Albert Fl. Mann Libr^ary 
 
 Cornell University 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924090196621 
 
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ECLECTIC SCHOOL READINGS 
 
 STORIES OF 
 
 HUMBLE FRIENDS 
 
 BY 
 KATHARINE PYLE 
 
 WITH PICTURES BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 NEW YORK ■:- CINCINNATI :■ CHICAGO 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
Copyright, 1902, by 
 Katharine Pvle 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 
 
 Stories of Humble Friends 
 
" He prayeth best who loveth best 
 All things, both great and small ; 
 For the dear God who loveth us, 
 He made and loveth all." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 The Story of a Caterpillar .... 7 
 
 II. 
 
 Little Brown Hen . 
 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 III. 
 
 Bianca .... 
 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 IV. 
 
 Jerry .... 
 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 V. 
 
 Barry .... 
 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 VI. 
 
 Fax .... 
 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 VII. 
 
 Tiie Two Little Crabs . 
 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 VIII. 
 
 James Crow 
 
 
 
 
 62 
 
 IX. 
 
 Firefly .... 
 
 
 
 
 70 
 
 X. 
 
 The Story of a Slave 
 
 
 
 
 77 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Tame Bat . 
 
 
 
 
 98 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Captive Robin. 
 
 
 
 
 106 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Flora and her Cat 
 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Two Worlds . 
 
 
 
 
 I2S 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Partridges 
 
 
 
 
 134 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Limpety .... 
 
 
 
 
 138 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Opossum Family 
 
 
 
 
 157 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Polly .... 
 
 
 
 
 163 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The Pet Lamb 
 
 
 
 
 171 
 
 XX. 
 
 What Became of the Kittens 
 
 
 
 
 178 
 
 XXL 
 
 Graywings 
 
 
 
 
 183 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The Flying Squirrel 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 
 188 
 
STORIES OF HUMBLE FRIENDS 
 
 THE STORY OF A CATERPILLAR 
 
 A CATERPILLAR had crawlcd up on a twig. It 
 looked the twig all over, then fastened itself tightly 
 to it by its hind legs and began twisting itself and 
 moving its head up and down with a weaving motion. 
 Every time the caterpillar's head moved it left be- 
 hind it something that looked like a glistening 
 thread of silk. 
 
 An ant that was crawling along the branch stopped 
 and stared with wonder. " What in the world are 
 you doing ? " it asked. 
 
 The caterpillar paused to rest for a moment. It 
 was hard work bending and doubling itself in that 
 way. "I'm making a house," it said. 
 
 " Making a house ! " cried the ant. 
 
 A bee that had lighted close by began to buzz 
 with laughter. " Will you tell me, if you please, 
 what sort of a house that is ?" he cried. 
 
 7 
 
" The only sort of house I know how to make," 
 the caterpillar answered humbly. 
 
 " I never heard of anything so absurd. Why 
 don't you hunt about and find a hollow tree, or a 
 good hive, and live in that ? Then you would be 
 safe." 
 
 " Or you might find a hole under a stone," added 
 the ant. " That's a very good place." 
 
 The caterpillar shook its head. " This is the 
 only sort of house I know how to make," it repeated. 
 Then it set to work again. 
 
 As for the bee and the ant they went their ways. 
 " A poor sort of a house indeed," each one thought 
 to itself. 
 
 But the caterpillar went on working. 
 
 Up and down, up and down its head moved, 
 weaving and weaving. Now the silk was like a thin, 
 silvery veil about it. Through the veil you could 
 still faintly see the caterpillar moving. 
 
 At last the veil grew so thick that you could not 
 see the caterpillar at all. You could only guess 
 that it might still be at work inside. 
 
 After a while the bee came by that way again. 
 
 It stopped and looked the little house all over. 
 Then it flew down to the ant-hill. " Miss Ant, Miss 
 
Ant, come out here," it buzzed. " I've such a joke 
 to tell you." 
 
 The little ant stuck its head up from the hill. 
 
 " Such a joke ! That caterpillar we were watch- 
 ing has finished its house, and has forgotten to 
 leave any door," and the bee buzzed very hard. 
 
 " That is too bad, " said the ant; " I'm afraid it 
 will starve to death." 
 
 But the caterpillar did not die. It was not even 
 hungry. It was fast asleep in its little cocoon 
 house. While it slept the sun shone or the rain 
 beat, but the little house let in 
 neither sun nor rain. It was snug 
 and dark. 
 
 If anyone had opened the cocoon 
 now he would have found a won- 
 derful thing. Inside the hard, gray 
 outside shell was a lining as soft 
 as silk, and still inside of this was 
 something — what was it ? Not a 
 caterpillar ; not a moth either, 
 though if one looked carefully one 
 could see what looked like tiny 
 wings folded closely down each side of folded legs, 
 and the shape of feathery antennae such as moths 
 
 Cocoon cut open 
 
lO 
 
 have, but these too folded closely down. All were 
 sealed together in what looked like a brown, soft 
 skin. This thing was what we call a pupa. 
 
 Days and nights passed and at last what had once 
 been the caterpillar began to stir and wake. 
 
 " How strange I feel ! How strange I feel," 
 said the thing to itself. " I must have light and air." 
 
 One end of the cocoon was very soft and loose. 
 It was through this end that what had once been the 
 caterpillar pushed its way out into the air. 
 
 Oh, how weak and ill it felt ! Fastened to It on 
 each side were two crumpled wet things which it 
 began to move feebly up and down. As it moved 
 them it felt its strength returning and the crumpled 
 things began to spread and dry. Broader and 
 broader they spread until they were strong vel- 
 vety wings, two on each side. They were of the 
 most beautiful soft brown color with a pinkish 
 border along the edges. In the middle of each of 
 the lower wings was a glistening spot like the 
 " eye " spot on a peacock's feather 
 
 This thing was no caterpillar ; it was a beautiful 
 winged moth. 
 
 Presently it walked from the twig down upon the 
 gray cocoon within which it had lain so long. Then 
 
II 
 
 it spread its wings and floated softly off through the 
 air and down to the earth. It did not fly far, for it 
 had not its full strength as yet. 
 
 When it alighted, 
 where should it be but 
 on the ant-hill. The little 
 ant was very busy there, 
 tugging at twigs and 
 leaves, and hunting for 
 food. It stopped its work 
 to stare with awe at the 
 wonderful stranger. 
 " You beautiful thing," 
 it said, "where did you 
 come from ? " 
 
 " Don't you remember the caterpillar that made 
 itself a house on the twig above ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, poor thing, it myst have died long 
 ago," said the ant. *' I went up there once or twice 
 to see if I could help it, but there was no sound 
 nor stir." 
 
 " I am that caterpillar," said the moth gently. 
 
 The ant stared and wondered, " I was once a 
 pupa myself," it cried. " But I did not hatch out 
 with such wings as those." 
 
 Moth on Cocoon 
 
12 
 
 Just then who should come buzzing by but the 
 very bee that had laughed at the caterpillar's 
 house. It, too, stopped to gaze at the wonderful 
 stranger. When it learned that this moth was 
 that very caterpillar it buzzed for wonder. " Well, 
 well ! " it said, " so that was what you were about, 
 was it ; growing wings in your queer house ! " 
 
 But the moth stirred itself. "Now I must go," 
 
 it said. " I must 
 find a shelter under 
 a rock or in some 
 hollow tree until 
 the sun goes down. 
 But to-night — ah, 
 Moth, Bee, and Ant to-night ! Then I 
 
 shall come out to fly wheresoever I will." 
 
 So it waved its great wings and flew softly and 
 noiselessly away out of sight. 
 
 The ant and the bee sat looking after it. 
 " And to think," cried the bee, " that we should not 
 have understood what that caterpillar was doing ! 
 After all, every one knows his own business best." 
 
13 
 
 LITTLE BROWN HEN 
 
 Little Brown Hen is a brown Bantam. 
 
 There are beautiful shadings of blue and red 
 and gold on her feathers, like the colors on 
 burnished metal. She is as slender and prettily 
 shaped as any bird, and her eyes are as bright as a 
 bit of glass. 
 
 She is a gentle little thing. She will let her 
 mistress pick her up at any time, and then she will 
 crouch on her mistress's arm, talking softly with 
 little throat sounds. 
 
 Little Brown Hen likes to see everything there 
 is to be seen. When the door is left open she 
 comes walking daintily into the house, peering this 
 way and that and making remarks to herself in a 
 low tone. 
 
 She peeps into closets and pecks at the string 
 that ties boxes. Sometimes she flies up on the 
 mantel and looks into the jars, or listens to the 
 clock, with her head on one side. 
 
 A place that she finds even more interesting than 
 the mantel is the dressing table in her mistress's 
 room. 
 
14 
 
 She goes hop, hopping up the stairs, and then 
 flies upon this dressing table. There she walks up 
 and down and pecks at the rings and brooches to 
 try if they are good to eat. 
 
 What interests her most of all, however, is the 
 reflection of herself in the looking-glass. She 
 thinks it is another little brown hen just her own 
 size. She looks at it and talks to it, and every time 
 she lifts her foot or turns her head that other little 
 hen in the mirror does exactly the same. Often 
 after she has talked to it for awhile she walks to the 
 corner of the looking-glass and looks around back 
 of it. Nothing there ! Little Brown Hen gives a 
 surprised cluck and steps back, and there directly in 
 front of her is the hen again. 
 
 She never gets over the surprise of it. 
 
 Little Brown Hen used to be very eager to raise 
 a brood. She was always trying to sit, but we 
 did not want her to hatch any of her eggs. We 
 did not want more Bantams. 
 
 It was a longtime before Little Brown Hen 
 would believe that we were so unkind. Again and 
 again her eggs were taken from her, but again and 
 again she laid more and began to sit. 
 
 No doubt, as she sat cuddling her small eggs 
 
15 
 
 under her, she had dreams of cunning, downy little 
 chicks that would grow up into lovely sons and 
 daughters, brown like herself. What pride she 
 would take in them ! What a pleasure it would be 
 to teach them the ways of the house and to show 
 them to that other little brown hen that lived back 
 of the looking-glass ! 
 
 But when, time after time, and time after time, 
 her eggs were taken from her, Little Brown Hen 
 began to droop. She lost her cheerfulness ; when 
 we lifted her on our arms and talked to her there 
 was a dispirited tone in her voice as she answered 
 us. 
 
 At last we could not be hard-hearted any longer. 
 Little Brown Hen must be allowed to have her way. 
 But we would not give her Bantam eggs; she 
 should have Brahma eggs instead. 
 
 When she found she was allowed to sit, she was 
 happy indeed. 
 
 She was the most devoted little mother even be- 
 fore the eggs hatched. She, would sit there on 
 the nest hour after hour, and actually ruffle up at 
 us angrily if we dared to come too near. 
 
 She would hardly leave the nest even to eat, and 
 the moment she had finished, back she would hurry 
 
i6 
 
 to the nest, afraid that something might have hap- 
 pened to those wonderful eggs. 
 
 Little Brown Hen must have been rather aston- 
 ished at the size of the chickens she hatched out. 
 
 However, she led them forth bravely. She 
 scratched and clucked for them just as all hens do, 
 and was busy from morning till night. 
 
 But how those chicks did grow ! Soon they 
 were so large that when they tried to find . shelter 
 under the little hen's wings at night they fairly 
 lifted her from the ground. 
 
 Sometimes she looked a little uncomfortable, but 
 still she clucked bravely, and tried to make room 
 for them all under her wings. 
 
 Soon they quite outstripped her in size. They 
 were taller than she was — ^great, ungainly, half- 
 fledged things. 
 
 It was funny to see Little Brown Hen scratch- 
 ing away for chickens so much bigger than herself, 
 and to see the long-legged things run when she 
 called them to a worm she 'had found. 
 
 At last they grew too big for Little Brown Hen 
 to pretend any longer that they needed her care. 
 
 She began to think about sitting again, and we 
 decided to give her some duck's eggs. 
 
17 
 
 Little Brown Hen looked curiously at the broad 
 bills and webbed feet of the new brood that soon 
 hatched out. They were fine looking children no 
 doubt, but still it did seem strange that her chicks 
 should always look so unlike anything she ex- 
 pected. 
 
 This brood did not prove as easy to bring up as 
 the other. Still Little Brown Hen managed pretty 
 well until one day the little ducks found a pond. 
 
 Little Brown Hen and her Ducklings 
 
 Then to their little mother's terror she saw one 
 after another of them hasten to its edge and cro sail- 
 ing off across the water. 
 
 In vain the little hen danced up and down calling 
 to them to come back. The naughty ducklings 
 floated happily about over the pond, heedless of 
 their mother's cries. 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends. — 2. 
 
i8 
 
 Little Brown Hen even tried to wade in after 
 them, but the water was too deep and she was 
 obliged to come back to the bank. There she had 
 to wait until the little ducks were ready to return. 
 
 After that Little Brown Hen's life was not a 
 happy one. 
 
 Regularly every day her disobedient brood started 
 for the pond, waddling in a row, one after the other. 
 
 In vain Little Brown Hen scolded and tried to 
 head them off. They always escaped her, and one 
 after another would slip into the water like downy 
 yellow boats and paddle off across the pond. 
 
 It was hard on the little mother, and her mistress 
 felt sorry for her. She made up her mind that, as 
 Little Brown Hen had done so well with those two 
 broods, she should have her reward. She should be 
 allowed to sit on real Bantam eggs and raise a 
 brood of her very own. 
 
 Any one might have thought that Little Brown 
 Hen would be delighted. 
 
 But not so. She had other ideas than that. 
 After such large, splendid eggs as she had been 
 hatching she quite scorned to spend her time on 
 any such poor little eggs as those. 
 
 She refused to sit on them and left them to 
 
19 
 
 spoil or to be taken care of by some hen of humbler 
 spirit than her own. 
 
 As no other eggs were provided for her, Little 
 Brown Hen chose her third brood for herself. 
 
 And what do you suppose it was ? Three kittens 
 that had been deserted by their mother, and left 
 as poor little orphans in a box in the woodshed. 
 
 There Little Brown Hen found thern. She sat 
 on the edge of the box for some time, looking curi- 
 ously at them as they squirmed and mewed below. 
 
 Then her mind was made up. Down into the 
 box she hopped and tried to comfort the little 
 orphans with cozy mother sounds. 
 
 The kittens were so young that their eyes were 
 not yet open. It hardly seemed possible they could 
 live after their mother left them. When the chil- 
 dren found, however, that Little Brown Hen had 
 adopted them as her brood, they made up their 
 minds to save them for her. 
 
 So they took turns through the day in feeding 
 the kittens. They fed them from a bottle of 
 warmed milk with a rag stuck in the end of it for 
 them to suck. 
 
 At first Little Brown Hen had half a mind not to 
 let us touch the kittens. She seemed to be afraid 
 
20 
 
 we were going to hurt them, and rufifled up her 
 feathers whenever we came near. 
 
 Soon, however, she understood that what we were 
 doing was for their good. 
 
 Then, when she saw us coming with the bottle, 
 she would fly upon the back of a broken chair close 
 by, and watch the feeding of the kittens. The 
 moment we turned away, she would fly down into 
 the box again. 
 
 With so much care from us all, the kittens throve 
 and grew. One day one of them climbed out of 
 the box. Poor little Brown Hen was almost dis- 
 tracted. She could neither get that one back nor 
 the others out. She flew backward and forward 
 from one place to another, ruffling and entreating 
 and threatening. 
 
 At last one of the children came in, and put the 
 kitten back into the box. How delighted and re- 
 lieved Little Brown Hen was ! She flew back into 
 the box herself and trampled about in it clucking 
 softly, and then settled down calling to the kittens 
 to come under her wings. 
 
 When the kittens were old enough to leave the 
 box Little Brown Hen still tried to mother them. 
 She would scratch and scratch until she turned up 
 
21 
 
 a worm or a grain or a beetle. Then she would 
 call to the kittens to come and get it. When they 
 would not touch it she would eye it wistfully, peck 
 at it, and at last eat it herself. 
 
 She learned to know, however, that the bringing 
 out of a certain pie plate meant dinner for her furry 
 brood. When the plate was set down she would 
 hurry to it, clucking very urgently. We had no 
 
 Little Brown Hen and her Kittens 
 
 need to call the kittens ourselves. They knew what 
 that cluck meant and would come running to see 
 what she had for them. She would not allow the 
 other cats- nor the terrier Gyp to come near the 
 plate. 
 
 While her kittens ate she would walk around 
 and around them with contented little clucks, now 
 and then pecking at a stray morsel herself. 
 
22 
 
 The neighbors used to come in on purpose to 
 see Little Brown Hen and her kittens. 
 
 One day one of these visitors brought his dog 
 with him, — a big Newfoundland. 
 
 The dog started to chase one of the kittens. If 
 he had caught it his great jaws would have made 
 short work of it. But brave Little Brown Hen flew 
 at him so fiercely and beat him so with her wings 
 that the dog fairly turned tail and ran away yelp- 
 ing. 
 
 When the kittens had grown to be almost cats 
 two of them were given away. Little Brown Hen 
 missed them sadly at first. She went about calling, 
 and looking for them everywhere. 
 
 Then she devoted herself entirely to the one that 
 was left. The two were always seen together. 
 
 When winter came the cat slept at night on the 
 hearth before the kitchen stove. Little Brown Hen 
 scorned the chicken house. She must sleep in the 
 kitchen, too. Every night she perched on the back 
 of a kitchen chair, tucked her head under her wing 
 and slept there till morning. 
 
 One night a big rat came out of a hole by the 
 drain pipe. There was Little Brown Hen fast 
 asleep, — a plump, fine morsel for a hungry rat. 
 
23 
 
 She would have had Httle chance for her life, indeed, 
 against those cruel teeth. 
 
 But Little Brown Hen's adopted child was there, 
 no longer a kitten, but a great, brave cat. As the 
 rat was creeping stealthily across the floor the cat 
 pounced upon him. There was a struggle, short ' 
 but fierce, and then the rat lay dead upon the floor, 
 and Little Brown Hen was saved by her faithful 
 kitten. 
 
 The next morning when the cook came down- 
 stairs she found the cat busy over the dead rat, and 
 Little Brown Hen looking on curiously from her 
 perch on the chair back. 
 
 Many months have passed since that time. The 
 cat is a mother herself now, and Little Brown Hen 
 has raised other broods, — fine strapping chickens 
 that might make any hen proud. But none have 
 ever been quite so dear to Little Brown Hen's 
 heart as those three little kittens she found lying 
 deserted in the box in the woodshed. 
 
 BIANCA 
 
 BiANCA was a beautiful English setter belonging 
 to Major Smith. 
 
24 
 
 She was a fine hunting dog, and very intelligent. 
 Every fall she went out hunting with her master. 
 They always went on a certain train from a railroad 
 station in the lower part of the city. The conduct- 
 ors on the train knew Bianca. 
 
 ' One day just before the hunting season opened 
 the Major was called away from home on business. 
 Bianca searched the house for him everywhere. 
 Then she trotted down to his office. 
 
 Last of all she went to the station. One train 
 after another passed. Bianca waited for the train 
 on which she and her master always traveled. 
 Then she jumped on it. She went in the car and 
 took a seat. 
 
 "Hello, Bianca, where's your master?" asked 
 the conductor. 
 
 It was not until the train had started that he 
 found Major Smith was not aboard. Then it was 
 too late to put Bianca off. 
 
 She rode to the station where her master always 
 went. There she jumped off, and trotted away 
 toward the open country. 
 
 In the evening she was waiting for the train ; she 
 got on, took a seat, and came home again. 
 
 This she did every day while her master was 
 
25 
 
 away. She never made a mistake about the time 
 of the trains, nor took the wrong ones. When her 
 master came home she whined and cried with 
 dehght, and gave up her trips on the cars. 
 
 Bianca's master Hved on the outskirts of the city. 
 Opposite the house were fields and a little wood. 
 
 Three times a week the butcher came driving 
 along the road and stopped at the Major's house to 
 serve the family with meat. Bianca was always 
 waiting at the gate to meet him. She waited there 
 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, the days 
 he came ; never on any other day. 
 
 Brock, Major Smith's Newfoundland dog, used 
 to follow her out and wait there too. Then the 
 butcher would give them scraps of meat from the 
 wagon. 
 
 One day the butcher was slow and the dogs had 
 to wait a long time. Bianca seemed to think it out. 
 There was evidently going to be a short allowance 
 of meat that morning, — barely enough for one. 
 She must get Brock away somehow or other. 
 
 Suddenly, just as the butcher's wagon came in 
 sight, she turned her head and pricked up her ears 
 as though she heard something. Then she gave the 
 yelp that meant game, and started toward the wood. 
 
26 
 
 Brock was sure she had seen a rabbit or some- 
 thing. Very much excited he ran after her, wish- 
 ing to have his share of the fun. 
 
 He was a much heavier dog than Bianca and 
 could not go so fast. 
 
 She led him far up into the woods and lost him 
 there. Then she came tearing back and looked up 
 
 eagerly into the 
 butcher's face, 
 wagging her tail 
 as if to say, 
 " Please give me 
 some scraps 
 quickly." 
 
 When Brock, 
 panting and with 
 hanging tongue, 
 y^- came hurrying 
 back Bianca had 
 eaten all the scraps ; and the butcher was just 
 sliutting up his wagon before driving away. 
 
 One time Bianca had a litter of five little puppies. 
 They were very cunning little things, with plump, 
 warm bodies covered with downy hau". They had 
 wiggly little tails and sprawhng legs. 
 
 Bianca and the Butcher 
 
27 
 
 Bianca thought there had never been such won- 
 derful or beautiful puppies before. She was so 
 delighted with them that she could hardly take time 
 to eat during the first few days. The moment any- 
 one came into the woodshed where they were kept 
 
 she began to wag 
 her tail so hard you 
 could hear It beating 
 against the side of 
 the box. 
 
 Any one might 
 have thought that 
 Bianca would be 
 satisfied with five 
 babies to take care 
 of. So she was at 
 first. 
 
 Then one day 
 when Major Smith 
 went to the woodshed, there in the box with the 
 puppies was a live baby rabbit. Bianca must 
 have gone out to the fields and caught it there. 
 
 Bianca looked up at her Master with the proud- 
 est, most pleased look, as though to ask, " Well, 
 and what do you think of that}" 
 
 Bianca with the Rabbit 
 
28 
 
 The next day there were two rabbits in the 
 box. 
 
 Bianca was very gentle with the rabbits, but they 
 both died. 
 
 She was very anxious when the dead rabbits 
 were carried away. She followed them whining 
 and wagging her tail. The Major told his coach- 
 man to shut her up in the woodshed and then to 
 bury the rabbits back of the stable. 
 
 When Bianca was allowed to go out, she ran all 
 about looking for the rabbits and whini-ng to her- 
 self. She seemed to forget about her puppies and 
 would not pay any attention to them, even when 
 they were crying with hunger. She had to be shut 
 up in the woodshed again, as she would not go 
 back of her own choice. 
 
 When, an hour or so later, the Major peeped in 
 there was Bianca curled up in the box with her 
 babies quite contentedly. She wagged her tail as 
 he looked in, but made no attempt to leave them or 
 to look further for the rabbits. 
 
 Bianca lived to be very old — so old that all her 
 teeth dropped out, and she could only eat soft foods 
 such as bread and milk. 
 
 She reared a. great many litters of puppies, but 
 
29 
 
 she never again adopted any rabbits into her 
 family. 
 
 JERRY 
 
 Jerry was a strong, rough, fierce dog. He was 
 loved only by his master and his master's family, 
 and with them he was never cross. They could 
 tease him and pull his ears and do what they chose 
 to him. He would only wag his stump of a tail, 
 and gaze up in their faces with brown eyes that 
 looked very mildly at them. 
 
 The first few years of Jerry's life were spent on a 
 farm. There he had his own special work to do, 
 and that was herding the cows. 
 
 If Jerry was lying quietly in a room with people 
 talking around him, his master had only to say, " Go 
 get the cows now, Jerry," and Jerry would jump up 
 and trot out in a businesslike way. Down to the 
 pasture he would go. There was one place there 
 where he could take the bars down with his teeth. 
 He would do this and drive the cows up to the 
 milking stable. If one of them were missing, Jerry 
 needed only to be told. Then he would trot away 
 again. He would hunt through the pastures and 
 
30 
 
 woods and not come back until he had found the 
 cow and brought it with him. 
 
 Onlj' once did lie make a mistal-ce. Then he 
 brought home a cow belonging to a neighbor. The 
 cow had broken through into his master's pasture. 
 
 " Why, Jerry," said his master when he saw it 
 " this isn't our cow." 
 
 Jerry and the lost Cow 
 
 No do^T could have looked more ashamed than 
 Jerry did then. His ears drooped; he clapped his 
 little stump of a tail tight down, and turned to 
 slink away. " Go get the other," said his master. 
 
 Jerry ran down to the pasture for the third time. 
 
31 
 
 He was gone for quite a while but when he came 
 back he was driving the right cow. Dog and cow 
 were both covered with mud. The cow must have 
 been lost in a swamp. 
 
 As long as Jerry lived in the country he was not 
 a cross dog. It was only after his master came to 
 the city to live that he grew so fierce. He did not 
 have enough to do in the city. He had no cows to 
 herd, and so he fought instead. 
 
 He would fight any dog no matter how big or 
 how little. Most dogs that will attack a dog smaller 
 than themselves are bullies. They are afraid of 
 big dogs. But Jerry feared no other beast, no mat- 
 ter what might be its size. 
 
 When Jerry's master took him out for a walk he 
 fastened a chain to his collar. He kept the dog 
 close to him as long as they were in the city. 
 When they reached the country he would loosen 
 the chain and set him free. He generally waited 
 though until there was no living thing in sight, for 
 Jerry was so delighted at having the chain unfas- 
 tened that he would rush at anything he saw. 
 
 In such cases he had to be punished. But this 
 did very little good. He was so glad when the 
 punishment was over that he generally ran and did 
 
32 
 
 the same thing again. After he had had a brisk 
 run he would quiet down. Then he would even 
 let a dog come up and sniff at him without attacking 
 it. 
 
