; and a bright bow of green, red, -and white ribbon, the Italian colors, was prepared for her neck; and she -was christened Florence, after her native city. - -[Illustration] - -Florence was a perfect little fine lady, and a perfect -Italian,—sensitive, intelligent, nervous, passionate, and constant in her -attachments, but with a hundred little whims and fancies that required -petting and tending hourly. She was perfectly miserable if she was not -allowed to attend us in our daily drives, yet in the carriage she was so -excitable and restless, so interested to take part in everything she saw -and heard in the street, that it was all we could do to hold her in and -make her behave herself decently. She was nothing but a little bundle of -nerves, apparently all the while in a tremble of excitement about one -thing or another; she was so disconsolate if left at home, that she went -everywhere with us. She visited the picture-galleries, the museums, and -all the approved sights of Florence, and improved her mind as much as -many other young ladies who do the same. - -Then we removed from Florence to Rome, and poor Flo was direfully -sea-sick on board the steamboat, in company with all her young -mistresses, but recovered herself at Civita Vecchia, and entered Rome in -high feather. There she settled herself complacently in our new lodgings, -which were far more spacious and elegant than those we had left in -Florence, and began to claim her little rights in all the sight-seeing of -the Eternal City. - -She went with us to palaces and to ruins, scrambling up and down, hither -and thither, with the utmost show of interest. She went up all the stairs -to the top of the Capitol, except the very highest and last, where she -put on airs, whimpered, and professed such little frights, that her -mistress was forced to carry her; but once on top, she barked from right -to left,—now at the snowy top of old Soracte, now at the great, wide, -desolate plains of the Campagna, and now at the old ruins of the Roman -Forum down under our feet. Upon all she had her own opinion, and was not -backward to express herself. At other times she used to ride with us to a -beautiful country villa outside of the walls of Rome, called the Pamfili -Doria. How beautiful and lovely this place was I can scarcely tell my -little friends. There were long alleys and walks of the most beautiful -trees; there were winding paths leading to all manner of beautiful -grottos, and charming fountains, and the wide lawns used to be covered -with the most lovely flowers. There were anemones that looked like little -tulips, growing about an inch and a half high, and of all colors,—blue, -purple, lilac, pink, crimson, and white,—and there were great beds of -fragrant blue and white violets. As to the charming grace and beauty -of the fountains that were to be found here and there all through the -grounds, I could not describe them to you. They were made of marble, -carved in all sorts of fanciful devices, and grown over with green mosses -and maidenhair. - -What spirits little Miss Flo had, when once set down in these enchanting -fields! While all her mistresses were gathering lapfuls of many-colored -anemones, violets, and all sorts of beautiful things, Flo would snuff the -air, and run and race hither and thither, with her silky ears flying and -her whole little body quivering with excitement. Now she would race round -the grand basin of a fountain, and bark with all her might at the great -white swans that were swelling and ruffling their silver-white plumage, -and took her noisy attentions with all possible composure. Then she would -run off down some long side-alley after a lot of French soldiers, whose -gay red legs and blue coats seemed to please her mightily; and many a -fine chase she gave her mistresses, who were obliged to run up and down, -here, there, and everywhere, to find her when they wanted to go home -again. - -One time my lady’s friskiness brought her into quite a serious trouble, -as you shall hear. We were all going to St. Peter’s Church, and just -as we came to the bridge of St. Angelo, that crosses the Tiber, we met -quite a concourse of carriages. Up jumped my lady Florence, all alive and -busy,—for she always reckoned everything that was going on a part of her -business,—and gave such a spring that over she went, sheer out of the -carriage, into the mixed medley of carriages, horses, and people below. -We were all frightened enough, but not half so frightened as she was, -as she ran blindly down a street, followed by a perfect train of ragged -little black-eyed, black-haired boys, all shouting and screaming after -her. As soon as he could, our courier got down and ran after her, but -he might as well have chased a streak of summer lightning. She was down -the street, round the corner, and lost to view, with all the ragamuffin -tribe, men, boys, and women, after her; and so we thought we had lost -her, and came home to our lodgings very desolate in heart, when lo! our -old porter told us that a little dog that looked like ours had come -begging and whining at our street door, but before he could open it the -poor little wanderer had been chased away again and gone down the street. -After a while some very polite French soldiers picked her up in the -Piazza di Spagna,—a great public square near our dwelling, to get into -which we were obliged to go down some one or two hundred steps. We could -fancy our poor Flo, frightened and panting, flying like a meteor down -these steps, till she was brought up by the arms of a soldier below. - -Glad enough were we when the polite soldier brought her back to our -doors;—and one must say one good thing for French soldiers all the -world over, that they are the pleasantest-tempered and politest people -possible, so very tender-hearted towards all sorts of little defenceless -pets, so that our poor runaway could not have fallen into better hands. - -After this, we were careful to hold her more firmly when she had her -little nervous starts and struggles in riding about Rome. - -One day we had been riding outside of the walls of the city, and just -as we were returning home we saw coming towards us quite a number -of splendid carriages with prancing black horses. It was the Pope -and several of his cardinals coming out for an afternoon airing. The -carriages stopped, and the Pope and cardinals all got out to take a -little exercise on foot, and immediately all carriages that were in the -way drew to one side, and those of the people in them who were Roman -Catholics got out and knelt down to wait for the Pope’s blessing as he -went by. As for us, we were contented to wait sitting in the carriage. - -On came the Pope, looking like a fat, mild, kind-hearted old gentleman, -smiling and blessing the people as he went on, and the cardinals scuffing -along in the dust behind him. He walked very near to our carriage, and -Miss Florence, notwithstanding all our attempts to keep her decent, would -give a smart little bow-wow right in his face just as he was passing. -He smiled benignly, and put out his hand in sign of blessing toward our -carriage, and Florence doubtless got what she had been asking for. - -From Rome we travelled to Naples, and Miss Flo went with us through -our various adventures there,—up Mount Vesuvius, where she half choked -herself with sulphurous smoke. There is a place near Naples called the -Solfatara, which is thought to be the crater of the extinct volcano, -where there is a cave that hisses, and roars, and puffs out scalding -steam like a perpetual locomotive, and all the ground around shakes and -quivers as if it were only a crust over some terrible abyss. The pools -of water are all white with sulphur; the ground is made of sulphur -and arsenic and all such sort of uncanny matters; and we were in a -fine fright lest Miss Florence, being in one of her wildest and most -indiscreet moods, should tumble into some burning hole, or strangle -herself with sulphur; and in fact she rolled over and over in a sulphur -puddle, and then, scampering off, rolled in ashes by way of cleaning -herself. We could not, however, leave her at home during any of our -excursions, and so had to make the best of these imprudences. - -When at last the time came for us to leave Italy, we were warned that -Florence would not be allowed to travel in the railroad cars in the -French territories. All dogs, of all sizes and kinds, whose owners wish -to have travel with them, are shut up in a sort of closet by themselves, -called the dog-car; and we thought our nervous, excitable little pet -would be frightened into fits, to be separated from all her friends, -and made to travel with all sorts of strange dogs. So we determined to -smuggle her along in a basket. At Turin we bought a little black basket, -just big enough to contain her, and into it we made her go,—very sorely -against her will, as we could not explain to her the reason why. Very -guilty indeed we felt, with this travelling conveyance hung on one arm, -sitting in the waiting-room, and dreading every minute lest somebody -should see the great bright eyes peeping through the holes of the basket, -or hear the subdued little whines and howls which every now and then came -from its depths. - -Florence had been a petted lady, used to having her own way, and a -great deal of it; and this being put up in a little black basket, where -she could neither make her remarks on the scenery, nor join in the -conversation of her young mistresses, seemed to her a piece of caprice -without rhyme or reason. So every once in a while she would express -her mind on the subject by a sudden dismal little whine; and what was -specially trying, she would take the occasion to do this when the cars -stopped and all was quiet, so that everybody could hear her. Where’s -that dog?—somebody’s got a dog in here,—was the inquiry very plain to -be seen in the suspicious looks which the guard cast upon us as he put -his head into our compartment, and gazed about inquiringly. Finally, to -our great terror, a railway director, a tall, gentlemanly man, took his -seat in our very compartment, where Miss Florence’s basket garnished -the pocket above our heads, and she was in one of her most querulous -moods. At every stopping-place she gave her little sniffs and howls, and -rattled her basket so as to draw all eyes. We all tried to look innocent -and unconscious, but the polite railroad director very easily perceived -what was the matter. He looked from one anxious, half-laughing face to -the others, with a kindly twinkle in his eye, but said nothing. All the -guards and _employés_ bowed down to him, and came cap in hand at every -stopping-place to take his orders. What a relief it was to hear him say, -in a low voice, to them: “These young ladies have a little dog which they -are carrying. Take no notice of it, and do not disturb them!” Of course, -after that, though Florence barked and howled and rattled her basket, and -sometimes showed her great eyes, like two coal-black diamonds, through -its lattice-work, nobody saw and nobody heard, and we came unmolested -with her to Paris. - -After a while she grew accustomed to her little travelling carriage, and -resigned herself quietly to go to sleep in it; and so we got her from -Paris to Kent, where we stopped a few days to visit some friends in a -lovely country place called Swaylands. - -Here we had presented to us another pet, that was ever after the chosen -companion and fast friend of Florence. He was a little Skye terrier, of -the color of a Maltese cat, covered all over with fine, long, silky hair, -which hung down so evenly, that it was difficult at the first glance to -say which was his head and which his tail. But at the head end there -gleamed out a pair of great, soft, speaking eyes, that formed the only -beauty of the creature; and very beautiful they were, in their soft, -beseeching lovingness. - -Poor Rag had the tenderest heart that ever was hid in a bundle of hair; -he was fidelity and devotion itself, and used to lie at our feet in -the railroad carriages as still as a gray sheep-skin, only too happy -to be