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violent desire to see the beautiful maiden, and ascertain whether it were all true that the young men had related. He therefore rode out to hunt with his hawks and hounds, and penetrated far into the forest, to the place where the king's daughter sat knitting her glove.

The prince approached her, courteously greeted her, and said :"Why sit ye here, fair damsel, and knit so diligently ?" The maiden answered :

"I am knitting a glove :

I expect to wed the king's son of Denmark."

On hearing this the king's son was wonder-struck, and he asked the young maiden whether she would accompany him to his home. The princess laughed at his proposal, and at the instant a ring of red gold fell from her mouth, and when she rose to go, red roses sprung up in her footsteps.

Now the prince's heart inclined towards her, so that he confessed who he was, and asked the young maiden whether she would be his bride. The princess said she would, and, at the same time gave him to understand that her birth and lineage were not inferior to his own. They then proceeded together to the royal palace, and the king's daughter became the wife of the prince. Every one wished her joy, but to the king's son she was dearer than anything else in the world

At this news the wicked step-mother was more envious than before, and thought of nothing so much as how she should effect her step-daughter's destruction, and make her own daughter queen in her stead.

Just at that time it happened that there was a great war, so that the king's son was obliged to go forth with the army, though the young queen was about to be brought to bed. Availing herself of this opportunity, the step-mother proceeded to the king's palace, and conducted herself most affably towards every one. But when the young queen was taken ill, the step-mother treacherously placed her own daughter in the place of the queen, and transformed the latter into a little duck that swam in the river opposite the king's

palace.

Some time after this the war came to an end, and the young king returned home, full of longing to see his fair bride again. On entering the sleeping chamber and finding his ugly step-sister in bed, he was sorely afflicted, and inquired what had so altered his consort's appearance. The treacherous step-mother, who was instantly ready with an answer, said, "That comes of her illness, and

will soon pass away."

The king inquired further: "Formerly gold rings fell from her mouth every time my queen laughed, now toads and frogs spring forth; formerly red roses grew in her footsteps, but now only thistles and thorns. What can be the cause of all this ?"

But the wicked queen was prepared with this answer: "Just as she is, so will she continue, and not otherwise, until the king shall take the blood of a little duck, that swims about in the river."

The king asked: "How can I get the blood of the little duck ?" The stepmother answered: "It must be taken between the increase and the wane of the moon."

The king now ordered the little duck to be caught, but the bird escaped from all the snares, in whatever manner laid.

On a Thursday night, while all were wrapt in sleep, the watchman observed a white form, in every respect resembling the queen, which rose up from the river, and went into the kitchen. The queen had possessed a little dog called Nappe, to which she was much attached. On entering the kitchen she said:

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"Yes, she does so, my lady," answered the dog.

The king's daughter then said: "I will return again on two Thursday nights, and never again afterwards." She then sighed deeply, went down to the river, and was changed into a little duck, as before.

On the following Thursday night the same occurrence took place. When the people were gone to rest, the watchmen observed a white form rise from the river and proceed to the kitchen. They were all greatly surprised at this sight, and went secretly to listen to what she said and did. When she came into the kitchen, she said:"Little Nappe, my dog,

Hast thou some food to give me to night ?"

"No, indeed I have not, my lady," answered the dog.

The king's daughter then asked :-
"Does the troll sleep with my dear young prince,
In the high chamber ?"

"Yes, she does so, my lady," said the dog.

The queen continued: "I will come again on Thursday night, and afterwards never more." She then began to weep bitterly, and returned to the river, where she was changed into a duck, which played about on the water. But when the men perceived all this, it appeared to them as very wonderful, so that they went privately to their lord, and related to him what they had heard and seen. At this intelligence the king sank into deep reflection, and commanded the watchmen to send him notice when the form appeared the third time.

On the third Thursday night, when all had retired to rest, the king's daughter again rose from the water, and went to the palace. On entering the kitchen, as before, she spoke to her dog, and said :— "Little Nappe, my dog,

Hast thou some food to give me to-night?" "No, indeed I have not, my lady," answered the dog. The king's daughter again asked :

"Does the troll sleep with my dear young prince,
In the high chamber?"

"Yes, she does so, my lady," answered the dog.

