Chapter L: A. B. C

BERTIE'S STORY AND MINE.

"Tell me a story about a bear,
A great big bear who lived in a wood
And ate little children." "O, my dear,
The bears I know of were playful and good,
And lived in houses or parks or a pen,
And never ate children, or boys, or men.

"There was one snow white, a mother bear,--
With two little babies cunning and queer;
Who rolled and climbed and stood on their heads,
And fell over, as boys often do, I fear.
They hugged their mother, and talked in their way,
And kept still when they'd nothing to do or say."

"No, I mean a real bear out in the woods,
Who growls and chases you, makes you run,
Half scared to death,--and a little boy lost
Out in the woods and the night coming on;
And the terrible bear with his great fierce eyes,
And no one to hear the little child's cries!

"He runs and runs,"--and then Bertie smiles,
His climax reached,--"I was only in fun;
The bear didn't kill him, because, you see,
There was just behind a man with a gun,
And he shot! Bang! Down came the old bear;
'Twas his own little boy and he saved him--there!"

"O, I am so glad!" and I give him a kiss;
Then silent we sit for a moment or two.
"That's a boy's story; yours, you know,
For nice little girls very well will do.
But boys, you remember, grow up to be men,
And can fight the bears to their very den."

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS.

THE PORCUPINE'S QUILLS.

Every animal has an instrument of defence. Some have claws, some hoofs, some spurs and beaks, some powerful teeth and stings.

The porcupine has something queerer than all these. Its body is covered all over with two sets of quills. One set is long, slender, and curved; the other, short and straight, very stout, and with sharp points.

Whenever the porcupine is chased by any animal, and finds he cannot get out of the way, he just stops and bristles up all his quills. Then he backs quickly upon the animal, so that the short, sharp quills may stick into the body. If any happen to be a little loose, they stick so fast in the flesh, like an arrow, that they often make a very bad wound. Remember this whenever you come in the way of the porcupine.

MRS. G. HALL.

LOVE YOUR ENEMIES.

I was watching Willie and Grouse at play on the lawn a few days since. I saw in the poor dumb brute a spirit that is too seldom found in man.

Grouse is an old bird-dog,--a setter. He was bought before Willie came to be his little master. He has soft, brown hair, and is a very clever, good-natured dog. Willie can do anything with him, and he never gets angry; but when Willie hurts him he only looks up and pleads with his large, misty eyes.

They had been playing a long while. Grouse got tired and lay down on the grass. Pretty soon I saw Willie get some water in a basin. I wondered what he was going to do with it. Then he walked close up to Grouse, who lay on the lawn, and threw the water all over him.

It was very unkind for Willie to do so, don't you think it was? I called Willie to me, and told him it was too bad for him to plague such a good old dog. I told him he was a very naughty boy to do so.

Willie said he supposed it was wrong to plague Grouse, but he didn't mean to hurt him much.

So Willie went back to where Grouse lay in the sun drying himself. He patted the poor dog on the head, and asked him if he would forgive him for his unkindness.

Then Grouse, as if he knew what was said, licked Willie's hand. He looked up forgivingly into his face with his dewy eyes, as much as to say, "I am one who can love his enemies."

FRANK. H. SELDEN.

THE MERCIFUL PRINCE.

More than two thousand years ago, in a far-off country, a prince was born. While he was yet a child every care was taken that he should be made happy, and sights of sorrow were carefully kept from him. He was of a very kind, loving, and tender disposition.

But the care even of a king for a prince could not keep away all sorrowful sights. His watchful eyes sometimes saw suffering that filled his heart with pity.

As he was playing with his cousin in the palace ground, a flock of wild swans flew over their heads. His cousin drew his bow and wounded one. It fell at his feet. The prince with pity drew the arrow from the wounded bird, nursed it, and saved its life.

While his child life was one of tenderness and mercy, the years passed by and he became a man. His heart was still filled with pity for every suffering creature. He went from the palace, from home and dear friends, to become poor and a wanderer, that he might help the suffering. It is beautifully told that in his wanderings he came upon a flock of sheep driven along the dusty highway. There was one poor wounded, bleeding lamb, which he took tenderly in his arms and carried. And so through life his pity and his help were given to the weak, whether men or beasts. From his tender and beautiful life, men came to worship him after his death.