 Jerry's master owned another dog, a black-and-tan 
 terrier named Flicker. 
 
 Flicker was a great coward. 
 
 When Jerry was punished, his master used a 
 heavy whip ; and Jerry always took his punishment 
 without a sound. 
 
 When Flicker was whipped a light switch was 
 used — a switch so light that striking the bare hand 
 with it scarcely stung. But the moment it was 
 raised over him, and before it touched him. Flicker 
 would begin to whine and yelp. 
 
 There was nothing the terrier enjoyed more than 
 getting Jerry into a fight. When they were out 
 walking and met a dog Flicker would go up to the 
 stranger, moving his legs stiffly and snarling. 
 
 The dog would growl in answer. Then Flicker 
 would glance round at Jerry as if to say, " Did you 
 hear that ? He's growling at you." 
 
 Jerry's temper could hardly ever stand this. A 
 fight would follow, and Flicker, in high glee, would 
 prance about the heap of dogs, nipping at any leg 
 
33 
 
 or tail that happened to be convenient. Often it 
 was Jerry's leg. 
 
 Once when he did this Jerry whirled round from 
 the other dog, and under the excitement of the 
 moment caught Flicker and gave him a good shake. 
 Then seeing who it was, he dropped the terrier 
 immediately and returned to his real enemy. 
 
 The little terrier came running over to his master 
 limping, and howling for sympathy. His master 
 was afraid from his cries that he was almost killed, 
 but he was not really hurt at all. He was only 
 frightened. 
 
 Once Jerry was terribly bitten by two great blood- 
 hounds that he had attacked. The family nursed 
 him until his wounds had healed, and they hoped he 
 had learned a lesson. But as soon as he was well 
 he was just as eager to fight as ever. 
 
 One morning the garden gate had been left open 
 and Jerry got out into the street alone. He lingered 
 about for awhile and then trotted down to his 
 master's office. 
 
 It was so early that no one was about except the 
 man who attended to the fires. He had left the 
 office door ajar and had gone out for something. 
 When he came back he saw a dog there in the 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends. — 3. 
 
34 
 
 office. The man shouted and made a motion as if 
 
 to throw something- at the dog. 
 
 Instead of running- away as the man expected the 
 
 doe turned and rushed at him with a fierce snarl, 
 
 and such a wiclced 
 look that the man 
 "was terrified. He 
 had barely time 
 to climb up on a 
 high office desk 
 before those 
 white teeth click- 
 ed behind him. 
 When Jerry's 
 master came 
 idown to the 
 office, he found 
 
 Jurry and his Captive thc buildlng Still 
 
 cold and the fires unmade. On top of the desk the 
 man was crouching, ready to weep with rage and 
 fear. Before the desk was Jerry, still keeping watch 
 and snarling every time the man moved. 
 
 Jerry ran to meet his master, his stump of a tail 
 wagging joyfully. His look of pride seemed to say, 
 " Come and see what I've caught for you." 
 
35 
 
 Though Jerry was so bold, there were some 
 things of which he was afraid. He was a perfect 
 coward in a thunderstorm. At the first distant peal 
 of thunder he always showed signs of fear. As the 
 storm came nearer he would rush upstairs and hide 
 under a bed. There he would lie trembling until 
 the storm was over, and the last low mutterlngs 
 had died away in the distance. 
 
 Then he would crawl out looking thoroughly 
 ashamed of himself. The next storm would frighten 
 him just as much. 
 
 He was afraid of strange things that he could 
 not understand. 
 
 One day a newspaper and an old hat had been 
 thrown out beside the pump. Jerry was trotting 
 through the yard when he saw them. He did not 
 know what they were. He stopped short with a 
 low growl. The hair on his back rose. 
 
 Just then the wind stirred this hat, and some 
 one rattled the latch of the alley gate. He could 
 not stand that. He turned tail and ran back to the 
 kitchen as fast as he could go. 
 
 Though the dog was gentle with his master and 
 the family, he was so fierce with other people that 
 it did not seem right to keep him in the city. A 
 
36 
 
 good home was found for him — a home in the 
 country where he would have herds to attend to 
 and could be busy and happy. 
 
 The children cried when he went away and Jerry 
 tried to lick their faces through the muzzle that had 
 been put on him. The muzzle would be taken off 
 when he was in his new home ; and his master said 
 he was sure Jerry would be happier there than he 
 could ever have been in the city. 
 
 His master was right, and he heard from the new 
 owner that he had never had a dog on his farm that 
 was as faithful and useful as Jerry proved to be. 
 
 BARRY 
 
 When Barry first came to the house he was a fat 
 and downy little puppy with paws that seemed too 
 big for him. 
 
 He yelped at hight when he was left alone and 
 he tore things to pieces as all puppies do. Then 
 when he had done all the mischief he could, he 
 would drop down and go to sleep wherever he hap- 
 pened to be. 
 
 He ate great quantities of bread and milk, — half a 
 loaf at a meal, — and grew very fast, but his paws 
 
37 
 
 seemed to grow faster than any of the rest of him. 
 He was always falhng over them. 
 
 One of the first things the boys tried to teach 
 Barry to do was to follow them. They took him for 
 a long walk, and Barry followed them very well until 
 they turned to come home. Then he sat down in 
 the middle of the road. He was tired. 
 
 They called and coaxed, but Barry sat there 
 with his tongue lolling out and his eyes half shut. 
 
 Ihe Puppy Barry asleep 
 
 He paid no attention to their calling except to beat 
 the dust with his tall. When they pretended to 
 leave him he cried, but he would not walk. At last 
 they had to carry him, big, fat, heavy puppy thai 
 he was, all the way home. 
 
 After Barry had torn and spoiled a great many 
 skirts and shoes and other things with his puppy 
 teeth, he be^an to have more sense. Healsobeean 
 to feel his bigness and dignity, 
 
38 
 
 He was a very handsome dog. He was tan- 
 colored with a white Hne down his forehead and a 
 white breast. The color deepened about his nose 
 to a velvety blackness. 
 
 He was so big that his back was on a level with 
 the dining-room table. He could look across it and 
 see what there was to eat, but he was too well-bred 
 to ask for anything. 
 
 When Barry wagged his tail in the house he 
 generally knocked something over. Then there 
 was a crash. Barry learned to know this. When 
 we saw something going and shouted ''Barry I" 
 he would drop his tail hastily and look behind him. 
 His look seemed to say, " Oh dear! What have 
 I done now ?" 
 
 Once he knocked a little child over by wagging 
 his tail when he stood close by it. When it cried 
 Barry was very sorry. He wanted to lick the tears 
 from its face. 
 
 Barry loved all children, and all little helpless 
 things. The children in the street used to run up 
 to him and pat him and hang on to his collar or even 
 his tail. Barry never hurt them or even so much 
 as growled. 
 
 At different times several small kittens were 
 
39 
 
 brought to the house. Then Barry could not 
 rest. Every time they moved he moved. If 
 they mewed he was as excited as though such a 
 thing had never been known before. He worried 
 the kittens almost to death by putting his nose so 
 close to them, when they lay down to sleep, that 
 every breath he drew stirred their fur. 
 
 In the end they always became very fond of him 
 however. They would play with his ears or tail, and 
 curl up between his paws to sleep. Then Barry 
 would be perfectly happy. He would hardly stir 
 for fear of disturbing them. 
 
 But Barry's favorite companion was a pet rac- 
 coon. It was brought to the house when it was 
 a little baby thing that had to be fed with a bottle. 
 
 Barry was deeply interested. We could not keep 
 him away from the little beast. 
 
 As the raccoon grew older it used to play with 
 Barry. Sometimes it bit him so sharply in its play 
 that Barry yelped. 
 
 Coonie delighted in teasing Barry when he was 
 trying to sleep. It would steal up and nip his ears, 
 or his feet. It annoyed him more than the flies. 
 
 When he was gnawing a bone the raccoon would 
 lift his lips and try to pull it away from him. It 
 
40 
 
 liked to tuck nuts and things under his broad cok 
 lar. But Barry was never cross to it. 
 
 After it died he hunted for it everywhere with an 
 anxious k:)ok. For years afterward if any one called 
 " Connie, Coonie," Barry would start up eagerly 
 and look all around, — back of sofas and chairs, or out 
 
 Barry and the Raccoon 
 
 in the hall. Then he would come back and look 
 into his mistress's face, and whine. He seemed 
 never to forget his little friend. 
 
 Barry's mistress always felt perfectly safe when he 
 was with her. One evening she had to <jo out on an 
 
41 
 
 errand. As there was no one to go with her but 
 Barry, she took him along. He trotted a Httle in 
 front of her, his tail waving cheerfully. 
 
 In a dark and lonely place they met a lounger. 
 •Barry stopped with a low, deep growl. He waited 
 until his mistress caught up with him. He walked 
 along close at her side being careful to keep between 
 her and the man until they had passed him. 
 
 Then Barry dropped back. He turned his head 
 and looked at the man with a low growl that seemed 
 to say " Remember, I am here," and trotted on 
 behind his mistress. He knew he was her protector 
 and was proud of it. 
 
 Barry was polite to everybody and expected in 
 return to be treated with respect. He would not 
 forgive an insult. Once the grocer's boy came to 
 the house with some groceries. Barry knew him 
 well and was always friendly. 
 
 This day the boy was impatient or out of. humor: 
 Barry was in his way and the boy gave him a little 
 kick. It was not a hard kick but Barry's dignity 
 was terribly hurt. His eyes flashed. He sprang up 
 with a deep growl. He would have jumped upon 
 the boy if one of the family had not been there to 
 stop him. 
 
42 
 
 Barry never forgave that kick. Whenever the 
 boy came to the house Barry gave a low growl 
 and walked away. The boy became so much 
 afraid of him that he persuaded some one else to 
 bring the groceries to the house. 
 
 Barry's great-grandfather had belonged to the 
 monks of the hospice or monastery of St. Bernard in 
 the Alps in Switzerland, and it was said that he had 
 saved the lives of twenty travelers who had been 
 lost in the snow at one time or another. 
 
 It must have been some instinct come down to 
 Barry from this great-grandfather that made him 
 act as he did when the boys wrapped themselves in 
 shawls and lay still. They did this sometimes to 
 see what he would do. 
 
 After they had lain perfectly motionless for 
 awhile Barry would grow very anxious. He would 
 whine and poke them with his nose. If they did 
 not stir he would paw them over. If that did no 
 good he would begin nipping them through the 
 shawl, at first gently, then harder and harder, until 
 they were obliged to move. 
 
 When at last they stirred Barry would be per- 
 fectly delighted. He would jump about with heavy 
 gambols until the windows shook. 
 
43 
 
 Once or twice the boys took Barry with them 
 when they were going swimming. But as soon as 
 he saw them splashing in the water he grew very 
 much excited. He was afraid they were drowning. 
 He almost drowned one of the boys himself by go- 
 ing in after him, catching him by the arm, and 
 dragging him to the shore in spite of his struggles. 
 After that the boys left Barry at home when they 
 were going swimming. 
 
 But Barry was to have his tale of a saved life. 
 One time, o^it in the country, the baby of the 
 family had run away from her nurse. She was 
 playing at throwing sticks into the water. The 
 water was a mill stream and very swift. 
 
 • Again and again Barry caught the child by the 
 skirts and drew her away from the shore. At last 
 the child grew angry. She was about to throw a 
 stick in the stream when Barry caught her by the 
 skirt again. 
 
 The child turned and struck at him. That made 
 her lose her balance. She fell backward into the 
 water with a great splash. 
 
 Instantly Barry plunged in after her. He caught 
 her by the frock and swam against the stream that 
 swept down toward the mill wheel. The bank was 
 
44 
 
 too steep for him to climb out and the current 
 swept him down with it in spite of his struggles. 
 
 But a man who was passing along the road had 
 seen the accident. He ran and threw himself 
 down beside the mill stream and reaching over 
 caught the child. He pulled her out, and then 
 Barry could climb out by himself. 
 
 If the family had been fond of Barry before, you 
 may be sure that they loved him after that. Barry 
 lived to be very old, and few dogs have had a hap- 
 pier life or been more petted than he. He deserved 
 it, too, for he was brave and faithful and noble. 
 
 FAX 
 
 Fax was a homeless, starved, forsaken cur. No- 
 body seemed to want him. He had been driven 
 from one place after another, sometimes with 
 threats, sometimes with blows. When the Wilsons 
 first saw him he was trying to find something to eat 
 among the scraps in their garbage bucket. 
 
 " Poor thing,'.' said Mrs. Wilson. Then she 
 called to the cook who had appeared threateningly 
 at the kitchen door : " Don't drive the poor thing 
 away. He looks almost starved." 
 
45 
 
 After the cur had gotten all he could from the 
 bucket, he went away. But he came back before 
 many days, and then again and still again. He be- 
 gan to seem to feel at home in the yard, sometimes 
 curling up in a corner of it and going to sleep there. 
 
 It was so quiet and pleasant. No one threatened 
 him or drove him away. When any of the family 
 came into the yard, he would look up at them 
 appealingly and beat the ground with his tail. 
 
 After a while he made friends with the kitchen cat. 
 Often they would eat together from the plate of 
 scraps that the cook set out for them. This pleased 
 the cook so much that sometimes, when the nights 
 were cold, she allowed the cur to come in and sleep 
 before the fire. 
 
 He had been very abject while all the world 
 was against him, but now that he had something of 
 a home he began to pluck up a little spirit. 
 Once he even barked at a tramp who came to the 
 door, though immediately afterward he dropped his 
 tail and looked ashamed, seeming to feel he had 
 gone too far. 
 
 One evening when the library door was open 
 the cur's head appeared peeping around the jamb 
 at the assembled family. Then he crept farther in. 
 
46 
 
 his tail down and wagging humbly, his look 
 seeming to say, " May I come in?" 
 
 They did not encourage his hopes, however. 
 He was driven down to the kitchen, and the hall 
 door was closed. But the next day while the 
 Wilsons were at dinner his white face appeared 
 again at the dining-room door. 
 
 The family had a Skye terrier, very old and fat. 
 His one accomplishment was sitting up to beg. He 
 went around the table from one person to another, 
 begging and waving his feathery paws. Some of 
 them rewarded him with bits of food from the table. 
 
 The cur watched the terrier awhile from the half- 
 open door. Then he gravely walked across the floor 
 to Mrs. Wilson, sat down, and after one or two 
 attempts lifted his front paws from the ground and 
 begged just as he had seen the other dog do. 
 
 It was so clever of him to do that of himself that 
 everybody laughed and applauded. After that the 
 cur was accepted as one of the family. He was 
 allowed to come and go as he chose, and was given 
 the name of Fax. 
 
 The little Skye was very jealous. He growled 
 and snarled and tried to pick a quarrel with the 
 new dog. But Fax was very quiet and dignified. 
 
47 
 
 He was not afraid, but he would not fight, and if 
 the terrier grew too unpleasant he simply rose and 
 walked away to an- 
 other part of the 
 room. 
 
 The eldest son of 
 the family, Mr. 
 Richard, as the ser- 
 vants called him, 
 thought he would see 
 if he could not teach 
 Fax some more tricks, 
 since he had been so 
 clever about learninof Fax Begging 
 
 to beg. Every evening he gave Fax a lesson and 
 it was wonderful how quickly the dog learned. Be- 
 fore long he would roll over and play dead dog at 
 the word of command, leap through a hoop, sit up 
 and beg with something on his nose, then toss it 
 up in the air and catch it in his mouth, close the 
 door and fetch a glove, a shoe or a letter as he 
 was told. 
 
 In return for these lessons Fax adopted Mr. 
 Richard as his especial master to be followed and 
 obeyed. The obeying was all right, but as to the 
 
48 
 
 following-, his master did not always care for his 
 company. 
 
 One of the duties Fax took upon himself was to 
 escort Mr. Richard down to the office every 
 morning-. Nothing was allowed to interfere with 
 this. If his master tried to scold him, back he 
 cringed ; if sticks were thrown at him he dodged 
 them, but follow he would. 
 
 At last the young 
 man was obliged to 
 give up and allow 
 the cur to go with 
 him. Then Fax 
 was a proud and 
 happy dog-. Every 
 morning- he was 
 ready and waiting, trotting off at Mr. Richard's 
 side with ears up and tail curled jauntily over his 
 back. If any dog dared even to look at him he 
 growled haughtily. He never tried to go into the 
 office. After seeing his master safely there he 
 would turn and trot home again by himself, quite 
 contented. 
 
 And now every clay Fax grew more and more 
 proud and dignified. When he first came to the 
 
 Fax \\ ith a Shoe 
 
49 
 
 house he had been so humble-minded that he 
 was very grateful to be noticed at all, and eager 
 to learn tricks and show them whenever they 
 were called for. But now he refused to do anything 
 unless he felt in the humor for it. 
 
 One day some visitors were at the Wilsons' when 
 Fax came strolling quietly into the parlor where they 
 sat. Mrs. Wilson becjan tellinsf them what a clever 
 dog he was and how many tricks he knew. The 
 visitors said they would like to see him perform 
 some of them. 
 
 " I don't know whether he'll do them to-day or 
 not," said Mrs. Wilson. " He's not always very 
 obedient." Then she told Fax to close the door, 
 but he only sat down in the middle of the room and 
 looked around him cheerfully. He would not 
 jump, he would not fetch a glove ; he would not do 
 anything but play dead dog, and then, when he had 
 
 once lain down he 
 would not get up again. 
 There he stayed 
 stretched at length un- 
 til the visitors rose to 
 Playing "Dead Dog" g.Q_ Then he jumped 
 
 up and politely escorted them to the door. 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends. — 4. 
 
50 
 
 Mrs. Wilson felt mortified by his behavior, but 
 when she told her son of it he only laughed. 
 
 Mr. Richard was soon to be married, and one 
 day Mrs. Wilson said, " I suppose when you have 
 a home of your own you'll take Fax with you." 
 
 " I don't know," he answered ; " I hadn't thought 
 of it." 
 
 Fax however decided that matter for himself. 
 The family was all very well, but he felt his place 
 was with ,his master. So when Mr. and Mrs. 
 Richard moved into their new house Fax moved 
 there too, only coming back now and then to 
 call at his old home. 
 
 Fax found his new mistress quite to his mind, 
 even if she did laugh at him and call him "obsti- 
 nate Fax." There was only one thing about which 
 they had a standing quarrel. Whenever the door 
 of the guest chamber was left open Fax would go 
 in and get on the bed. There he would snuggle 
 down under the covers with only his head showing 
 as it lay upon the pillow. 
 
 His mistress kept a little switch, and whenever 
 she found him there she switched him. The punish- 
 ment did not hurt Fax much but it offended him 
 deeply. After it had happened, he would not take 
 
51 
 
 any notice of his mistress or have anything to do 
 with her, sometimes for a whole day. 
 
 Time sHpped by, and after a while there was a little 
 master in the new house, — a baby boy, and his name 
 too was Richard. Fax was very much interested 
 in the baby. He no longer followed his older master 
 down to the office. Instead he slept beside the baby's 
 crib or walked beside the baby-carriage as the nurse 
 wheeled it through the streets. He seemed to feel 
 it his special charge. As the baby grew to be first 
 
 Fax to the Rescue 
 
 a toddler and then a sturdy little boy, Fax was still 
 his devoted companion. 
 
 One day the little child was playing on the pave- 
 ment before the house. Fax, now grown to be 
 quite an old dog, lay upon the steps watching him. 
 
 Suddenly around the corner came a large and 
 dangferous lookinrr docf. It Avas frothinaf at the 
 mouth and now and then it turned its head aside 
 
52 
 
 and snapped at the air. The Httle boy stopped his 
 play and watched it coming. There was no one 
 else in sight. Fax too had seen the dog. He rose, 
 and the hair bristled on his back. Then he sprang 
 down and placed himself before the child. 
 
 On came the dog directly toward them. Fax 
 seemed to feel there was something wrong with it. 
 As it came so close that in a moment it would have 
 to turn aside or be upon them, Fax gave a snarl and 
 sprang at its throat. Then they tumbled over and 
 over in the street. 
 
 Mrs. Richard heard the noise of the fight, and 
 running out she caught up her child and carried 
 him into the house. 
 
 Presently Fax came running into the house, too. 
 He looked up into her face whining and half bark- 
 ing. His neck was bitten but not very badly. The 
 big dog had shaken itself free and trotted on down 
 the street. 
 
 A few blocks further on it was shot, for its master 
 had come running after it with a gun. He said it 
 was mad. 
 
 The man wanted to shoot Fax, too, when he 
 heard he had been bitten. But his mistress said 
 no. She shuddered and turned white at the 
 
53 
 
 thought of the danger from which the faithful dog 
 had saved her Httle son. She said they would shut 
 Fax up where he would be safe, but she could not 
 bear the thought of his being killed unless it was 
 perfectly certain that he was going mad. 
 
 Fax's master said the same. He longed to show 
 his gratitude to Fax. How they petted and praised 
 him. 
 
 They were obliged to shut him up, however, 
 where he could not get away. They gave him every 
 care and attention but very soon he drooped and 
 sickened. It was hydrophobia. When he grew 
 worse it seemed only the best and kindest thing to 
 put an end to his sufferings. 
 
 In his master's yard now stands a little headstone 
 and on it are these words : — 
 
 In Loving and Grateful Memory 
 OF Faithful Fax 
 
 THE TWO LITTLE CRABS 
 
 All along the miles of hard, flat beach the waves 
 rush up to break with a long roar. Then they slip 
 back into the ocean only to come roaring back 
 again. 
 
54 
 
 Far away from the cottages and big hotels is a 
 stretch of shore called Pebbly Beach. It is very 
 lonely there, with no sound but the rush of the 
 breakers and the cries of the sea gulls. Little sand- 
 pipers with legs no thicker than straws run up and 
 down hunting for things to eat. The white sand 
 fleas that are washed up on the beach with the waves 
 make haste to burrow down out of sight in the wet 
 sand. They are afraid the sandpipers will catch 
 them. 
 
 Scattered about this beach are many sea shells. 
 They are all around, but the greatest number are 
 down in a shallow salt pool that lies in a hollow of 
 the sand. 
 
 These shells do not lie still. They move about 
 as though they were alive. 
 
 This is not magic. Anyone looking closely at 
 the shells would see peering out from almost every 
 one of them something that looks like two staring 
 eyes. He would also see two little claws and per- 
 haps four little spiny legs put out to walk. 
 
 These belong to the hermit crabs who find these 
 shells and then curl themselves in them as though 
 they were little houses, and live there. 
 
 There used to be one shell in this pool that was 
 
55 
 
 perhaps the prettiest of all. It was such a shell as 
 one does not often see ; beautifully curled and 
 curiously marked with greenish colorings. It had 
 washed up after a storm from far away. 
 
 The little crab who lived In this shell was very 
 proud of it. He curled his soft tail comfortably 
 inside and held it tight with a sucker. Then he 
 walked about as he chose to go. With that shell 
 to protect him, there was no fear of being gobbled 
 up by some of the greedy beach birds. He would 
 feel quite safe even if the breakers rose so high that 
 he was washed out to sea. 
 
 When the crab first found the shell, he was quite 
 little — so small that it was almost too big for him to 
 drag about. 
 
 But day followed day, and as time passed the little 
 crab grew and grew. 
 
 The shell did not grow, however, and so after 
 a while it began to be too small for him. It was a 
 beautiful little house, but it was a tight fit. 
 
 " Yes, there is no doubt about it ; I need a larger 
 shell," said the crab. 
 
 " Yes you do. You certainly do need a larger 
 shell," said a smaller crab who had crawled up close 
 to him. 
 
S6 
 
 The larger crab looked at the other. " I should 
 think you would be looking for another shell your- 
 self," he said ; "yours must be a tight fit for you. 
 And more than that it is a very ugly shell. Why 
 didn't you hunt up a pretty one while you were 
 about it ? " 
 
 The smaller crab twiddled his feelers. " Oh I 
 will wait awhile," he said. " Maybe I'll find abetter 
 house without bothering myself to hunt." 
 
 After that wherever the larger crab crawled the 
 smaller one kept close beside him. The big crab 
 was now really hunting for another shell, but none 
 of them seemed just what he wanted. 
 
 " Why don't you try them ? " the little one kept 
 asking him. " Why don't you try them ? " 
 
 " But they're none of them what I want," said the 
 larger crab. 
 
 " How can you tell that ? For all you know, 
 any one of them might do if you were not too lazy 
 to try." 
 
 So he kept on taunting the other with being too 
 lazy to get out of his shell until the larger one be- 
 gan to be quite ashamed. " Well, I will try one," 
 he said at last, " but I know it won't do." 
 
 He unfastened his sucker and crawled out of his 
 
57 
 
 house. No sooner was he well out of it, however, 
 than whisk ! the smaller crab had popped out of his 
 own ugly little shell and into the handsome one 
 that belonged to the other. 
 
 " Wait ! Wait a bit ! " cried the larger crab. 
 " This new shell will not do for me at all. I can't 
 even get into it. I must have my own house back." 
 
 " Must you indeed ! " cried the other, " We'll see 
 about that. I mean to keep it myself since you 
 
 Two Little Crabs 
 
 were dunce enough to leave it," and he looked at 
 the other fiercely with his little pop-eyes, and 
 shrank back into the shell so that only his sharp 
 claws were out. 
 
 Now the larger one was in a bad way indeed. 
 He was too big to get into the shell that he had 
 found or into the one that the smaller crab had left 
 empty. 
 
58 
 
 " Never mind ! " cried the little thief, as it 
 peered out from the stolen house. " You needn't 
 bother about finding a shell. Something will come 
 along and eat you up in a minute. You'll be a 
 dainty morsel." 
 
 The houseless crab looked wildly about him. 
 Where could he find a shelter ? Where hide him- 
 self ? 
 
 Close by he saw an old clay pipe that had been 
 washed up by the ocean. The stem was broken 
 and it was ugly and heavy, but still it might shelter 
 him from danger. 
 
 Suddenly a shadow passed across the pool. 
 Quick as a flash the crab was in the pipe with 
 his soft tail curled up behind him and only his claws 
 showing. 
 