The queen then sighed deeply and said: "I shall now never come again," and then began to weep bitterly, and was going out to return to the river. But the king had been standing behind the door, listening to the conversation; and when the figure was about to depart, he took his silver-bladed knife and wounded her left little finger, so that there came forth three drops of blood.

and said: Ha! ha! wert thou standing there?" She then, full of The sorcery was now ended; the queen awoke as from a dream, joy, fell on her husband's neck, who bore her up to her chamber. The young queen now related to her consort all that had passed, went to the step-mother, who was sitting by her daughter's bed. and they were overjoyed at seeing each other again. The king then The false queen was holding the babe on her arm, feigning to be very weak after her illness.

The king on entering greeted the old troll-wife, and asked: "If any one should destroy my sick queen, and throw her into the river, tell me what would be a fitting reward for her?"

The wicked step-mother, not suspecting that her treachery was discovered, instantly answered: "That person would well deserve to be placed in a cask set with spikes, and rolled down a mountain.” Then the king, full of wrath, rose up and said: "Thou hast now pronounced thy own doom, and it shall be with thee as thou thyself hast said."

So the troll-wife was placed in a cask set round with spikes, and rolled down the mountain; and her daughter, the false queen, suffered the same punishment.

But the king kissed his lawful queen, and lived with her in peace and happiness.

TO A GLOW-WORM.
LITTLE being of a day,

Glowing in thy cell alone,
Shedding light, with mystic ray,
On thy path, and on my own.
Dost thou whisper to my heart?
"Though I grovel in the sod,
Still I mock man's boasted art,
With the workmanship of God!"
See the fire-fly in his flight,

Scorning the terrene career;
He, the eccentric meteor bright,
Thou, the planet of thy sphere.

Why within thy cavern damp

Thus with trembling dost thou cower? Fear'st thou I would quench thy lampLustre of thy lonely bower?

No! regain thy couch of clay,
Sparkle brightly as before;
Man should dread to take away
Gifts he never can restore.

LISTEN to my story!

THE DAISY.

In the country, close by the road-side, there stands a summerhouse-you must certainly have seen it. In front is a little garden full of flowers, enclosed by white palings; and on a bank outside the palings, amidst the freshest green grass, there grew a little Daisy. The sun shone as brightly and warmly upon the Daisy as upon the large showy flowers within the garden, and therefore it grew hourly, so that one morning it stood fully open, with its delicate white gleaming leaves, which, like rays, surrounded the little yellow sun in their centre.

It never occurred to the little flower that no one noticed her, hidden as she was among the grass; she was quite contented: she turned towards the warm sun, looked at it, and listened to the Lark who was singing in the air.

The Daisy was as happy as if it were a jubilee day, and yet it was only Monday. The children were at school; and whilst they sat upon their forms, and learned their lessons, the little flower upon her green stalk learned from the warm sun and everything around her, how good God is. Meanwhile the little Lark expressed clearly and beautifully in song all that she felt in silence. And the flower looked up with reverence to the happy bird who could fly and sing; yet it did not distress her that she could not do the same. "I can see and listen," thought she; "the sun shines on me, and the wind kisses me. Oh! how richly am I blessed."

There stood within the palings several grand, stiff-looking flowers: the less fragrance they had the more airs they gave themselves. The Peonies puffed themselves out, in order to make themselves larger than the Roses. The Tulips had the gayest colours of all; they were fully aware of it, and held themselves as straight as a candle, that they might be the better seen. They took no notice at all of the little flower outside the palings: but she looked all the more upon them, thinking, "How rich and beautiful they are! Yes, that noble bird will surely fly down and visit them. How happy am I, who live so near them, and can see their beauty!' Just at this moment, "Quirrevit!" the Lark flew down, but he came not to the Peonies or the Tulips: no, he flew down to the poor little Daisy in the grass, who was almost frightened from pure joy, and knew not what to think, she was so surprised.

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The little bird hopped about, and sang, "Oh, how soft is this grass! and what a sweet little flower blooms here, with its golden heart and silver garment!" for the yellow centre of the Daisy looked just like gold, and the little petals around gleamed silver

white.

How happy the little Daisy was! no one can imagine how happy. The bird kissed her with his beak, sang to her, and then flew up again into the blue sky. It was a full quarter of an hour ere the flower recovered herself. Half ashamed, and yet completely happy, she looked at the flowers in the garden; they must certainly be aware of the honour and happiness that had been conferred upon her, they must know how delighted she was.

But the Tulips held themselves twice as stiff as before, and their faces grew quite red with anger. As to the thick-headed Peonies, it was, indeed, well that they could not speak, or the little Daisy would have heard something not very pleasant. The poor little flower could see well that they were in an ill-humour, and she was much grieved at it.