there on any terms. It would be too long to tell our travelling -adventures in England; suffice it to say, that at last we went on board -the Africa to come home, with our two pets, which had to be handed over -to the butcher, and slept on quarters of mutton and sides of beef, till -they smelt of tallow and grew fat in a most vulgar way. - -At last both of them were safely installed in the brown stone cottage in -Andover, and Rag was presented to a young lady to whom he had been sent -as a gift from England, and to whom he attached himself with the most -faithful devotion. - -Both dogs insisted on having their part of the daily walks and drives of -their young mistresses; and, when they observed them putting on their -hats, would run, and bark, and leap, and make as much noise as a family -of children clamoring for a ride. - -After a few months, Florence had three or four little puppies. Very puny -little things they were; and a fierce, nervous little mother she made. -Her eyes looked blue as burnished steel, and if anybody only set foot in -the room where her basket was, her hair would bristle, and she would bark -so fiercely as to be quite alarming. For all that, her little ones proved -quite a failure, for they were all stone-blind. In vain we waited and -hoped and watched for nine days, and long after; the eyes were glazed and -dim, and one by one they died. The last two seemed to promise to survive, -and were familiarly known in the family circle by the names of Milton and -Beethoven. - -But the fatigues of nursing exhausted the delicate constitution of poor -Florence, and she lay all one day in spasms. It became evident that a -tranquil passage must be secured for Milton and Beethoven to the land of -shades, or their little mother would go there herself; and accordingly -they vanished from this life. - -As to poor Flo, the young medical student in the family took her into a -water-cure course of treatment, wrapping her in a wet napkin first, and -then in his scarlet flannel dressing-gown, and keeping a wet cloth with -iced water round her head. She looked out of her wrappings, patient and -pitiful, like a very small old African female, in a very serious state of -mind. To the glory of the water-cure, however, this course in one day so -cured her, that she was frisking about the next, happy as if nothing had -happened. - -She had, however, a slight attack of the spasms, which caused her to run -frantically and cry to have the hall-door opened; and when it was opened, -she scampered up in all haste into the chamber of her medical friend, -and, not finding him there, jumped upon his bed, and began with her teeth -and paws to get around her the scarlet dressing-gown in which she had -found relief before. So she was again packed in wet napkins, and after -that never had another attack. - -After this, Florence was begged from us by a lady who fell in love with -her beautiful eyes, and she went to reside in a most lovely cottage in -H⸺, where she received the devoted attentions of a whole family. The -family physician, however, fell violently in love with her, and, by dint -of caring for her in certain little ailments, awakened such a sentiment -in return, that at last she was given to him, and used to ride about in -state with him in his carriage, visiting his patients, and giving her -opinion on their symptoms. - -At last her health grew delicate and her appetite failed. In vain -chicken, and chops, and all the delicacies that could tempt the most -fastidious, were offered to her, cooked expressly for her table; the end -of all things fair must come, and poor Florence breathed her last, and -was put into a little rosewood casket, lined with white, and studded -with silver nails, and so buried under a fine group of chestnuts in the -grounds of her former friends. A marble tablet was to be affixed to one -of these, commemorating her charms; but, like other spoiled beauties, her -memory soon faded, and the tablet has been forgotten. - -The mistress of Rag, who is devoted to his memory, insists that not -enough space has been given in this memoir to his virtues. But the -virtues of honest Rag were of that kind which can be told in a few -sentences,—a warm, loving heart, a boundless desire to be loved, and a -devotion that made him regard with superstitious veneration all the -movements of his mistress. The only shrewd trick he possessed was a habit -of drawing on her sympathy by feigning a lame leg whenever she scolded or -corrected him. In his English days he had had an injury from the kick of -a horse, which, however, had long since been healed; but he remembered -the petting he got for this infirmity, and so recalled it whenever he -found that his mistress’s stock of affection was running low. A blow or -a harsh word would cause him to limp in an alarming manner; but a few -caresses would set matters all straight again. - -Rag had been a frantic ratter, and often roused the whole family by his -savage yells after rats that he heard gambolling quite out of his reach -behind the partitions in the china closet. He would crouch his head on -his fore-paws, and lie watching at rat-holes, in hopes of intercepting -some transient loafer; and one day he actually broke the back and bones -of a gray old thief whom he caught marauding in the china closet. - -Proud and happy was he of this feat; but, poor fellow! he had to repose -on the laurels thus gained, for his teeth were old and poor, and more -than one old rebel slipped away from him, leaving him screaming with -disappointed ambition. - -At last poor Rag became aged and toothless, and a shake which he one -day received from a big dog, who took him for a bundle of wick-yarn, -hastened the breaking up of his constitution. He was attacked with -acute rheumatism, and, notwithstanding the most assiduous cares of his -mistress, died at last in her arms. - -Funeral honors were decreed him; white chrysanthemums and myrtle leaves -decked his bier. And so Rag was gathered to the dogs which had gone -before him. - - -V. - -Well, after the departure of Madam Florence there was a long cessation -of the dog mania in our family. We concluded that we would have no more -pets; for they made too much anxiety, and care, and trouble, and broke -all our hearts by death or desertion. - -At last, however, some neighbors of ours took unto themselves, to enliven -their dwelling, a little saucy Scotch terrier, whose bright eyes and -wicked tricks so wrought upon the heart of one of our juvenile branches, -that there was no rest in the camp without this addition to it. Nothing -was so pretty, so bright, so knowing and cunning, as a “Scotch terrier,” -and a Scotch terrier we must have,—so said Miss Jenny, our youngest. - -And so a bargain was struck by one of Jenny’s friends with some of the -knowing ones in Boston, and home she came, the happy possessor of a -genuine article,—as wide awake, impertinent, frisky, and wicked a little -elf as ever was covered with a shock of rough tan-colored hair. - -His mistress no sooner gazed on him, than she was inspired to give him -a name suited to his peculiar character;—so he frisked into the front -door announced as Wix, and soon made himself perfectly at home in the -family circle, which he took, after his own fashion, by storm. He entered -the house like a small whirlwind, dashed, the first thing, into the -Professor’s study, seized a slipper which was dangling rather uncertainly -on one of his studious feet, and, wresting it off, raced triumphantly -with it around the hall, barking distractedly every minute that he was -not shaking and worrying his prize. - -Great was the sensation. Grandma tottered with trembling steps to the -door, and asked, with hesitating tones, what sort of a creature that -might be; and being saluted with the jubilant proclamation, “Why, -Grandma, it’s my dog,—a real genuine, Scotch terrier; he’ll never grow -any larger, and he’s a perfect beauty! don’t you think so?”—Grandma could -only tremblingly reply, “O, there is not any danger of his going mad, is -there? Is he generally so playful?” - -Playful was certainly a mild term for the tempest of excitement in -which master Wix flew round and round in giddy circles, springing over -ottomans, diving under sofas, barking from beneath chairs, and resisting -every effort to recapture the slipper with bristling hair and blazing -eyes, as if the whole of his dog-life consisted in keeping his prize; -till at length he caught a glimpse of pussy’s tail,—at which, dropping -the slipper, he precipitated himself after the flying meteor, tumbling, -rolling, and scratching down the kitchen stairs, and standing on his -hind-legs barking distractedly at poor Tom, who had taken refuge in the -sink, and sat with his tail magnified to the size of a small bolster. - -This cat, the most reputable and steady individual of his species, the -darling of the most respectable of cooks, had received the name of -Thomas Henry, by which somewhat lengthy appellation he was generally -designated in the family circle, as a mark of the respect which his -serious and contemplative manner commonly excited. Thomas had but one -trick of popularity. With much painstaking and care the cook had taught -him the act of performing a somerset over our hands when held at a -decent height from the floor; and for this one elegant accomplishment, -added to great success in his calling of rat-catching, he was held in -great consideration in the family, and had meandered his decorous way -about house, slept in the sun, and otherwise conducted himself with the -innocent and tranquil freedom which became a family cat of correct habits -and a good conscience. - -The irruption of Wix into our establishment was like the bursting of -a bomb at the feet of some respectable citizen going tranquilly to -market. Thomas was a cat of courage, and rats of the largest size shrunk -appalled at the very sight of his whiskers; but now he sat in the sink -quite cowed, consulting with great, anxious yellow eyes the throng of -faces that followed Wix down the stairs, and watching anxiously the -efforts Miss Jenny was making to subdue and quiet him. - -“Wix, you naughty little rascal, you mustn’t bark at Thomas Henry; -be still!” Whereat Wix, understanding himself to be blamed, brought -forth his trump card of accomplishments, which he always offered by -way of pacification whenever he was scolded. He reared himself up on -his hind-legs, hung his head languishingly on one side, lolled out his -tongue, and made a series of supplicatory gestures with his fore-paws,—a -trick which never failed to bring down the house in a storm of applause, -and carry him out of any scrape with flying colors. - -Poor Thomas Henry, from his desolate sink, saw his terrible rival carried -off in Miss Jenny’s arms amid the applauses of the whole circle, and had -abundance of time to reflect on the unsubstantial nature of popularity. -After that he grew dejected and misanthropic,—a real Cardinal Wolsey -in furs,—for Wix was possessed with a perfect cat-hunting mania, and, -whenever he was not employed in other mischief, was always ready for a -bout with Thomas Henry. - -It is true, he sometimes came back from these encounters with a scratched -and bloody nose, for Thomas Henry was a cat of no mean claw, and would -turn to bay at times; but generally he felt the exertion too much for his -advanced years and quiet habits, and so for safety he passed much of his -time in the sink, over the battlements of which he would leisurely survey -the efforts of the enemy to get at him. The cook hinted strongly of the -danger of rheumatism to her favorite from these damp quarters, but Wix at -present was the reigning favorite, and it was vain to dispute his sway. - -Next to Thomas Henry, Wix directed his principal efforts to teasing -Grandmamma. Something or other about her black dress and quiet movements -seemed to suggest to him suspicions. He viewed her as something to be -narrowly watched; he would lie down under some chair or table, and watch -her motions with his head on his fore-paws as if he were watching at a -rat-hole. She evidently was not a rat, he seemed