Chapter II: Part 2

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

THE DOLLS AND THE OTHER DOLLS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHY DID MAMMA CHANGE HER MIND?

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

Mrs. Miller said they might invite ten children.

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

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

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

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

“But it won’t be my party,” said Lonnie, “if you have all girls.”

“I don’t care, all those are horrid,” pointing to his paper.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d better call you to lunch,” said she, and there they were just through breakfast.

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

“What makes you change your mind?” said Fay.

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

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

CLARA’S “FUNERAL.”

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

The next day mamma stopped at the nursery door.

“Good morning, little nurse,” she said; “how is poor Clara this morning?”

“She’s DEADED,” said Blanche, with a long face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well,” said Blanche, “I thought perhaps she could get to Heaven easier.”

THE CHICKADEE-DEE.

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

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

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

THE CHILDREN’S PARTY.

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

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

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

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

BRAVE TOMASSO.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TOMMY FROST SEES A BEAR.

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

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

“What is in the woods?” asked Mrs. Drew.

“The bear!” cried Tommy.

“The bear?” repeated Mrs. Drew, hardly understanding.

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

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

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

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

“In a tree?” cried Mrs. Drew’s brother, stopping in his quick run for the woods.

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

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

MYSELF.

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

TWO STRANGE SIGHTS.

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

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

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

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

A CAT’S INSTINCTS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” said Aunt Margaret, “killed that you might wear it on a hat.”

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

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

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

DINAH’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dinah answered that she certainly had.

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

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

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

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

On New Year’s morning she received a box marked in large printed letters:

MISS DINAH MORRIS,
Care of Mrs. Lawrence Delaney,
NEW ORLEANS, LA.

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

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

NIGHT FLOWERS.

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

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

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

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

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

THE FIRST SNOW-STORM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he has never forgotten his surprise when he saw the first snow-storm.

FRED’S STOLEN RIDE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A VALENTINE PARTY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE VENTURESOME RAT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE BEARS’ FEAST.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PATTY-SAYINGS.

“I’ve been reading Bible stories,” Patty said, “and I believe That Adam’s name MEANT ‘Morning,’ Because his wife was ‘Eve.’”

BABIE’S CURLS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE RED APPLES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, dear,” said the gentleman taking the purse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUBBLES.

“Now, Tommie, what will you do while I write letters this morning?”

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

“Well, run and get me your pipe and bowl and I will mix you some suds.”

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

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

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

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

“But the mirror doesn’t break like the bubbles,” said Tommie. “Where do they go when they break, Mamma?”

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

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

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

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

“Of course I can,” said Tommie, proudly. “Haven’t you just told me all about it?”

A HORSE WHO WORE SNOW SHOES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE ANGRY BOBOLINK.

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

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

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

HOW HIRAM SPENT HIS SHRIMP MONEY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, there is,” replied Hiram.

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

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

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

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

“Did you know it then, mother?” he asked.

His mother nodded. “And you never told me.”

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

THE ANT’S HOUSE.

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

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

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

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

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

THE FOOLISH PUG.

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SILHOUETTE PARTY

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

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

“I know,” said Ralph, “it is funny black pictures on something white.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The old woman who swept the cob-webs out of the sky,” cried some one.

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

“Old Mother Hubbard,” guessed another.

Then came a boy and a girl carrying a pail.

“Jack and Jill,” chorused the children.

After this a girl with a shepherd’s crook.

“Little Bo-peep,” again was guessed.

“Now,” said Grandpa, “it is time the others had their turn at acting.”

So the exchange being made, the pictures continued.

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

Then Grandpa announced that the pictures were over.

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

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

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

“Oh yes,” said the children.

THE SNOW BIRDS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A KIND HEART.

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