Soon after a girl came into the garden with a knife, sharp and bright; she went up to the Tulips and cut off one after another, "Ugh! that is horrible," sighed the Daisy; "it is now all over with them." The girl then went away with the Tulips. How glad was the Daisy that she grew in the grass outside the palings, and was a despised little flower! She felt really thankful; and when the sun set, she folded her leaves, went to sleep, and dreamed all night of the sun and the beautiful bird.

The next morning when our little flower, fresh and cheerful, again spread out all her white petals in the bright sunshine and clear blue sky, she heard the voice of the bird; but he sung so mournfully. Alas! the poor Lark had good reason for sorrow; he had been caught, and put into a cage close by the open window. He sang of the joys of a free and unrestrained flight; he sang of the young green corn in the fields, and the pleasure of being borne up by his wings in the open air. The poor bird was certainly very unhappy -he sat a pensive pensioner in his narrow cage!

The little Daisy would so willingly have helped him, but how could she? Ah! that she knew not: she quite forgot how beautiful was all around her, how warmly the sun shone, how pretty and white were her petals. Alas! she could only think of the imprisoned bird-whom it was not in her power to help.

Suddenly two little boys came out of the garden; one of them had a knife in his hand, as large and as sharp as that with which the girl had cut the Tulips. They went up straight to the little Daisy, who could not imagine what they wanted.

"Here we can cut a nice piece of turf for the Lark," said one of the boys; and he began to cut deep all round the Daisy, leaving her in the centre.

"Pull out the flower," said the other boy; and the little Daisy trembled all over for fear; for she knew that if she were torn out she would die, and she wished so much to live, as she was to be put into the cage with the imprisoned Lark. "No, leave it alone!" said the first boy, "it looks so pretty and so she was let alone, and was put into the Lark's cage. But the poor bird loudly lamented the loss of his freedom, and bent his wings against the iron bars of his cage; and the little flower could not speak could not say a single word of comfort to him, Thus passed the whole morning, much as she wished to do so. "There is no water here!" sang the captive Lark; "they have all gone out and forgotten me; not a drop of water to drink! my throat is dry and parched! there is fire and ice within me, and the air is so heavy! Alas! I must die; I must leave the warm sun has created!" And then he thrust his beak into the cool grass, in shine, the fresh green trees, and all the beautiful things which God order to refresh himself a little-and his eye fell upon the Daisy, and the bird bowed to her, and said, "Thou, too, wilt wither here, thou poor little flower! They have given me thee, and the piece of green around thee, instead of the whole world which I possessed before! Every little blade of grass is to me a green tree, thy every white petal a fragrant flower! Alas! thou only remindest me of

what I have lost."

"Oh! that I could comfort him!" thought the Daisy, but she could not move a single petal; yet the fragrance which came from her delicate blossom was stronger than is usual with this flower; the bird noticed it, and although, panting with thirst, he tore the green blade in very anguish, he did not touch the flower.

It was evening, and yet no one came to bring the poor bird a drop of water; he stretched out his slender wings, and shook them convulsively; his song was a mournful wail; his little head bent towards the flower, and the bird's heart broke from thirst and

desire.

The flower could not now, as on the preceding evening, fold together her leaves and sleep: sad and sick she drooped to the ground.

The boys did not come till the next morning; and when they saw the bird was dead, they wept bitterly. They dug a pretty grave, which they adorned with floral-petals; the bird's body was put into a pretty red box; royally was the poor bird buried! Whilst he yet lived and sang they forgot him-left him suffering in his cage-and now he was highly honoured and bitterly bewailed.

But the piece of turf with the daisy in it was thrown out into the street: no one thought of her who had felt most for the little bird, and who had so much wished to comfort him!

THE DUSTMAN.

WEDNESDAY.

Oн, how the rain poured down! Edward could hear it even in his sleep, and when the Dustman opened the window the water came in upon the ledge; there was quite a lake in front of the house, and on it a splendid ship. "Will you sail with me, little Edward ?" said the Dustman; “if you will, you shall visit foreign lands to night, and be here again by the morning."

And now Edward, dressed in his Sunday clothes, was in the ship; the weather immediately cleared up, and they floated down the street, cruised round the church, and were soon sailing upon the wide sea. They quickly lost sight of land, and could see only a number of storks, which had come from Edward's country, and were going to a warmer one. The storks came flying one after another, and were already very far from land. One of them, however, was so weary, that his wings could scarcely bear him up any longer; he was last in the flock, and soon lagged far behind the others; he sank lower and lower, with his wings outspread, still endeavouring to move them, but in vain; his wings touched the ship's cordage, he slid down the sail, and, bounce! there he stood on the deck.