to say to himself, but -who knows what she may be; and he would wink at her with his great bright -eyes, and, if she began to get up, would spring from his ambush and bark -at her feet with frantic energy,—by which means he nearly threw her over -two or three times. - -His young mistress kept a rod, and put him through a severe course of -discipline for these offences; after which he grew more careful,—but -still the unaccountable fascination seemed to continue; still he would -lie in ambush, and, though forbidden to bark, would dart stealthily -forward when he saw her preparing to rise, and be under her dress -smelling in a suspicious manner at her heels. He would spring from his -place at the fire, and rush to the staircase when he heard her leisurely -step descending the stairs, and once or twice nearly overset her by being -under her heels, bringing on himself a chastisement which he in vain -sought to avert by the most vigorous deprecatory pawing. - -Grandmamma’s favorite evening employment was to sit sleeping in her -chair, gradually bobbing her head lower and lower,—all which movements -Wix would watch, giving a short snap, or a suppressed growl, at every -bow. What he would have done, if, as John Bunyan says, he had been -allowed to have his “doggish way” with her, it is impossible to say. Once -he succeeded in seizing the slipper from her foot as she sat napping, and -a glorious race he had with it,—out at the front door, up the path to the -Theological Seminary, and round and round the halls consecrated to better -things, with all the glee of an imp. At another time he made a dart into -her apartment, and seized a turkey-wing which the good old lady had -used for a duster, and made such a regular forenoon’s work of worrying, -shaking, and teasing it, that every feather in it was utterly demolished. - -In fact, there was about Wix something so elfish and impish, that -there began to be shrewd suspicions that he must be somehow or other -a descendant of the celebrated poodle of Faust, and that one need -not be surprised some day to have him suddenly looming up into some -uncanny shape, or entering into conversation, and uttering all sorts of -improprieties unbefitting a theological professor’s family. - -He had a persistence in wicked ways that resisted the most energetic -nurture and admonition of his young mistress. His combativeness was -such, that a peaceable walk down the fashionable street of Zion Hill -in his company became impossible; all was race and scurry, cackle and -flutter, wherever he appeared,—hens and poultry flying, frightened cats -mounting trees with magnified tails, dogs yelping and snarling, and -children and cows running in every direction. No modest young lady could -possibly walk out in company with such a son of confusion. Beside this, -Wix had his own private inexplicable personal piques against different -visitors in the family, and in the most unexpected moment would give -a snap or a nip to the most unoffending person. His friends in the -family circle dropped off. His ways were pronounced too bad, his conduct -perfectly indefensible; his young mistress alone clung to him, and -declared that her vigorous system of education would at last reform his -eccentricities, and turn him out a tip-top dog. But when he would slyly -leave home, and, after rolling and steeping himself in the ill-smelling -deposits of the stable or drain, come home and spring with impudent ease -into her lap, or put himself to sleep on her little white bed, the magic -cords of affection gave out, and disgust began to succeed. It began to -be remarked that this was a stable-dog, educated for the coach-boy and -stable, and to be doubted whether it was worth while to endeavor to raise -him to a lady’s boudoir; and so at last, when the family removed from -Zion Hill, he was taken back and disposed of at a somewhat reduced price. - -Since then, as we are informed, he has risen to fame and honor. His name -has even appeared in sporting gazettes as the most celebrated “ratter” -in little Boston, and his mistress was solemnly assured by his present -possessor that for “cat work” he was unequalled, and that he would not -take fifty dollars for him. From all which it appears that a dog which is -only a torment and a nuisance in one sphere may be an eminent character -in another. - -The catalogue of our dogs ends with Wix. Whether we shall ever have -another or not we cannot tell, but in the following pages I will tell my -young readers a few true stories of other domestic pets which may amuse -them. - - - - -DOGS AND CATS - - -[Illustration] - -And now, with all and each of the young friends who have read these -little histories of our dogs, we want to have a few moments of quiet chat -about dogs and household pets in general. - -In these stories you must have noticed that each dog had as much his own -character as if he had been a human being. Carlo was not like Rover, nor -Rover like Giglio, nor Giglio like Florence, nor Florence like Rag, nor -Rag like Wix,—any more than Charley is like Fred, or Fred like Henry, -or Henry like Eliza, or Eliza like Julia. Every animal has his own -character, as marked and distinct as a human being. Many people who have -not studied much into the habits of animals don’t know this. To them a -dog is a dog, a cat a cat, a horse a horse, and no more,—that is the end -of it. - -But domestic animals that associate with human beings develop a very -different character from what they would possess in a wild state. Dogs, -for example, in those countries where there is a prejudice against -receiving them into man’s association, herd together, and become wild and -fierce like wolves. This is the case in many Oriental countries, where -there are superstitious ideas about dogs; as, for instance, that they are -unclean and impure. But in other countries, the dog, for the most part, -forsakes all other dogs to become the associate of man. A dog without a -master is a forlorn creature; no society of other dogs seems to console -him; he wanders about disconsolate, till he finds some human being to -whom to attach himself, and then he is a made dog,—he pads about with an -air of dignity, like a dog that is settled in life. - -There are among dogs certain races or large divisions, and those -belonging purely to any of those races are called blood-dogs. As examples -of what we mean by these races, we will mention the spaniel, the mastiff, -the bulldog, the hound, and the terrier; and each of these divisions -contains many species, and each has a strongly marked character. The -spaniel tribes are gentle, docile, easily attached to man; from them many -hunting dogs are trained. The bulldog is irritable, a terrible fighter, -and fiercely faithful to his master. A mastiff is strong, large, not so -fierce as the bulldog, but watchful and courageous, with a peculiar sense -of responsibility in guarding anything which is placed under his charge. -The hounds are slender, lean, wiry, with a long, pointed muzzle, and a -peculiar sensibility in the sense of smell, and their instincts lead -them to hunting and tracking. As a general thing, they are cowardly and -indisposed to combat; there are, however, remarkable exceptions, as you -will see if you read the account of the good black hound which Sir Walter -Scott tells about in “The Talisman,”—a story which I advise you to read -at your next leisure. The terriers are, for the most part, small dogs, -smart, bright, and active, very intelligent, and capable of being taught -many tricks. Of these there are several varieties,—as the English black -and tan, which is the neatest and prettiest pet a family of children can -have, as his hair is so short and close that he can harbor no fleas, and -he is always good-tempered, lively, and affectionate. The Skye terrier, -with his mouse-colored mop of hair, and his great bright eyes, is very -loving and very sagacious; but alas! unless you can afford a great deal -of time for soap, water, and fine-tooth-comb exercises, he will bring -more company than you will like. The Scotch terriers are rough, scraggy, -affectionate, but so nervous, frisky, and mischievous that they are only -to be recommended as out-door pets in barn and stable. They are capital -rat-catchers, very amicable with horses, and will sit up by the driver or -a coach-boy with an air of great sagacity. - -There is something very curious about the habits and instincts of -certain dogs which have been trained by man for his own purposes. In the -mountains of Scotland, there are a tribe of dogs called Shepherd-dogs, -which for generations and ages have helped the shepherds to take care -of their sheep and which look for all the world like long-nosed, -high-cheek-boned, careful old Scotchmen. You will see them in the -morning, trotting out their flock of sheep, walking about with a grave, -care-taking air, and at evening all bustle and importance, hurrying and -scurrying hither and thither, getting their charge all together for the -night. An old Scotchman tells us that his dog Hector, by long sharing his -toils and cares, got to looking so much like him, that once, when he felt -too sleepy to go to meeting he sent Hector to take his seat in the pew, -and the minister never knew the difference, but complimented him the next -day for his good attention to the sermon. - -There is a kind of dog employed by the monks of St. Bernard, in the Alps, -to go out and seek in the snow for travellers who may have lost their -way; and this habit becomes such a strong instinct in them, that I once -knew a puppy of this species which was brought by a shipmaster to Maine, -and grew up in a steady New England town, which used to alarm his kind -friends by rushing off into the pine forest in snow-storms, and running -anxiously up and down burrowing in the snow as if in quest of something. - -I have seen one of a remarkable breed of dogs that are brought from -the island of Manilla. They resemble mastiffs in their form, but are -immensely large and strong. They are trained to detect thieves, and kept -by merchants on board of vessels where the natives are very sly and much -given to stealing. They are called _holders_, and their way is, when a -strange man, whose purposes they do not understand, comes on board the -ship, to take a very gentle but decisive hold of him by the heel, and -keep him fast until somebody comes to look after him. The dog I knew of -this species stood about as high as an ordinary dining-table, and I have -seen him stroke off the dinner-cloth with one wag of his tail in his -pleasure when I patted his head. He was very intelligent and affectionate. - -There is another dog, which may often be seen in Paris, called the Spitz -dog. He is a white, smooth-haired, small creature, with a great muff -of stiff hair round his neck, and generally comes into Paris riding -horseback on the cart-horses which draw the carts of the washerwomen. -He races nimbly up and down on the back of the great heavy horses, -barking from right to left with great animation, and is said to be a most -faithful little creature in guarding the property of his owner. What is -peculiar about these little dogs is the entireness of their devotion to -their master. They have not a look, not a wag of the tail, for any one -else; it is vain for a stranger to try and make friends with them,—they -have eyes and ears for one alone. - -All dogs which do not belong to some of the great varieties, on the one -side of their parentage or the other, are classed together as curs, and -very much undervalued and decried; and yet among these mongrel curs we -have seen individuals quite as sagacious, intelligent, and affectionate -as the best blood-dogs. - -And now I want to say some things to those young people who desire to -adopt as domestic pets either a dog or a cat. Don’t do it without making -up your mind to be really and thoroughly kind to them, and feeding them -as carefully as you feed yourself, and giving them appropriate shelter -from the inclemency of the weather. - -Some people seem to have a general idea that throwing a scrap, or bone, -or bit of refuse meat, at odd intervals, to