 How the smaller crab in the stolen shell twiddled 
 his feelers and jeered at him ! "Well, I'm going," 
 he cried, " I find this a very good shell, thank you. 
 Very much better than what I had." 
 
 He put out his legs to walk. Then suddenly he 
 curled them up again, drawing as far back into his 
 house as he could. There was a heavy rumbling 
 on the beach that came nearer and nearer. They 
 could hear it down in the salt pool. 
 
59 
 
 " Weet ! Weet ! " cried the sandpipers, and they 
 hfted their legs and flew away. 
 
 A broad-wheeled carriage was driving along over 
 the hard, wet sand close to the edge of the waves. 
 
 "This is Pebbly Beach," said the driver. 
 " Plenty of shells here, Professor." 
 
 " Oh, papa, mayn't I get out and gather some ? " 
 cried a little girl who was on the front seat. 
 
 "Yes ; ril get out too," said the Professor. " I 
 feel quite cramped with driving." 
 
 He climbed out and then lifted the child down 
 on the sand. 
 
 " Oh, look at the shells! " she cried. " Heaps of 
 them. Oh, where's my biicket ? And just look at 
 these in the pool. Aren't they beauties ? " She 
 took one out of the water, but a moment after she 
 threw it from her with a cry. " Ugh ! There's a 
 horrid bug in it." 
 
 Her father laughed as he lifted the shell and 
 looked at it. " It's nothing but a little hermit 
 crab," he said. " You've frightened him more than 
 he frightened you. That shell is his little house." 
 
 He picked up one shell after another from the 
 pool and in each one was a frightened crab. 
 
 " Never mind, my dear. You have plenty of 
 
6o 
 
 shells like these," he said. " They are none of 
 them very pretty." 
 
 " This one ' is," said the little girl. She had 
 picked the very one the thievish little crab had 
 stolen. " But it has something in it, too." 
 
 Her father took it from her. " Why, this is 
 rather a rare shell," he said. " I've never seen one 
 like it on this beach before. We must add this to 
 our collection." 
 
 " But it has something in it, papa." 
 
 " We'll manage to get that out somehow. Let 
 us see if we can find any more like it." 
 
 He began to look more carefully. Presently he 
 came upon the old pipe with the crab curled up in- 
 side it. " Come look here, little daughter," he said. 
 " Here's a curious thing. I suppose this poor little 
 crab couldn't find a shell, so it had to take shelter 
 in this heavy, ugly pipe. Let us look about and 
 find a better house for it." 
 
 " But would it go into it if it had it ?" asked the 
 child. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and be glad of it." 
 
 The Professor began to search about the beach 
 for a better house for the little crab. 
 
 " I know," said the child. " I'll get one of those 
 
6i 
 
 I have in my bucket in the carriage. I'll pick out 
 a pretty one, too, because he must have been such 
 a poor little crabby to have to live in an ugly house 
 like that." 
 
 The little girl ran over to the carriage, and when 
 she came back she had a pretty shell in her hand. 
 
 She put it down in the water in front of the crab, 
 and then she and her father waited very quietly 
 hoping to see him move into his new home. 
 
 But he was much too frightened. He only 
 curled up closer in the pipe. 
 
 It was not until they had been gone some time 
 that he had the courage to look out from his shell 
 again. 
 
 Everything was as quiet and lonely as ever. 
 
 Then in a twinkling he was out of the clumsy 
 pipe and into the new house set ready for his use. 
 
 And what a fine house it was ! Light and pretty 
 and just the right size. 
 
 " I wonder what became of that poor little crab 
 they carried off with them," he said, as he settled 
 himself in his new home. " I wonder." 
 
 But he never knew. 
 
62 
 
 JAMES CROW 
 
 His name was not Jim, but James Crow ; and 
 a very dignified gentleman he looked as he walked 
 across the lawn all dressed in black, and cawing 
 gently to himself. 
 
 He was a very young bird when we bought him 
 from a ragged little boy in the country. 
 
 After we had bought him we put him in an old 
 soft hat, closfed the brim gently over him and car- 
 ried him home in that fashion. 
 
 He was very quiet all the way, and when we 
 released him at last he sat all crouched together 
 for a while. Then he straightened himself out and 
 began to settle his wings and to look about him 
 with his round bright eyes. 
 
 Some food was brought In, and a piece was 
 offered to him. James gulped it down greedily, 
 and immediately all timidity or strangeness was for- 
 gotten. 
 
 He opened his beak wide, spread his wings, and 
 stooped his body, all the while cawing and crying 
 wildly to us for more. 
 
 That was James' first introduction to the house, 
 
63 
 
 but very soon he was as much at home there as 
 though he had hved with us all his life. 
 
 We clipped the feathers of one of his wings so 
 that he could not fly away, and then turned him 
 out on the lawn. But James liked the house better, 
 and came in upon every occasion. Then nothing 
 was safe. He tore the leaves of books with his 
 sharp, hard beak. He tore a bunch of peacock 
 feathers quite to pieces. He stole everything that 
 he took a fancy to. 
 
 Whenever anything was missing — that is any 
 small thing — James was immediately suspected, 
 perhaps not always fairly. We wondered whether 
 he had any special place for hiding things and one 
 of the boys said he was going to watch him and 
 find out. 
 
 We put temptation in his way in the shape of a 
 long bright-red ribbon. We knew James never 
 could resist anything as bright as that. We laid it 
 on the lawn where James would be apt to see it 
 and then Ned hid around the corner of the house, 
 keeping a sly watch on the ribbon. 
 
 Presently up came James with his dignified walk. 
 He hurried his steps a little as he saw the ribbon, and 
 stopped beside it cocking his head this side and that. 
 
64 
 
 Here was a find indeed, and no one in sight to 
 scold him or to shout to him to drop it. In a 
 moment James had seized the ribbon and was 
 hurrying across the lawn with it and on down the 
 lane. 
 
 Ned followed, taking care that the crow should 
 not see him. Down at the very end of the lane was 
 an old willow tree. 
 
 James flew up into this with the ribbon, and then 
 Ned lost sight of him among the branches. 
 
 Presently James flapped down into the lane 
 again. He did not have the ribbon. He stopped 
 to rub his beak on the grass. Then he walked idly 
 up the lane again, cawing gently to himself. After 
 he was out of sight Ned came from behind the 
 hedge where he had been hiding and swung himself 
 up into the willow tree. 
 
 There he found a hollow among the branches, 
 and in this hollow was the greatest collection of 
 things, — a ball of yarn, a rusty jack-knife, a screw, 
 two apple cores, a peach stone and a silver thimble. 
 
 Ned took the thimble and the jack-knife, and 
 then slid down the tree leaving the other things 
 undisturbed. It seemed a good thing to let the crow 
 still think no one knew of his hiding spot. Then if 
 
65 
 
 he stole anything of real value, the loser would know 
 where to look for it. 
 
 James was very greedy from the time he was a 
 young bird, and it was a fault he never got over. 
 His dinner hour was a time when all dignity was 
 cast aside. 
 
 As soon as he saw anyone coming with a dish of 
 food he would hurry forward with outspread wings 
 and loud cries. Stopping in front of the person, 
 he would fairly dance up and down in his eagerness, 
 cawing all the time. 
 
 As each piece 
 of meat was 
 thrown to him 
 he would gulp it 
 down with a ^""^^^ """^ """ stovepipe 
 
 choked caw, and then dance and shriek again with 
 open beak. 
 
 When the last morsel had been given him, and 
 he had made sure of the fact that there was no 
 more, he would fold his wings sedately. With his 
 usual dignity he would walk away to some quiet 
 spot. There he would disgorge the hastily swal- 
 lowed meat and eat it again at his leisure. 
 
 One time the boys teased James by putting some 
 
 PylcV I-Iumblc Friends.— 5. 
 
66 
 
 meat in the middle of a piece of stovepipe that was 
 too small for him to get into. 
 
 The crow tried to squeeze himself in first at one 
 end and then at the other. 
 
 Finding he could not manage this after several 
 attempts, James lifted one end of the stovepipe and 
 let the meat slip down to the other. Then he hur- 
 ried around and seized the prize. 
 
 James was like a monkey in liking to imitate 
 what he saw others doing. One morning the 
 mistress of the house was busy planting some slips 
 and seedlings in flower pots. As she worked, the 
 crow walked about her, cawing softly to himself. 
 
 When she finished her work she put the flower 
 pots in a row on the porch and went away. No 
 sooner was she 
 out of sight than 
 James was busy. 
 In haste, as 
 
 though he knew James and the Plants 
 
 that if anyone saw him he would be driven off, 
 he pulled up every one of the plants, laying them 
 side by side on the porch. 
 
 Then he looked about for something to put in 
 their places. 
 
6; 
 
 On the window sill was a bag of candies, left 
 there by little Annie. Her aunt had brought them 
 to her the day before. 
 
 - With these the crow filled the holes left in the 
 earth, covering them carefully with the loose soil. 
 Then he went away to look for something else to do. 
 
 When Annie came back for her candies they 
 were nowhere to be found ; instead was the empty 
 bag. " I do believe those greedy boys have eaten 
 up all my candies," cried the little girl, her lip 
 trembling and her eyes filling with tears. But her 
 brothers declared they had not touched them. 
 
 While she was still wondering and complaining 
 her mother found the plants where they lay dead 
 and withered in the sun. " Oh, that mischievous 
 crow ! " cried the mother, running her finger down 
 into the loose earth. "Why, what's this?" she 
 added, for she felt something hard. She dug it 
 out with her finger. It was one of Annie's candies, 
 gritty with soil. 
 
 The earth was emptied from the other flower 
 pots and then all the candies came to light. 
 
 The mother said they were spoiled, but Annie 
 didn't think so. She brushed them off very care- 
 fully and she and her brothers ate them later on. 
 
James did not like to be touched or handled. 
 He would not allow any of the children except his 
 master to pick him up. 
 
 He never showed his really finest manners how- 
 ever to anyone but the mother ; when she came 
 out of the house he would hurry to meet her, duck- 
 ing and bowing in the most absurd manner, and 
 cawing softly. 
 
 James' master tried to teach James to talk, and 
 declared that the crow really tried to call him by 
 name. The others would hardly believe it. 
 
 But at any rate James could laugh. He often 
 used to startle people by harsh peals of laughter as 
 he sat hidden among the shrubbery. He seemed 
 to be enjoying some huge joke all by himself among 
 the leaves. 
 
 All through the summer and winter, James seemed 
 very happy in his half-captive life. But when 
 spring came, and everything was bursting into bud 
 and the birds were busy about their nesting, the 
 poor crow drooped and seemed sad. 
 
 He would crouch on the lawn looking up at the 
 moving clouds above, and sometimes when he heard 
 the wild crows out in the fields he would half spread 
 his wings with an answering caw. 
 
69 
 
 The mother said it was cruel to keep him away 
 from his kind, and so his master agreed to let his 
 clipped wing feathers grow. 
 
 Even after they had grown, however, James 
 seemed in no hurry to leave his old home. 
 
 To be sure he did go farther afield, but he always 
 came back at night. 
 
 At last, however, there came a night when James 
 did not return, though he reappeared the next 
 day. Then he went away again and that time he 
 did not come back at all. 
 
 It was not until the fall that they saw anything 
 of him. Then one day as one of the boys was cross- 
 ing a plowed field a crow flew down on a furrow 
 near by with a friendly caw. 
 
 " James, James ! " called the boy. 
 
 The crow cocked his head on one side and seemed 
 to listen. 
 
 " James, come here, old fellow," said the boy again. 
 
 He went over toward the crow and it sat quite 
 still watching him until he was so close that he put 
 out his hand to touch it. 
 
 Then it rose with a caw and flew away, flapping 
 heavily across the blue sky, on and on beyond the 
 hill and out of sight. 
 
70 
 
 And that was the last gHmpse that aii_y one of the 
 family ever had of James Crow. 
 
 FIREFLY 
 
 Firefly was a beautiful little chestnut colt 
 with one white foot. 
 
 She was a great pet with the children, and she 
 
 Firefly ind the Children 
 
 was SO tame she would come up and eat grass from 
 their hands. Then she would poke them with her 
 velvety nose and gallop off across the field kicking 
 
71 
 
 up her heels, and seeming to say, " Come play with 
 me. 
 
 Once she caught hold of the end of a handker- 
 chief that was sticking from the pocket of one of 
 the children. In a moment, with a jerk of her head, 
 she had pulled it out and was cantering away with 
 it. 
 
 The little boy whose handkerchief it was ran 
 after her to get it, but she kept out of his reach. 
 She waited until he was so close that he could 
 almost touch her, and then away she galloped, 
 tossing her head as if to wave the handkerchief. 
 All around the field she went, and then coming back 
 she stopped just in front of him with alert eyes and 
 ears pricked forward. It was as if she said, 
 "Mow try to catch me." 
 
 At last with a quick motion the boy did catch 
 one end of the handkerchief. He pulled and she 
 pulled, and it ended in the handkerchief being torn 
 almost in two. 
 
 The mother of Firefly had been a famous jumper, 
 and as Firefly grew older she became a great 
 jumper herself. It was difficult to keep her in any 
 field. She would go over a five-barred fence as 
 lightly as a bird. 
 
72 
 
 Her master was very proud of her. 
 
 When she was old enough he broke her to the 
 saddle, and he did not like to have anyone else ride 
 her. She knew him, and when she saw him coming 
 she would turn her head and whinny to him. He 
 often brought her an apple or a lump of sugar, and 
 if he did not have it in his hand she would nose at 
 his pockets to see if he had not hidden something 
 about him. 
 
 Firefly was gentle as well as swift and spirited. 
 She was the best hunter in the neighborhood, but 
 when the children begged to ride her, and their 
 father set them in a row upon her back, she minced 
 around the lawn as smoothly as she could, trying 
 not to jolt them. 
 
 When Firefly was six years old a war broke out, 
 and Firefly's master said that he must go away 
 and fight for the right. His wife wept, but she 
 did not say no. 
 
 He put on his uniform and Firefly was brought 
 around to the door. She arched her neck and 
 pawed the ground proudly as she stood waiting. 
 The master's wife and children clung to him and he 
 kissed them again and again. Then he came 
 hastily down the steps, his spurs jingling, and 
 
73 
 
 sprang upon Firefly's back, and away they went ; 
 — away from the quiet, peaceful home life toward 
 the smoke and thunder of battle. 
 
 Firefly had much to learn in the days that 
 followed. She had to learn to march with other 
 horses. She had to learn what the words of 
 command meant, and the loud and thrilling calls of 
 the bugle. 
 
 Then Firefly and her master were ordered 
 forward to the place where the war was" the 
 fiercest. 
 
 At last came a day when a great and bloody 
 battle was fought. Firefly and her master were in 
 it. At first, as they stood waiting for the order to 
 charge, Firefly quivered all over, and the sweat ran 
 down her sides like water she was so afraid. 
 
 But when at last the order was given, and her 
 master's troop swept forward, the chestnut mare was 
 at the head and all fear was forgotten. Behind was 
 the thunder of hoofs, before were the ranks of the 
 enemy, and all around was a murderous rain of 
 bullets. On went Firefly like the wind, her nostrils 
 wide ; one delicate ear pricked back for the word of 
 command ; her hoofs beating steadily on the flying 
 ground. 
 
74 
 
 It was a brave charge, but it was not successful. 
 The enemy was too strong, and the order to retreat 
 was given. 
 
 It was in this retreat that her master was struck 
 by a bullet. F'irelly suddenly felt him give a violent 
 start. She did not see him put his hand to his side 
 
 Firefly and her wounded Master 
 
 however. She did not see that that hand was 
 stained with red. 
 
 On he rode, but now he was swaying in the saddle. 
 His face grew drawn and white. Then without a 
 sound he slipped and tumbled to the ground and lay 
 still in a crumpled heap. ^ 
 
75 
 
 When consciousness came back to Firefly's 
 master the first tiling he saw was something chest- 
 nut colored and something blue. There was a 
 roaring in his ears. 
 
 Then he heard the ping of flying bullets, and 
 saw that the chestnut color was Firefly, standing 
 over him, and the blue wa:s the sky beyond as he 
 lay looking up. 
 
 He was still on the battlefield. He was there 
 alone ; alone with the dead and wounded. His 
 friends were gone. And yet he was not alone after 
 all. His faithful Firefly was with him. 
 
 He was not holding her bridle ; there was noth- 
 ing to keep her. She was trembling with fear, and 
 she smelled the blood around, but she would not 
 desert her fallen master. 
 
 He raised himself on his elbow, and Firefly 
 whinnied. Then, staggering, he got upon his feet. 
 He mounted Firefly and gathered up the reins, and 
 then away they fled, fast, fast across the field, back 
 to safety. 
 
 Firefly's master was so badly wounded that he 
 was sent to a hospital. Firefly followed back of 
 the ambulance in which they carried him. For a 
 lone time after that she was not ridden at all. 
 
76 
 
 One clay her master's wife, her mistress, came to 
 where she stood. The mistress Icissed her on the 
 neck and wept. 
 
 All this while, though Firefly did not know it, her 
 master was very ill. When at last he was able to 
 be moved he was taken home, for he was not 
 strong enough to go back to the war. 
 
 Firefly hardly knew him when she saw him again, 
 he was so gaunt and white, and one sleeve was 
 empty and was pinned across his coat. 
 
 After a while he grew strong again and was able to 
 ride about, but he held the bridle in his right hand 
 now. 
 
 Firefly was so glad when she felt him upon her 
 back again that she curved her neck and pranced 
 proudly. 
 
 " Good horse," said her master. He could not 
 pat her neck for his one hand held the bridle, but 
 
 his tone was like a caress. " Except for you " 
 
 Then his voice broke as he thought of his wife 
 and children, and how, but for Firefly, he would 
 have died upon that field of battle. 
 
 If Firefly was loved and petted before you may 
 imagine how it was with her now. Even -when she 
 grew so old that she could no longer be used, there 
 
77 
 
 was no horse in her master's stable that was held in 
 such honor as she. 
 
 THE STORY OF A SLAVE 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Nipper was a little slave ant. 
 
 She had been a slave from the moment she had - 
 opened a hole in her cocoon and other slave ants 
 had drawn her out, straightened her antennae and 
 smoothed out her soft legs. 
 
 Nipper did not know then that she was a slave. 
 All around her she saw little black ants like herself, 
 hurrying to and fro intent on business. 
 
 Those who had drawn her out of the cocoon did 
 not stay with her long, but hurried away to offer 
 the same help to others, that is, to draw out from 
 their cocoons those who were too weak to free 
 themselves. 
 
 Nipper sat there beside her cocoon looking about 
 her, but feeling too soft and helpless to stir. 
 
 Presently she began to move her legs a little. 
 
 Then an ant came to her and fed her from its 
 mouth with something as sweet as honey. 
 
 That made Nipper feel stronger, and as she 
 
78 
 
 saw how busy everyone about her was, she began 
 to wonder if she could not help them in their labors. 
 
 An ant had stopped close by to arrange some 
 cocoons. 
 
 " Can't I help you?" asked Nipper. 
 
 The other looked at her. " Why yes," she said 
 after a moment, " if you are strong enough, but you 
 have been out only a little while." 
 
 " I feel quite strong now." 
 
 " Then you can help arrange these, if you like." 
 
 Nipper cheerfully set to work. At first she felt 
 rather numb and weak, but as she moved, her 
 strength began to come to her, and soon she was 
 running about as briskly as any of them. 
 
 After a while Nipper noticed that there was a 
 difference in the cocoons. Some were like the one 
 from which she had come ; some were larger ; and 
 others were of a brown color. 
 
 A little later, from one of the larger of these she 
 helped to draw forth an ant quite different from 
 herself ; one much bigger ; it was red, too, and had 
 strong, fierce-looking jaws. 
 
 Wondering, but without saying anything, she 
 helped in unfolding its legs, and making its toilet. 
 It seemed quite helpless. 
 
79 
 
 This new red ant sat there for a long time 
 getting its breath and strength after its imprison- 
 ment. Even after it seemed quite itself, however, 
 it still made no effort to stir about or help the 
 others. 
 
 Presently Nipper, who by this time was as busy 
 as the best of them, spoke to the red ant as she 
 passed by. " Don't you think it's time to bestir 
 yourself and set to work ? " she asked. 
 
 The red ant stared at her but made no answer. 
 Nipper's black friend drew her hastily away. 
 " Hush ! hush ! " she whispered. " Don't you 
 know any better than to say such a thing to her ? 
 She is one of our mistresses." 
 
 "One of our mistresses!" echoed Nipper in 
 surprise. 
 
 Her friend looked at her pityingly. " My poor 
 little ant, " she said ; " don't you know you are 
 nothing but a slave ? A little black slave ? " 
 " No, I didn't know that ?" 
 
 " Well, you are. And off beyond there, in the 
 larger rooms, live our mistresses, all big red ants 
 like that one. All we are here for is to wait on 
 them, to feed them and keep their houses in order, 
 and to take care of their young." 
 
8o 
 
 "But why?" cried Nipper rebelliously. "Why 
 must we do all that ? " 
 
 " Because " began her friend ; but they were 
 
 interrupted by a sturdy, important-looking black ant 
 who joined them for a moment. " What's this ? " 
 she cried in a severe voice. " Idling in work hours ? 
 Away with you both. There is too much to 
 be done for any such wasting of time." 
 
 " Come," whispered Nipper's friend, turning 
 away, " we must go back now, but to-night after 
 working hours I'll tell you all about it. And few 
 can tell you more than I," she added with a 
 sigh. 
 
 All day long Nipper was hard at work with the 
 others. The only rest was when they stopped for 
 something to eat. 
 
 Nipper was pleased to find herself beside her 
 friend at this hastily eaten meal, but they had no 
 time to talk until late that evening when everything 
 was tidy and in order, and the bands of toilers 
 were preparing for their night's rest. 
 
 " And now," said Nipper eagerly, settling down 
 beside her black friend, whose name proved to be 
 Riddler, " now tell me how I came here, and how 
 it is that there is so much difference between us and 
 
the large red ants. Why should they be our mis- 
 tresses, and why must we do all the work for 
 them ? " 
 
 Riddler sat silently moving her antennae for a 
 while, and when she spoke at last it was in a sad, 
 low voice. 
 
 " I will tell you first how you came here," she 
 said, "and then you will understand how it is with 
 us, and why we never can hope to free ourselves 
 from our slavery. 
 
 "It was about five or six weeks ago that I awoke 
 one morning to find all the nest in an unusual stir 
 and bustle. Slave ants were running up and down, 
 and even our mistresses were bestirring themselves. 
 
 " I knew immediately what was going on. There 
 was to be a slave-making expedition that day, and 
 they were getting ready for it. 
 
 " For some time we had been short of slaves in 
 the nest, and for that reason there had been trouble 
 in getting the work done as it should be. Now 
 our mistresses had made up their minds that they 
 must supply themselves with fresh slaves. 
 
 " This could be done only by carrying off the 
 eggs or larvae or cocoons from the nests of black 
 ants. You see if they carried off the black ants 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends. — 6. 
 
82 
 
 who were fully grown there would be trouble about 
 making them work in a strange place. 
 
 "What are the larvae?" asked Nipper, for 
 everything was still new to her. 
 
 " Well, you see, before ants are really ants they 
 are eggs," explained Riddler. " That is at the 
 very first. 
 
 " These eggs are laid by the queen generally, 
 though sometimes the others lay eggs too. 
 
 " Out of these eggs are hatched the little larvae or 
 grubs as they are called. These larvae have no legs 
 or antennae ; they are white and soft, and very 
 helpless, and have to be fed and taken care of by 
 the workers. 
 
 Ants feeding Larvae 
 
 " After a time these larvae or grubs spin cocoons, 
 or else a little shell hardens around them, and there 
 they lie sheltered and safe while they slowly turn 
 into ants. 
 
 " Then when at last they make holes in the co- 
 coon and are drawn forth they are no longer help- 
 
83 
 
 less little grubs but full grown ants just as you 
 are yourself." 
 
 " Then I was once a helpless little grub ! " said 
 Nipper wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes, and I too, and every one of the ants you 
 see about us. But to go on," said Riddler. " The 
 slave-catching expedition was not to start until after- 
 noon, and it was only a short time before it was 
 ready to go that I and a score or so of other black 
 ants were told that we were to accompany it to 
 carry home the cocoons that were captured. 
 
 " It was hard enough to be ordered out for such 
 
 Ants on the March 
 
 a duty I can tell you ; — to go with the red ants 
 against ants of our own kind. 
 
 " But, after all, the red ants were not going to 
 hurt them, and the cocoons they captured would be 
 well taken care of. 
 
 " At any rate I knew I had no choice in the 
 matter, so about the middle of the afternoon when 
 
84 
 
 the army started I, as well as other black ants, was 
 with it. 
 
 " It was a long journey across rough ground, and 
 around a piece of water, but after a while I knew 
 by the fresh speed and excitement that scouts had 
 brought news that we were coming near the nest 
 we were to attack. 
 
 " I and the other slaves were hurried on with the 
 rest, and so I saw almost everything that happened. 
 
 " The nest was a very large one. There must 
 have been many more black ants in it than there 
 were ants in our attacking party, but they knew how 
 fierce and strong the red ants are in battle. 
 
 " They made little or no resistance and soon hid 
 away in the lower part of the nest. I think — I 
 hope — that few of them were hurt, but there were 
 some brave ones who suffered. 
 
 " One I remember especially. She was trying 
 to guard a narrow door into the nest. A great red 
 ant rushed at her, and before the black ant could 
 protect herself her head was seized in those terrible, 
 strong, red jaws." 
 
 Nipper shuddered with horror, and drew closer 
 to her friend. 
 
 " Even then," Riddler went on, " all mieht have 
 
85 
 
 gone well if the black ant had kept quiet. Instead 
 of that she struggled and tried to resist. Then in 
 an instant those terrible jaws tightened, and when 
 the red ant dropped her she was either dead or 
 dying. 
 
 " She was one of the very few, however, who re- 
 sisted, and the others who hid away were left un- 
 harmed. Then our mistresses broke their way into 
 the large chambers where the larvee and cocoons 
 were kept. 
 