So the cabin-boy put him into the coop, where the hens, ducks, and turkeys were kept; the poor stork stood amongst them quite confounded.

"Only look, what a silly fellow!" said all the Hens. And the Turkeycock made himself as big as he could, and asked him who he was; and the ducks waddled backwards and nudged each other, crying “Quack, quack."

The Stork then told them about his warm Africa, and about the pyramids, and about the ostrich, who races through the desert like a wild horse; but the Ducks did not understand him, and again nudged each other, saying, "Do not we all agree in thinking him very stupid."

"Yes, indeed he is stupid!" said the Turkeycock, and began to gobble.

So the Stork was silent, and thought about his Africa. "You have really very pretty slender legs!" said the Turkeycock; "what did they cost you per yard ?"

"Quack, quack, quack!" all the Ducks began to titter; but the Stork pretended not to hear the question.

"You might just as well have laughed with them," said the Turkeycock to him, "for it was a capital joke! But perhaps it was not high enough for you? Ah! ah! he has very grand ideas; let us go on amusing ourselves." And then he gobbled, the hens cackled, and the ducks quacked; they made a terrible uproar with their nonsense.

But Edward went to the hen coop, opened the door, and called the Stork, who immediately jumped on deck; he had now rested himself sufficiently, and bowed his head to Edward, as if to thank him. He then spread his wings and flew away-whilst the hens cackled, the ducks quacked, and the turkeycock turned as red as fire. "To-morrow we will have you all made into soup!" said Edward; whereupon he awoke, and found himself in his own little bed. A strange journey had the Dustman taken him that night.

T

THE HEATH-BELL OF SCOTLAND.

COME, little flower, the Scotsman's toast,

And pretty Highland lassie's boast,
Worn in the cap of warrior wight
When he goes onward to the fight,
And bares his shining battle-blade
For native land and cottage maid-
Worn in the bosom of the lass
Of many a hill or mountain pass,
Who joy, as token they are true,
To sport the bit of faithful blue,
Transplanted from its bed of heath,
To bloom pure Nature's breast aneath.
Come, little flower, I'll pluck thee now
To twine about my Jeannie's brow;
For in thy meek and modest dress
Thou'lt add unto her loveliness,
And seem to one who owns her rule,
Like her, so simply beautiful.
Come, little flower, on hill or dell
Grows not a bud I love so well

As thee, old Scotia's sweet Blue-bell.

THE ROBINS.

THE NESTLINGS FRIGHTENED BY A MONSTER.

CHAPTER III.

HE cock bird, having finished his breakfast, flew out at the window followed by his mate; and as soon as they were out of sight, Mrs. Benson continued her discourse. "And would you really confine these sweet creatures in a cage, Frederick, merely to have the pleasure of feeding them? Should you like to be always shut up in a little room, and think it sufficient if you were supplied with victuals and drink? Is there no enjoyment in running about, jumping, and going from place to place? Do not you like to keep company with little boys and girls? And is there no pleasure in breathing the fresh air? Though these little animals are inferior to you, there is no doubt but they are capable of enjoyments similar to these; and it must be a dreadful life for a poor bird to be shut up in a cage, where he cannot so much as make use of his wings-where

be is separated from his natural companions-and where he cannot possibly receive that refreshment which the air must afford to him when at liberty to fly to such a height. But this is not all, for many a poor bird is caught and taken away from its family, after it has been at the trouble of building a nest-has, perhaps, laid its eggs, or even hatched its young ones, which are by this means exposed to certain destruction. It is likely that these very Redbreasts have young ones, for this is the season of the year for their hatching; and I rather think they have, from the circumstance of their always coming together." "If that is the case" said Miss Harriet, "it would be a pity indeed to confine them. But why, mamma, if it is wrong to catch birds, did you at one time keep Canary-birds? "The case is very different in respect to Canary-birds, my dear," said Mrs. Benson; "by keeping them in a cage I did them a kindness. I considered them as little foreigners who claimed my hospitality. This kind of bird came originally from a warm climate; they are in their nature very susceptible of cold, and would perish in the open air in our winters; neither does the food which they feed on grow plentifully in this country; and as here they are always bred in cages, they do not know how to procure the materials for their nest abroad. And there is another particular which would greatly distress them were they to be turned loose, which is, the persecution they would be exposed to from other birds. I remember once to have seen a poor hen Canary-bird, which had been turned loose because it could not sing; and surely no creature could be more miserable. It was starving for want of victuals, famishing with thirst, shivering with cold, and looked terrified to the greatest degree; while a parcel of sparrows and chaffinches pursued it from place to place, twittering and chirping with every mark of insult. I could not help fancying the little creature to be like a foreigner just landed from some distant country, followed by a rude rabble of boys, who were ridiculing him because his dress and language were strange to them."