The prince was Prince Gautama, of India, who is worshipped as Buddha. Is not his loving and merciful life, from a little child to an old man, a beautiful example to us?

CHARLES T. JEROME

THE OPOSSUM IN THE HEN-HOUSE.

"O George, the circus is coming! the handbills are all up, and such pictures of horses and lions and tigers, and everything!"

Ned jumped about for joy, until George said,--

"But how are you going, Ned? We have no money, and papa said he could not give us any more this month, if he gave us a gun."

"The new gun,--so he did," said Ned, sadly. "But the circus takes so little; they would let us in at half price."

"I will tell you," exclaimed George; "let us sell our white Leghorns to mamma. She wants them, I know, and the money we get for them will take us both to the circus."

This was settled, and at dinner mamma was told of the plan.

"Put them up in the hen-house to-night," she said, "and to-morrow I will look at them and we will fix the price."

The boys went to bed early that night, but had hardly settled themselves to sleep when Melissa, the little servant-girl, rushed in with a light in her hand.

"O, git up, boys, git up! Sompen's in de hen-house, killin' all de fowls."

They jumped up and huddled on their clothes as fast as they could, then ran after Melissa, who held the light while they armed themselves with sticks.

There was a great stir, sure enough, in the hen-house,--fowls were cackling and screaming with fright, and a curious snapping sound came from one corner. When the light fell here they saw a rough, hairy little animal, with small bright eyes like a pig, and a long smooth tail. But, worst of all, one of the beautiful white Leghorns lay before it, all mangled and bleeding. The horrid creature was tearing its soft body, and would hardly stop eating when the children attacked him.

At last Melissa caught up a stick, and killed the little beast with a quick blow. She held it up in triumph by its long tail. It looked very much like a little pig, and had five fingers, like toes, on each foot.

"'Tis a 'possum," said Melissa, "and very good to eat. I's right glad _I_ kill it, cos now 'tis mine."

"You are welcome to it," said Ned, half crying. "What shall we do now our pretty Leghorn rooster is dead? We can't go to the circus."

Next morning they told their tale at the breakfast-table.

"Never mind," said their father; "I think you may go, after all, as I owe you something for killing the opossum. He would have destroyed the rest of the fowls."

"Yes; but, papa, Melissa killed it; we only struck at it."

"Well, I think I must treat the whole party, as all did their best. We will set a trap to-day for the next opossum that may come to see us."

The boys and Melissa went to the circus, and enjoyed all they saw, and Melissa had a fine opossum stew into the bargain.

PINK HUNTER.
VIRGINIA.

HOW ROY WENT A FISHING.

Roy had fished in the ditch by the side of the road a great many times; but he had only a bent pin for a fish-hook, and a piece of twine for a line. He never caught any fish there.

When he was six years old his uncle James gave him a real fish-hook and a line, and after a good deal of coaxing his mother said that he might go down the cow-path to the brook and fish for trout.

Uncle James caught a great many trout in the brook.

Alice wanted to go with Roy; and Roy, who is very kind to his sister, asked his mother to let her go.

Alice carried the basket,--a pretty large one. Mary, the cook, told them to be sure and get it full of fish, so that she could fry them for dinner.

How proud and happy they were! Their mother could see them from the window all the time.

When they reached the brook Alice sat down on a rock. Roy put a worm on the hook, and dropped the end of the line into the stream. But it was a long time before he got a bite. At last he thought he felt a nibble.

"I've got one, Ally!" he shouted. "O, such a big fellow! You will have to come and help me pull him out!"

They tugged away on the line, and then they both fell over backwards.

"There he is!" cried Roy. But when they got up and looked, it was not a trout at all. It was only a piece of a black root that broke off and gave them a tumble.

Roy tried again, and after a good while he felt another nibble. He jerked the line out so quickly that the hook caught in the back of Alice's dress. It pricked her shoulder so that she had half a mind to cry.

Roy could not get the hook out of her dress, and they went home for their mother to help them.

Mary laughed at Roy a good deal. She told his uncle James, at dinner-time, that Roy caught the biggest trout she ever saw, and he had to come home for his mother to get it off the hook.