a dog, is taking abundant -care of him. “What’s the matter with him? he can’t be hungry,—I gave -him that great bone yesterday.” Ah, Master Hopeful, how would you like -to be fed on the same principle? When you show your hungry face at the -dinner-table, suppose papa should say, “What’s that boy here for? He was -fed this morning.” You would think this hard measure; yet a dog’s or -cat’s stomach digests as rapidly as yours. In like manner, dogs are often -shut out of the house in cold winter weather without the least protection -being furnished them. A lady and I looked out once, in a freezing icy -day, and saw a great Newfoundland cowering in a corner of a fence to keep -from the driving wind; and I said, “Do tell me if you have no kennel -for that poor creature.” “No,” said the lady. “I didn’t know that dogs -needed shelter. Now I think of it, I remember last spring he seemed quite -poorly, and his hair seemed to come out; do you suppose it was being -exposed so much in the winter?” This lady had taken into her family a -living creature, without ever having reflected on what that creature -needed, or that it was her duty to provide for its wants. - -Dogs can bear more cold than human beings, but they do not like cold any -better than we do; and when a dog has his choice, he will very gladly -stretch himself on a rug before the fire for his afternoon nap, and show -that he enjoys the blaze and warmth as much as anybody. - -As to cats, many people seem to think that a miserable, half-starved -beast, never fed, and always hunted and beaten, and with no rights that -anybody is bound to respect, is a necessary appendage to a family. They -have the idea that all a cat is good for is to catch rats, and that -if well fed they will not do this,—and so they starve them. This is a -mistake in fact. Cats are hunting animals, and have the natural instinct -to pursue and catch prey, and a cat that is a good mouser will do this -whether well or ill fed. To live only upon rats is said to injure the -health of the cat, and bring on convulsions. - -The most beautiful and best trained cat I ever knew was named Juno, and -was brought up by a lady who was so wise in all that related to the care -and management of animals, that she might be quoted as authority on all -points of their nurture and breeding; and Juno, carefully trained by such -a mistress, was a standing example of the virtues which may be formed in -a cat by careful education. - -Never was Juno known to be out of place, to take her nap elsewhere than -on her own appointed cushion, to be absent at meal-times, or, when the -most tempting dainties were in her power, to anticipate the proper time -by jumping on the table to help herself. - -In all her personal habits Juno was of a neatness unparalleled in cat -history. The parlor of her mistress was always of a waxen and spotless -cleanness, and Juno would have died sooner than violate its sanctity -by any impropriety. She was a skilful mouser, and her sleek, glossy -sides were a sufficient refutation of the absurd notion that a cat must -be starved into a display of her accomplishments. Every rat, mouse, -or ground mole that she caught was brought in and laid at the feet of -her mistress for approbation. But on one point her mind was dark. She -could never be made to comprehend the great difference between fur and -feathers, nor see why her mistress should gravely reprove her when she -brought in a bird, and warmly commend when she captured a mouse. - -After a while a little dog named Pero, with whom Juno had struck up a -friendship, got into the habit of coming to her mistress’s apartment at -the hours when her modest meals were served, on which occasions Pero -thought it would be a good idea to invite himself to make a third. -He had a nice little trick of making himself amiable, by sitting up -on his haunches, and making little begging gestures with his two -fore-paws,—which so much pleased his hostess that sometimes he was fed -before Juno. Juno observed this in silence for some time; but at last -a bright idea struck her, and, gravely rearing up on her haunches, she -imitated Pero’s gestures with her fore-paws. Of course this carried the -day, and secured her position. - -Cats are often said to have no heart,—to be attached to places, but -incapable of warm personal affection. It was reserved for Juno by her sad -end to refute this slander on her race. Her mistress was obliged to leave -her quiet home, and go to live in a neighboring city; so she gave Juno to -the good lady who inhabited the other part of the house. - -But no attentions or care on the part of her new mistress could banish -from Juno’s mind the friend she had lost. The neat little parlor where -she had spent so many pleasant hours was dismantled and locked up, but -Juno would go, day after day, and sit on the ledge of the window-seat, -looking in and mewing dolefully. She refused food; and, when too weak to -mount on the sill and look in, stretched herself on the ground beneath -the window, where she died for love of her mistress, as truly as any -lover in an old ballad. - -You see by this story the moral that I wish to convey. It is, that -watchfulness, kindness, and care will develop a nature in animals such as -we little dream of. Love will beget love, regular care and attention will -give regular habits, and thus domestic pets may be made agreeable and -interesting. - -Any one who does not feel an inclination or capacity to take the amount -of care and pains necessary for the well-being of an animal ought -conscientiously to abstain from having one in charge. A carefully -tended pet, whether dog or cat, is a pleasant addition to a family of -young people; but a neglected, ill-brought-up, ill-kept one is only an -annoyance. - -We should remember, too, in all our dealings with animals, that they are -a sacred trust to us from our Heavenly Father. They are dumb, and cannot -speak for themselves; they cannot explain their wants or justify their -conduct; and therefore we should be tender towards them. - -Our Lord says not even a little sparrow falls to the ground without -our Heavenly Father, and we may believe that his eye takes heed of the -disposition which we show towards those defenceless beings whom he thinks -worthy of his protection. - - - - -AUNT ESTHER’S RULES. - - -In the last number I told my little friends about my good Aunt Esther, -and her wonderful cat Juno, and her dog Pero. In thinking what to write -for this month, my mind goes far back to the days when I was a little -girl, and used to spend many happy hours in Aunt Esther’s parlor talking -with her. Her favorite subject was always the habits and character of -different animals, and their various ways and instincts, and she used to -tell us so many wonderful, yet perfectly authentic, stories about all -these things, that the hours passed away very quickly. - -Some of her rules for the treatment and care of animals have impressed -themselves so distinctly on my mind, that I shall never forget them, and -I am going to repeat some of them to you. - -One was, never to frighten an animal for sport. I recollect I had a -little white kitten, of which I was very fond, and one day I was amusing -myself with making her walk up and down the key-board of the piano, and -laughing to see her fright at the strange noises which came up under -her feet. Puss evidently thought the place was haunted, and tried to -escape; it never occurred to me, however, that there was any cruelty in -the operation, till Aunt Esther said to me, “My dear, you must never -frighten an animal. I have suffered enough from fear to know that there -is no suffering more dreadful; and a helpless animal, that cannot speak -to tell its fright, and cannot understand an explanation of what alarms -it, ought to move your pity.” - -I had never thought of this before, and then I remembered how, when I was -a very, very little girl, a grown-up boy in school had amused himself -with me and my little brother in much the same way as that in which I had -amused myself with the kitten. He hunted us under one of the school-room -tables by threatening to cut our ears off if we came out, and took out -his pen-knife, and opened it, and shook it at us whenever we offered to -move. Very likely he had not the least idea that we really could be made -to suffer with fear at so absurd a threat,—any more than I had that my -kitten could possibly be afraid of the piano; but our suffering was in -fact as real as if the boy really had intended what he said, and was -really able to execute it. - -Another thing which Aunt Esther strongly impressed on my mind was, that, -when there were domestic animals about a house which were not wanted -in a family, it was far kinder to have them killed in some quick and -certain way than to chase them out of the house, and leave them to wander -homeless, to be starved, beaten, and abused. Aunt Esther was a great -advocate for killing animals, and, tender-hearted as she was, she gave -us many instructions in the kindest and quickest way of disposing of one -whose life must be sacrificed. - -Her instructions sometimes bore most remarkable fruits. I recollect one -little girl, who had been trained under Aunt Esther’s care, was once -coming home from school across Boston Common, when she saw a party of -noisy boys and dogs tormenting a poor kitten by the side of the frog -pond. The little wretches would throw it into the water, and then laugh -at its vain and frightened efforts to paddle out, while the dogs added to -its fright by their ferocious barking. Belle was a bright-eyed, spirited -little puss, and her whole soul was roused in indignation; she dashed -in among the throng of boys and dogs, and rescued the poor half-drowned -little animal. The boys, ashamed, slunk away, and little Belle held the -poor, cold, shivering little creature, considering what to do for it. It -was half dead already, and she was embarrassed by the reflection that at -home there was no room for another pet, for both cat and kitten never -were wanting in their family. “Poor kit,” she said, “you must die, but I -will see that you are not tormented”;—and she knelt bravely down and held -the little thing under water, with the tears running down her own cheeks, -till all its earthly sorrows were over, and little kit was beyond the -reach of dog or boy. - -This was real brave humanity. Many people call themselves tender-hearted, -because they are unwilling to have a litter of kittens killed, and -so they go and throw them over fences, into people’s back yards, and -comfort themselves with the reflection that they will do well enough. -What becomes of the poor little defenceless things? In nine cases out of -ten they live a hunted, miserable life, crying from hunger, shivering -with cold, harassed by cruel dogs, and tortured to make sport for brutal -boys. How much kinder and more really humane to take upon ourselves the -momentary suffering of causing the death of an animal than to turn our -back and leave it to drag out a life of torture and misery! - -Aunt Esther used to protest much against another kind of torture which -well-meaning persons inflict on animals, in giving them as playthings -to very little children who do not know how to handle them. A mother -sometimes will sit quietly sewing, while her baby boy is tormenting a -helpless kitten, poking his fingers into its eyes, pulling its tail, -stretching it out as on a rack, squeezing its feet, and, when the poor -little tormented thing tries to run away, will send the nurse to catch -dear little Johnny’s kitten for him. - -Aunt Esther always remonstrated, too, against all the practical jokes -and teasing of animals, which many people practise under the name of -sport,—like throwing a dog into the water for the sake of seeing him -paddle out, dashing water upon the cat, or doing any of the many little -tricks by which animals are made uncomfortable. “They have but one short -little life to live, they are dumb and cannot complain, and they are -wholly in our power”—these were the motives by which she appealed to our -generosity. - -Aunt Esther’s boys were so