"And what became of the poor little creature, mamma?" said Miss Harriet. "I was going to tell you, my dear," replied Mrs. Benson. "I ordered the servant to bring me a cage, with seed and water in their usual places; this I caused to be hung on a tree, next to that in which the little sufferer in vain endeavoured to hide herself among the leaves from her cruel pursuers. No sooner did the servant retire than the poor little wretch flew to it. I immediately had the cage brought into the parlour, where I experienced great pleasure in observing what happiness the poor creature enjoyed in her deliverance. I kept it some years; but not choosing to confine her in a little cage, I had a large one bought, and procured a companion for her of her own species. I supplied then with materials for building; and from them proceeded a little colony, which grew so numerous, that you know I gave them to Mr. Bruce to put into his aviary, where you have seen them enjoying themselves. So now I hope I have fully accounted for having kept Canary-birds in a cage." "You have indeed, mamma," said Harriet.

"I have also," said Mrs. Benson, "occasionally kept larks. In severe winters, vast numbers of them come to this country from a colder climate, and many perish. Quantities of them are killed and sold for the spit; and the bird-catchers usually have a great many to sell; and many an idle boy has some to dispose of. I frequently buy them, as you know Harriet; but as soon as the fine weather returns I constantly set them at liberty. But come, my dear, prepare for your morning walk, and afterwards let me see you in my dressing-room."

"I wonder," said Frederick, "whether our Redbreasts have got a nest! I will watch to-morrow which way they fly; for I should like to see the little ones."

"And what will you do, should you find them out?" said his mamma; "not take the nest I hope?" "Why," replied Frederick, "I should like to bring it home, mamma, and put it in a tree near the house; and then I would scatter crumbs for the old ones to feed them with."

"Your design is a kind one," said Mrs. Benson, "but would greatly distress your little favourites. Many birds, through fear, forsake their nests when they are removed; therefore I desire you to let them alone, if you should chance to find them." Miss Harriet then remarked that she thought it very cruel to take birds' nests. "Ah! my dear," said Mrs. Benson, "those who commit such barbarous actions are quite insensible to the distress they occasion. It is very true, that we ought not to indulge so great a degree of pity and tenderness for animals as for those who are more properly our fellow creatures-I mean men, women, and children: but, as every living creature can feel, we should have a constant regard to those feelings, and strive to give happiness rather than inflict misery. But go, my dears, and take your walk." Mrs. Benson then left them to attend her usual morning employments; and the young lady and gentleman, attended by their maid, passed an agreeable half-hour in the garden.

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LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD.

In the pleasant and secluded village of Rushmere there once lived a little

In the meantime the hen Redbreast returned to the nest, while her mate took his flight in search of food for his family. When the mother approached the nest she was surprised at not hearing as usual the chirping of her young ones; and what was her astonish-girl, who was so amiable and obliging that she was a great favourite with mother, she fairly doated upon her. The little girl was known all through all who knew her. Her mother loved her dearly, and as for her grand

ment at seeing them all crowded together, trembling with apprehension! "What is the matter, my nestlings," said she, "that I find you in this terror ?"

"Oh, my dear," cried Robin, who first ventured to raise up his head, "is it you?" Pecksy then revived, and entreated her mother to come into the nest, which she did without delay, and the little tremblers crept under her wings, endeavouring to conceal themselves in this happy retreat.

"What has terrified you in this manner?" said she. "Oh! I do not know," replied Dicky, "but we have seen such a monster as I never beheld before." "A monster, my dear! pray describe it." "I cannot," said Dicky; "it was too frightful to be described." "Frightful, indeed," cried Robin; "but I had a full view of it, and will give the best description I can."

