Chapter C: M. Drake

SAN DIEGO, CAL.

VOL. XXIII.--NO. 2.]

THREE LITTLE CHICKS.

THREE little chicks, so downy and neat,
Went out in search of something to eat:
Ter-wit, ter-weet!
Something to eat!
And soon they picked up a straw of wheat.

Said one little chick, "That belongs to me!"
Said the other little chick, "We'll see, we'll see!"
"Ter-wit, ter-weet!
It is nice and sweet,"
Said number three: "let us share the treat!"

One little chick seized the straw in his bill,
And was just preparing to eat his fill,
When the other chick
Stepped up so quick,
He hadn't a chance for a picnic pick.

They pulled, and they tugged, the downy things;
And, oh, how they flapped their baby wings!
"Ter-wit, ter-weet!
Something to eat!
Just please let go of this bit of wheat!"

Fiercer and fiercer the battle grew,
Until the straw broke right in two,
And the little chicks
Were in a fix,
And sorry enough for their naughty tricks.

For a saucy crow has watched the fight,
And laughs, "Haw, haw! It serves you right!"
So he snatches the prize
From before their eyes,
And over the hills, and away, he flies!

JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

ROMEO THE SHIRK.

SIXTY years ago, when grandpa was a boy, he had a dog called Romeo, who was made to do the work of churning butter. I never saw a churn that went by dog-power; but it must have been a clumsy affair.

The task could not have been an agreeable one, and I do not wonder that Romeo did not like it. One morning, when the churn was taken out, and the cream was all ready to be made into butter, there was no Romeo to be found. Long and loud were the calls made for him; but he did not answer to his name.

The churning was done that day without his help. Nothing was seen of him until just before dark, when he came into the house with the air of a prodigal son. He did not walk up like an honest dog to get his supper, but slunk under a table.

The family had agreed to neither chide him nor caress him; but grandfather, who was then a little boy, slyly carried him some supper. Romeo ate it greedily, but looked unhappy all the time as though he knew he had done wrong. It was plain that his conscience was smiting him.

The next week, when churning-time came, Romeo did not try to get away. He stood by watching while the cream was made ready; and, when his master whistled for him to take his place at the churn, he came forward, wagging his tail, as much as to say, "I am not going to be a shirk. I was not half so happy the day I ran away as I should have been if I had done my work cheerfully. I will never be caught shirking again." And he never was.

DAISY'S MAMMA.

MOTHER'S LAST LOOK.

THEY'RE asleep,
So I'll keep
Very still, and peep:
Not too bright,
Candle-light
Is for them to night.

Saturday
Makes them gay,
And they've had their play:
Sled and shout
Have, no doubt,
Tired them fairly out.

Once in bed,
Prayers were said
By each curly-head:
But, before
Half was o'er,
They saw slumber-shore.

Darlings! may
Angels stay,
Bless and for you pray!
May their love,
Like a dove,
Watch you from above!

EMILY CARTER.

TIED, NOT MATED.

ONE fine summer day, Master Fritz took his mother's greyhound, Leda, and his father's spaniel, Neptune, out for a run. They were quite ready for a frolic, for they had been tied up in the barn all the forenoon, and had been longing for Fritz to come.

So off they went; and, after they had gone some distance, Fritz thought it would be fine fun, as he had in his pocket a piece of string, to tie the two dogs together, and play they were a span of horses.

No sooner had he got them well tied than some one called him, and off he ran, leaving the two dogs tied, but not mated. They roamed about a while over the fields and meadows, till they came to the pond.

Now, the dogs could not talk in our language; but they made certain noises, which meant, I think, just this: "Here's a chance for a fine swim!" cried Neptune. "Come, Leda, the water is nice and cool."

"I'd rather not go in," said Leda. "I'm not a very good swimmer, and I easily take cold. Pray don't drag me in. Come back and have a race in the meadow."

"Oh, it's too fine, too fine!" barked Neptune; and he began to lap up water with his tongue.

Leda pulled back, and cried, "Oh, don't!"

But the temptation was too great for Neptune. In he pulled poor Leda, and swam about with her till she was chilled through.

Fritz's father, Mr. Pitman, passing that way, saw the dogs, and called them out. Glad enough was Leda to get on dry land. She shivered; but Neptune shook himself till he drenched her all over.

Then Mr. Pitman untied the dogs, and, taking some dry grass, gave Leda a good rubbing till she felt warm and brisk.

Then she began to bark at Neptune, and to caper round him, as much as to say, "Did you not serve me a pretty trick, sir? But I shall not let Master Fritz tie me to you again. Never, never!"

ALFRED SELWYN.

MY KITTEN.