well trained, that they would fight valiantly -for the rescue of any ill-treated animals. Little Master Bill was a -bright-eyed fellow, who wasn’t much taller than his father’s knee, and -wore a low-necked dress with white ruffles. But Bill had a brave heart in -his little body, and so one day, as he was coming from school, he dashed -in among a crowd of dogs which were pursuing a kitten, took it away from -them, and held it as high above his head as his little arm could reach. -The dogs jumped upon his white neck with their rough paws, and scratched -his face, but still he stood steady till a man came up and took the -kitten and frightened away the dogs. Master Bill grew up to be a man, and -at the battle of Gettysburg stood a three days’ fight, and resisted the -charge of the Louisiana Tigers as of old he withstood the charge of the -dogs. A really brave-hearted fellow is generally tender and compassionate -to the weak; only cowards torment that which is not strong enough to -fight them; only cowards starve helpless prisoners or torture helpless -animals. - -I can’t help hoping that, in these stories about different pets, I have -made some friends among the boys, and that they will remember what I have -said, and resolve always to defend the weak, and not permit any cruelty -where it is in their power to prevent it. Boys, you are strong and brave -little fellows; but you oughtn’t to be strong and brave for nothing; and -if every boy about the street would set himself to defending helpless -animals, we should see much less cruelty than we now do. - -[Illustration] - - - - -AUNT ESTHER’S STORIES. - - -Aunt Esther used to be a constant attendant upon us young ones whenever -we were a little ill, or any of the numerous accidents of childhood -overtook us. In such seasons of adversity she always came to sit by our -bedside, and take care of us. She did not, as some people do, bring a -long face and a doleful whining voice into a sick-room, but was always so -bright, and cheerful, and chatty, that we began to think it was almost -worth while to be sick to have her about us. I remember that once, when -I had the quinsy, and my throat was so swollen that it brought the tears -every time I swallowed, Aunt Esther talked to me so gayly, and told me -so many stories, that I found myself laughing heartily, and disposed to -regard my aching throat as on the whole rather an amusing circumstance. - -Aunt Esther’s stories were not generally fairy tales, but stories about -real things,—and more often on her favorite subject of the habits of -animals, and the different animals she had known, than about anything -else. - -One of these was a famous Newfoundland dog, named Prince, which belonged -to an uncle of hers in the country, and was, as we thought, a far more -useful and faithful member of society than many of us youngsters. Prince -used to be a grave, sedate dog, that considered himself put in trust of -the farm, the house, the cattle, and all that was on the place. At night -he slept before the kitchen door, which, like all other doors in the -house in those innocent days, was left unlocked all night; and if such a -thing had ever happened as that a tramper or an improper person of any -kind had even touched the latch of the door, Prince would have been up -attending to him as master of ceremonies. - -At early dawn, when the family began to stir, Prince was up and out -to superintend the milking of the cows, after which he gathered them -all together, and started out with them to pasture, padding steadily -along behind, dashing out once in a while to reclaim some wanderer that -thoughtlessly began to make her breakfast by the roadside, instead of -saving her appetite for the pastures, as a properly behaved cow should. -Arrived at the pasture-lot, Prince would take down the bars with his -teeth, drive in the cows, put up bars, and then soberly turn tail and -pad off home, and carry the dinner-basket for the men to the mowing -lot, or the potato-field, or wherever the labors of the day might be. -There arrived, he was extremely useful to send on errands after anything -forgotten or missing. “Prince! the rake is missing: go to the barn and -fetch it!” and away Prince would go, and come back with his head very -high, and the long rake very judiciously balanced in his mouth. - -One day a friend was wondering at the sagacity of the dog, and his master -thought he would show off his tricks in a still more original style; and -so, calling Prince to him, he said, “Go home and bring Puss to me!” - -Away bounded Prince towards the farm-house, and, looking about, found the -younger of the two cats, fair Mistress Daisy, busy cleaning her white -velvet in the summer sun. Prince took her gently up by the nape of her -neck, and carried her, hanging head and heels together, to the fields, -and laid her down at his master’s feet. - -“How’s this, Prince?” said the master; “you didn’t understand me. I said -the cat, and this is the kitten. Go right back and bring the old cat.” - -Prince looked very much ashamed of his mistake, and turned away, with -drooping ears and tail, and went back to the house. - -The old cat was a venerable, somewhat portly old dame, and no small lift -for Prince; but he reappeared with old Puss hanging from his jaws, and -set her down, a little discomposed, but not a whit hurt by her unexpected -ride. - -Sometimes, to try Prince’s skill, his master would hide his gloves or -riding-whip in some out-of-the-way corner, and when ready to start, would -say, “Now, where have I left my gloves? Prince, good fellow, run in, -and find them”; and Prince would dash into the house, and run hither -and thither with his nose to every nook and corner of the room; and, no -matter how artfully they were hid, he would upset and tear his way to -them. He would turn up the corners of the carpet, snuff about the bed, -run his nose between the feather-bed and mattress, pry into the crack of -a half-opened drawer, and show as much zeal and ingenuity as a policeman, -and seldom could anything be so hid as to baffle his perseverance. - -[Illustration] - -Many people laugh at the idea of being careful of a dog’s feelings, as -if it were the height of absurdity; and yet it is a fact that some dogs -are as exquisitely sensitive to pain, shame, and mortification, as any -human being. See, when a dog is spoken harshly to, what a universal droop -seems to come over him. His head and ears sink, his tail drops and slinks -between his legs, and his whole air seems to say, “I wish I could sink -into the earth to hide myself.” - -Prince’s young master, without knowing it, was the means of inflicting a -most terrible mortification on him at one time. It was very hot weather, -and Prince, being a shaggy dog, lay panting, and lolling his tongue out, -apparently suffering from the heat. - -“I declare,” said young Master George, “I do believe Prince would be more -comfortable for being sheared.” And so forthwith he took him and began -divesting him of his coat. Prince took it all very obediently; but when -he appeared without his usual attire, every one saluted him with roars -of laughter, and Prince was dreadfully mortified. He broke away from his -master, and scampered off home at a desperate pace, ran down cellar and -disappeared from view. His young master was quite distressed that Prince -took the matter so to heart; he followed him in vain, calling, “Prince! -Prince!” No Prince appeared. He lighted a candle and searched the cellar, -and found the poor creature cowering away in the darkest nook under the -stairs. Prince was not to be comforted; he slunk deeper and deeper into -the darkness, and crouched on the ground when he saw his master, and -for a long time refused even to take food. The family all visited and -condoled with him, and finally his sorrows were somewhat abated; but he -would not be persuaded to leave the cellar for nearly a week. Perhaps by -that time he indulged the hope that his hair was beginning to grow again, -and all were careful not to destroy the allusion by any jests or comments -on his appearance. - -Such were some of the stories of Prince’s talents and exploits which -Aunt Esther used to relate to us. What finally became of the old fellow -we never heard. Let us hope that, as he grew old, and gradually lost his -strength, and felt the infirmities of age creeping on, he was tenderly -and kindly cared for in memory of the services of his best days,—that he -had a warm corner by the kitchen fire, and was daily spoken to in kindly -tones by his old friends. Nothing is a sadder sight than to see a poor -old favorite, that once was petted and caressed by every member of the -family, now sneaking and cowering as if dreading every moment a kick or a -blow,—turned from the parlor into the kitchen, driven from the kitchen by -the cook’s broomstick, half starved and lonesome. - -O, how much kinder if the poor thread of life were at once cut by some -pistol-shot, than to have the neglected favorite linger only to suffer! -Now, boys, I put it to you, is it generous or manly, when your old pet -and playmate grows sickly and feeble, and can no longer amuse you, to -forget all the good old times you have had with him, and let him become a -poor, trembling, hungry, abused vagrant? If you cannot provide comforts -for his old age, and see to his nursing, you can at least secure him an -easy and painless passage from this troublesome world. A manly fellow I -once knew, who, when his old hound became so diseased that he only lived -to suffer, gave him a nice meal with his own hand, patted his head, got -him to sleep, and then shot him,—so that he was dead in a moment, felt no -pain, and knew nothing but kindness to the last. - -And now to Aunt Esther’s stories of a dog I must add one more which -occurred in a town where I once lived. I have told you of the fine traits -of blood-dogs, their sagacity and affection. In doing this, perhaps, I -have not done half justice to the poor common dogs, of no particular -blood or breed, that are called curs or mongrels; yet among these I -believe you will quite as often find both affection and sagacity as among -better-born dogs. - -The poor mongrel I am going to tell you about belonged to a man who had -not, in one respect, half the sense that his dog had. A dog will never -eat or drink a thing that has once made him sick, or injured him; but -this man would drink, time and time again, a deadly draught, that took -away his senses and unfitted him for any of his duties. Poor little -Pero, however, set her ignorant dog’s heart on her drinking master, and -used to patter faithfully after him, and lick his hand respectfully, when -nobody else thought he was in a condition to be treated with respect. - -One bitter cold winter day, Pero’s master went to a grocery, at some -distance from home, on pretence of getting groceries, but in reality to -fill a very dreadful bottle, that was the cause of all his misery; and -little Pero padded after him through the whirling snow, although she -left three poor little pups of her own in the barn. Was it that she was -anxious for the poor man who was going the bad road, or was there some -secret thing in her dog’s heart that warned her that her master was in -danger? We know not, but the sad fact is, that at the grocery the poor -man took enough to make his brain dizzy, and coming home he lost his way -in a whirling snow-storm, and fell down stupid and drunk, not far from -his own barn, in a lonesome place, with the cold winter’s wind sweeping -the snow-drift over him. Poor little Pero cuddled close to her master and -nestled in his bosom, as if trying to keep the warm life in him. - -Two or three days passed, and nothing was seen or heard of the poor man. -The snow had drifted over him in a long white winding-sheet, when a -neighbor one day heard a dog in the barn crying to get out. It was poor -Pero, that had come back and slipped in to nurse her puppies while the -barn-door was open, and was now crying to get out and go back to her poor -master. It suddenly occurred to the man that Pero might find the body, -and in fact, when she started off, he saw a