 " After that came our part in the ugly business. We 
 were given these larvae and cocoons to carry away 
 with us. Soon our whole army, loaded with its 
 helpless prisoners, was on its way home again. 
 
 " I have always had especial care of the cocoon 
 that I myself carried, and it was from that very 
 cocoon that you were hatched this morning. 
 
 " So now you see how it is that you came to be a 
 slave, and why it is that we black ants are content 
 to be only that. If a whole nest of black ants were 
 not able to defend themselves against a small party of 
 red ones, and that in their own country, what chance 
 have we here in the red ants' nest, — slaves as we 
 have always been ? 
 
 " But after all we are very happy here. We 
 
86 
 
 love our work. We have a good home and plenty 
 to eat and drink, and our mistresses are always 
 kind to us. What more could we want ? " 
 
 But Nipper made no answer. Her heart was 
 heavy at what she had heard, and to have a good 
 home and food seemed not enough for her. She 
 wished for freedom, too. 
 
 Note. The facts of this account of the life and battles of the 
 Polyergus rufescens, or slave-making ants and their captives are 
 taken from " The Natural History of Ants" by Pierre Huber^ 
 and " Ants, Bees, and Wasps,'' by Sir John Lubbock. 
 
 Lubbock also speaks of the black ants carrying the red ones on 
 their backs from place to place, a point used in Part LL. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 It did not take long for Nipper to get used to 
 the life of the ant hill where she lived, and a very 
 busy life she found it. 
 
 First of all there was the house to be kept neat 
 and in order, and this was a great labor. It was a 
 large house with many halls and rooms. 
 
 Then there were the eggs to be cared for, and the 
 grubs to be fed and tended. Sometimes, if it was 
 very hot, all the grubs and cocoons had to be carried 
 to a cooler room. Then it would turn cold and 
 rainy and they were all carried back again. 
 
87 
 
 There were other cocoons in the nest differ- 
 ent from those of either the red or the black ants, 
 and at first Nipper did not know what they were. 
 
 She knew later, however, when out from them 
 were hatched 
 little Aphides, 
 or ant cows. 
 These are little 
 insects such as 
 one often finds 
 on the stems of 
 rosebushes or / 
 other plants, or ^v_.'^ 
 sometimes on 
 roots under 
 the ground. 
 They are the 
 cows of the 
 ants. 
 
 Nipper learned, too, how delicious was the 
 honey, or ant-cow milk, that could be coaxed from 
 them. Riddler taught her how to stroke their 
 bodies gently with her feet and antennae till the 
 tiny drop of honey came from them just as milk 
 does from a cow, and then how to lick it up. 
 
 Ants and their Cows 
 
The ant cows did not stay in the nest long after 
 they hatched, however, but were driven out to 
 pasture on some daisy leaves near by 
 
 The red ants never did any of the work. They 
 did not even feed or clean themselves. All this 
 was done for them by their slaves. 
 
 Nipper, being a strong, lively ant, was one of 
 those chosen for outside work, that is, attending to 
 the cows, or bringing in food. She worked hard, 
 and when night came was so tired that she slept 
 without dreams. 
 
 Still she was not happy, for she remembered 
 that after all she was only a slave, and she thought, 
 " I would not care how small the nest was, nor how 
 poor the food, if I were only free." 
 
 There were two queens in the ants' nest, and 
 Nipper often heard about them, but only three 
 times did she see a queen in all the while she lived 
 in the red ants' nest. 
 
 The first time she was hurrying through a long 
 gallery and happening to take the wrong turning 
 she found herself in a chamber that was new to her. 
 
 There, surrounded by her guards, sat a very 
 large, handsome, solemn-looking red ant, and 
 Nipper knew she was in the presence of the 
 
89 
 
 queen. No one noticed her and she shpped quietly 
 away. 
 
 The second time Nipper was helping one of the 
 other outside workers to drag a dead beetle. 
 
 Comino; around a bunch of erasses near the 
 opening into the nest Nipper saw two red ants there 
 in the doorway. One of them Nipper knew 
 immediately to be one of the royal guard. The 
 other was larger and finer, and Nipper recognized 
 her as a queen. 
 
 The royal guard had hold of her and was 
 drawing her gently but firmly down into the nest 
 again. The queen was holding back, but she was 
 
 The Royal Guard and the Queen 
 
 not really struggling. Presently she saw the two 
 little slave ants with the beetle and then she 
 stopped short and looked at them. After a moment 
 she spoke. "You are slaves, aren't you?" she 
 asked. 
 
go 
 
 The other slave stood staring at her in silence, 
 and it was Nipper who answered at length, " Yes^ 
 your majesty," she said. 
 
 The queen ant looked at them pityingly. " And 
 I am a queen," she said. Then she repeated, " I 
 am a queen. Do you envy me ? I am scarcely 
 more free than you. I wished to go up into the 
 light and to see the sky and feel the free wind, but 
 my faithful subjects think it best that I should stay 
 down in the nest. Some harm might happen to 
 me. 
 
 "Would it please your majesty to come?" 
 asked the red ant respectfully. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will come," said the queen bitterly. 
 " Good-by, little slaves. Perhaps it is not the 
 hardest thing to be a slave, for you at least can 
 come and go at your work." 
 
 Then she followed her guard down again into 
 the gallery. The two black ants stood watching 
 her until she was out of sight, and then Nipper said 
 pityingly : " Poor thing ! I think she looked very 
 sad." 
 
 " Oh, yes," responded Nipper's companion, "and 
 I really think that she is more of a slave than 
 we. I have heard that the queens are kept as 
 
91 
 
 carefully guarded as though they were prisoners. 
 All they do is to lay eggs, and even those eggs are 
 taken from them and given to us to take care of. 
 The queens are not allowed to go out for fear some 
 harm might happen to them." 
 
 " But how do you suppose the queen managed 
 to get this far ? " asked Nipper. 
 
 " Oh, she must have escaped from her guard in 
 some way. But come ! We must get on with this 
 beetle," and the two little ants returned busily to 
 their work. 
 
 That was the second time in her life that Nipper 
 had seen a queen, but she was to see one a third 
 time under circumstances that were to change the 
 little ant's life in such a way as she had never 
 dreamed of. 
 
 It was a warm day. So very warm that the ants 
 were carrying all the larvae to a cooler room. 
 
 Nipper happened somehow or other to be busy 
 down in the nest that day. 
 
 The other ants were all so occupied that they 
 did not notice a sound that was coming nearer and 
 nearer;— a low, deep throbbing on the ground 
 like the sound of many feet. 
 
 Nipper indeed heard it and paused a moment. 
 
$2 
 
 "What Is that?" she asked of one of her com- 
 rades. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " That sound we hear. That beating sound." 
 
 "I hear nothing," said her companion, "and if 
 you were attending to your work you wouldn't have 
 time to be bothering about sounds, either." 
 
 So reproved, Nipper turned to her work again, 
 but it was with a sense of fear weighing on her. 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the sound, louder and 
 louder. Now every one in the nest, slaves and 
 mistresses, workers, guards, and all, could hear it. 
 
 Nearer and nearer it came, and the ants looked 
 at each other in dismay. Louder and louder, and 
 now suddenly it was upon them. The roofs were 
 broken, the earth crushed down into the nest. 
 Terrified ants ran this way and that, trying to 
 escape. A whole drove of cattle was passing over 
 the place where the ants' nest had been. 
 
 Even in their terror, however, the larvae and 
 cocoons were not forgotten. Each little slave 
 seized one in her mouth before trying to escape 
 from the falling nest. 
 
 Many ants, slaves and mistresses, were buried in 
 the ruins of the nest that day. 
 
93 
 
 Nipper was one of the ants who was fortunate 
 enough to escape. Carrying a cocoon in her 
 mouth she made her way in and out among the 
 tramphng hoofs, until at last she found herself in 
 a place of safety aj; the edge of the road. 
 
 There she waited until the drove had passed, and 
 then, still trembling with fear, she made her way 
 back to the ruins of what had once been the beau- 
 tiful and comfortable nest. Already a few strag- 
 glers were beginning to return. Nearly all of the 
 black ants carried larvee or cocoons in their 
 mouths. 
 
 In and out among the gathering crowd, waving 
 her antennae wildly, ran one of the royal guard ; 
 the very one whom Nipper had seen drawing the 
 queen down into the nest again. 
 
 Wildly she ran about, sometimes bumping 
 against the other ants, sometimes running over 
 their backs. 
 
 " Oh the queen ! the queen," she wailed, " Oh 
 the queen ! the queen ! " 
 
 "Where is the queen?" asked Nipper, as the 
 red ant ran back and forth in an aimless manner. 
 But the red ant only repeated, " Oh the queen ! 
 the queen ! " 
 
94 
 
 Slave as she was, Nipper caught the red ant and 
 held her. " Where is the queen ? " she cried again. 
 
 The red ant looked at her vaguely. " Oh I 
 don't know," she cried. " She was in the nest, but 
 I don't know where she is now." 
 
 Without a word Nipper dropped the red ant and' 
 ran toward the opening into the ruined nest. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " cried someone ; but 
 Nipper did not stop to answer. Somewhere down 
 in the nest she had no doubt the poor red queen 
 was still lying, deserted by all, and perhaps crushed 
 under some fallen earth. 
 
 Along one passage after another went the brave 
 Nipper. Sometimes the way was so blocked with 
 fallen earth that she had to stop to make her way 
 through it. Sometimes she had to go back and 
 find her way around by another passage. 
 
 At last beyond a heap of fallen earth she thought 
 she heard a faint moan. "Your majesty, is that 
 you ? " cried Nipper. 
 
 There was no answer, only after a while another 
 moan, fainter than before. 
 
 Now Nipper flew like a little tiger at the earth 
 that blocked her way. With teeth and legs she 
 worked at it until she made an opening. 
 
95 
 
 Through this opening she shpped and found 
 herself in one of the royal rooms, and there before 
 her in a sad plight lay the very queea for whom 
 she was searching. In sad plight indeed, for a 
 lump of earth had fallen on her, pinning her down 
 so that she could not move. 
 
 Nipper Rescuing the Queen. 
 
 Close by lay one of the royal guards crushed by 
 the fallen roof. Nipper saw in a moment that the 
 guard was quite dead. Then she set to work to 
 release the queen. 
 
 This was hard work for the little ant, tired as 
 she already was. But she went at the task bravely, 
 and soon had the joy of finding that the queen 
 was free. But her labors were not yet ended. 
 The queen was not able to walk, and so Nipper 
 took her upon her back. Staggering under the 
 weight, she made her way past the heaps of earth 
 and back to the mouth of the nest. 
 
96 
 
 On and on she went, up and down until it 
 seemed as though she never would reach the end 
 of her journey. Then suddenly she saw the light 
 before her, and a moment after she was out in the 
 road again and among the frightened groups of 
 ants. 
 
 What joy arose when they saw Nipper come 
 staggering out with the rescued queen upon her 
 back ! Immediately the two were surrounded by 
 a joyous crowd. The queen was lifted from Nip- 
 per's back, food was given her and she was gently 
 stroked and rubbed. 
 
 When, at last the queen seemed herself again, 
 those around her turned to the faithful Nipper. 
 " And you, little ant ; what reward can we give to 
 you ? " they asked. 
 
 At that one said one thing and one another, 
 until they saw that the queen wished to speak. 
 Then all were silent. 
 
 The queen raised herself and looked around. 
 " My faithful subjects," she said, "although to-day 
 you have me with you again, a little while ago I was 
 lying prisoned among the ruins, and there I would 
 be still if it were not for this faithful little ant. I 
 now propose that as a reward for this service we 
 
97 
 
 give her the thing that is sweetest to everyone. 
 Let her have her freedom." 
 
 " Her freedom ! Her freedom ! " shouted all 
 the ants, both red and black. " Let Nipper be 
 free!" 
 
 But Nipper looked around at them sadly. 
 
 " Alas, what good would my freedom do me ? " 
 she asked. " I would be alone, and where could I 
 go ? I know no other nest than this ? " 
 
 " You shall have companions to go with you," 
 cried the ants. " Choose what slaves you will and 
 we will free them too. They shall go with you 
 and you can make yourselves a nest of your own." 
 
 Then Nipper looked about her and chose a 
 dozen black ants to go with her as her helpers. 
 Among them, you may be sure, was the old ant 
 who had carried her when she was a cocoon, and the 
 one whom she had helped with the dead beetle. 
 
 The red ants also gave Nipper some cocoons and 
 some ant larvae, that from, one of them she might 
 raise a black queen to reign over the new nest. 
 
 So, carrying these cocoons and larvae carefully 
 in their mouths, the little band of black ants set 
 out, followed by the good wishes of those they left 
 behind. 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends. — 7. 
 
98 
 
 A short time afterward, not far from the red ants' 
 nest, which was now rebuilt, might have been seen 
 a large colony of black ants. 
 
 They lived there at peace with their red neighbors, 
 and however fiercely the red ants set out on their 
 slave-making expeditions that black colony was never 
 harmed or disturbed. It was the colony started 
 by the gallant Nipper and her little band of faith- 
 ful followers. 
 
 THE TAME BAT 
 
 Almost every child is afraid of bats, — they flit 
 about so strangely and so silently through the night. 
 Sometimes they flit so close that one feels the air 
 from their leathery wings, but they never seem to 
 touch anything. 
 
 If you catch and examine a bat, you can see 
 what a cunning little creature it is. Its head is 
 like that of a tiny fox, with eyes like shining black 
 beads. Its teeth are small and white. Its body 
 is covered with fur as soft as silk, and its tiny hind 
 feet are beautifully finished off with little nails. 
 
 Even its leathery wings are as fine and lustrous 
 as satin. 
 
99 
 
 One evening a bat had flown into a room. It 
 whirled about here and there so silently and so 
 swiftly that the eye could not follow it. 
 
 The girls who were in the room were frightened 
 and covered their heads. They had heard that bats 
 sometimes catch their claws and wings in the hair, 
 and get so tangled up in it that it has to be cut off. 
 Many people believe this, although no one has 
 ever really seen it happen, 
 
 The brother of the girls had heard of this too, 
 but his hair was too short for him to feel afraid of 
 its happening to him. He took a tennis racket 
 and stood waiting for the bat to come near him. 
 When it did, he struck'at It. 
 
 He was sure he had hit it, because he had felt its 
 body against the wood of the racket, and it had given 
 a squeak. He thought he had knocked it across the 
 room. But though he looked and hunted he could 
 not find it. 
 
 At last he said that he must have struck it with- 
 out hurting it and it had probably gone out into 
 the night again. Then the girls uncovered their 
 heads and went on with their reading. 
 
 The afternoon of the next day the housemaid 
 was cleaning that same room. She lifted the por- 
 
lOO 
 
 tiere to shake it, and then dropped it and jumped 
 away witli a shriek. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked the boy, who was 
 passing through the room with his cap on and the 
 racket in his hand." 
 
 " Och, and I think it was a mouse," said the 
 housemaid. 
 
 "A mouse !" cried the boy, full of interest in a 
 moment, and he too lifted the portiere. 
 
 There in a corner of the door was the poor little 
 bat that he had struck the night before. He had 
 
 broken its wino- with 
 
 o 
 
 his racket, and it had 
 been hiding about the 
 room ever since. 
 
 The Tame Bat Xlie ll O U S e Ul a i d 
 
 begged him to kill the " nasty thing," as she called it. 
 But the boy said he wanted to see what it would do. 
 
 The little thing was almost blinded by the light, 
 but it opened its mouth and threatened him with 
 its tiny teeth. Then it hobbled a little farther 
 away, trying to use its broken wing. 
 
 " It must be hungry," said the boy. " Don't you 
 touch it, Mary, I'm going to get something and see 
 if it will eat." 
 
101 
 
 ig! 
 
 criec 
 
 " Indeed I wouldn't touch it for any thin 
 Mary. " I'm afraid of the horrid thing." 
 
 The boy ran away and presently came back with 
 some tiny bits of raw meat. 
 
 The poor little bat must have been almost starved, 
 for it ate greedily. When it seemed to have had 
 enough, and would eat no more, the boy got a 
 saucer of water and put it down before it, and the 
 bat lapped up the water thirstily, 
 using its tongue just as a dog 
 would. 
 
 The boy said he was going to 
 keep the bat for a pet and see if 
 he could tame it. He took a 
 starch box and covered the front 
 of it with mosquito netting. He 
 put a perch across it very much 
 like the perch in the bird-cage 
 so that the bat could hang itself 
 what bats like to do. They hang themselves up 
 by their little hind feet, with their heads down and 
 their wings folded about them, and so they will 
 sleep all day. 
 
 The little bat. Flitters, as the boy named it, 
 seemed quite satisfied with this new home when it 
 
 up 
 
 The Tame Bat 
 
 for that is 
 
102 
 
 was put in a dark place, and promptly hung itself 
 up and went to sleep. 
 
 The sisters of the boy were disgusted. They 
 said that if he wanted a pet he might get some- 
 thing better than a horrid bat. They were afraid 
 it might get out and crawl about the room, too. 
 But, in spite of all they said, the boy kept the bat 
 and set himself to taming it. 
 
 He fed it every evening. When he brought the 
 food he always called to the bat with a peculiar 
 whistle. Soon the bat knew this whistle and would 
 answer him when he called. 
 
 After awhile Flitters grew so tame that its master 
 let it out of the box. It would come when he called 
 it, even in the daytime, though then it moved very 
 slowly and uncertainly. It was hard for it to see in 
 the light. 
 
 After nightfall it would grow more lively. 
 
 All the family, even the girls, became used to 
 Flitters after a time. They never could understand, 
 though, how the boy could bear to handle the bat 
 as he did, or to let it creep up his sleeve or hide in 
 his pockets. Sometimes the bat would hang itself 
 from his open hand, hooking its little feet over the 
 skin between his fingers. 
 
I03 
 
 The boy's friends, lads like himself, were very 
 much interested in the bat and liked to feed it and 
 handle it. Sometimes they gave it flies and small 
 insects, sometimes fresh meat. 
 
 Very few of the ladies who came to the house 
 liked Flitters, however. They seemed to be afraid 
 of the little bat. 
 
 One day a friend of the boy's mother came to the 
 house. She had called for a roll of papers that had 
 been promised her. No one being at home, she 
 told the maid she would look in the library and see 
 if it were there. 
 
 On the table lay a loose roll. " This must be the 
 one," said the lady. " I'll just see." She picked it 
 up and as she did so out slid Flitters, falling upon 
 the table. The bat had been taking a quiet nap 
 inside the tube of papers where it was dark. 
 
 The lady screamed, she was so frightened, and 
 when the housemaid told her it was only a tame bat 
 she seemed quite angry that anyone should have 
 such a pet. She did not know how cunning Flitters 
 could be. 
 
 The place Flitters liked best in the daytime was 
 the cloak closet. It was dark and still there, and 
 the bat found many fine places in which to nestle. 
 
I04 
 
 But after the girls had found It cuddled away 
 in their hats or coat-sleeves several times they were 
 careful to keep the door shut so that it could not 
 get in. 
 
 This was after Flitters' wing had begun to heal, 
 and it could flutter about a little. The wing healed 
 very quickly. The bone knit together and after a 
 while it was quite well, only a lump was left where 
 the bone had grown together. 
 
 When the bat was well and had begun to fly 
 about, you could seldom tell where it was. It would 
 generally come, however, when the boy called it. 
 It would fly circling about the room as it grew dusk, 
 close to the walls or ceiling. It would catch the 
 mosquitoes and other insects that it saw there. 
 
 Then the bat began to go out of doors and they 
 saw very little of it. Even when the boy called it, 
 it seldom came. 
 
 One day a little girl had come out from the city 
 with her mother, to spend the night at the boy's 
 home. The children were sitting on the piazza 
 after supper and two or three bats flitted past. 
 
 The little girl looked up and said, 
 " Bat, bat, 
 Come under my hat 
 And I'll give you a piece of bacon." 
 
I OS 
 
 " Wouldn't it be just like a magician," said the 
 boy, " if I could call a bat and make it come to 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, it would," said the little girl, " but you 
 couldn't do it." She had not been told about the 
 pet bat. 
 
 " Couldn't I ? " said the boy. " We'll see." 
 
 He gave the peculiar whistle that he always 
 gave for Flitters. There was no answer. 
 
 Again he whistled, and then one of the bats flew 
 in under the porch. 
 
 He whistled a third time and the bat circled 
 about his head and finally lighted upon his shoulder, 
 folding its wings into the likeness of ungainly front 
 legs. 
 
 The little girl could not wonder enough. She 
 felt as though the boy were really a magician, and 
 was even a little afraid of him. 
 
 The boy took the bat in his hand and smoothed 
 and tickled it. Then he let it fly away, and after 
 a while he told her and her mother that it was his 
 pet bat, and all about it. 
 
 That was almost the last time he ever saw *it, 
 however. Either it was not with the bats which 
 he saw flitting about on other evenings, or it did 
 
io6 
 
 not care to answer to his call. No doubt the little 
 fellow preferred to flit through the air with creat- 
 ures of its own kind to living in a house, and being 
 made ai pet of. 
 
 THE CAPTIVE ROBIN 
 
 I WAS hatched in the top of a tall maple tree. 
 The nest where I lived with my little brothers 
 and sisters was very soft and warm. Still softer 
 and warmer was my mother's breast as she brooded 
 over us. 
 
 My father was a very handsome robin, as I re- 
 
 mem ber him. 
 He was a good 
 father to us. 
 There were al- 
 ways worms 
 enough to fill our 
 hungry beaks. 
 
 Father Robin Feeding the Children And hoW happy 
 
 we were up there in our nest among the leaves ! 
 
 Sometimes the wind blew so hard that the tree 
 where we lived would bend far over. Then across 
 the side of the nest we could catch sight of a red 
 
107 
 
 brick house with tall chimneys — of a lawn, and of a 
 shining river with hills beyond. 
 
 Then the wind would pass by, the tree would 
 straighten, and we could see nothing above the 
 circle of the nest but the green leaves with the sun 
 shining through them. 
 
 Every evening our father sat on the tiptop of a 
 tall tree just as the sun was setting. He looked 
 quite black against the pale sky. There he sang 
 and sang ; — sang so sweetly and clearly that all we 
 young ones were still and listened. Then home he 
 would come, to sleep on a branch close by, while 
 our mother brooded over us. Ah, those were 
 happy days ; but they could not last. 
 
 We were all strong, stout robins. We grew 
 fast. Soon our mother told us that it was time 
 for us to learn to fly. That was not pleasant — that 
 
 learning to fly. 
 
 We got up on the edge of the nest. There we 
 
 sat, afraid to try. We were very, very high up in 
 
 the air, and our wings felt strange when we spread 
 
 them. 
 
 Flutter and Flap were very bold and strong. 
 
 They tried without much urging. The rest of us 
 
 were more timid. 
 
io8 
 
 I am ashamed to say I was so timid and fearful 
 
 about it that at last my mother had to go back of 
 
 me and push me off the nest. Then down I 
 
 went fluttering 
 a n d strucrorlina. 
 " Spread your 
 wings," cried my 
 parents circling 
 about me. " Beat 
 the air. Fly! 
 Fly!" 
 
 But down, 
 clown I went into 
 the louLT o'rass. 
 My brothers and 
 sisters had guided 
 themselves to 
 trees that were 
 1 o w e r than our 
 
 maple. There they sat balancing themselves 
 
 among the leaves. 
 
 " Now it will be harder for you," said my mother. 
 
 "It is harder to lift yourself out from the grass. 
 
 You had better just flutter along to those bushes 
 
 yonder before you try another flight." 
 
 I / 
 
 Robin in Dang^cr 
 
I09 
 
 Suddenly my father gave a cry of alarm. 
 
 " Wait a moment ; something is the matter," said 
 my mother, rising to join him. 
 
 I was left there alone in the long grass. 
 
 Both my parents began shrieking. Their cries 
 were of terror and anger. They shot past above me 
 like arrows, seeming to aim themselves at a place 
 in the grasses near by. And now I heard some- 
 thing stirring and a soft breathing just back of me. 
 
 I glanced fearfully around. There, glaring at me 
 through the grasses, were two great yellow eyes 
 set in a furry head, and back of this head a great 
 dark body. 
 
 I did not know what it was, but still I felt so ter- 
 rified that my heart seemed to stop beating. Then 
 with a bound the creature was upon me. I felt its 
 teeth. It lifted me and carried me in its mouth. 
 It was a cat. 
 
 My parents circled above us with pitiful cries, 
 but they could not help me. 
 
 I do not remember anything clearly for a while 
 after that. It is all dim as in a dream. 
 
 When I looked about me again I found I was 
 lying on some soft sand. Above nie and on each 
 side were iron wires. I was in a cage. 
 
no 
 
 From what I learned afterwards my mistress 
 must have seen the cat carrying me, and saved me 
 from its teeth. She had saved me, but I was a 
 prisoner. 
 
 My mistress was very good and gentle with me. 
 Soon I learned to know her and not to be afraid of 
 her when she came near me. She fed me, she gave 
 me fresh water, and cleaned my cage every day. 
 Every day, too, she put a china dish filled with 
 water into my cage. In that I bathed. First I 
 would light upon the edge of the dish and dip my 
 bill in the water, fluttering my wings. Then down 
 I would hop, plash ! into the water. I would dip 
 down and beat my wings so fast that the water 
 would fly round in a perfect shower. When I got 
 through, all the cage would be wet. The drops 
 would hang from the wires. 
 
 It made my mistress laugh. Then she would 
 wipe the cage dry while I preened my feathers and 
 rustled them into place. 
 
 Our room was at the very top of the house. 
 My mistress did the sewing for the household. 
 She was not one of the family. 
 
 Sometimes a little boy and girl came up to the 
 room to look at me. They called my mistress 
 
II I 
 
 Sally. She called them Miss May and Master 
 Donald. 
 
 One day Master Donald brought a hairy terrier 
 Into the room with him. It barked at me and 
 frightened me so I beat myself against the bars. 
 My mistress made him take it out. At first he 
 would not, but she told him that this was her room 
 and her bird and that she would not have me 
 frightened. Then he was angry, too, and he did 
 not come any more. 
 