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"We were all sitting peaceably in the nest, and very happy together; Dicky and I were trying to sing, when suddenly we heard a noise against the wall, and presently a great round red face appeared before the nest, with a pair of enormous staring eyes, a very large beak, and below that a wide mouth with two rows of bones that looked as if they could grind us all to pieces in an instant. About the top of this round face, and down the sides, hung something black, but not like feathers. When the two staring eyes had looked at us for some time, the whole thing disappeared." "I cannot at all conceive from your description, Robin, what this thing could be," said the mother," but perhaps it may come again." "Oh! I hope not," cried Flapsy, "I shall die with fear if it does." "Why so, my love?" said her mother; "has it done you any harm ?” "I cannot say it has," replied Flapsy. "Well then, you do very wrong, my dear, in giving way to such apprehensions." You must strive to get the better of this fearful disposition; when you go abroad in the world you will see many strange objects; and if you are terrified at every appearance which you cannot account for, you will live a most unhappy life. Endeavour to be good, and then you need not fear anything. But here comes your father, perhaps he can explain the appearance which has so alarmed you to-day." As soon as the father had given the worm to Robin, he was preparing to depart for another, but, to his surprise, all the rest of the nestlings begged him to stay, declaring they had rather go without their meal, on condition he would but remain at home and take care of them. 66 Stay at home and take care of you!" said he, "why is that more necessary now than usual?" The mother then related the strange occurrence that had occasioned the request. "Nonsense!" said he, "a monster! great eyes! large mouth! long beak! I don't understand such stuff. Besides, as it did them no harm, why are they to be in such terror now it is gone?" "Don't be angry, dear father," said Pecksy, "for it was very frightful, indeed." "Well," said he, "I will fly all round the orchard, and perhaps I may meet this monster." "Oh! it will eat you up! it will eat you up!" said Flapsy. "Never fear," said he, and away he flew. The mother then again attempted to calm them, but all in vain; their fears were now redoubled for their father's safety: however, to their great joy, he soon returned. "Well," said he, "I have seen this monster:" the little ones then clung to their mother, fearing the dreadful creature was just at hand. "What, afraid again!" cried he; "a parcel of stout hearts I have in my nest, truly! Why, when you fly about in the world, you will in all probability see hundreds of such monsters (as you call them), unless you chance to confine yourselves to a retired life; nay, even in woods and groves you will be liable to meet some of them, and those of the most mischievous kind." "I begin to comprehend," said the mother, "that these dear nestlings have seen the face of a man." "Even so,” replied her mate; it is a man, no other than our friend the gardener, who has so alarmed them." "A man!" cried Dicky; was that frightful thing a man ?" Nothing more, I assure you," answered his father, "and a good man too, I have reason to believe; for he is very careful not to frighten your mother and me when we are picking up worms, and has frequently thrown crumbs to us when he was eating his breakfast."

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"And does he live in this garden ?" said Flapsy. "He works here very often," replied her father, "but is frequently absent." "O, then," cried she, "pray take us abroad when he is away, for indeed I cannot bear to see him." "You are a little simpleton," said the father; "and if you do not endeavour to get more resolution, I will leave you in the nest by yourself, when I am teaching your brothers and sister to fly and peck; and what will you do then?-for you must not expect we shall go from them to bring you food." Flapsy, fearful that her father would be quite angry, promised to follow his directions in every respect; and the rest, animated by his discourse, began to recover their spirits.

the country by the name of Little Red Riding-Hood on account of a pretty little scarlet hood she used to wear, which her mother-who was very proud of her daughter-had made for her to go out in.

One day her mother, who had been baking a batch of bread, made also some nice tea-cakes; when they were done she said to her daughter, “My dear child, your grandmother is not very well, I hear. I think, perhaps, she would relish some of these cakes. I will send her some, together with a pot of nice fresh butter. So get me a basket, and put on your hood, and take them to her, and bring me word how she does; it is a nice afternoon, and if you lose no time you can be back before dark."

Now, Little Red Riding-Hood was a very dutiful and obedient child, so she did as her mother bade her. And taking the basket of cakes and butter on her arm she set off for her grandmother's cottage, which was in a neighbouring village.

"You will go straight to your grandmother's and back," said her mother, "and do not loiter on the way, or stop to talk with strange people, if you should meet any."

Little Red Riding-Hood promised to mind what her mother said to her, and went quickly on her way until she arrived at a wood through which she had to pass before she could arrive at her grandmother's. When she had got to the thickest part of the wood, where the trees were tall and large, with a host of boughs covered with green leaves making it rather dark, she was startled by a rough voice saying "Well, my little maid, and where are you going?" Little Red Riding-Hood looked about her but could see no person anywhere-nothing but the head of a wolf peeping from behind a large tree. He would have sprung at her, and devoured her, but he was afraid of some woodmen at work close by, who, he well knew, would not let him escape if he hurt their favourite little girl.