little path which her small -paws had worn in the snow, and, tracking after, found the frozen body. -This poor little friend had nestled the snow away around the breast, and -stayed watching and waiting by her dead master, only taking her way back -occasionally to the barn to nurse her little ones. I cannot help asking -whether a little animal that can show such love and faithfulness has not -something worth respecting and caring for in its nature. - -At this time of the year our city ordinances proclaim a general leave and -license to take the lives of all dogs found in the streets, and scenes of -dreadful cruelty are often enacted in consequence. I hope, if my stories -fall under the eye of any boy who may ever witness, or be tempted to take -part in, the hunting down and killing a poor dog, that he will remember -of how much faithfulness and affection and constancy these poor brutes -are capable, and, instead of being their tyrant and persecutor, will try -to make himself their protector and friend. - - - - -SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS DOGS. - - -Master Frederick Little-John has of late struck up quite a friendship -with me, and haunts my footsteps about house to remind me of my promise -to write some more dog stories. Master Fred has just received a present -from his father of a great Newfoundland that stands a good deal higher -in his stocking-feet than his little master in his highest-heeled boots, -and he has named him Prince, in honor of the Prince that I told you about -last month, that used to drive the cows to pasture, and take down the -bars with his teeth. We have daily and hourly accounts in the family -circle of Prince’s sayings and doings; for Master Freddy insists upon it -that Prince speaks, and daily insists upon placing a piece of bread on -the top of Prince’s nose, which at the word of command he fires into the -air, and catches in his mouth, closing the performance with a snap like a -rifle. Fred also makes much of showing him a bit of meat held high in the -air, from which he is requested to “speak,”—the speaking consisting in -very short exclamations of the deepest bow-wow. Certain it is that Prince -shows on these occasions that he has the voice for a public speaker, and -that, if he does not go about the country lecturing, it is because he -wants time yet to make up his mind what to say on the topics of the day. - -Fred is somewhat puzzled to make good the ground of his favorite -with Aunt Zeroiah, who does not love dogs, and is constantly casting -reflections on them as nuisances, dirt-makers, flea-catchers, and -flea-scatterers, and insinuating a plea that Prince should be given away, -or in some manner sold or otherwise disposed of. - -“Aunt Zeroiah thinks that there is nothing so mean as a dog,” said Master -Fred to me as he sat with his arm around the neck of his favorite. “She -really seems to grudge every morsel of meat a dog eats, and to think that -every kindness you show a dog is almost a sin. Now I think dogs are noble -creatures, and have noble feelings,—they are so faithful, and so kind and -loving. Now I do wish you would make haste and write something to show -her that dogs have been thought a good deal of.” - -“Well, Master Freddy,” said I, “I will tell you in the first place about -Sir Walter Scott, whose poems and novels have been the delight of whole -generations.” - -He was just of your opinion about dogs, and he had a great many of them. -When Washington Irving visited Sir Walter at Abbotsford, he found him -surrounded by his dogs, which formed as much a part of the family as his -children. - -[Illustration] - -In the morning, when they started for a ramble, the dogs would all be on -the alert to join them. There was first a tall old staghound named Maida, -that considered himself the confidential friend of his master, walked by -his side, and looked into his eyes as if asserting a partnership in his -thoughts. Then there was a black greyhound named Hamlet, a more frisky -and thoughtless youth, that gambolled and pranced and barked and cut -capers with the wildest glee; and there was a beautiful setter named -Finette, with large mild eyes, soft silken hair, and long curly ears,—the -favorite of the parlor; and then a venerable old greyhound, wagging his -tail, came out to join the party as he saw them going by his quarters, -and was cheered by Scott with a hearty, kind word as an old friend and -comrade. - -In his walks Scott would often stop and talk to one or another of his -four-footed friends, as if they were in fact rational companions; and, -from being talked to and treated in this way, they really seemed to -acquire more sagacity than other dogs. - -Old Maida seemed to consider himself as a sort of president of the -younger dogs, as a dog of years and reflection, whose mind was upon more -serious and weighty topics than theirs. As he padded along, the younger -dogs would sometimes try to ensnare him into a frolic, by jumping upon -his neck and making a snap at his ears. Old Maida would bear this in -silent dignity for a while, and then suddenly, as if his patience were -exhausted, he would catch one of his tormentors by the neck and tumble -him in the dirt, giving an apologetic look to his master at the same -time, as much as to say, “You see, sir, I can’t help joining a little in -this nonsense.” - -“Ah,” said Scott, “I’ve no doubt that, when Maida is alone with these -young dogs, he throws dignity aside and plays the boy as much as any of -them, but he is ashamed to do it in our company, and seems to say, ‘Have -done with your nonsense, youngsters; what will the Laird and that other -gentleman think of me if I give way to such foolery?’” - -At length the younger dogs fancied that they discovered something, which -set them all into a furious barking. Old Maida for some time walked -silently by his master, pretending not to notice the clamors of the -inferior dogs. At last, however, he seemed to feel himself called on to -attend to them, and giving a plunge forward he opened his mind to them -with a deep “Bow-wow,” that drowned for the time all other noises. Then, -as if he had settled matters, he returned to his master, wagging his -tail, and looking in his face as if for approval. - -“Ay, ay, old boy,” said Scott; “you have done wonders; you have shaken -the Eildon Hills with your roaring, and now you may shut up your -artillery for the rest of the day. Maida,” he said, “is like the big gun -of Constantinople,—it takes so long to get it ready that the small ones -can fire off a dozen times, but when it does go off it carries all before -it.” - -Scott’s four-footed friends made a respectful part of the company at -family meals. Old Maida took his seat gravely at his master’s elbow, -looking up wistfully into his eyes, while Finette, the pet spaniel, took -her seat by Mrs. Scott. Besides the dogs in attendance, a large gray -cat also took her seat near her master, and was presented from time to -time with bits from the table. Puss, it appears, was a great favorite -both with master and mistress, and slept in their room at night; and -Scott laughingly said that one of the least wise parts of the family -arrangement was the leaving the window open at night for puss to go -in and out. The cat assumed a sort of supremacy among the quadrupeds, -sitting in state in Scott’s arm-chair, and occasionally stationing -himself on a chair beside the door, as if to review his subjects as -they passed, giving each dog a cuff on the ears as he went by. This -clapper-clawing was always amiably taken. It appeared to be in fact a -mere act of sovereignty on the part of Grimalkin, to remind the others -of their vassalage, to which they cheerfully submitted. Perfect harmony -prevailed between old puss and her subjects, and they would all sleep -contentedly together in the sunshine. - -Scott once said, the only trouble about having a dog was that he must -die; but he said, it was better to have them die in eight or nine years, -than to go on loving them for twenty or thirty, and then have them die. - -Scott lived to lose many of his favorites, that were buried with funeral -honors, and had monuments erected over them, which form some of the -prettiest ornaments of Abbotsford. When we visited the place, one of the -first objects we saw in the front yard near the door was the tomb of old -Maida, over which is sculptured the image of a beautiful hound, with this -inscription, which you may translate if you like:— - - “Maidae marmorea dormis, sub imagine - Maida, - Ad januam domini; sit tibi terra levis.” - -Or, if you don’t want the trouble of translating it, Master Freddy, I -would do it thus:— - - “At thy lord’s door, in slumbers light and blest, - Maida, beneath this marble Maida rest. - Light lie the turf upon thy gentle breast.” - -Washington Irving says that in one of his morning rambles he came upon a -curious old Gothic monument, on which was inscribed in Gothic characters, - - “Cy git le preux Percy,” - (Here lies the brave Percy,) - -and asking Scott what it was, he replied, “O, only one of my -fooleries,”—and afterwards Irving found it was the grave of a favorite -greyhound. - -Now, certainly, Master Freddy, you must see in all this that you have one -of the greatest geniuses of the world to bear you out in thinking a deal -of dogs. - -But I have still another instance. The great rival poet to Scott was Lord -Byron; not so good or so wise a man by many degrees, but very celebrated -in his day. He also had a four-footed friend, a Newfoundland, called -Boatswain, which he loved tenderly, and whose elegant monument now forms -one of the principal ornaments of the garden of Newstead Abbey, and upon -it may be read this inscription:— - - “Near this spot - Are deposited the remains of one - Who possessed beauty without vanity, - Strength without insolence, - Courage without ferocity, - And all the virtues of man without his vices. - This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery - If inscribed over human ashes, - Is but a just tribute to the memory of - BOATSWAIN, a dog, - Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, - And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808.” - -On the other side of the monument the poet inscribed these lines in -praise of dogs in general, which I would recommend you to show to any of -the despisers of dogs:— - - “When some proud son of man returns to earth - Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, - The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe, - And storied urns record who rests below. - But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, - The first to welcome, foremost to defend, - Whose honest heart is still his master’s own, - Who labors, fights, lives, breathes, for him alone, - Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth, - Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth. - While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven, - And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven! - Ye who perchance behold this simple urn, - Pass on, it honors none you wish to mourn. - To mark a _friend’s_ remains these stones arise; - I never knew but one,—and here he lies.” - -If you want more evidence of the high esteem in which dogs are held, -I might recommend to you a very pretty dog story called “Rab and his -Friends,” the reading of which will give you a pleasant hour. Also in -a book called “Spare Hours,” the author of “Rab and his Friends” gives -amusing accounts of all his different dogs, which I am sure you would be -pleased to read, even though you find many long words in it which you -cannot understand. - -But enough has been given to show you that in the high esteem you have -for your favorite, and in your determination to treat him as a dog should -be treated, you are sustained by the very best authority. - - - - -COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN. - - -[Illustration] - -Do my dear little friends want to hear a word more about our country -neighbors? Since we wrote about them, we have lived in the same place -more than a year, and perhaps some of you may want to know whether