 One day, after my mistress had cleaned my cage, 
 she fastened back the door and so left the cage 
 open. I thought she had forgotten. I flew down 
 and looked out. Then I hopped outside. 
 
 She did not try to stop me. She was sitting 
 close by with some sewing. She laid her sewing 
 down and watched me. 
 
 I looked all about me, putting my head first on 
 one side and then on the other. 
 
 How strange it seemed to be outside the bars ! 
 I could see from the window the sky and the tree 
 tops. That was where I belonged. 
 
 I spread my wings and fluttered toward the 
 light outside. But at the window I struck against 
 something. I saw nothing, but something was 
 
112 
 
 there, hard and cold, between me and the freedom 
 outside. It was the window glass. 
 
 I beat myself against it until my mistress caught 
 me in her hands and put me back in my cage. 
 But after that she let me out of my cage every day 
 to fly about the room awhile. 
 
 Sometimes I used to light on the back of my 
 mistress's rocking-chair. It was great fun swinging 
 backward and forward as she rocked. 
 
 Sometimes I went to her workbasket and 
 pecked at the things in it. There were little red 
 things that looked like strawberries, and flat cases, 
 and long pins with shiny, black heads. There 
 were spools, too, with thread wound around them. 
 Once I took the end of a thread in my beak and 
 pulled. I pulled it as far as I could, and then I 
 tried to fly away with it. There didn't seem to be 
 any end to it, however. My mistress took the 
 thread from me and wound it all up again, and 
 tapped me with her thimble. 
 
 Back of the looking-glass on the bureau lived 
 another robin. He was a handsome bird. He 
 lived in a room exactly like the one I lived in, only 
 everything was turned the other way. 
 
 We used to look at each other. Every time I 
 
113 
 
 moved he moved, too. I used to call to him, but 
 he never answered me. There was glass between 
 us and we could not reach each other. 
 
 Sometimes when I sat on the red pincushion and 
 pulled the pins 
 out, I would look 
 up and see that he 
 had been pulling 
 pins out of his red 
 pincushion in that 
 other room. He 
 always pulled out 
 just as many pins 
 
 as I did. Robin in Mischief 
 
 He was a funny bird. I never grew tired of 
 watching him through the glass, but I never got to 
 know him very well. 
 
 One day, while I was amusing myself on the 
 bureau, my mistress left the room. She closed the 
 door behind her, but I suppose she did not latch it. 
 
 Suddenly I saw the door in that other looking- 
 glass room open. In through the crack looked 
 two fierce, yellow eyes. A terrible, lank, black cat 
 came stealing in. It looked about the room. The 
 looking-glass robin did not seem to see it. He 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends.— 8. 
 
114 
 
 was watching the door of my room. I tried to call 
 to him, but I could not. I felt as frightened as 
 though the cat were after me. 
 
 Then I knew that the cat saw him. Stealthily 
 it crept nearer. Would he never turn and see it ? 
 
 Suddenly some faint sound made me look be- 
 hind me. There was a cat in my room, and it was 
 at me — at me — that it glared. 
 
 I sat quite still. I tried to shriek, but my voice 
 died away in a pitiful peep. The door opened and 
 my mistress came in. Miss May was just back of 
 her. 
 
 "Oh, the cat!" shrieked my mistress. "He is 
 after my robin." She ran at the cat to drive it 
 from the room. 
 
 " Don't you dare to hurt my cat," screamed Miss 
 May. 
 
 The charm the cat had thrown over me was 
 broken. I flew wildly to the window, beating my- 
 self against the glass. All was confusion. 
 
 At last the cat was turned out. Miss May fol- 
 lowed it saying that the cat should not be treated 
 so, and that her mamma didn't like having that 
 nasty bird kept there at any rate. 
 
 Then my mistress took me in her hands and 
 
"5 
 
 kissed me. After that she put me back in my cage. 
 And now I was no longer allowed to fly about the 
 room except when my mistress was there. 
 
 Outside the window a stout nail had been driven 
 in the wall. There my cage sometimes was hung, 
 high, high up in the air. How sweet the air was ! 
 Howthewind 
 blew through the 
 trees near by 1 
 
 One day a robin 
 
 lighted on a 
 branch of one of 
 the neighboring 
 trees. He sang 
 and sang. He 
 sang even more 
 sweetly than my 
 father had sung 
 from the top of the 
 poplar tree, and I 
 listened. 
 
 The next day he came again, and the next and 
 
 next. 
 
 Once he flew over and alighted on my cage. 
 " Who are you ?" he asked. 
 
 Robin Singing 
 
ii6 
 
 " I am a captive robin," I said. 
 
 He stayed and talked to me awhile and then he 
 flew away. I felt very sad. 
 
 But he came again. Every day we talked to- 
 gether. I told him my story. I asked him if he 
 could tell me anything of my father and mother, 
 or of my little brothers and sisters, but he could 
 not. I never knew what became of them. 
 
 I did not care now for that other robin in the 
 looking-glass room. I did not care to sit on the 
 back of my mistress's chair. When she let me out 
 I flew to the window and sat looking out and long- 
 ing to be free. 
 
 " Are you sick, my little robin ? " asked my mis- 
 tress. But I could not tell her. 
 
 One day my robin friend came to my cage. " If 
 you were only free," he said, "you should be my 
 mate." 
 
 Then he told me how, before very long, he must 
 fly away. The winter was coming. That was why 
 the sky shone so and the leaves turned red. Very 
 soon the leaves would fall. Then he must go. 
 
 Now indeed I was sad. I pined to be free ; — 
 to use my wings in the sky instead of in that 
 cramped little room with its one window. 
 
117 
 
 My mistress bent above my cage one clay. " My 
 poor little, dear little Robin," she said. "You 
 were happy enough at first, but now if you wish to 
 go it is cruel to keep you here." 
 
 She reached into the cage and caught me. She 
 pressed her lips against me. Then she opened 
 her hand. 
 
 I did not go to her chair or the bureau. I flew 
 to the window to 
 look out. 
 
 A soft cool air 
 was blowing- in 
 from outside. It 
 stirred the 
 curtain. I hop- 
 ped upon the 
 window sill. No 
 
 glass was there. Robin on the Nest 
 
 I spread my wings ; then away and away I flew, 
 dipping and rising in my flight. I was free. 
 
 This spring we came back from the South, my 
 mate and I. We came back to the house where 
 my mistress looks from her little attic window. 
 
 Our nest is built in a tree close by. As I sit on 
 my nest I can see the window of her room. 
 
Ii8 
 
 Once I flew on to the well-known window sill. 
 My mistress was sitting inside. 
 
 " Oh, are you my robin ? " she cried. 
 
 She put down her sewing and came toward me. 
 She put out her hand, but I would not let her catch 
 me. I spread my wings and flew back to my babies 
 in the nest. 
 
 Every morning my dear mate sits on a branch 
 near the window and sings and sings for my mis- 
 tress. I hope she hears him, for his song is very 
 sweet. 
 
 FLORA AND HER CAT 
 
 Flora was not a little girl. She was a lioness. 
 She had never seen the great deserts nor the wild, 
 tangled jungles that her mother had known, for 
 Flora was born at the Zoological Gardens. She 
 was the first little lioness that had ever been born 
 there, and the keepers of the animals made a great 
 pet of her. She was not kept shut up in a cage, 
 but was allowed to go free like a pet cat or dog. 
 
 Flora herself had a pet. This pet was a cat that 
 had been brought to the Zoo to catch the mice 
 that were there. 
 
119 
 
 Flora grew so fond of this cat that she never was 
 happy when it was out of her sight. She carried 
 it about with her, holding it by the nape of its neck 
 as a cat does its kitten. If it tried to run away 
 she caught it by the tip of its tail and pulled it 
 back. 
 
 When she slept, she curled herself up around it 
 so that it could not get away. 
 
 One day Flora was sleeping very soundly. She 
 slept so soundly that she was not aroused when the 
 cat awoke from its nap,, and stepping stealthily over 
 those great yellow paws went outside to take a 
 stroll. 
 
 Some time later Flora, too, awoke. Her cat 
 was gone. She looked around. There were a 
 number of wild rabbits at the Zoo. Just then one 
 of them ran past the door. 
 
 Flora caught sight of it. It was going very fast. 
 She thought it was her cat running away from her. 
 Off she set in hot chase after bunny. People 
 screamed and ran as they saw Flora bounding 
 across the grounds. 
 
 Just as she was about to catch the rabbit it ran 
 down into its burrow. Flora snuffed and whined 
 at the hole in the ground. 
 
I20 
 
 A moment later, she saw her cat walking placidly 
 across the grass. It really was her cat this time. 
 
 Flora bounded after it, picked it up gently, and 
 carried it back with her. Then laying it down 
 between her paws she began to lick it with her 
 rough tongue, purring with delight. She had a 
 wonderful purr, it was so loud and deep. 
 
 As Flora grew larger the keepers were obliged 
 to shut her up in a cage. It frightened the people 
 who came to the Zoo to see a great creature like 
 that at liberty. 
 
 Flora seemed unhappy at first, but she soon grew 
 used' to the cage, and was as contented as ever, for 
 she was allowed to have her cat with her. 
 
 Though the lioness was almost always gentle 
 with her pet, she used to tease it at times. One 
 thing she did was to walk up and down the cage 
 just back of the cat, putting one or the other of her 
 front paws on the tip of its tail. Puss would grow 
 so angry that it would turn round and spit and 
 scratch at the lioness. The lioness would stand 
 perfectly still with her head turned away, until puss 
 started off again. Then she would follow it again 
 placing her paws on the tip of its tail with the 
 greatest exactness. 
 
121 
 
 The cat, in its turn, would play with Flora's tail 
 as the lioness lay waving the end of it gently to and 
 fro. Puss would crouch down, its eyes gleaming 
 as they were fixed upon that moving tip. Then the 
 cat's body would begin to sway from side to side, 
 and suddenly it would bound upon the tail, hold- 
 
 Flora and her Cat 
 
 ing it with all four paws, rolling over and over, and 
 biting as hard as it could. 
 
 The lioness would look around lazily at the cat 
 and try to wave the tail free. Sometimes the cat 
 would bite too hard, and then Flora would simply 
 lay one of those great, heavy paws on it, and pin 
 
it down so that it was unable to move until the 
 lioness chose to release it. 
 
 One day Flora had a new plaything. It even 
 charmed her away from the cat for a few minutes. 
 A man who was visiting the Zoo put a toy balloon 
 
 Flora and tlie Balloon 
 
 into her cage. It was weighted down with a piece 
 of paper tied to a string, so that it only floated a 
 few inches above the ground. 
 
 Flora was lying with her cat between her paws 
 when the balloon was put into her cage. She 
 looked at it for a moment or so. Then she rose 
 and walked over toward it with half-sleepy curiosity. 
 She smelled it and then touched it with her paw. 
 
 Away went the balloon, to Flora's surprise. She 
 followed it and touched it again. Away it floated. 
 
123 
 
 Flora now began to look more wide awake. She 
 hurried after it and this time gave It a good, rous- 
 ing stroke with her mighty paw. Instead of being 
 hurt, the balloon bounded away as lightly as a 
 feather. 
 
 And now began a wild chase after the balloon. 
 Up and down and around the cage after it went 
 the lioness. At last she got it in a corner and 
 struck her paw down upon it. The balloon broke 
 with a loud report. Flora bounded as though she 
 had been shot, and retreated to the furthest corner 
 of the cage. 
 
 There she crouched for some time before she 
 gathered courage to go over and examine the 
 little, wrinkled piece of rubber which was all that 
 was left of the balloon. After that Flora contented 
 herself with her cat for a plaything. 
 
 But a sad thing happened. The cat was killed 
 by a mowing-machine one day when it was out 
 for a stroll. Flora soon began to be very uneasy. 
 As time went on and the cat did not return, she 
 grew more and more anxious, pacing up and down 
 her cage with her head up and her tail waving. 
 
 Now and then she would stop and give a roar, 
 looking anxiously up or down the building to see 
 
124 
 
 if the cat was coming in answer to her call. Then 
 she would pace up and down and stop to roar 
 again. 
 
 The next day her keeper, seeing how distressed 
 she was, and knowing that her pet had been killed, 
 thought that he would introduce another cat into 
 the cage in place of the lost one. 
 
 He went all the way home and brought back a 
 house cat with him. He put it into Flora's cage. 
 The moment the lioness saw it she hurried over 
 toward it with the greatest delight ; but the cat 
 was frightened, and jumped out of the cage. 
 
 It was put back in such a way that it could not 
 escape. Flora again went over to it, snuffed at 
 it, and then with a low growl struck it such a blow 
 that the cat was killed instantly. 
 
 They tried another cat, but she killed that too. 
 
 Then the keeper decided she must get over her 
 loneliness as best she could by herself. It was a 
 long time before Flora seemed quite happy again, 
 and she never had another pet. 
 
I2S 
 
 THE TWO WORLDS 
 
 Down in the brook is a wonderful water world, — 
 a world that is separated from the world of air above 
 by what is called the surf ace film. 
 
 This surface film is thinner than anything you 
 can think of. It is all over the water like a sheet of 
 fairy glass. 
 
 You cannot see the surface film, and you cannot 
 feel it, but it is there, all the same. 
 
 It is easy enough to break it. Drop a stone in 
 the brook or stir the water with your finger, arid the 
 surface film is broken and mixes with the other 
 water. Immediately, however, another surface film 
 forms to take its place. There it is again, like 
 fairy glass between that world and this. So the 
 two worlds are always apart. 
 
 There are some things, however, that can go 
 backward and forward from one world to the other, — 
 from the world of air to the world of water and then 
 back again, as though they were magicians. 
 
 That is what the whirligig beetles can do. 
 Sometimes they go whirling and speeding about 
 on the surface film, as though they were skating, 
 and it bends under them like thin ice. Sometimes 
 
126 
 
 they take a drop of air and swim down in the 
 water. There they walk about over the stones or 
 through the water-weed forests. 
 
 What wonderful things they see there : little 
 soft, brown lizards creeping about ; crayfish, with 
 pop eyes and long feelers ; fishes flitting through 
 the water, like birds through air ; and herds of snails 
 feeding on the dead weeds or refuse. 
 
 Sometimes the whirligig beetles climb up a reed 
 or piece of grass and so out of the water. They stop 
 to rest a few minutes, and then they spread their 
 wings and fly away, but they never fly far. Soon 
 they come back again. 
 
 A dingy larva was clinging, with its six legs, to a 
 piece of water weed down in the water. It looked 
 up at the beetles as they skated about. 
 
 "How strange!" it sighed. "They can fly 
 about all day in that beautiful upper world if they 
 choose, and yet they always come back to the water. 
 If I could only fly, how happy I would be ! I would 
 never come back." 
 
 Close by there was another larva. It was differ- 
 ent from the first It was mouse-colored, and al- 
 most transparent, except for the spine down its 
 back. It was busily eating a water-snail. It held 
 
127 
 
 the snail in two of its claws, somewhat as a squirrel 
 might hold a nut • then it caught the snail in its 
 jaws and pulled it out of the shell and ate it. 
 
 Some day the mouse-colored larva would change 
 into a goat beetle, but neither of the larvae knew 
 that. 
 
 Now it dropped an empty snail shell and looked 
 over at its companion. 
 
 " Well I don't know," it said, in answer to the 
 first one's remark. " I'm thinking of going out 
 into the upper world myself soon. I'm not feeling 
 particularly delighted about it though. There are 
 worse places than this pond I can tell you." 
 
 " Perhaps, perhaps," said the first ; " but, oh ! I 
 should like it up there, I know." 
 
 The next day the mouse-colored larva left the 
 pond. It climbed over the pebbles and out upon 
 the bank of the brook. 
 
 The dun-colored larva looked after it longingly. 
 " Yes, there it goes," it sighed. " If I could only 
 follow ! But I know I should die up there." 
 
 It felt very sad as it clung to the water weeds, or 
 moved slowly and sluggishly about through the fairy 
 foresrs below. 
 
 It was about a month afterward that the mouse- 
 
128 
 
 colored larva came back to the brook again. You 
 would not have known it if you had seen it, for it 
 was no longer a larva. It had changed to a fine, 
 large beetle. 
 
 It swam about for awhile with the whirligig 
 beetles on top of the water. Then suddenly it 
 broke through the surface film and dived down to 
 the water weeds below. The dun-colored larva was 
 still feeding there. It did not know the beetle as 
 its old friend, the mouse-colored larva, in a new form. 
 
 "So, here you are still," said the beetle. "I 
 was just wondering about you, and I thought I'd 
 come down and see if you were here." 
 
 " Wondering about me ! " said the larva. " How 
 could you wonder about me ? You never saw me 
 before." 
 
 " Never saw you before ! " cried the beetle. 
 " Well, that's a good joke. Though to be sure I 
 have changed since you saw me," and it swelled it- 
 self with pride. " I'm that mouse-colored larva 
 that used to live down here and eat snails." 
 
 The larva could hardly believe it. 
 
 " This was the way of it," said the beetle. " You 
 remember the day I left here ? " 
 
 Yes, the larva remembered. 
 
129 
 
 Then the beetle went on to say how all that day it 
 had been longing to get out of the water. But 
 even when it went at last, climbing up the bank and 
 into the air, it was not comfortable. It wanted to 
 get in the dark and sleep, so it burrowed down into 
 the damp earth beside the brook. There it curled 
 up and slept. 
 
 When it awoke, it felt as though its skin were too 
 tight for it. " Ugh ! but that was a horrid feel- 
 ing," said the beetle. " I wouldn't like to feel it 
 again." 
 
 However It stretched and stretched itself, and 
 presently, crack ! its skin split right open. Then it 
 crawled out of its skin, but it felt very weak and 
 strange. 
 
 It stayed down in the dark there for quite a 
 while until it was strong again. When It crawled 
 out, behold, It was a fine, big beetle ! 
 
 "Why, I can fly about now wherever I like," 
 said the beetle, "but I don't care about It. I'd 
 rather be down In the water. That upper world 
 they talk about Is rather a poor place in my opinion." 
 
 But the larva began to pant with eagerness. 
 " So you changed ! " it cried. " You changed into 
 a beetle. Oh, do you — do you suppose, that if I 
 
 Pyie's Humble Friends. — g. 
 
I30 
 
 climbed up and dug into the ground I would change 
 into a beetle, too ? Could I, also, fly about in the 
 upper world ? " 
 
 The beetle shook its head. " I wouldn't advise 
 you to try," he said, " it isn't every one who can do 
 as I have done." 
 
 " Oh, but I wouldn't be afraid to try," cried the 
 larva. " I must try. I would go through anything 
 to have wings and be able to fly like you." 
 
 And now, in spite of all that the beetle could say, 
 the larva began to climb up toward the surface of 
 the water. It climbed slowly, and the beetle fol- 
 lowed it. 
 
 When it reached the edge of the brook the bee- 
 tle asked with much interest, " Where do you think 
 you'll burrow ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I don't think I'll burrow at all," 
 said the larva. " Somehow, I don't feel like bur- 
 rowing." 
 
 " You don't ! " cried the beetle. " Why, how do 
 you expect to turn into a beetle if you don't bur- 
 row ? " 
 
 " I don't know, but I don't think I'll burrow. I 
 think I'll just cling here to this plant and rest 
 awhile." 
 
I.^ll 
 
 The larva fastened itself to the plant, and the 
 beetle sat down beside it to talk. The beetle liked 
 to talk. It told the larva all over acfain about how 
 it had burrowed down 
 into the earth and 
 burst its skin. 
 
 The larva said very 
 little. It seemed to 
 feel dull. 
 
 "Why, how curious 
 you do look," cried 
 the beetle suddenly. 
 "How your eyes 
 shine ! They're every 
 color, — blue and green 
 and red. And, oh 
 dear! I do believe 
 beg-inninof to 
 How do you 
 
 Dragonfly coming out of Larva 
 
 you re 
 split, 
 feel ? " 
 
 But the larva said 
 nothing. It, too, knew that something wonderful 
 was happening to it. It was swelling itself with 
 violent motions. The split in its back was length- 
 enincf. 
 
132 
 
 It was still clinging to the reed with its hooked 
 feet. With a violent effort it drew its upper part 
 back, and out of the shell. Then it rested per- 
 fectly quiet. 
 
 " Dead," said the beetle, after watching it for 
 some time and seeing no motion. But the other 
 
 was not dead. It 
 was only recover- 
 ,ing its strength. 
 The beetle went 
 away after a while, 
 but the chan-ged 
 larva still hung 
 there silent and 
 motionless. After 
 a time it slowly 
 drew the rest of its 
 body out of the 
 dried shell, and 
 crawled farther up 
 
 The Dragonfly , , , 
 
 the reed. 
 
 It was a beautiful dragonfly. Its wings were 
 clear, but strengthened with delicate veins. Its 
 eyes shone with all the colors of the rainbow. 
 
 It still sat on the reed for some time, get- 
 
133 
 
 ting stronger and stronger with every passing 
 moment. 
 
 The beetle, who had come back, stared with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Why, is that you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, it is I." 
 
 The beetle stirred its wings in surprise. 
 
 " And now what are you going to do?" it asked. 
 
 " What am I going to do ? Why, fly about in 
 the beautiful air, — learn all the ways of this new won- 
 der world, — flit faster than the butterfly, lighter 
 than the bird." 
 
 " And when will you be coming down into the 
 water world again ? " 
 
 " Never ; I am free from all that now. Good-by, 
 beetle. Good-by and forever." 
 
 The beetle stared after the glittering dragon- 
 fly as it dashed away, swift as an arrow, through 
 the clear air, 
 
 " Well I never ! " it said. " At any rate it's just 
 as I said. He didn't turn into a beetle after all." 
 
 Then the beetle went back to the pond and began 
 playing with the whirligigs. 
 
134 
 
 THE PARTRIDGES 
 
 One day Mr. Rollins came home from the field, 
 carrying his hat very carefully in his hands. 
 
 " Laura, come here," he called to his little 
 daughter. " I have something for you." 
 
 He set his hat softly down on the edge of the 
 porch, and when the little girl looked in it she saw 
 eight pear-shaped, yellowish eggs. 
 
 " What are they ? " she asked. " Where did you 
 get them ? " 
 
 " They are partridge eggs. I found them down 
 in the field near the wood. Would you like to 
 have them ? " 
 
 "Xes. But what shall I do with them ?" 
 
 "Feel them. They're still warm. How would 
 you like to put them under old Dorcas, the hen, and 
 raise a brood of little partridges ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I'd like to do that. And will the little 
 partridges be really mine ?" 
 
 " Yes, they shall all belong to you, and nobody 
 else. Come now and we'll see what Dorcas says to 
 the eggs." 
 
 The eggs were carried to the chicken house. 
 
135 
 
 and there Mr. Rollins put them in among Dorcas's 
 own white ones. 
 
 The old hen looked at them curiously when 
 they were placed in her nest, but she made no 
 objections, settling down again as soon as she 
 was left alone, and cuddling all the eggs alike 
 under her soft, warm feathers. 
 
 After a while the eggs hatched out, — the hen's 
 eggs and partridge's eggs at almost the same time. 
 
 The little partridges were brisker and less help- 
 less than the chickens. Old Dorcas looked at 
 them with pride. Still, she made no distinction, 
 scratching and clucking for all alike, and the little 
 partridges themselves seemed to know no difference. 
 They ran about with their little foster brothers and 
 sisters perfectly content, and at night they were all 
 sheltered together under the hen's broad wings. 
 
 Laura was very proud of her little partridges. 
 The visitors who came were always invited out to 
 the chicken yard to see the little things. Laura 
 liked to feed them herself. She liked to see them 
 pushing softly against each other in their eagerness 
 to get the corn meal she gave them, and she liked 
 to hear their eager pipings. 
 
 One day Dorcas wandered down into the field 
 
136 
 
 that bordered the wood. Her brood was with her, 
 and now and then she stopped and scratched, caUing 
 to them to come and get what she had found. The 
 little chickens and partridges followed her through 
 the sunny grass, peeping softly. 
 
 Presently Laura came down to the field to drive 
 them home. 
 
 She was quite close to them when suddenly 
 from the shadow of the wood sounded the call of a 
 partridge. The little ones raised their heads and 
 listened. Again it sounded, and then swiftly and 
 silently as tiny shadows all the little partridges ran 
 into the woods, slipping in among the bushes and 
 undergrowth, and so were lost to sight, 
 
 Laura hunted about for them, and called them, 
 and old Dorcas clucked loudly to them to come 
 back, but they were gone and the little girl thought 
 she would never see them again. 
 
 Some months after the partridges disappeared, 
 Laura and her mother were sitting on the porch, 
 when, with a loud whirr, something flew past them 
 and against the window so hard that a pane of glass 
 was splintered. They heard a thud of something 
 falling in the room beyond. Laura's mother put 
 down her sewing and hurried into the house. 
 
137 
 
 On the mantel a full-grown partridge was crouch- 
 ing. It must have been frightened indeed to have 
 flown in through the window like that. Perhaps 
 a fox or a hawk had been after it. It was badly 
 cut by the broken glass. 
 
 They took the wounded partridge and put it in 
 a cage. They set the cage out on the porch in the 
 shadow of the vines. 
 
 The next day they heard another partridge 
 whistling to it. It was the wounded one's mate. 
 All day it called 
 from some hid- 
 ing-place among 
 the bushes. 
 
 The wounded 
 one answered 
 the call, but its ^-f 
 
 . . , The two Partridges 
 
 fainter and 
 
 fainter. They gave it food and water, but it had 
 been so badly cut that when they came to look at it 
 the next morning, it was dead. Another partridge 
 was on the porch close to the cage. When they 
 came out it flew away. It must have been the 
 mate that had been calling the day before. 
 
Laura said she was sure that the dead partridge 
 was one of the little ones that Dorcas had hatched, 
 and that when it found itself in danger it had 
 remembered them, and had come back to them for 
 help. 
 
 She buried it in a box under the rosebushes 
 and put up a headstone. " That's so its mate will 
 know whereto find it," she said, but the mate never 
 came to look. 
 