"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" said the wolf, in a coaxing voice. Little Red Riding-Hood, remembering her mother's caution, hesitated to answer him, but she thought that, if she did not, the wolf would, perhaps, be angry with her; so she stammered out, being terribly frightened, "I am going to my grandmother's, sir, to take her this pot of butter and some tea-cakes mother has made."

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"Poor old soul," said the wolf, "I dare say your grandmother will be delighted to see you Pray where does she live?" "In the valley, by the mill - the first cottage you come to over the bridge." Oh, I am going that way," replied the wolf, "I can walk faster on my four legs than you can on your two I shall be sure to get there first, so I will call at your grandmother's and just tell her you are coming, and what a nice present you will bring her; so good-bye for the present, my little maid, and don't be long."

trembled from head to foot, was heartily glad to get rid of him. With these words he started off, and poor little Red Riding-Hood, who

in his sleeve to think what a clever trick he should play upon poor The wolf set off as fast as his four legs would carry him, laughing Little Red Riding-Hood. He soon arrived at the grandmother's cottage, and knocked at the door.

The grandmother, who was ill in bed, cried out, "Who's there?"

"Only me, dear grandmother," said the wolf, in a thin voice, "I have brought a pot of nice butter and some tea-cakes, which mother has sent you." "If you are my Little Red Riding-Hood, pull the string of the latch and come in," said the grandmother.

"So the wolf pulled the string of the latch, and let himself in. He shut the door behind him, and without any more ado, he sprang upon the poor old grandmother, tore her to pieces, and ate her up in a minute, for he was ravenously hungry, not having had a good feast for several days.

He then put on the grandmother's night-gown and night-cap, got into the bed, and drew the curtains, so as to make it dark, that Little Red RidingHood might not discover the trick he intended to play upon her. And he lay quietly in the bed, awaiting the little girl's arrival.

pretty things to admire on the road-birds, flowers, and insects, that, although He had to wait longer than he expected, for the little girl saw so many she did not stop to loiter, she did not make quite so much haste as she ought to have done. Suddenly she bethought herself that she had to go to her grandmother's and be back again to her mother before dark; and to make up for lost time she set off running as fast as she could, and arrived at her grandmother's cottage quite out of breath.

She tapped at the door very gently, and a gruff voice cried out, "Who is there ?"

Little Red Riding-Hood was a little bit surprised; she said to herself "surely that is not dear grandmother's voice; but perhaps she has got a bad cold, and that has made her hoarse," so she answered aloud,

"It is your little grand-daughter, brought you some nice tea-cakes, and a pot of fresh butter."

Then the wolf cried out in his thinnest voice, "Pull the bobbin, my dear, and let yourself in."

As soon as she had stepped into the cottage, the wolf, who had hid his head under the bed-clothes, said, "I am so glad you have come, my dear, 1 am very ill indeed, and I am sure I shall relish your tea-cakes. But I can not get up, so take off your clothes and come to bed and warm me, for I am so cold. I'll have the cakes with my tea, by and by."

So the obedient little girl did as she was requested, and took off her clothes and stepped into the bed. The crafty wolf did not turn his head, but Little Red Riding-Hood was startled at the strange figure she saw upon turning down the bed-clothes, so she said,

"Dear me, grandmother, how long your arms have grown since you have

been ill."

"The better to hug you with, my child," replied the wolf. "But grandmother, dear, how very long your ears are." "The better to hear what you say, my child," replied the wolf. "Your eyes, too, how very large they are," said the little girl. "The better to see you with, my dear," answered the wolf. "And, grandmother, what large teeth you have got," said the little girl, who was getting rather alarmed.

"They'll do capitally to eat you up with," said the wolf; and, without any further parley, the wicked creature turned upon Little Red RidingHood, and ate her up in a trice.

THE BLIND BOY.
DEAR MARY, said the poor blind boy,
That little bird sings very long;
Say, can you see him in his joy,
And is he pretty as his song?

Yes, Edward, yes, replied the maid;
I see the bird on yonder tree;
The poor boy sighed, and gently said,
Sister, I wish that I could see.

The flowers you say are very fair,

And bright green leaves are on the trees:

And pretty birds are singing there-
How beautiful for one who sees.

Yet I the fragrant flower can smell

And I can feel the green leaf's shade,

And I can hear the notes that swell
From these dear birds that God has made.

No, sister, God to me is kind,

Though sight, alas! he has not given; But, tell me, are there any blind

Among the children up in Heaven? No, dearest Edward; there all see: But why ask me a thing so odd?

Oh, Mary! He's so kind to me,

I thought I'd like to look at God.