old -Unke or little Cri-cri have ever come up to sit under the lily-leaves -by the fountain, or Master Furry-toes, the flying squirrel, has amused -himself in pattering about the young lady’s chamber o’ nights? I am sorry -to say that our country neighbors have entirely lost the neighborly, -confiding spirit that they had when we first came and settled in the -woods. - -Old Unke has distinguished himself on moonlight nights in performing -bass solos in a very deep, heavy voice, down in the river, but he -has never hopped his way back into that conservatory from which he -was disgracefully turned out at the point of Mr. Fred’s cane. He has -contented himself with the heavy musical performances I spoke of, and I -have fancied they sounded much like “Won’t come any more,—won’t come any -more,—won’t come any more!” - -Sometimes, strolling down to the river, we have seen his solemn green -spectacles emerging from the tall water-grasses, as he sat complacently -looking about him. Near by him, spread out on the sunny bottom of the -pool, was a large flat-headed water-snake, with a dull yellow-brown back -and such a swelled stomach that it was quite evident he had been making -his breakfast that morning by swallowing some unfortunate neighbor like -poor little Cri-cri. This trick of swallowing one’s lesser neighbors -seems to prevail greatly among the people who live in our river. Mr. -Water-snake makes his meal on little Mr. Frog, and Mr. Bullfrog follows -the same example. It seems a sad state of things; but then I suppose all -animals have to die in some way or other, and perhaps, if they are in the -habit of seeing it done, it may appear no more to a frog to expect to be -swallowed some day, than it may to some of us to die of a fever, or be -shot in battle, as many a brave fellow has been of late. - -We have heard not a word from the woodchucks. Ever since we violated -the laws of woodland hospitality by setting a trap for their poor old -patriarch, they have very justly considered us as bad neighbors, and -their hole at the bottom of the garden has been “to let,” and nobody -as yet has ventured to take it. Our friends the muskrats have been -flourishing, and on moonlight nights have been swimming about, popping up -the tips of their little black noses to make observations. - -But latterly a great commotion has been made among the amphibious tribes, -because of the letting down of the dam which kept up the water of the -river, and made it a good, full, wide river. When the dam was torn down -it became a little miserable stream, flowing through a wide field of -muddy bottom, and all the secrets of the under-water were disclosed. The -white and yellow water-lily roots were left high and dry up in the mud, -and all the muskrat holes could be seen plainer than ever before; and the -other day Master Charlie brought in a fish’s nest which he had found in -what used to be deep water. - -“A fish’s nest!” says little Tom; “I didn’t know fishes made nests.” But -they do, Tommy; that is, one particular kind of fish makes a nest of -sticks and straws and twigs, plastered together with some kind of cement, -the making of which is a family secret. It lies on the ground like a -common bird’s-nest turned bottom upward, and has a tiny little hole in -the side for a door, through which the little fishes swim in and out. - -[Illustration] - -The name of the kind of fish that builds this nest I do not know; and if -the water had not been drawn off, I should not have known that we had any -such fish in our river. Where we found ours the water had been about -five feet above it. Now, Master Tom, if you want to know more about -nest-building fishes, you must get your papa and mamma to inquire and see -if they cannot get you some of the little books on fishes and aquariums -that have been published lately. I remember to have read all about these -nests in one of them, but I do not remember either the name of the book -or the name of the fish, and so there is something still for you to -inquire after. - -I am happy to say, for the interest of the water-lilies and the muskrats -and the fishes, that the dam has only been torn down from our river for -the purpose of making a new and stronger one, and that by and by the -water will be again broad and deep as before, and all the water-people -can then go on with their housekeeping just as they used to do,—only I -am sorry to say that one fish family will miss their house, and have to -build a new one; but if they are enterprising fishes they will perhaps -make some improvements that will make the new house better than the old. - -As to the birds, we have had a great many visits from them. Our house has -so many great glass windows, and the conservatory windows in the centre -of it being always wide open, the birds seem to have taken it for a piece -of out-doors, and flown in. The difficulty has been, that, after they -had got in, there appeared to be no way of making them understand the -nature of glass, and wherever they saw a glass window they fancied they -could fly through; and so, taking aim hither and thither, they darted -head first against the glass, beating and bruising their poor little -heads without beating in any more knowledge than they had before. Many a -poor little feather-head has thus fallen a victim to his want of natural -philosophy, and tired himself out with beating against window-panes, -till he has at last fallen dead. One day we picked up no less than three -dead birds in different parts of the house. Now if it had only been -possible to enlighten our feathered friends in regard to the fact that -everything that is transparent is not air, we would have summoned a bird -council in our conservatory, and explained matters to them at once and -altogether. As it is, we could only say, “Oh!” and “Ah!” and lament, as -we have followed one poor victim after another from window to window, and -seen him flutter and beat his pretty senseless head against the glass, -frightened to death at all our attempts to help him. - -As to the humming-birds, their number has been infinite. Just back of -the conservatory stands an immense, high clump of scarlet sage, whose -brilliant flowers have been like a light shining from afar, and drawn to -it flocks of these little creatures; and we have often sat watching them -as they put their long bills into one scarlet tube after another, lifting -themselves lightly off the bush, poising a moment in mid-air, and then -dropping out of sight. - -They have flown into the conservatory in such numbers that, had we -wished to act over again the dear little history of our lost pet, Hum, -the son of Buz, we should have had plenty of opportunities to do it. -Humming-birds have been for some reason supposed to be peculiarly wild -and untamable. Our experience has proved that they are the most docile, -confiding little creatures, and the most disposed to put trust in us -human beings of all birds in the world. - -More than once this summer has some little captive exhausted his -strength flying hither and thither against the great roof window of the -conservatory, till the whole family was in alarm to help. The Professor -himself has left his books, and anxiously flourished a long cobweb broom -in hopes to bring the little wanderer down to the level of open windows, -while every other member of the family ran, called, made suggestions, -and gave advice, which all ended in the poor little fool’s falling flat, -in a state of utter exhaustion, and being picked up in some lady’s -pocket-handkerchief. - -Then has been running to mix sugar and water, while the little crumb of a -bird has lain in an apparent swoon in the small palm of some fair hand, -but opening occasionally one eye, and then the other, dreamily, to see -when the sugar and water was coming, and gradually showing more and more -signs of returning life as it appeared. Even when he had taken his drink -of sugar and water, and seemed able to sit up in his warm little hollow, -he has seemed in no hurry to flee, but remained tranquilly looking about -him for some moments, till all of a sudden, with one whirr, away he goes, -like a flying morsel of green and gold, over our heads—into the air—into -the tree-tops. What a lovely time he must have of it! - -One rainy, windy day, Miss Jenny, going into the conservatory, heard a -plaintive little squeak, and found a poor humming-bird, just as we found -poor little Hum, all wet and chilled, and bemoaning himself, as he sat -clinging tightly upon the slenderest twig of a grape-vine. She took him -off, wrapped him in cotton, and put him in a box on a warm shelf over -the kitchen range. After a while you may be sure there was a pretty -fluttering in the box. Master Hum was awake and wanted to be attended to. -She then mixed sugar and water, and, opening the box, offered him a drop -on her finger, which he licked off with his long tongue as knowingly as -did his name-sake at Rye Beach. After letting him satisfy his appetite -for sugar and water, as the rain was over and the sun began to shine, -Miss Jenny took him to the door, and away he flew. - -These little incidents show that it would not ever be a difficult matter -to tame humming-birds,—only they cannot be kept in cages; a sunny room -with windows defended by mosquito-netting would be the only proper cage. -The humming-bird, as we are told by naturalists, though very fond of the -honey of flowers, does not live on it entirely, or even principally. -It is in fact a little fly-catcher, and lives on small insects; and a -humming-bird never can be kept healthy for any length of time in a room -that does not admit insects enough to furnish him a living. So you see it -is not merely toads, and water-snakes, and such homely creatures, that -live by eating other living beings,—but even the fairy-like and brilliant -humming-bird. - -The autumn months are now coming on (for it is October while I -write),—the flowers are dying night by night as the frosts grow -heavier,—the squirrels are racing about, full of business, getting in -their winter’s supply of nuts; everything now is active and busy among -our country neighbors. In a cottage about a quarter of a mile from us, a -whole family of squirrels have made the discovery that a house is warmer -in winter than the best hollow tree, and so have gone in to a chink -between the walls, where Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel can often be heard late at -night chattering and making quite a family fuss about the arrangement of -their household goods for the coming season. This is all the news about -the furry people that I have to give you. The flying squirrel I have not -yet heard from,—perhaps he will appear yet as the weather gets colder. - -Old Master Boohoo, the owl, sometimes goes on at such a rate on moonlight -nights in the great chestnut-trees that overhang the river, that, if you -did not know better, you might think yourself miles deep in the heart of -a sombre forest, instead of being within two squares’ walk of the city -lamps. We never yet have caught a fair sight of him. At the cottage we -speak of, the chestnut-trees are very tall, and come close to the upper -windows; and one night a fair maiden, going up to bed, was startled -by a pair of great round eyes looking into her window. It was one of -the Boohoo family, who had been taken with a fit of grave curiosity -about what went on inside the cottage, and so set himself to observe. -We have never been able to return the compliment by looking into their -housekeeping, as their nests are very high up in the hollows of old -trees, where we should not be likely to get at them. - -If we hear anything more from any of these neighbors of ours, we will let -you know. We have all the afternoon been hearing a great screaming among -the jays in the woods hard by, and I think we must go out and see what is -the matter. So good by. - - - - -THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF LITTLE WHISKEY. - - -[Illustration] - -And now, at the last, I am going to tell you something of the ways and -doings of one of the queer little people, whom I shall call Whiskey. - -On