 LIMPETY 
 
 It seems a curious name for a cat, — Limpety ; 
 I suppose they called' me that because I was lame 
 and limped. 
 
 It happened — my getting lame I mean — when I 
 was quite a kitten. The way of it was that I 
 caught my foot in a rabbit trap when I was cross- 
 ing a field. Oh, how scared I was when I found 
 myself caught, and how I mewed and mewed ! 
 
 After a while I heard some people coming, — 
 boys, and they had dogs with them. Then I tore 
 my foot loose and ran as fast as I could through 
 the tall grass, and so on into a thick wood. There 
 I climbed a tree. 
 
139 
 
 The boys and dogs were after me. I could hear 
 them, but I crossed to another tree on a grapevine 
 and hid in a hollow. 
 
 I could hear them below me, the boys talking 
 and the dogs sniffing round, while I lay there trem- 
 bling, afraid to mew. 
 
 After a while they went away. 
 
 When I was sure they had quite gone, I climbed 
 down and went on my way, though my foot hurt 
 me dreadfully. It got well after a while, but I 
 have limped ever since. 
 
 But that is not where I meant to begin. I meant 
 to begin at the very beginning, when I was a tiny 
 kitten with my eyes not yet open. 
 
 I was born in a barn. My mother was a barn 
 cat, thin and ragged and wild of eye. She was not 
 a pretty cat, though she was a kind enough mother 
 to us. 
 
 There were five of us kittens, and I suppose we 
 were not pretty either ; that is, none of us but 
 Whitey. She was a plump, gentle, soft, little thing. 
 The rest of us were lean and haggard enough, even 
 as kittens. 
 
 We lived in a hollow of hay, high up in the hay- 
 mow. It was a pleasant place, soft and dark, 
 
140 
 
 with swallows darting in and out overhead, and the 
 sound of the horses and chickens coming up to us 
 from the stable beneath. 
 
 I don't suppose our mother found it as comforta- 
 ble a home as we did. She must have been 
 hungry often, for, though there were plenty of mice 
 and rats in the barn, there were several cats there, 
 too. Our mother was no longer young at that 
 time, and often and often she would come back to 
 the nest not having caught a mouse all day, because 
 some younger cat had been quicker than she in 
 pouncing on the prey. 
 
 However, we were young and thoughtless, and 
 that never troubled us. We lived there happily 
 enough, for awhile, as I say. Then one day, just as 
 we were getting big enough to think of mousing 
 for ourselves, the farmer happened to come climbing 
 over the mow. Out of our nest we jumped in 
 haste and ran away, some one way and some 
 another. 
 
 " By George ! " cried the farmer. " Another lot 
 of kittens. This is getting to be too much. Here, 
 Tom, I wish you'd get a bag and catch these kittens 
 and carry them off." 
 
 " Yes sir," said Tom, " I'll do it." 
 
141 
 
 Presently he came up a ladder from the stable 
 below carrying an empty potato sack in his hand. 
 We were all hiding in different places. From back 
 of a beam where I was crouching I could see 
 Whitey cowering in one corner. 
 
 She was the first one caught. She did not 
 struggle, but only mewed dismally after she -was 
 shut in the bag. 
 
 Mouser followed. 
 
 I was the next one caught. I made a hard fight 
 for it, too. We were all, except Whitey, as fierce 
 and untamed as any wild animals. 
 
 When the man caught me I did not mew, but I 
 turned on him tooth and nail, and bit into his finger 
 till my teeth touched the bone. 
 
 He swore, and tossed me from him into the bag 
 so hard that I was almost stunned for awhile. 
 And there I was. Fighting or biting would do no 
 good there. 
 
 In a little while my other brothers were forced 
 into the sack one after another, and the mouth of 
 the bag securely tied. After that we were left 
 lying there for some time. 
 
 We mewed aloud and called our mother, but 
 there was no answer. 
 
142 
 
 After awhile we felt the bag being lifted from 
 the ground with us in it, and we were carried for a 
 distance. Then came the jar of the bag being 
 thrown down, and after that we felt a steady jolting 
 motion. 
 
 We had been put in a cart and were being driven 
 away from the barn. 
 
 On and on we went for miles and miles, and 
 then at last the jolting ceased, the sack was opened, 
 and we were emptied out over the side of the cart 
 into the road. 
 
 Then the cart drove on, the wheel almost pass- 
 ing over Whitey, and we were left there alone. 
 
 No house nor barn was in sight. As far back 
 as we could see stretched the yellow and rutty 
 road. In front there was still the road, but lead- 
 ing through a deep pine wood. We were in a 
 part of the world utterly unknown and strange to 
 us. 
 
 I have often wondered why, if the farmer wanted 
 to be rid of us, he did not drown us at once. 
 It would have been less cruel than to drop us in 
 that way beside the road, where we ran the risk 
 of starving, or of being torn to pieces by dogs, or 
 pelted and tormented by cruel boys. 
 
143 
 
 I have had a sad Hfe. I have known great 
 hardships, but nothing has ever seemed to me so 
 heartlessly cruel as the dropping of us helpless 
 kittens on that lonely road to live or die as might 
 happen. 
 
 I have often wondered what became of my 
 brothers and sisters, — whether they starved to 
 death, or whether they found a home where the 
 people were less hard of heart than that farmer; 
 but I have never seen any of them since that 
 day. 
 
 After we had recovered from the jar of being 
 thrown from the cart, we took counsel together as 
 to what we should do. 
 
 Mouser and Frisky said they were going to try 
 to find their way back to the old barn. 
 
 Whiskers, a gaunt, fierce kitten, struck off across 
 the fields by himself. 
 
 Whitey, who had always been fonder of me than 
 of any of the others, said that she would go whera 
 I went. 
 
 I told her I intended to follow the cart, which 
 had gone on and had now disappeared in the dis- 
 tance. There seemed no use in going back, since 
 the farmer would not allow us to stay, but there 
 
144 
 
 seemed to me more chance of finding a barn by 
 following the road than by taking to the field. 
 
 This plan suited Whitey as well as any other, so 
 bidding farewell to our brothers, we two started 
 bravely on our way together. 
 
 Birds flitted from bush to bush beside the road, 
 and in the pine woods I saw a squirrel running 
 
 ^ alS^ 
 
 Whitey eating tlie Mouse 
 
 like a red shadow along a branch overhead, but it 
 was hopeless to think of catching any of these. 
 
 Whitey complained that she was hungry, and I 
 myself was beginning to feel that it was long since 
 I had had anything to eat. So bidding Whitey 
 wait for me by the roadside, I crept stealthily past 
 the fence and through the long grass of the field. 
 
 On I went, now crouching and listening, now 
 stealing forward on velvet paws. 
 
 At last my hunt was rewarded. Before me, 
 
I4S 
 
 busy over a bunch of tender grasses, was a plump 
 field mouse. 
 
 A bound, a faint squeak, and a moment after I 
 was hurrying back to Whitey with the mouse in 
 my teeth. 
 
 Whitey purred with joy as I laid it before her, 
 and immediately fell to, not stopping till the last 
 morsel of the mouse had been eaten, while I sa,t 
 looking on. 
 
 Not until she had quite finished did Whitey re- 
 member that I might be hungry, too. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " she cried. " Here I have eaten it 
 all, and now there is nothing left for you. How 
 greedy I have been ; " and the poor, tender little 
 thing looked ready to mew. 
 
 I told her it was no matter. I did feel hungry 
 but I did not tell her so. I would have liked 
 to go back to the field to hunt for another mouse 
 for myself, but it was now growing late, and I 
 hoped that we were nearing some barn where we 
 might find shelter as well as food. 
 
 Just as the sun was setting and all the sky was in 
 a glow, we heard a horse trotting, and a light sound 
 of wheels. We drew to the side of the road and 
 crouched down among the grasses. 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends.— lo. 
 
146 
 
 Presently we saw a horse and buggy. A man 
 was driving, and two children were on the seat 
 beside him, a boy and a girl. 
 
 When they were almost up to us, the boy cried, 
 " Look at that rabbit." 
 
 " Where ? " asked the little girl. 
 
 " Over there by the fence. Can't you see it ?" 
 
 The boy was pointing at Whitey. 
 
 " I see it," said the man checking his horse. 
 " But it isn't a rabbit. I believe it's a kitten. Why, 
 there are two of them. Don't you see that gray 
 one beside the clump of grass ? " 
 
 " Kittens ! " cried the little girl. " Oh, papa, do 
 you suppose they're wild kittens ? Couldn't you 
 • catch them ? " 
 
 " They couldn't be wild kittens," said her father. 
 " I suppose some one must have dropped them 
 here. There's no house within a mile or so." 
 
 " Oh, they're so cunning," cried the child. 
 " Mayn't I have them? Please, papa. Oh, please 
 get them for me." 
 
 The little boy, too, begged his father to try to 
 catch us. 
 
 The man gave the reins to the boy to hold, and 
 jumped from the buggy. 
 
147 
 
 "Brother," whispered Whitey, "he's coming to 
 catch us. What shall we do? Shall we run 
 away ? " 
 
 I looked sharply at the man. He had a good, 
 kind face. " Stay where you are, Whitey," I said, 
 " and" let him catch you. You're a pretty, gentle, 
 little thing. They will be sure to give you a good 
 home if they take you." 
 
 " But won't you wait, too ? " asked Whitey, for 
 I had slunk further away beyond the fence. 
 
 " No, no ; you are pretty and lovable, but who 
 would want an ugly, lean thing like me ? Besides 
 there would be more chance of their keeping you 
 if there were only one instead of two." 
 
 So Whitey crouched quite still and allowed the 
 man to touch her and pick her up. He carried her 
 back to the buggy and gave her into the hands of 
 the little girl. 
 
 I heard the child petting her and calling her 
 pretty names. I heard her begging her father to 
 allow her to keep the little " Snowball," as she 
 called Whitey, and her father said she might. 
 Then I heard both children asking him to catch 
 the other kitten too, but he refused. " No, no," 
 he said. " One is quite enough. What would 
 
148 
 
 your mother say if we came home with a whole 
 family of kittens ? You'll be fortunate if she'll al- 
 low you to keep that one. Besides, the other is 
 an ugly, dirty-looking thing." 
 
 Then he climbed into the buggy and they drove 
 away, taking my little sister with them. 
 
 Now I was quite alone in the world. For a lit- 
 tle while I lost heart. Why should I go on or 
 struggle any more ? Why not lie down there 
 among the grasses and quietly wait for death to 
 come? 
 
 But soon I shook off this sadness and mad© up 
 my mind that the first thing to be done was to go 
 into the fields and try to find something that I 
 could eat, for I was growing faint with hunger. 
 
 It was at this time, while hunting about the fields, 
 that I got caught in the rabbit trap and was lamed 
 for life. 
 
 To take up my story from there ; 
 
 After I had climbed down from the tree as best 
 I could with my sore paw, I went across the fields 
 and back to the road. 
 
 I caught one or two crickets and a grasshopper 
 on the way, and these served to ease my hunger. 
 
 On I went, limping slowly, and just as the dusk 
 
149 
 
 had settled down over the road I came to the 
 outskirts of a town. 
 
 People were sitting In the lighted doorways 
 talking together. Dogs barked, and a church bell 
 rang. Everybody seemed happy, comfortable, and 
 satisfied, except myself. 
 
 Seeing a dog coming down the street I took 
 shelter in a corner against a closed door of a shop. 
 Presently, worn out with hunger and weariness my 
 eyes closed and I fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 I was wakened by the opening of the door, and 
 at the same moment some one came out and 
 stumbled over me. 
 
 " What's that?" said a man's voice. 
 
 He stooped and put his hands on me. I was 
 too worn out to struggle or to try to escape. I felt I 
 could bear anything rather than try to move at that 
 moment. 
 
 As the man felt my fur he made some exclama- 
 tion. "What is it, Ned?" asked a woman's voice 
 from the house. 
 
 " I think it's a kitten," he answered. " I almost 
 fell over it." 
 
 " A kitten ! Bring it in and let's see what it looks 
 like." 
 
150 
 
 The man lifted me quite gently and carried me 
 into a comfortable, well-lighted room. A plump, 
 little woman was clearing away the dishes from a 
 supper table. 
 
 She stopped with a meat plate in her hand, as 
 the man set me down on the floor. 
 
 " Oh, what an ugly kitten 1 " she cried. " I 
 want a cat, but I don't want one like that. Ugh, 
 but it's dirty ! And look at its paw ! It makes me 
 sick. Do take it out." 
 
 " It isn't a beauty," said the man. " Here's a 
 good chance to count how many ribs a cat has." 
 
 " It does look perfectly starved," the woman 
 said. " Wait ; I'll give it something to eat, and 
 then you can take it away." 
 
 She poured out a generous saucerful of milk 
 and set it before me, and also gave me some scraps 
 of meat. I felt too sick to touch the meat, but 
 I drank all the milk and felt strengthened and 
 refreshed. 
 
 " There now, take it away," said the woman ; 
 "and for goodness' sake, carry it far enough off 
 for it not to come back here. 
 
 The man took me up again and carried me 
 away through the night. At last he dropped me 
 
151 
 
 in a half-empty ash barrel. There I settled down 
 on the soft ashes and slept until morning. 
 
 Those were wretched days that followed. I 
 learned how hard life can be for a homeless cat. 
 I learned what it was to be chased and stoned 
 by cruel boys ; to have dogs run after one, and to 
 barely escape their teeth by slipping under an 
 alley gate ; to be scorned and starved and driven 
 from one place to another. Still, I managed to live. 
 I would find a bit to eat here and there, in the 
 street or in back yards. 
 
 Sometimes, as I hobbled along with my lame 
 foot, I would see through open windows and doors 
 other and happier cats than I, — sleek, well-fed Tab- 
 bies or Tommies. Sometimes children would be 
 playing with them. I longed to have a home too, 
 but who would give house room to a cat like me, — 
 ugly, lean, dirty, and lame ? 
 
 After a while I came to be known in the alley 
 where I lived. The people there called me Lim- 
 pety. Sometimes they threw me a scrap of bread 
 or a bone, but no one would take me in. 
 
 At last came winter, hardest of all. Everything 
 was frozen. I do not like to think of that time 
 even now. 
 
153 
 
 One day, when I had not had a morsel to eat, a 
 dog chased me out from behind an ash barrel where 
 I was hiding. Some boys were coming along the 
 street. When they saw me running, they gave a 
 cruel shout and started after me. 
 
 I knew then that It was a race for life that I was 
 running. On and on I went, the boys after me. 
 I left the alley and, In my haste, turned corner 
 
 The Flight ot Limpety 
 
 after corner, until I reached a part of the city 
 where I had never been before. Here the houses 
 were quite fine and large. 
 
 It was morning, and there were few people in 
 the street. In front of one of the houses a nurse 
 was pushing a child up and down In a wheeled chair. 
 
 It was In the corner of the steps leading up to 
 this house that I took shelter and turned at last 
 
IS3 
 
 to face my enemies. Worn out by hunger, I could 
 go no further. I felt that the end was near. 
 
 " Oh, nurse ! nurse ! " screamed the little boy in 
 the chair, " Oh, they're going to kill that cat ! 
 Oh, don't let them hurt it. It's lame! " 
 
 It was the first word of mercy I had heard for 
 months. The nurse left the chair and went over 
 to the crowd of boys. 
 
 The child in the chair was wringing his hands 
 and almost crying. 
 
 I do not know just what happened after that. I 
 was dulled and hardly conscious. I think the nurse 
 gave the boys some money. Then there was 
 some talk that was ended by the nurse picking me up 
 as though she were afraid to touch me. A man 
 servant came out from the house and carried the 
 little boy in, while the woman followed with me. 
 How warm and beautiful and soft it was in the 
 room where they carried us! 
 
 A lady rose to meet us as we came in. " Oh 
 what a hideous cat ! " she exclaimed. " Don't bring 
 that in here, nurse." 
 
 " Oh yes, mamma ; it must come in," cried the 
 child. " Don't you see ? It's lame like me." 
 
 The lady paused for a moment looking at the 
 
154 
 
 child with eyes that were very sad. Then she said 
 very gently, " But, Arthur dear, it is such a dirty 
 cat. We will keep it if you wish, but let it be taken 
 down to the kitchen," 
 
 But no, the little boy would not have that either. 
 He wanted me there in the room with him. He 
 seemed to like me. 
 
 I suppose it was for the reason the child 
 had spoken of — that we were both lame — that he 
 loved me so, for he was lame, too, as I could see 
 now. 
 
 And so I had a home at last and not only a 
 home, but a master so kind and loving that I don't 
 believe any cat ever had such a one before. 
 
 What games we used to have together ! As a 
 kitten I had never played much, .except just at first 
 in the barn with my brothers and sisters. After 
 that I was to.o lonely, and wretched, and hungry. 
 I don't think my little master had ever played 
 much, either. 
 
 But now he and I would play together by the 
 hour with a bit of paper and a string. How he 
 would laugh, throwing his little head back on the 
 cushion ! Sometimes he laughed so hard that his 
 mother would say, " Not too much, Arthur ; not 
 
155 
 
 too much. Stop your play for a while now, and I 
 will read to you." 
 
 Then the paper and string would be put away. 
 He would call me to him, and I would snuggle 
 against him, soft and warm, and purr and purr. 
 
 He loved my purring. He would have me 
 sleep on his bed 
 at night and 
 sometimes he 
 would waken in 
 the night and 
 reaching down 
 would pull me 
 softly by the 
 ears. "Come, 
 wake up, dear 
 
 L, } t 1 Lirapety and his Master 
 
 1 m p e ty , he ^ ' 
 
 would say. " I can't sleep. Purr, to me, purr." 
 Then I would stretch myself, and purr and purr 
 
 until the lids fell over the blue eyes and the soft 
 
 breathing told me that he was asleep. 
 
 Sometimes he was sad. Then he would put his 
 
 hand on my fur and smooth me softly. " Poor 
 
 old Limpety. We're both lame, aren't we?" he 
 
 would say. " Poor little cat." 
 
iS6 
 
 But generally he was very happy. 
 
 I am growing old — very old — now ; little Arthur 
 is still little Arthur and always will be. But we 
 neither of us care so much for play as we used to. 
 He loves me just as dearly as ever, though. 
 
 Often we will sit for hours at the open window, 
 I purring gently, he with his book open before 
 him, and his eyes fixed on the blue sky and the 
 clouds above the houses opposite. 
 
 I wonder what he is thinking about. 
 
 I think a good deal myself. I think of the old 
 days in the barn. I think of my mother and my 
 gentle little sister, of the hard days after I left 
 them, and that our new cook doesn't thicken the 
 chicken gravy as well as the other one did, and 
 then I flick my ear. 
 
 Oftenest I thank my lucky stars that I was a 
 poor, lame, stray cat, since my very lameness brought 
 me such a home and such a master as I have now. 
 
IS7 
 
 THE OPOSSUM FAMILY 
 
 Mother Opossum had chosen a curious place 
 for her home. It was an old, unused barrel in 
 the corner of a shipyard. There she lived very 
 quietly for nobody knows how long, in spite of the 
 noise and clangor all about. 
 
 She came out only at night, and then the ship 
 yard was deserted. Everything lay as silent anc 
 lonely as in the deep forest. More silent, indeed, 
 for in the woods there would have been the rustling" 
 of the leaves. Here there was nothing but the 
 footsteps of the night watchmen sounding now and 
 then througfh the stillness. 
 
 At first Mother 'Possum was very timid and 
 watchful, but after awhile, as nothing happened to 
 frighten her, she grew bolder. She would come 
 out and wander off on quite long journeys in search 
 of food. She was always careful, however, to be 
 at home before the daylight came, or the workmen 
 were back at their toil. 
 
158 
 
 But one night I think that Mother 'Possum must 
 have gone farther than ever before ; or perhaps 
 she was late in starting out. In any case, it was 
 broad daylight when she reached the shipyard and 
 hastened along among the timbers, still quite a 
 distance from the barrel. 
 
 Patrick, one of the laborers, was driving a mule 
 across the yard. The mule was walking along, 
 half asleep, his head low, his ears wagging. After 
 him, on the narrow track, rumbled a truck filled 
 with iron castings. Suddenly the mule started 
 and stopped, his ears pricking up. Directly in 
 front of him, crossing the very track, was the 
 strangest looking creature he had ever seen. It 
 was as large as a cat, but it wasn't a cat. Its tail 
 was like a rat's, but it wasn't a rat. It was alto- 
 gether strange and unexpected. 
 
 In a moment Jim, the quietest of mules, had 
 whirled round in the harness and was madly trying 
 to climb on the truck and out of danger. At least 
 that was what Patrick said. 
 
 By the time he had Jim quieted down and in 
 place again, the opossum had disappeared. 
 
 " I'll find her, though, if she's anywhere about 
 the place," said Patrick. And so he did, that very 
 
IS9 
 
 evening, after a search of nearly an h6ur. He 
 found her at home in the barrel in the neglected 
 corner, and there with her were nine little opos- 
 sums — her babies. 
 
 Tiny little things those babies were. So small 
 that they could all get into the soft, warm pouch 
 that TMother 'Possum has just under her stomach. 
 
 Little Opossums and their Mother 
 
 In this way she could carry them about with her 
 where she chose, and feel sure that they were safe. 
 
 Patrick stared and wondered, while Mother 
 'Possum opened her mouth and threatened him if 
 he should dare to touch her or her babies. 
 
 Then Patrick put a board over the barrel so that 
 the opossum could not escape, and weighted it 
 
i6o 
 
 down with rocks. " I'll jest keep you in there and 
 maybe I can sell you," said Patrick. 
 
 Sure enough the next day he found a darky 
 who would be glad to buy the opossum from him. 
 The darky was so pleased at the thought of the 
 feast which the 'possum would make, served up at 
 dinner with roasted sweet potatoes and onions, that 
 he grinned like an ogre. 
 
 While Patrick and he were still bargaining, one 
 of the young clerks in the office happened to over- 
 hear them. "An opossum and young ones!" he 
 cried, "Why, I'll buy them, Pat. I've always 
 wanted to see if opossums are really untamable. 
 The natural histories say they are." 
 
 So Mother 'Possum was saved from the pot or 
 oven, for that time, at least. Instead, she and her 
 babies were taken to the young clerk's room and 
 made at home in a fine, big cage. 
 
 But it seemed for a while as though Mother 'Pos- 
 sum meant to starve herself to death. She would 
 not eat anything. Milk, raw eggs, raw meat, and 
 chicken were offered to her, but she would not 
 touch them. 
 
 One morning her master had nothing for her 
 but condensed milk that he had for his coffee. 
 
i6i 
 
 More as a joke than anything else, he offered her 
 some of this and found that she ate it greedily. 
 
 The next thing she condescended to eat was a 
 piece of rhubarb pie ; then some hard-boiled eggs. 
 These things seemed to complete the list of what 
 she would eat, until her owner shot a sparrow and 
 put it in her cage, and she finished it, — feathers, 
 bones, beak and all. 
 
 After this she was fed almost entirely on spar- 
 rows, and soon she began to get fat again, for she 
 had grown very thin after she was first shut in het 
 cage. 
 
 But, though Mother 'Possum grew fat and 
 hearty, her owner could never tame her. Even the 
 little ones were always as wild as when they had 
 first been lifted from the barrel, and whenever 
 any one came near, they would open their mouths 
 threateningly. 
 
 They were too little and young, really, to be 
 able to bite, and the young man often took them 
 out and handled them, though they never grew 
 used to this. He would amuse himself by stretch- 
 ing a piece of rope across the room and hanging 
 all nine of the little 'possums along it in a row by 
 their tails. He would twist their little tails about 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends.— il. 
 
1 62 
 
 the rope and leave them there, head downwards, 
 and there they would swing. 
 
 When they were first hung up they would try to 
 climb up their own tails and get hold of the rope. 
 Sometimes they succeeded in doing this, and some- 
 times they didn't. If they didn't, they would soon 
 give up struggling, and instead would begin clasp- 
 ing and unclasping their little forefeet despairingly. 
 All their feet were shaped curiously like hands. 
 
 They were stupid little things, not at all like 
 raccoons, which are as intelligent and mischievous 
 as monkeys, and their owner soon found they were 
 not of much value as pets. However, after having 
 fed them and kept them in his room for some 
 weeks he could not bear the thought of turning 
 them loose where they would be likely to be killed 
 and eaten. Besides, it did not seem right to set 
 them free near any houses, for opossums are fond 
 of eating chickens and eggs, and he feared the 
 neighboring poultry might suffer. 
 
 So one day the young clerk hired a horse and 
 wagon, fastened Mother 'Possum and her family in 
 a good stout bag, and drove away with them. 
 
 He drove for miles and miles, far down a 
 swampy neck of land where no one lived. There 
 
163 
 
 in the depth of a wood, he stopped the horse, 
 lifted out the bag, untied the fastening, and 
 gently shook Mother 'Possum and her brood out 
 upon the ground. 
 
 For a little while they stood as though dazed by 
 their long ride, or perhaps not believing freedom 
 was really offered to them; but, at last, first one 
 and then another crept away through the under- 
 brush, going faster and faster as they felt them- 
 selves getting out of reach. 
 
 When the last one had disappeared, the young 
 man got Into the wagon, and drove slowly back 
 the way he had come, — back to his room, where 
 the empty cage awaited him, and the rope that 
 would never again be clasped by the little 'possums' 
 tails as they swung there in a row. 
 
 POLLY 
 
 Paulina was a parrot. Paulina was her name, 
 but she was always called Polly. 
 
 Paulina's mistress had had a great many parrots, 
 but they had all died. Then Polly was sent to her. 
 
 Polly was a beautiful bird. She was of a soft, 
 gray color, all except her tail ; that was red — a 
 
164 
 
 red so brilliant that it seemed to burn in the sun 
 like a bunch of geraniums. 
 
 " The bird is beautiful," said the lady, " but what 
 a pity to send it to me. My parrots all die." 
 
 "If you want it to live," said a friend, "don't 
 give it any water." 
 
 " Not give it any water ! " said the lady. " I 
 never heard of such a thing." 
 
