POLLY'S ORPHANS.

BY MRS. BATTERSBY.

HAT a number of shivering, halffledged, hungry, little birds! and what a task Polly Green has in supplying those gaping, widemouthed creatures with food, beginning from six o'clock in the morning, when they wake up, to six o'clock in the evening when they go to sleep; they manage to keep up a perpetual chirp which sounds like "Feed me, feed me," in the ears of their kind mistress.

The poor little orphans were brought to Polly one morning by her brother, who had seen a large strange cat running away with the mother bird in her mouth." It had seized her when sitting upon her nest. "Puss would have been sure to come back to eat up the little ones next, Polly," said Tom, "so I've brought them to you, but they are so young I'm afraid you will have a great deal of trouble with them." And so she had, and she was obliged to watch them very closely till her two pet cats, Topsy the mother, and Mopsy the daughter, became accustomed to them, lest they should kill her little nestlings; but the cats had often seen very young chickens fed, and hopping about, so after a short time they did not molest the little thrushes. Polly took such care of the birds that she would probably have reared them all, but for accidents. Her first misfortune was a tremendous thunder-shower which fell when she was shopping for her mother at a neighbouring village. She had left the cage containing her pets outside the cottage, on the window-sill, and when she ran home the nest was

half filled with water, and two of the nestlings were quite dead, and another nearly drowned; however, she held it in her warm hand in the sunshine, and at last it recovered and became in time a very handsome bird. One of the others was killed by a hawk which came swooping down upon the cage as it stood upon the window-sill, and struck one of its sharp talons into the helpless little thrush, which had fluttered in its fright against its prison bars. Only two were left; Polly called them Jack and Jill, and they became so tame that she let them fly all about the house, and in and out of the window, as often as they liked, for they would always come to her finger when she gave a little low whistle and showed them a piece of food. When spring time came again Tom fastened a wicker cage, which he had covered on top with oilcloth, under the eves of the cottage; in the cage he placed hair and moss and an old nest, which he secured into one corner, in the other he placed a box with food, which soon tempted Jack and Jill to take possession of their new dwelling, and they had great fun pulling the old nest to pieces, and then mending it again according to their own fancy. By-and-by Jill was hatching five beautiful black-spotted blue eggs, and Jack would sit on the outside of the cage, warbling away so delightfully, that the neighbours often stopped to look at the pretty sight, and listen to him; while Polly's blind aunt would take her knitting to the cottage door and sit there for hours, enjoying the sunshine and the sweet melody. Polly thought herself quite rewarded for all her troubles, and the care she had taken of the orphan nestlings. What do you think, my little reader?

BROWNIE.

ROWNIE is a big, strong, cart-horse who is hard at work all the year round, and he runs along the streets and roads as if he really liked his occupation.

But Brownie is very nervous, and he is impatient, too, if he has to wait at doors occasionally for any length of time. He sometimes makes believe he is going off, without waiting any longer for John Robinson, his driver.

One day he got quite cross, and stamped his foot, and tossed his head again and again. Still John didn't come, so Brownie thought he would draw his cart leisurely up the hill.

But people in the street interfered with him, they scolded him, and snatched at the reins, and with all the shouting and dragging the horse became frightened and angry. He would have bitten somebody, I am afraid, if John Robinson hadn't come to the rescue; but he soon petted him into a good humour.

"That's an awkward animal you've got to deal with," remarked a bystander. "Oh, no," laughed John Robinson, with another pat or two on Brownie's neck, as much as to say, "Don't mind these folks, Brownie, you and I are the best of friends."

"There couldn't be a more manageable horse than this. I haven't used a whip since the first week I had him."

The man jumped into the cart and was on his way in a moment, and Brownie's clattering hoofs were soon out of hearing.

Now I happen to know that some little lads are exceedingly fond of the whip, and they are never so happy as when they are lashing their wooden horses.

THAT BOY.

BY GEORGE COOPER.

es the house turned topsy-turvy? Does it ring from street to roof? Will the racket still continue, Spite of all your mild reproof? Are you often in a flutter? Are you sometimes thrilled with joy? Then I have my grave suspicions

That you have at home-that Boy. Are the walls and tables hammered? Are your nerves and ink upset? Have two eyes, so bright and róguish, Made you every care forget? Have your garden-beds a prowler Who delights but to destroy? These are well-known indications That you have at home-that Boy. Have you seen him playing circus With his head upon the mat, And his heels in mid-air twinkling,— For his audience, the cat? Do you ever stop to listen,

When his merry pranks auoy, Listen to a voice that whispers,

You were once just like-that Boy!
Have you heard of broken windows,
And with nobody to blame?
Have you seen a trowsered urchin,
Quite unconscious of the same?
Do you love a teasing mixture

Of perplexity and joy?
You may have a dozen daughters,
But I know you've got-that Boy

MAUDIE UP AND
DOWN

AURIE was Maudie's cousin and
schoolfellow, and generally they
were capital friends.

But one morning shortly before the school broke up for the Christmas holidays, Maudie was in a cross, disobliging humour, and during lesson hours and the brief recess, she behaved in a naughty manner towards Laurie, and would not be a gentle, sweet cousin to him at all. He was six years old, and tall for his age, but Maudie was not quite five, and such a little doll-like creature, he felt quite manly beside her, and always made it his business to protect her in the playground. No wonder, then, that Maudie hung her little ashamed head down, when conscience began to accuse her. She had hidden Laurie's table-book, she jerked his elbow when he was trying to write a splendid copy, and this caused him to crook the tail of a capital G, and make a blot too. She wouldn't lend him one of the two pieces of slate-pencil she had in her pocket, though he hadn't a bit. Ch, it was a sad, tearful morning for Laurie. He thought dinner-time would never come, but it came at last, and then all the little children deserted the school-room, and after a pause in the hall to bundle themselves up in their warm ulsters, furtippets, and top coats, and to fasten on their little bonnets and hats, they went chattering into the frosty street to run and slide their various ways home.

Laurie expected Maudie wished to walk home with him as usual, for their homes stood almost side by side, and were a mile distant from the school.

When he looked back and saw her coming slowly along with her eyes bent on the pavement, he called out, "Come, Maud, it's time we were half-way home; how slow you are!”

"We're not friends," cried the stubborn little maid. "I can take care of myself." And even as she spoke her small heels went up in the air and she lay on her back on the pavement.

Laurie picked her up, and they went a short distance further when Maudie fell again, and even a third time, and then she began to be tender-hearted, and to cry.

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Oh, it is 'ceedingly slippery," she said piteously. "It's just as if my feet are frightened, and can't walk firm. Do lay hold of my hand, Laurie, and lead me safe home, and I'll never be naughty any more!"

Laurie's countenance was a study as he regarded his teasing little cousin with grave, forgiving eyes, and dried her tears with his own grubby pictorial pocket-handkerchief. There was no

mischievousness in the subdued face and small, timid figure. He put his arms round her, and gave her a kiss, containing a whole world of benevolence, and then he led her carefully home.

Dear little folk, you must be kind to each other at home and at school, and pull up every desire to vex or to tease each other out of your hearts, even as a careful gardener will not suffer a weed to flourish among his lovely flowers. And should there chance to be some among you, who are prone to be "bad and mischievous," like Maudie, at times, try to act as kindly and forgivingly towards them as did Laurie towards his wayward little cousin.

EMILY JANE MOORE.