this page is his picture. But you cannot imagine from this how pretty -he is. His back has the most beautiful smooth shining stripes of reddish -brown and black, his eyes shine like bright glass beads, and he sits up -jauntily on his hind quarters, with his little tail thrown over his back -like a ruffle! - -And where does he live? Well, “that is telling,” as we children say. -It was somewhere up in the mountains of Berkshire, in a queer, quaint, -old-fashioned garden, that I made Mr. Whiskey’s acquaintance. - -Here there lives a young parson, who preaches every Sunday in a little -brown church, and during week-days goes through all these hills and -valleys, visiting the poor, and gathering children into Sunday schools. - -His wife is a very small-sized lady,—not much bigger than you, my little -Mary,—but very fond of all sorts of dumb animals; and by constantly -watching their actions and ways, she has come to have quite a strange -power over them, as I shall relate. - -The little lady fixed her mind on Whiskey, and gave him his name without -consulting him upon the subject. She admired his bright eyes, and -resolved to cultivate his acquaintance. - -By constant watching, she discovered that he had a small hole of his own -in the grass-plot a few paces from her back door. So she used to fill -her pockets with hazelnuts, and go out and sit in the back porch, and -make a little noise, such as squirrels make to each other, to attract his -attention. - -In a minute or two up would pop the little head with the bright eyes, -in the grass-plot, and Master Whiskey would sit on his haunches and -listen, with one small ear cocked towards her. Then she would throw him -a hazelnut, and he would slip instantly down into his hole again. In -a minute or two, however, his curiosity would get the better of his -prudence; and she, sitting quiet, would see the little brown-striped -head slowly, slowly coming up again, over the tiny green spikes of the -grass-plot. Quick as a flash he would dart at the nut, whisk it into a -little bag on one side of his jaws, which Madame Nature has furnished -him with for his provision-pouch, and down into his hole again! An -ungrateful, suspicious little brute he was too; for though in this way -he bagged and carried off nut after nut, until the patient little woman -had used up a pound of hazelnuts, still he seemed to have the same wild -fright at sight of her, and would whisk off and hide himself in his hole -the moment she appeared. In vain she called, “Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey,” -in the most flattering tones; in vain she coaxed and cajoled. No, no; he -was not to be caught napping. He had no objection to accepting her nuts, -as many as she chose to throw to him; but as to her taking any personal -liberty with him, you see, it was not to be thought of! - -But at last patience and perseverance began to have their reward. Little -Master Whiskey said to himself, “Surely, this is a nice, kind lady, to -take so much pains to give me nuts; she is certainly very considerate;” -and with that he edged a little nearer and nearer every day, until, quite -to the delight of the small lady, he would come and climb into her lap -and seize the nuts, when she rattled them there, and after that he seemed -to make exploring voyages all over her person. He would climb up and sit -on her shoulder; he would mount and perch himself on her head; and, when -she held a nut for him between her teeth, would take it out of her mouth. - -After a while he began to make tours of discovery in the house. He would -suddenly appear on the minister’s writing-table, when he was composing -his Sunday sermon, and sit cocking his little pert head at him, seeming -to wonder what he was about. But in all his explorations he proved -himself a true Yankee squirrel, having always a shrewd eye on the main -chance. If the parson dropped a nut on the floor, down went Whiskey after -it, and into his provision-bag it went, and then he would look up as if -he expected another; for he had a wallet on each side of his jaws, and he -always wanted both sides handsomely filled before he made for his hole. -So busy and active, and always intent on this one object, was he, that -before long the little lady found he had made way with six pounds of -hazelnuts. His general rule was to carry off four nuts at a time,—three -being stuffed into the side-pockets of his jaws, and the fourth held in -his teeth. When he had furnished himself in this way, he would dart like -lightning for his hole, and disappear in a moment; but in a short time up -he would come, brisk and wide-awake, and ready for the next supply. - -Once a person who had the curiosity to dig open a chipping squirrel’s -hole found in it two quarts of buckwheat, a quantity of grass-seed, -nearly a peck of acorns, some Indian corn, and a quart of walnuts; a -pretty handsome supply for a squirrel’s winter store-room,—don’t you -think so? - -Whiskey learned in time to work for his living in many artful ways that -his young mistress devised. Sometimes she would tie his nuts up in a -paper package, which he would attack with great energy, gnawing the -strings, and rustling the nuts out of the paper in wonderfully quick -time. Sometimes she would tie a nut to the end of a bit of twine, and -swing it backward and forward over his head; and, after a succession of -spry jumps, he would pounce upon it, and hang swinging on the twine, till -he had gnawed the nut away. - -Another squirrel—doubtless hearing of Whiskey’s good luck—began to haunt -the same yard; but Whiskey would by no means allow him to cultivate his -young mistress’s acquaintance. No indeed! he evidently considered that -the institution would not support two. Sometimes he would appear to be -conversing with the stranger on the most familiar and amicable terms in -the back yard: but if his mistress called his name, he would immediately -start and chase his companion quite out of sight, before he came back to -her. - -So you see that self-seeking is not confined to men alone, and that -Whiskey’s fine little fur coat covers a very selfish heart. - -As winter comes on, Whiskey will go down into his hole, which has many -long galleries and winding passages, and a snug little bedroom well -lined with leaves. Here he will doze and dream away his long winter -months, and nibble out the inside of his store of nuts. - -If I hear any more of his cunning tricks, I will tell you of them. - -[Illustration] - - - - -GOOD NEWS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS! - -A FRESH BOOK OF STORIES, BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. - -[Illustration] - - -=A DOG’S MISSION: and Other Tales.= Small quarto. Illustrated. Cloth, -extra. $1.25. - -ALSO, NEW AND ENLARGED EDITIONS OF - -=QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE.= A Book for Young Folks. Illustrated. Small 4to. -$1.25. - - “In the list of qualities belonging to Mrs. Stowe’s versatile - genius, her power of entertaining the young is not the least - remarkable. Her productions in this line are original, racy, - and healthful in a high degree. Her skill in allegory is, we - think, unrivalled among the writers of our day. “Queer Little - People” is a collection of stories about domestic or familiar - animals, told in most captivating style, and conveying, with - marvellous ingenuity and power, lessons which the aged as well - as the young might thankfully receive.”—_American Presbyterian._ - -=LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW.= Copiously illustrated. Small 4to. $1.25. - - “A girl’s story with a moral, and with many delightful touches - of New England scenery and domestic life. The story has all the - familiar charm of Mrs. Stowe’s simpler tales, which are always - her best.”—_Springfield Republican._ - - “The very sweetest, prettiest child’s book. It seems as if Mrs. - Stowe’s genius was just fitted for this work, so exquisitely - has she created her country maiden; and the illustrations are - very beautiful.”—_Christian Register_ (Boston). - - _For sale everywhere, or mailed, post-paid, by_ - FORDS, HOWARD, & HULBERT, PUBLISHERS, - 27 PARK PLACE, NEW YORK. - - - - -INTERESTING BOOKS FOR YOUTHFUL READERS. - - -=MRS. STOWE’S DOMESTIC TALES.= New edition. 4 vols., in a box. $5.00. - -=POGANUC PEOPLE: Their Loves and Lives.= Illustrated. In the style -of early New England scene and character, in which Mrs. Stowe is so -inimitable. As “Oldtown Folks” was said to be founded on Dr. Stowe’s -childhood memories, so this was drawn from some of the author’s own -reminiscences, and has all the brightness of genuine portraiture. - -=PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY. A Society Novel.= Illustrated. One of Mrs. -Stowe’s capital hits, in which through a bright, attractive story she -shows the follies of self-seeking and self-pleasing in a young and -charming woman, who by the tyranny of beauty always managed to have her -own way and was miserable in consequence. - -=MY WIFE AND I; or, Harry Henderson’s History.= Illustrated. - -=WE AND OUR NEIGHBORS: The Records of an Unfashionable Street.= (A Sequel -to “My Wife and I.”) Illustrated. - - “While it is a sequel to ‘My Wife and I,’ it is nevertheless a - complete story in itself. Mrs. Stowe’s style is picturesque, - piquant, with just enough vivacity and vim to give the romance - edge; and throughout there are delicious sketches of scenes, - with bits of dry humor peculiar to her writings.”—_Pittsburgh_ - (Pa.) _Commercial_. - -AN ENGLISH CLASSIC. - -=LIFE AND TIMES OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.= A Memorial of one whose name is a -synonyme for every manly virtue. By Mrs. S. M. HENRY DAVIS. Illustrated -with three plates; portrait of Sidney; view of Penhurst Castle; -_fac-simile_ of Sidney’s Manuscript, 12mo. Cloth, bevelled, stamped in -ink and gold with Sidney’s Coat-of-Arms. $1.50. - - “Worthy of rank as an English classic.”—_Pittsburgh Dispatch._ - - “There is scarcely any satisfactory memoir of him accessible to - the general reader, and the author of this book has done a good - service.”—_Philadelphia Inquirer._ - - “Compels the reader’s attention, and leaves upon his mind - impressions more distinct and lasting than the greatest - historians are in the habit of making.... We long to see the - story of Sidney’s life take its proper place in the hearts of - American youth.”—_Christian Union._ - -A MEDIÆVAL ROMANCE. - -=THE LOVERS OF PROVENCE: Aucassin and Nicolette.= Small 4to. Most -delicately illustrated and artistically printed and bound. Extra cloth, -gilt sides and edges. $3.50. Full morocco or calf, gilt. $7.00. - - A beautiful _chante fable_, or Song-Story of the Troubadours, - from a Manuscript of the XII. Century. Translated by A. RODNEY - MACDONOUGH. With an introduction by EDMUND C. STEDMAN, the - poet-critic, who says: “The devisers of the present translation - of this charming little romance could hardly have hit upon a - more tasteful variation from the conventional holiday-book. - The work itself is instinct with the beauty of nature and the - spirit of poesy, when skies were fair and poesy was young.... - It is creditable to American bookcraft that this pearl of - mediæval literature should be so exquisitely reset.” - -=WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT’S FAMILY LIBRARY OF POETRY AND SONG.= MEMORIAL -EDITION. Being over 2,000 selections from more than 500 of the best -poets, English, Scottish, Irish, and American, including translations -from ancient and modern languages. Carefully revised, and handsomely -printed from entirely new plates. With an Introductory Treatise by MR. -BRYANT on the “Poets and Poetry of the English Language.” Including -JAMES GRANT WILSON’S _New Biography of Bryant_. 1,065 pages. 8vo. With -an elaborate index of quotations by which any poetical quotation, of -which the volume contains all that are recognized as famous, can be -readily found. Illustrated with a new steel portrait of Mr. Bryant, many -autographic _fac-similes_ of celebrated poets, and sixteen full-page wood -engravings. 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