 " All your parrots die. That's because you give 
 them water. If you want this one to live, don't 
 give it any." 
 
 Polly's mistress followed this advice. The par- 
 rot did not seem to suffer for want of water. 
 From year's end to year's end it did not have any, 
 and it lived and throve. 
 
 The mistress bathed the parrot herself. She 
 put it in the bathtub, and rubbed it with soap and 
 water. This always made the parrot furious. It 
 would shriek with rage. She had to be very care- 
 ful then to hold it so it could not bite her. 
 
 Except when it was being bathed, the parrot was 
 very fond of its mistress. 
 
 It would call to her at the top of its voice when 
 she was out of the room. When she came in, the par- 
 rot would talk to her with soft little throat notes, put- 
 
i65 
 
 ting Its head down against the bars of the cage and 
 ruffling up Its feathers. It wanted her to scratch 
 its head. 
 
 Polly was very jealous of a canary whose cage 
 hung in the same room. 
 
 If the mistress spoke to the canary, the parrot 
 would shake the bars of the cage, biting them with 
 its hard beak and screaming. 
 
 This screaming was very harsh and unpleasant. 
 To break Polly of this habit, the mistress would 
 cover the cage with a black cloth whenever it began. 
 
 Then from under cover, the parrot could be 
 heard talking to Itself. " Poor Polly. Want to 
 go to bed, Polly ? Want to go to bed ? Poor 
 Polly, want to go bed ? " Then, with sudden 
 energy, " No, no, no ! Poor Polly ! " 
 
 Bobby, the canary, was a fine singer. As long 
 as no one was in the room, Polly would sit listen- 
 ing to the song very quietly. The mistress could 
 see the parrot through the crack of the door, sit- 
 ting silently on its perch. It would tiirn its head 
 first on one side and then on the other, and click 
 Its beak approvingly. The moment any one came 
 In, however, Polly would try to drown out the 
 canary's song by talking or screaming. 
 
1 66 
 
 Polly 
 
 One day a very sad thing- happened. A cat got 
 Into the room where the 
 cages of the two birds 
 hung. When tlie mistress 
 came in to feed them, noth- 
 ing- was left of poor Bobl^y 
 but two or three yellow 
 feathers scattered about. 
 The wires of the cage 
 were bent apart where the 
 cat had reached through. It had eaten Bobby. 
 
 The parrot was sitting very quietly and thought- 
 fully on its perch. As its mistress came in, Polly 
 said in a hoarse voice, " Poor Bobby ! Poor Bobby ! 
 Bobby want his head scratched ? " 
 
 After Bobby was gone, 
 
 Polly did not scream so 
 
 much. 
 
 There w^as a little dog 
 
 named Gyp that lived in 
 
 the house. 
 
 Polly learned to imitate 
 
 the whistle that called 
 
 Gyp to go for a walk. A 
 dozen times a dav Polly would whistle for him, and 
 
 Gyp 
 
16/ 
 
 a dozen times a day Gyp would start up and come 
 rushing in all ready for a walk. 
 
 The moment he came in Polly would be per- 
 fectly silent. Gyp would look all around the room 
 and then run out into' the hall. 
 
 As soon as he had gone, Polly would whistle 
 again. Back would come the little dog, trembling 
 with eagerness. 
 
 Then Polly would whistle again, going into peals 
 of harsh laughter. Gyp, finding he had been 
 fooled, would leap up at the cage, barking and 
 snapping his teeth with helpless rage, but he never 
 seemed to learn any better. The next time the 
 parrot called, he would come running in just as 
 before. 
 
 The parrot was very accomplished. At one time 
 it had belonged to a concert singer. It could sing 
 " Coming through the Rye," " Alice Ben Bolt," 
 and three other songs. Beside these it sang a 
 negro hymn that began : 
 
 " Nobody knows de trouble I see, Lord ; 
 Nobody knows de trouble I see." 
 
 They said that at one time an old negro woman 
 had had charge of Polly. The parrot used to sit on 
 
i68 
 
 the back of her chair while she rocked and sang 
 this hymn over and over. 
 
 The parrot would only sing this in one way. It 
 had to be shut up in a shawl or towel, or something 
 of the kind, and swung about. For a while it 
 would be perfectly quiet. Then, as it swung, it 
 would begin to sing this hymn. It would sing it 
 as long as the swinging continued. 
 
 Polly sang and talked so well that a friend of 
 her mistress asked if she might not send her parrot 
 over to visit Polly for a while. She hoped that 
 this other parrot, whose name was Punch, might 
 learn something from Polly. 
 
 For a while after Punch came, Polly was perfectly 
 silent. She was observing- him. 
 
 Punch knew two sentences. He could say, 
 " Punch wants a cracker," and " Scratch Punch's 
 head." He also knew part of a song called 
 " Pretty Polly Hopkins." 
 
 He sang this song in a very curious way. He 
 would sing a few notes and then skip to quite 
 another part of the song like this : 
 
 " Pretty, pretty Polly Hop — 
 do, how d'ye — 
 
169 
 
 — the better Tom — Tompkins 
 — seeing of you." 
 
 Polly listened to this attentively. 
 
 At last one day when Punch was singing it, she 
 burst into a peal of laughter. Punch stopped as if 
 abashed. Then 
 Polly spoke for 
 the first time since 
 Punch had come. 
 " Sing, Punch, 
 sing," she said. 
 '' Poor Punch, 
 
 After a while 
 Punch began to 
 singf aofain. Then 
 Polly burst into 
 peal after peal of 
 harsh laughter. 
 
 ' Sing, Punch, Sing" 
 
 It was very amusing to watch the two parrots. 
 Again and again Polly would ask Punch to sing. 
 Then, as soon as he did so, she would begin to 
 laugh, and Punch would stop singing and look 
 sulky. 
 
 One lovely spring afternoon, the parrots' cages 
 
I/O 
 
 were put out in the trees, that they might enjoy 
 the soft air and the sunHght. Polly's mistress 
 went for a drive and the parrots were forgotten. 
 
 In the chill of the late afternoon, as the mistress 
 came home, she heard a doleful voice from above. 
 " Poor Polly. Want to go to bed, Polly ? Want 
 to go to bed ? " 
 
 The parrots were taken in, and they must have 
 been glad to get back into the warmth of the 
 house. 
 
 After Punch was sent back to his home Polly 
 drooped for a while. She seemed to miss him. She 
 would call, " Punch ! Punch ! Punch ! " at the top 
 of her voice and then turn her head to one side 
 and listen. 
 
 One day as her mistress was coming home from 
 a walk, she saw a group of boys and men about a 
 tree. One boy was climbing it. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " she asked. 
 
 " It's a parrot, ma'am," said one of the men. " I 
 don't know where it came from." 
 
 At that moment a familiar, hoarse voice in the 
 tree called, " Punch ! Punch ! Poor Polly ! " 
 
 " Why that's my parrot," cried the lady. 
 
 She went nearer and looked up into the tree. 
 
I/I 
 
 She saw a glint of scarlet among the leaves. 
 " Polly, Polly ! " she called. " Come, Polly." 
 
 The parrot only flapped its wings as if to fly. 
 
 " I'll give a dollar to anyone who'll get that par- 
 rot for me," said the lady. 
 
 One of the boys crawled slowly out on the limb 
 where the parrot sat. He put out his hand. 
 " Poor Polly ! " said the parrot, and away it flew. 
 The boys tried to follow it, but they lost sight of 
 it after a while. 
 
 The mistress never knew how Polly had escaped, 
 — whether some one had left the cage door un- 
 fastened, or whether the parrot had learned to 
 unhook it for itself. But she never saw her pet 
 again, though she advertised and offered a reward. 
 She never had another parrot. She said she was 
 too unlucky with them. 
 
 THE PET LAMB 
 
 A BLIZZARD had been raging all -night long. 
 The air was white with flakes of snow ; the wind 
 howled across the fields ; in some places it heaped 
 
172 
 
 the snow higher than a man's head ; in other places 
 it swept the ground almost bare. 
 
 One of the places where the ground was almost 
 clear was over at the sheepcote, a sort of loosely- 
 built shed, where the sheep could take shelter in 
 cold or stormy weather. 
 
 There they were huddled now. Their thick 
 wool kept them warm ; but with them were a num- 
 ber of little, new born lambs, so small and tender 
 that they would die in the cold unless some help.came 
 to them soon. One of them seemed dead already. 
 
 " Baa-a-a ! " cried the mother sheep, but the 
 lamb did not stir, nor try to rise from the ground 
 where it lay. 
 
 Help was near, however. Very soon after day- 
 light, two men came to the sheepcote. One was 
 Mr. Brown, who owned the farm where the sheep- 
 cote was ; the other was a farm servant. 
 
 " Only just in time, William," said Mr. Brown. 
 " Some of these would have been dead in a little 
 while." 
 
 They put the lambs in two great sacks which 
 they had with them, and carried them away. The 
 mother sheep bleated after them. 
 
 The helpless lambs were carried across the 
 
173 
 
 fields, through a garden, now bleak and snowy, 
 and into the large, warm kitchen of the farmhouse. 
 
 There Nelly, Mr, Brown's daughter, was ready 
 for them. She had some milk warmlngf on the 
 stove. The lambs were taken from the sack. 
 They were too chilled and weak to stand. Nelly 
 mixed some whiskey with the warm milk, and then 
 she and her father 
 poured it down the 
 lambs' throats by spoon- 
 fuls. Those that 
 seemed weakest were 
 attended to first. 
 
 Soon all the Iambs 
 began to revive ; even 
 the very little one that 
 had seemed dead, 
 though they had to 
 work a long time over it. 
 
 The weather was so bitterly cold that Mr. 
 Brown was afraid the lambs would die if they were 
 taken out again, even as far as the barn, so for 
 several days they were kept in the kitchen. A 
 bed of hay was made for them in one corner, and 
 fenced about with chairs, so that they could not 
 
 The Pet Lamb 
 
174 
 
 get out. Several times a day they were fed with 
 a gruel made of corn meal, water and milk. 
 
 At the end of four or five days the weather was 
 so much milder that the lambs were taken back 
 to their mothers. Only one was still kept at the 
 farmhouse, — the little one that had almost died. 
 It was so puny and weak that Nelly said she was 
 going to keep it, and try to bring it up by hand. 
 
 She was so successful that Tiny, as she named 
 the lamb, lived and throve. Soon he was the pet 
 of the whole family. He trotted upstairs and 
 downstairs, wherever he chose to go, and even into 
 the cellar. 
 
 In the cellar the old mother cat had a family 
 of kittens. There was nothing the lamb liked 
 better than to get into the box with those kittens. 
 There he would snuggle up to the mother cat, and 
 lie quietly for an hour at a time. 
 
 After a while when Tiny was turned out of 
 doors, he made friends with the two dogs, Jock and 
 Dandy. 
 
 Jock was Tiny's particular playmate. They had 
 regular games together. The lamb would leap 
 from the ground, and then butt at Jock. Jock 
 would pretend to be very much frightened, and 
 
175 
 
 run around the house with Tiny in pursuit. Then 
 suddenly, he would turn with a bark and chase 
 the lamb, which would run in its turn. 
 
 Sometimes pigs got into the yard, and the dogs 
 were sent to drive them out. Tiny ran with them, 
 just as though he were a dog, too. He could not 
 bark, but he put down his head and butted at the 
 pigs, scaring them almost as much as the dogs did. 
 
 When Tiny grew to be a big sheep he was sent 
 down to the pasture with the rest of the flock ; 
 but he had lived at the house with people and 
 dogs for so long that he would have nothing to 
 do with sheep ; he did not even know his mother, 
 nor did she know him. He kept quite away from 
 the others, over in a corner by himself, and baa-ed 
 plaintively. 
 
 When Nelly came down to the sheep pasture to 
 see how he was getting on, he rushed to her. He 
 nuzzled his nose in her hand, and was so delighted 
 to see her that she took down the bars and let him 
 come out. 
 
 He followed her home very quietly, keeping so 
 close to her that her skirts brushed against him all 
 the way. 
 
 Before Tiny had been sent to the sheep pas- 
 
176 
 
 ture he had been a greedy and impatient sheep, 
 but after he came home again he was very quiet 
 and well behaved. He no longer acted like a 
 spoiled child. He did not beg and fret at the 
 kitchen door for milk, but grazed about the lawn 
 very quietly and humbly. It seemed as though he 
 
 meant to show 
 how good and 
 grateful he would 
 be if only he were 
 allowed to stay 
 where people 
 were, instead of 
 being sent down 
 among all those 
 stranoe and un- 
 known sheep. 
 Tiny was gentle 
 and familiar with all the family, but the only one 
 he seemed really to love was Nelly. 
 
 He used to wait at the door for her in the 
 morning, and then follow her about like a dog. 
 He enjoyed going for a walk with her more than 
 anything else, particularly if the dogs went too. 
 He would not go for a walk with any other mem- 
 
 ihe Pet Lamb 
 
bers of the family. He would follow them to the 
 gate, but not a step further. There he would 
 stand, looking wistfully after them as they went 
 down the road, 'the dogs barking and leaping 
 about. Then he would go back to the house, push 
 open a door, and go upstairs and downstairs until 
 he found Nelly. Once sure that she was in the 
 house, he was content to graze about the lawn by 
 himself. 
 
 But as Tiny grew older he began to show a very 
 bad temper. First, he grew cross toward stran- 
 gers ; then he chased the dogs if they came near 
 him. At last, even the children grew afraid of 
 him ; that was after one of them had tried to pat 
 his head, and he had butted her over. With Nelly 
 only was he still gentle and affectionate. 
 
 " He's getting to be a perfect nuisance," said 
 Mr. Brown. " We'll have to keep him down at 
 the pasture with the others." 
 
 " Oh, but he's so unhappy there," pleaded Nelly. 
 "Please don't send him away. He wouldn't be 
 cross if the children would keep away from him." 
 
 So Tiny was allowed to stay near the house a 
 little longer. 
 
 Then Nelly went away for a visit. When she 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends. ~i2. 
 
178 
 
 came home she was so busy at first, telling of all 
 she had seen and hearing the home news, that she 
 did not think of Tiny. When she remembered him, 
 she went to the door and looked about. 
 
 " Where's Tiny ? " she asked. 
 
 Then her father told her that after she had left, 
 the old sheep had grown so very cross that they 
 could not stand him any longer. He had been 
 sent away with some other sheep, and she would 
 not see him again. 
 
 " Poor, poor, old Tiny !" said Nelly, but in her 
 heart she was not very sorry. 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF THE KITTENS 
 
 Blackie was a very uncommon cat. She was 
 so intelligent that sometimes it seemed as though 
 she must understand what was said to her. 
 
 She could climb like a squirrel. One day Alice 
 saw her in the very top of the Lombardy poplar, 
 the highest tree on the place. There she was, 
 swinging about in the wind like a black spot 
 among the leaves. 
 
 Blackie was a fine mouser. She was also an 
 
179 
 
 enemy to all strange dogs. She would not allow 
 one in the yard if she were there. She would fly 
 at him and drive him out, whatever his size. If 
 she happened to be looking out of the window and 
 saw a strange dog outside, she would arch her back 
 and spit, and it almost seemed as though she would 
 jump through the glass to get at him. 
 
 She once jumped through a window pane to get 
 at a bird that had lighted on the sill outside.but she 
 was so cut by the glass that it taught her a lesson. 
 
 Blackie never liked to be stroked or petted as 
 most cats do. Sometimes when she was very 
 sleepy she would allow herself to be smoothed for 
 a few moments, and then suddenly she would give 
 a growl, her yellow eyes would open wide and she 
 would leap to her feet and spring away out of reach. 
 
 When she had kittens she was gentler. She was 
 always a very good mother and very proud of her 
 young ones. 
 
 One time she had four kittens, all just alike and 
 all black like herself, with scarcely a white hair on 
 them. She had made a nest in the garret back of 
 an old trunk, and there she hid them. They were 
 several days old before any one found them, so 
 cleverly had Blackie tucked them away. 
 
i8o 
 
 " We can't keep them all," said Mrs. Robblns. 
 "The cook will take one and Maria another, but 
 two of them will have to be drowned." 
 
 Charley was the one who was to do the drown- 
 ing. His father promised to give him fifty cents 
 when It was done. The boy waited until Blackie 
 had left the kittens alone one day, and then he 
 went up to the garret and carried two of them away. 
 He took them back of the woodshed. 
 
 " Charley, did you get rid of those kittens to- 
 day ? " his father asked that evening. 
 
 " Yes, sir. I drowned them this morning." 
 
 From that very day Blackie seemed to hate 
 Charley. She would not let him come near her. 
 Once he was going to the garret for something, but 
 she met him on the steps. Her tailed swelled. 
 She glared and spit and growled, so that he was 
 actually afraid she would fly at him. 
 
 Charley could not understand it. He had not 
 done anything to her, and she had always seemed 
 to like him before. The only thing he could 
 think of was that she might have seen him drown- 
 ing her kittens, and hated him on that account ; 
 but that was hard to believe. 
 
 The two kittens that were left grew and throve, 
 
i8l 
 
 
 and after a while they were large enough to come 
 downstairs. Blackie was very proud of the notice 
 they received from the family, and would sit wav- 
 ing her tail softly, and blinking with content, while 
 Alice played 
 with them or 
 petted them. 
 
 One day when 
 Blackie and her 
 kittens were in 
 the library, 
 Charley went 
 past the garret 
 steps. Some 
 sound made him 
 look up. There, 
 to his amaze- 
 ment, were two 
 strange black 
 kittens playing 
 at the head of 
 the stairs. 
 
 When they saw him they stopped playing, and 
 silently vanished, like shadows, through the attic 
 door. 
 
 Charley and the Kittens 
 
l82 
 
 Charley went upstairs and looked about. No 
 living thing was to be seen. He moved the trunks 
 about, and presently from behind one of them the 
 two kittens darted out and ran to another hiding 
 place. They were just about as big as the kittens 
 downstairs, and looked just like them, only they 
 were very wild. 
 
 Charley ran downstairs and told his mother, and 
 she and Alice came up and looked. When the 
 boy scared the kittens out from where they were 
 hiding, Mrs. Robbins could hardly believe her eyes. 
 
 They never did find out the secret of how those 
 two kittens got there. The only explanation they 
 could think of was that the kittens Charley had 
 tried to drown had been saved in some way, and 
 that Blackie must have found them and carried 
 them up to her nest again. 
 
 When Alice took some milk up to them, Blackie 
 followed her and they seemed to know the old cat. 
 
 After that Alice fed the kittens every day. 
 They grew tamer before long, and after awhile 
 good homes were found for all of them, but Charley 
 said he would never again try to kill any of Blackie's 
 kittens. 
 
183 
 
 GRAYWINGS 
 
 " OuANK ! Ouank!" cried a wild goose. It 
 was a cry of alarm. 
 
 A whole flock of wild geese were feeding in 
 among the marshes. Five of the flock were acting 
 as sentries. It was their duty to watch for danger 
 while the rest of the flock fed. It was one of these 
 sentries that had given the cry of warning. 
 
 At the sound, the flock rose from among 
 the reeds with a great flapping and beating of 
 wings, but the cry had come too late. As they 
 rose in their flight there were loud reports from 
 two guns. Bang — bang ! and bang — bang ! 
 
 Three geese fell from the flock. They had been 
 shot. 
 
 Two were dead. They fell as heavy as stones, 
 turning over and over as they came down. The 
 other fell flapping and struggling. It was only 
 wounded. It was still alive when the hunters 
 found it, later on, among the reeds. One wing 
 trailed at Its side, useless and blood-stained. The 
 bone had been broken. 
 
 The hunters did not kill it. One of them said 
 
1 84 
 
 he would take it home aHve and give it to his boy 
 and girl as a pet. 
 
 The boy and girl were very much interested in 
 the wild goose, when the man took it to them, 
 though the little girl almost cried to see its broken 
 wing. However, her father told her that he would 
 
 set the bone and 
 bandage the 
 wing and that it 
 would be well 
 before long. He 
 told her tliat if 
 the bones of 
 wild fowls are 
 broken they 
 heal of them- 
 selves if the 
 Graywings wounded fowls are lu free- 
 
 dom, but if they are caged, the bones have to be 
 set. 
 
 The children named their goose Graywings, and 
 a fine large cage was built for it. 
 
 The goose seemed sad and lonely. It pined in 
 its cage ana would hardly ever eat. Perhaps it 
 was pining for its mate. 
 
I8S 
 
 One day the father of the children came home 
 very much pleased. He said he had bought a 
 present for them. lie had not brought it with 
 him, and he would not tell them what it was. 
 
 That afternoon the present came home in a 
 wooden box with slats across the front. It was a 
 wild oroose which he had boueht from a man who 
 
 ^.w 
 
 Graywings and the Stranger. 
 
 had trapped it. The children's father said he had 
 bought it as a mate for Graywings. 
 
 The little boy and girl were delighted. They 
 thought how happy Graywings would be to have a 
 companion. They could hardly wait to take it 
 out and put it in the cage with her. 
 
 But what a disappointment ! Graywings did not 
 seem to like the stranger at all. If it came near 
 her, she threatened It with her open beak. She 
 
1 86 
 
 would not let it eat with her, and she drove it into 
 a corner, where it stood terrified and unhappy, 
 almost afraid to move. 
 
 They left the new goose there for several days, 
 but Graywings would not make friends with it. 
 Then it seemed so very unhappy that they took it 
 out and sent It back to where it had come from. 
 
 The autumn passed and winter came. The 
 flocks of wild geese had long ago flown southward 
 in long V's, quacking as they went. Everything 
 was frozen as hard as stone. Even the crows 
 could hardly find enough to keep themselves alive. 
 
 It was at this time that the uncle of the children 
 caught a wild goose. It was hiding in a little hol- 
 low near the stretch of reeds where Graywings had 
 been shot. The goose was very thin and weak, for 
 it was almost starved. 
 
 The uncle brought it to the house where the 
 children lived. He and their father wondered 
 very much how the goose came to be left behind 
 when all its companions flew south. It was not in- 
 jured in any way, and it must have been a fine, 
 strong goose before it became nearly starved. 
 
 They warmed the goose and gave it food and 
 water. When the goose seemed somewhat re- 
 
i87 
 
 vived, the uncle said : " Suppose we keep it out 
 in the cage with that other wild goose you have." 
 
 " Oh, no," said the little girl, " Graywings will 
 peck it, and this poor goose is so weak and starved." 
 
 " Well, let's try it, and see what she'll do," said 
 the uncle. So the goose was taken out and put in 
 the cage with Graywings. 
 
 What was the surprise of the boy and girl to see 
 Graywings come up to the poor, weak stranger, 
 and greet it with the greatest joy. The new goose 
 seemed glad to see Graywings, too. 
 
 Then the children's father guessed how it must 
 be. The starving goose must have been Gray- 
 wings' mate. After she was shot her mate must 
 have left the flock, letting it fly on southward 
 without him, while he lingered near the place 
 where she had fallen. 
 
 If the uncle had not found the goose, it would 
 soon have starved to death. 
 
 All winter the two geese lived very happily to- 
 gether in the cage. Then when spring came, and 
 they grew restless and beat their wings as though 
 they longed to fly, the father said it was a shame 
 to keep them imprisoned there any longer. 
 
 So one beautiful day, when the wind blew from 
 
the south, and the maple trees were green with 
 winged seeds, the children rather sadly opened the 
 door of the cage and set the wild geese free. 
 
 And that was the best ending to the story, the 
 father said. 
 
 THE FLYING SQUIRREL 
 
 One of the branches of Mr. Whiting's great 
 poplar tree had died, and Mr. Whiting told Tim, 
 the hired man, to saw it off. 
 
 Billy Whiting and his cousin Joe followed Tim 
 out on the lawn and watched him climb the tree, 
 settle himself among the branches, and begin to 
 saw. 
 
 Billy and Joe were about the same age, but Billy 
 was the taller by almost half a head. He was 
 rather a fat boy, and something of a bully. Ever 
 since his cousin Joe had come to visit him, he had 
 been teasing and daring him. " Ho," he would 
 say, " you can't do what / do " ; or, " You'd be 
 afraid, but Fm not" ; or, "you daren't do it, but T 
 can." 
 
 Now as they stood watching Tim up in the tree, 
 sawing away, Billy began boasting again: "You 
 
1 89 
 
 ought to see me climb. You couldn't climb up 
 there and saw that limb, could you ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Joe doubtfully. 
 
 " 'Course you couldn't; I could though. Yes, 
 sir, I'd just climb up there as easy as anything and 
 saw that limb off. I wouldn't be afraid." 
 
 Suddenly from the shaking branch a flying 
 squirrel came sailing down directly at Billy. It 
 must have been too badly frightened to know where 
 it was going. 
 
 When Billy saw the thing skimming down at him, 
 he was so terrified that he spread his arms out and 
 fell flat on his back on the ground, howling. 
 
 The flying squirrel scarcely touched him and was 
 gone in a moment, but the boy still lay there, cry- 
 ing so loudly that his mother came out on the 
 piazza. 
 
 " What's the matter, Billy ? " she asked. 
 
 Tim up in the tree had seen it all, and he laughed 
 so hard that he had to stop sawing. 
 
 When Joe told his aunt what had happened, she 
 looked provoked, and called to her son to get up 
 and be quiet. Billy stopped crying and got up, 
 looking rather silly, and for the rest of the day he 
 was less boastful. 
 
190 
 
 By the time Tim had sawed the branch through, 
 it was beginning to rain and tlie boys had to go into 
 the house. All that afternoon the rain fell, but Avhen, 
 toward evening the weather cleared, Billy and Joe 
 took off their shoes and stockings and ran out of 
 doors. How wet and cool the grass was ! 
 
 Joe was stand- 
 ing under the 
 poplar tree when 
 he felt something 
 soft crawling over 
 his bare foot. He 
 looked down and 
 there was a little 
 baby flying squir- 
 rel. There must 
 have been a nest 
 up in the tree, and 
 this little squirrel had probably fallen out of it. 
 
 The boy stooped and picked it up. It was too 
 small and chilled to try to get away. He covered 
 it up in his hands with a cry of delight and ran 
 toward the house. 
 