Ere long disease his hand had laid

On that dear boy so meek and mild,
His widowed mother wept and prayed
That God would spare her sightless child.
He felt her warm tears on his face,

And said-Oh, never weep for me:
I'm going to a bright, bright place,
Where, Mary says, I God shall see:
And you'll come there--dear Mary, too;
But mother, when you come up there,
Tell Edward, mother, that 'tis you;
You know I never saw you here-

He spake no more, but sweetly smiled
Until the final blow was given ;

When God took up that poor blind child,
And opened first his eyes in heaven.

THE FAITHFUL ANIMALS. THERE was once a man who had not a great deal of money, but, taking the little he had, he wandered into the wide world. Soon he came to a village where a crowd of boys were running about shouting and laughing, and he asked them what was the matter. “Oh,” replied they, "we have got a mouse, which we are going to teach how to dance. Only see what capital sport it is-how it skips about." The man, however, pitied the poor mouse, and said, "Let it go, my boys, and I will give you something." So he gave them some halfpence, and they let the poor animal loose, which ran as fast as it could into the first hole it could spy.

Then the man went on his way, and came to another village where make them laugh, without letting the poor thing have any rest. To some boys had a monkey, which they forced to dance and tumble, to these boys also the man gave money, that they might release the monkey. And by and by, coming to a third village, he saw boys making a bear in chains stand upright and dance, and when it growled they seemed all the better pleased. This animal's liberty the man also purchased, and the bear, very glad to find himself on his four feet again, tramped away.

The man, however, had given away all his money, and he found he had not a single farthing even left in his pocket. So he said to himself, "The king has plenty in his treasury, which he does not want. I cannot die of hunger. I must take some of this thoughts he managed to get into the treasure chamber, and took a money, and then when I become rich I can replace it." With these little from the heaps, but as he was slipping out he was seized by the king's guards. They said he was a thief, and took him before the justice, who sentenced him, as he had committed a crime, to be put in a chest on the water. The lid of the chest was full of holes to admit fresh air, and, besides, a jug of water and a loaf of bread were put in with him.

While he was floating about in great distress of mind, he heard something gnawing and scratching at the lock of his chest, and all at once it gave way, and up flew the lid. Then he saw the mouse, and the monkey, and the bear standing by, and found it was they who had opened the chest, because he had helped them. But they did not know how to proceed next, so they held a consultation together. In the meanwhile a white stone rolled by into the water, in shape like a round egg. "That has come in the very nick of time," said the bear, "for it is a wonderful stone, which, whoever owns it can wish himself in whatever place he desires."

The man, therefore, picked up the stone, and as he held it in his hand, he wished himself in a castle with a garden and stables. Scarcely had he done so, when he found himself in a castle with a garden and stables just to his mind, add everything was beautiful and nice that he could not admire it enough.

SO

After a time some merchants came by that way, and, as they passed, one called to the others, "See what a noble castle stands here, where lately, when we were here before, was nothing but dreary sand." Their curiosity was therefore aroused, and they entered the castle, and inquired of the man how he had managed to build the place so quickly.

"I did not do it," said he, "but my wonderful stone."

"What kind of a stone can it be ?" inquired the merchant; and, going in, the man fetched it and showed it to them. The sight of it pleased them so much that they inquired if it were not for sale, and offered him all their beautiful goods in exchange. The goods tock the man's fancy, and, his heart being fickle, and hankering after new things, he suffered himself to be persuaded, and thought the beautiful things were worth more than his stone, so he gave it away to them in exchange. But scarcely had he given it out of his hands, when all his fortune vanished, and he found himself again in his floating chest on the water with nothing but his jug of water and

loaf of bread.

The faithful beasts-the mouse, monkey, and bear, as soon as they saw his misfortune, came again to help him, but they could not manage to unfasten the lock, because it was much stronger than the former one. Thereupon the bear said, "We must procure that wonderful stone again, or our work is useless." Now the merchants had stopped at the castle, and lived there still, so the three faithful animals went away together, and when they arrived in the neighbourhood, the bear said the mouse must peep through the keyhole and see what was going on, for as she was small no one would notice her. The mouse consented, and went, but soon returned, saying, "It is all of no use, I have peeped in, but the stone hangs on a red ribbon below the mirror, and above and below it sit two great cats, with fiery eyes, to watch it."

Then the others said, "Never mind, go back again, and wait till the master goes to bed and falls asleep, then do you slip in through the hole, and creep on to the bed, and twitch his nose and bite off one of his whiskers." So the mouse crept in and did as she was told,

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