 "What have you got? What have you got?" 
 cried Billy running after him. 
 
 Joe and the Flying Squirrel 
 
191 
 
 " It's a flying squirrel ; a young flying squirrel," 
 Joe answered, almost crying with excitement. 
 
 He ran to his aunt, followed by Billy. "Aunt 
 Lucy, look ! look ! It's a young squirrel ; oh, may 
 I keep it ? I found it on the lawn." 
 
 Aunt Lucy peeped into the hollow of his hands. 
 " Why, so it is," she said : " a little squirrel." 
 
 She was almost as much interested as the boys. 
 She said that of course Joe might keep it, and she 
 would get a box for him to put it in. 
 
 Billy complained, and said that he ought to have 
 the squirrel — it was on his father's lawn and came 
 out of his father's tree ; but his mother said she 
 was surprised at him — that of course it belonged 
 to Joe, since he had found it. 
 
 She got a box for Joe and gave him something 
 soft to put in it, so that the little squirrel might 
 have a comfortable nest. She also gave him some 
 wire netting to put over the top of the box, that 
 the little animal might not get away. 
 
 Joe fed it and then put it in the box, and he and 
 Billy watched it and played with it until supper time. 
 
 While they went to supper, the box was left on 
 a bench on the porch. They could see it through 
 the open door as they sat at the table. 
 
192 
 
 Suddenly Mrs. Whiting said softly, " Look, 
 boys, there's the mother squirrel." 
 
 There she was, sure enough, on top of the 
 wire netting. She had come in search of her little 
 one. 
 
 " Let's try to catch her," said Billy. He stole 
 very softly toward the porch. The mother squirrel 
 waited until he reached the door, and then she was 
 gone like a flash, and she did not come back. 
 
 When Joe went home a few days later he took 
 his squirrel with him. It had become perfectly 
 tame. His mother thought it was one of the pret- 
 tiest little pets she had ever seen. 
 
 As it grew older, Joe carried it about with him 
 in his pocket or in the breast of his blouse. It 
 liked the blouse best. It would curl up and sleep 
 there, warm and snug. Then when it awoke it 
 would run up and peep out over his collar, with its 
 tiny pretty head and beady eyes. How soft and 
 furry it felt against Joe's neck ! 
 
 One time he took it to school with him and when 
 it climbed down his sleeve, it tickled so that, before 
 he knew, he laughed out loud. 
 
 " Joseph, was that you ?" asked the teacher. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," answered Joe, very much fright- 
 
193 
 
 ened, and, hastily slipping the squirrel into his 
 pocket, he put his hand over it so that it could not 
 get out. 
 
 "Come here, Joseph," said the teacher. Then, 
 as he mounted the platform, she asked, "What 
 have you in your pocket ? " 
 
 Joe was afraid to tell her. He only looked at 
 her in silence. 
 
 The teacher put her hand in his pocket. When 
 she felt something warm and furry and alive, she 
 gave a little cry. Then the squirrel peeped out. 
 
 "Joseph, you horrid boy, what have you in your 
 pocket .? " the teacher cried, rising from her chair, 
 
 " It's my flying squirrel." 
 
 All the scholars began to laugh, and the teacher 
 could not help smiling a little herself, but Joe 
 looked ready to cry, 
 
 "You shouldn't have brought it," she said. 
 " School is no place for pets. You'll have to shut 
 it up in your desk now until you go home, and 
 never bring it here again." 
 
 Joe was glad to get off so easily. He shut Dicky 
 (that was the squirrel's name) inside his desk and 
 began to study, but the little animal was not con- 
 tent to be left there in the hard, cold desk alone ; 
 
 Pyle's Humble Friends.— 13. 
 
194 
 
 it rattled about among the things, and began to 
 gnaw the wood. At last the teacher had to tell 
 Joe to take the squirrel home and then come back 
 for his lessons. 
 
 Flying squirrels cannot really fly. Between 
 their front and hind legs, on either side, there is a 
 skin or membrane that spreads out in such a way 
 as to make them very broad and light. When 
 they spread their feet and leap, they seem to soar, 
 and can go for a long distance, but it is really 
 only a leap and must always be from a higher to a 
 lower place. 
 
 Dicky had a pretty little cage for a home, but 
 he very seldom cared to stay in it. He liked bet- 
 ter to roam about the house. He would run up 
 the curtains, or get on top of the pictures and 
 bookcases. From these places he would come fly- 
 ing down, often startling people by lighting on their 
 heads or shoulders. 
 
 One time Joe's grandfather came to pay them a 
 visit. He was an old man, and his head was very 
 bald. 
 
 Once when grandfather was sitting quietly 
 reading the evening paper, Dicky came soaring 
 down from the top of the library door. He had 
 
195 
 
 meant to light on grandfather's head, but when he 
 touched it, it was so smooth and shiny that Dicky- 
 found nothing to chng to. Away he slid over the 
 old gentleman's head and down his forehead, 
 knocking off his eyeglasses as he went. 
 
 " Well, well ! " cried grandfather. 
 
 Joe was in the room, and he could not help 
 laughing until the, 
 tears stood in his 
 eyes. 
 
 His grandfather 
 
 tried to look anf 
 
 ry, 
 
 but he could not 
 keep serious any 
 better than Joe, and 
 so they both laughed 
 and laughed to- 
 
 gether. 
 
 It seemed after 
 this as t h o u Q- h 
 
 Grandpa and the Flying Squirrel 
 
 Dicky could not keep away from grandfather's 
 head. Agfain and aeain he would come soarine 
 down to it from some high place, but he always 
 slipped off. 
 
 " Really I'll have to keep a handkerchief over 
 
196 
 
 my head," said the old gentleman. But Joe's 
 mother said the squirrel must be shut in its cage. 
 It was getting to be too troublesome. 
 
 So Dicky was kept a prisoner until grandfather 
 went away. After that he was allowed to run 
 free again. 
 
 Joe used to bring nuts home to the squirrel and 
 hide them about the room. He liked to see Dicky 
 hunt them out. As soon as the squirrel found one, 
 he would race away with it to some high place. 
 Then he would sit up and eat it, holding it daintily 
 in his fore paws as though they were little hands. 
 
 One of Dicky's great amusements was getting 
 into the empty water pitcher in the guest chamber 
 and racing round and round in it after his tail. 
 Round and round and round he would go. Then 
 he would stop to listen, and with a bound would 
 be at the top of the pitcher, holding himself up by 
 curling his little paws over the edge so that he 
 could look out. If everything was quiet, he would 
 drop back into the pitcher and begin chasing his 
 tail again. 
 
 This habit of playing in the pitcher was almost 
 the cause of Dicky's death. 
 
 One day Joe's mother had come to the guest 
 
197 
 
 chamber for something, and she thought she heard 
 an odc| little noise from the washstand. She went 
 over and looked in the pitcher. The maid had 
 partly filled it with water that morning and there, 
 still swimming desperately, but almost exhausted, 
 was the poor little squirrel. She was just in time 
 to save him. He must have come for his usual 
 play, and jumped into the pitcher without looking 
 to see whether it was empty or not. 
 
 Dicky's life, though a happy one, was not very 
 long. Perhaps he had too many nuts. Perhaps it 
 is not healthy for squirrels to be petted so much 
 or to sleep in little boy's pockets. 
 
 One day Dicky seemed very subdued ; he would 
 not eat, and he spent his time lying stretched out 
 flat on top of the library bookcase, out of reach. 
 
 The next morning he was still lying there. Joe 
 called him, but he did not stir, and when the boy 
 climbed up and touched him, he found the little 
 thing quite stiff and cold. Dicky's short life was 
 ended. 
 
ATTRACTIVE FAIRY TALES 
 
 NIXON -ROULET'S JAPANESE FOLK STORIES 
 AND FAIRY TALES 40 cents 
 
 THIS is intended for supplementary reading in the 
 fourth and fifth years. It is a collection of thirty- 
 four popular stories from the mythology and folk-lore 
 of Japan, few of which have ever before been told in English. 
 They are here retold in a simple and pleasing manner, which 
 is well adapted to interest children in the strange and un- 
 familiar fairy tales of the Land of the Rising Sun. A note- 
 worthy feature of the book is that each story is illustrated 
 by a full-page picture drawn by a Japanese artist, lending a 
 peculiar charm to the volume, and distinguishing it as some- 
 thing new in school book literature. 
 
 DAVIS AND CHOW LEUNG'S CHINESE FABLES 
 AND FOLK STORIES 40 cents 
 
 ADAPTED for the third and fourth years of school. It 
 has hitherto been an accepted belief that Chinese 
 " literature does not possess the fable, and, con- 
 sequently, the examples given in this book, which are 
 familiar to the children of China, are of special interest. 
 In retelling these delightful stories of Chinese home and 
 school life, the authors have been most successful in preserv- 
 ing their original color and charm. The tales show the differ- 
 ent phases of Oriental character and habits of thought, and 
 will help toward a better understanding and appreciation of 
 Chinese character. The illustrations are from drawings by 
 native artists. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 C19) 
 
BROOKS'S READERS 
 
 By STRATTON D. BROOKS, Superintendent 
 of Schools, Boston, Mass. 
 
 FIVE BOOK SERIES 
 
 First Year $0.2^ 
 
 Second Year 35 
 
 Third Year 40 
 
 Fourth and Fifth Years . .50 
 Sixth, Seventh, and 
 
 Eighth Years . . . .60 
 
 EIGHT BOOK SERIES 
 
 First Year $o.iS 
 
 Second Year 35 
 
 Third Year 40 
 
 Fourth Year 40 
 
 Fifth Year 4c 
 
 Sixth Year 40 
 
 Seventh Year 40 
 
 Eighth Year 40 
 
 THESE readers form a good all-round basal series, suit- 
 able for use in any school ; but they will appeal to 
 teachers particularly, because of their very easy gradation. 
 Both in thought and expression, the books are so carefully 
 graded that each selection is but slightly more difficult than 
 the preceding one, and there is no real gap anywhere. 
 ^ Although a wide variety of reading matter is provided, 
 good literature, embodying child interests, has been considered 
 of fundamental importance. Lessons of a similar nature are 
 grouped together, and topics relating to kindred subjects recur 
 somewhat regularly. All are designed to quicken the child's 
 observation, and increase his appreciation. 
 ^ By the use of this series, the child will be taught to read in 
 such a manner as will appeal to his interests, and at the same time 
 he will be made acquainted with the masterpieces of many fa- 
 mous writers. He will gain a knowledge of many subjects, and 
 acquire pure and attractive ideals of life and conduct. His imagi- 
 nation will be cultivated by pleasing tales of fancy, and he will 
 also be taught a love of country, and given glimpses into the 
 life of other lands. 
 
 ^ The books are very attractive in mechanical appearance, 
 and contain a large number of original illustrations, besides 
 reproductions of many celebrated paintings. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 (m> 
 
HIC KS'S C HAM PI ON 
 SPELLING BOOK 
 
 By WARREN E. HICKS, Assistant Superintendent of 
 Schools, Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Complete, ^0.25 Part One, ^0.18 Part Two, ^0.18 
 
 THIS book embodies the method that enabled the pupils 
 in the Cleveland schools after two years to win the Na- 
 tional Education Association Spelling Contest of 1908. 
 ^ By this method a spelling lesson of ten words is given each 
 day from the spoken vocabulary of the pupil. Of these ten 
 words two are selected for intensive study, and in the spelHng 
 book are made prominent in both position and type at the head 
 of each day's lessons, these two words being followed by the 
 remaining eight words in smaller type. Systematic review is 
 provided throughout the book. Each of the ten prominent 
 words taught intensively in a week is listed as a subordinate 
 word in the next two weeks ; included in a written spelling 
 contest at the end of eight weeks ; again in the annual contest 
 at the end of the year ; and again as a subordinate word in the 
 following year's work; — used five times in all within two 
 years. 
 
 "^ The Champion Spelling Book consists of a series of lessons 
 arranged as above for six school years, from the third to the 
 eighth, inclusive. It presents about I, zoo words each year, 
 and teaches 312 of them with especial clearness and intensity. 
 It also includes occasional supplementary exercises which serve 
 as aids in teaching sounds, vowels, homonyms, rules of spell- 
 ing, abbreviated forms, suffixes, prefixes, the use of hyphens, 
 plurals, dictation work, and word building. The words have 
 been selected from lists, supplied by grade teachers of Cleve- 
 land schools, of words ordinarily misspelled by the pupils of 
 their respective grades. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 (36) 
 
STEADMANS' WRITING 
 
 Muscular Movement 
 
 8 Pads — one for each year — each containing 40 sheets, 80 pages, or 3^^ 
 times as much as the ordinary copybooic. Price, each, 1 5 cents. 
 
 STEADMANS' Graded Lessons in Writing train the 
 child to maintain a truly healthful position, and to use 
 the large muscles of the upper arm and shoulder as the 
 motive power in writing. As the ability to write automatic- 
 ally is acquired, a correct sitdng habit is inculcated; stoop- 
 ing over the desk, cramping the lung space, bringing the eyes 
 so close to the paper that they are permanently injured, be- 
 come impossible. The child is no longer subjected to the 
 harmful tendencies of former days. 
 
 '^ This system teaches the child to write a good, characteristic 
 hand that will remain with him through life. The course is 
 presented in eight pads. Each pad is a complete cycle, 
 covering the work for an entire year, and containing forty 
 sheets, eighty pages, three and one-third times as much as 
 a copybook. Each page presents a central idea, around 
 which the lesson is constructed. The drills constitute a ser- 
 ies of graded, specialized, physical culture exercises. These 
 exercises are so devised and arranged that the pupils are led, 
 by easy gradations, from the simplest forms and letters to the 
 more complex. Each drill is based upon the movement re- 
 quired to form the letter or letters under consideration during 
 that particular writing lesson. 
 
 ^The work is simplicity itself. It teaches an easy, graceful 
 style of free handwriting with full play for the writer's indi- 
 viduality. It requires no extra exercise books, no teacher's 
 manual, no blank pads, and no additional paper. Any teacher 
 can teach it with ease without further assistance, and any 
 child will find no difficulty in performing it successfully, and 
 in acquiring a handwriting that is legible, rapid, and automatic. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
RODDY'S GEOGRAPHIES 
 
 By JUSTIN RODDY, M.S., Department of Geography, 
 First Pennsylvania State Normal School, Millersville, Pa. 
 
 Elementary Geography . ^0.50 
 
 Complete Geography . , J^l.oo 
 
 THIS "information" series meets a distinct demand for 
 new geographies which are thoroughly up to date, and 
 adapted for general use, rather than for a particular use 
 in a highly specialized and organized ideal system. While 
 not too technical and scientific, it includes sufficient physio- 
 graphic information for the needs of most teachers. 
 ^ An adequate amount of material is included in each book 
 to meet the requirements of those grades for which it is designed. 
 This matter is presented so simply that the pupil can readily 
 understand it, and so logically that it can easily be taugh- by 
 the average teacher. 
 
 ^ The simplicity of the older methods of teaching this subject 
 is combined with just so much of the modern scientific methods 
 of presentation as is thoroughly adapted to elementary grades. 
 Only enough physiography is included to develop the funda- 
 mental relations of geography, and to animate and freshen the 
 study, without overloading it in this direction. 
 ^ The physical maps of the grand divisions are drawn to the 
 same scale, thus enabling the pupil to form correct concepts 
 of the relative size of countries. The political and more de- 
 tailed maps are not mere skeletons, giving only the names 
 which are required by the text, but are fiall enough to serve 
 all ordinary purposes for reference. In addition, they show 
 the principal railroads and canals, the head of navigation on 
 all important rivers, and the standard divisions of time. 
 *[[ The illustrations are new and fresh, reproduced mostly 
 from photographs collected from all parts of the world. 
 Formal map studies or questions accompany each map, direct- 
 ing attention to the most important features. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 (no) 
 
WEBSTER'S DICTIONARIES 
 
 The Only Genuine School Editions 
 
 THESE Dictionaries are the acknowledged authority 
 throughout the English speaking world, and constitute 
 a complete and carefully graded series. The spelling 
 and punctuation in all leading schoolbooks are based on them. 
 
 WEBSTER'S PRIMARY SCHOOL DICTION- 
 ARY ;go.48 
 
 Containing over 20,000 words and meanings, with over 
 400 illustrations. 
 
 WEBSTER'S COMMON SCHOOL DICTION- 
 ARY $0.72 
 
 Containing over 25,000 words and meanings, with over 
 500 illustrations. 
 
 WEBSTER'S HIGH SCHOOL DICTIONARY, ;Jio.98 
 
 Containing about 37,000 words and definitions, and an 
 appendix giving a pronouncing vocabulary of Biblical, 
 Classical, Mythological, Historical, and Geographical proper 
 names, with over 800 illustrations, 
 
 WEBSTER'S ACADEMIC DICTIONARY 
 
 Cloth, J 1. 50; Indexed J1.80 
 
 Half Calf, J2.75; Indexed 3.00 
 
 Abridged directly from the International Dictionary, and 
 giving the orthography, pronunciations, definitions, and 
 synonyms of about 60,000 words in common use, with an 
 appendix containing various useful tables, with over 800 
 illustrations. 
 
 SPECIAL EDITIONS 
 
 Webster's Countinghouse Dictionary. Sheep, 
 
 Indexed II2.40 
 
 Webster's Handy Dictionary 15 
 
 Webster's Pocket Dictionary 57 
 
 The same. Roan, Flexible 69 
 
 The same. Roan, Tucks ..... .78 
 
 The same. Morocco, Indexed ... .90 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 (104) 
 
UNITED STATES HISTORIES 
 
 By JOHN BACH McMASTER, Professor of American 
 History, University of Pennsylvania 
 
 Primary History, ^0.60 School History, ^i.oo Brief History, jjSi.oo 
 
 THESE Standard histories are remarkable for their 
 freshness and vigor, their authoritative statements, 
 and their impartial treatment. They give a well- 
 proportioned and interesting narrative of the chief events 
 in our history, and are not loaded down with extended 
 and unnecessary bibhographies. The illustrations are his- 
 torically authentic, and show, besides well-known scenes 
 and incidents, the implements and dress characteristic of the 
 various periods. The maps are clear and full, and well 
 executed. 
 
 ^ The PRIMARY HISTORY is simply and interestingly 
 written, with no long or involved sentences. Although brief, 
 it touches upon all matters of real importance to schools in 
 the founding and building of our country, but copies beyond 
 the understanding of children are omitted. The summaries 
 at the end of the chapters, besides serving to emphasize the 
 chief events, are valuable for review. 
 
 f In the SCHOOL HISTORY by far the larger part of 
 the book has been devoted to the history of the United States 
 since 1783. From the beginning the attention of the student 
 is directed to causes and results rather than to isolated events. 
 Special prominence is given to the social and economic 
 development of the country. 
 
 ^ In the BRIEF HISTORY nearly one-half the book 
 is devoted to the colonial period. The text proper, while 
 brief, is complete in itself; and footnotes ' in smaller type 
 permit of a more comprehensive course if desired. Short 
 summaries, and suggestions for collateral reading, are provided. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 (116) 
 
APPLIED PHYSIOLOGIES 
 
 By FRANK OVERTON, A.M., M.D., late House 
 Surgeon to the City Hospital, New York City 
 
 Primary Physiology . . . ^0.30 Intermediate Physiology 3° 5° 
 Auvanced Physiology . . jSo. 80 
 
 OVERTON'S APPLIED PHYSIOLOGIES form a 
 series of text-booics for primary, grammar, and high 
 schools, which departs radically from the old-time 
 methods pursued in the teaching of physiology. These books 
 combine the latest results of study and research in biological, 
 medical, and chemical science with the best methods of 
 teaching. 
 
 ^[ The fundamental principle throughout this series is the 
 study of the cells where the essential functions of the body 
 are carried on. Consequently, the study of anatomy and 
 physiology is here made the study of the cells from thd" most 
 elementary structure in organic life to their highest and most 
 complex form in the human body. 
 
 ^ This treatment of the cell principle, and its development 
 in its relation to life, the employment of laboratory methods, 
 the numerous original and effective illustrations, the clearness of 
 the author's style, the wealth of new physiological facts, and the 
 logical arrangement and gradation of the subject-matter, give 
 these books a strength and individuality peculiarly their own. 
 ^ The effects of alcohol and other stimulants and narcotics 
 are treated in each book sensibly,- and with sufficient fullness. 
 But while this important form of intemperance is singled out, 
 it is borne in mind that the breaking of any of nature's laws 
 is also a form of intemperance, and that the whole study of 
 applied physiology is to encourage a more healthful and a 
 more self-denying mode of life. 
 
 ^ In the preparation of this series the needs of the various 
 school grades have been fully 'considered. Each book is well 
 suited to the pupils for whom it is designed. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
JAMES OTIS'S 
 COLONIAL SERIES 
 
 Calvert of Maryland Richard of Jamestown 
 
 Mary of Plymouth Ruth of Boston 
 
 Peter of New Amsterdam Stephen of Philadelphia 
 
 Price, each, 35 cents. For ^ars 3-5 
 
 DON'T you remember the "Toby Tyler" stories, 
 which appeared some years ago in "Harper's Young 
 People"? And don't you remember how impatiently 
 boys and girls looked forward to the next issue merely be- 
 cause of those tales ? Stories Uke those mean something to 
 children and make an impression. 
 
 ^ Here are six new stories by the same author, James Otis, 
 the first he has ever written for schools. They are just as fas- 
 cinating as his earlier ones. They are stories and yet they 
 are histories. Their viewpoint is entirely original, the story 
 of each settlement being told by one of the children livingin the 
 colony. For this reason only such incidents as a child might 
 notice, or learn by hearsay, are introduced — but all such in- 
 cidents are, as far as possible, historical facts and together they 
 present a delighttuUy graphic and comprehensive description 
 of the daily life of the early colonists. 
 
 ^ The style in which the children tell the stories reads as 
 charmingly as that of a fairy tale, and abounds in quaint hu- 
 mor and in wholesome, old-fashioned philosophy. 
 ^ Each book is profusely illustrated with pen and ink draw- 
 ings that not only add to its artistic attractiveness, but will be 
 found a genuine aid to the child's imagination in reproducing 
 for him realistic glimpses into a home-life of long ago. 
 ^ There is no better way for your pupils to learn about the 
 beginning of our country. The books are just as well suited 
 to libraries and home use. Write us about them. 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
SUPPLEMENTARY READING 
 
 FAMOUS STORIES AND LITERATURE 
 
 ^ This giading, which iff simply suggestive, represents the 
 earliest years in which these books can be read to advantage. 
 
 YEAR 
 
 7 Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum ... ^0.20 
 
 2 Baldwin's Fifty Famous Stories Retold . . . -3 5 
 4 Golden Fleece 50 
 
 8 Nine Choice Poems -25 
 
 3 Old Greek Stories • -45 
 
 3 Old Stories of the East . .... .45 
 
 2 Robinson Crusoe for Children . .... .35 
 
 J Thirty More Famous Stories Retold 50 
 
 3 Bradish*s Old Norse Stories 45 
 
 4 Clarke's Arabian Nights 60 
 
 6 Story of Troy .60 
 
 6 Story of Ulysses .60 
 
 6 Story of Aeneas .45 
 
 4 Defoe's Robinson Crusoe (Stephens) . 50 
 
 4 Dickens's Child's OliverTwist and David Copperfield (Severance), .40 
 
 5 Story of Little Nell (Gordon) % .50 
 
 6 Tale of Two Cities (Kirk) 50 
 
 6 Twelve Christmas Stories (Gordon) 50 
 
 7 Franklin's Autobiography .... . . .35 
 
 7 Guerber's Myths of Greece and Rome .... 1.50 
 
 7 Myths of Northern Lands . . 1.50 
 
 7 Legends of the Middle Ages 1.50 
 
 4 Hall's Homeric Stories . . .40 
 
 8 Irving's Sketch Book. Selections .20 
 
 8 Tales of a Traveler 50 
 
 3 Johnson's Waste Not, Want Not Stories 50 
 
 3 Kupfer's Lives and Stories Worth Remembering ... . .45 
 
 8 Lambs' Tales fi-om Shakespeare. Comedies ^Rolfe) . . ,50 
 
 8 Tales from Shakespeare. Tragedies (Rolfe) 50 
 
 8 Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome (Rolfe) 56 
 
 8 Scott's Ivanhoe . . .50 
 
 6 Kenil worth (Norris) . ... . .50 
 
 8 Lady of the Lake (Gateway) .40 
 
 6 Quentin Durward (Norris) 50 
 
 6 Talisman (Dewey) .50 
 
 8 Shakespeare's Julius Caesar .20 
 
 8 Merchant of Venice .20 
 
 8 As You Like It .20 
 
 I Smythe*s Reynard the Fox . . .30 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 (20) 
 
LATEST ADDITIONS 
 
 SERIES OF ECLECTIC READINGS FOR CHILDREN 
 
 PUBLISHED BY AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 For Youngest Readers — 6 to 8 Years of Age 
 
 Baldwin's Second Fairy Reader . $0.35 
 
 Another Fairy Reader 35 
 
 Farmer's Nature Myths of Many 
 
 Lands 45 
 
 Lucia's Stories of American Discov- 
 erers for Little Americans . . $0.40 
 
 Swift's Gulliver's Travels Retold 
 
 (Baldwin) 35 
 
 For Children of g to 11 Years of Age 
 
 Davis & Chow-Leung's Chinese 
 
 Fables and Folk Stories . , 
 
 Johnson's Story of Two Boys . . 
 
 Baldwin's American Book of 
 
 Golden Deeds ^.50 
 
 Stories of the King 50 
 
 Schwartz's Famous Pictures of Children . , ;{So.40 
 
 For Children of 12 to 14 Years of Age 
 Cooper's Adventures of Deerslayer Keffer's Nature Studies on the 
 
 (Haight) $0.35 Farm 
 
 Last of the Mohicans (Haight) . .35 Nixon-Roulet's Japanese Folk 
 Adventures of Pathfinder (Haight) .35 Stories and Fairy Tales . . . 
 
 S0.40 
 •35 
 
 $0.40 
 
 .40