26616	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. [Illustration: LEO AND TINEY. Page 13.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS. BY MRS MADELINE LESLIE. MINNIE'S PET DOG.] MINNIE'S PET DOG. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. MINNIE'S PET DOG. CHAPTER I. TINEY AND LEO. I have given an account of Minnie's pet parrot, and of Minnie's pet cat. In this volume I shall give the reader an account of her pet dog, Tiney, with anecdotes of other dogs. Tiney was a spaniel. He had long, pendent ears, black, expressive eyes, a short, well-rounded mouth, and long, silky hair. He was an affectionate little fellow, who attached himself to every body in the house. He was on the most friendly terms with Fidelle, often eating sociably with her from the same plate. In summer, when Minnie liked to play on the lawn, Tiney might be seen running here and there in obedience to his young mistress, picking up a ball or stick, and bringing it to her in his teeth. If the truth must be told, Tiney was a dog that loved his own ease. In the winter he liked to lie on the hearth rug in front of the glowing fire, one eye partly open, to be sure that Fidelle, who was fond of playing with his tail, committed no indignities with it. Sometimes Minnie used to get out of patience with him for being so sleepy; but her mother told her it was in consequence of his eating so heartily, and taking no more exercise; and then the little girl would drag him off out of doors, often sadly against his will, and entice him into a frolic. It was curious to see Tiney with Leo. The spaniel held the great dog in awe, and never but once was known to go to the stable to see him. The circumstances that led to this visit were very curious, and I must relate them. When Tiney first saw Leo, he was only a puppy, and I suppose was frightened at the sight of so large a dog. He began to bark at him with all his might. Mr. Lee wished to have them become friends; but this did not appear so easy, for Leo, after looking disdainfully at the pup, walked away with great dignity. After this, whenever Tiney saw him, he began to bark, or rather to growl; but Leo never took the least notice of him. Tiney, however, was fond of running to the gate to see what dogs were passing by. In this way, he formed many acquaintances, and some very bad ones. An express-man used to pass the house two or three times a week, and was always accompanied by a large mastiff, a savage-looking dog, with a deep bass voice. One day, when the express-man's wagon was going by, Tiney began to jump up before the horses' mouths and bark. The man spoke to the mastiff, who at once flew at the spaniel, and shook him thoroughly. Tiney cried out piteously, and walked back to the house a sadder if not a wiser dog. But he did not forget. On the day when the express-man passed again, he paid the visit, I have mentioned, to Leo, and in some way made him understand that he wanted to engage his services. Leo agreed to revenge the insult that had been offered the little fellow. When the mastiff came by, they were ready for him. Tiney did the barking, while his defender caught the mastiff, and whipped him severely. Leo and Tiney then returned to the house together, when the spaniel showed his gratitude by running back and forth before his friend, and giving several short barks. But what was most remarkable was the fact, that after this they returned to their old footing, Leo never condescending to take any notice of his smaller companion, and Tiney giving an occasional growl when he saw him approach. When Minnie was in her eighth year, her parents went on a journey into a distant state, and she accompanied them; but though she pleaded to take Tiney with her, it was not allowed. The next summer preparations were made for another journey, and there was much conversation about it in the family circle. One morning, when they were discussing the time of their being absent, Mrs. Lee noticed that Tiney appeared very uneasy. He jumped repeatedly into her lap, and from that to the floor, rubbing his sides against her feet. "What can Tiney want?" she said aloud. "I'm sure he is trying to make me understand something." "O, I wish he could go!" cried Minnie. "You know how sad he was when we were gone before." The spaniel, on hearing these words, gave a joyful bark, moving his tail back and forth in an excited manner, and then looked wishfully in her face. "He seems to understand what we say," the lady went on, glancing with some surprise at her husband. "I have no doubt of it," he answered, smiling. "Here, Tiney! here, sir!" The dog obeyed. "Do you know, Tiney," he asked, "that we are going away?" No reply. "Would you like to go with us in the carriage?" Tiney gave a short, quick bark. "I'm afraid that would not do," added the gentleman, shaking his head. "I fear you would be too much trouble." No more was said, and the dog went across the room, his tail hanging between his legs, and remained quietly on the corner of the sofa. They noticed that he watched every movement closely, and that, if Minnie left the room, he seemed uneasy till she returned. "It is very strange that he can understand," remarked Mrs. Lee. "See, he is not asleep, though he pretends to be; he is listening to what we say." Minnie laughed aloud. "It is too funny!" she exclaimed. "I have heard of many cases," remarked her father, "where it was evident that dogs understood well certain words uttered in their presence." "O, father," urged Minnie, "do please tell them to me." He looked at his watch, and then began:-- "A gentleman by the name of Taylor was once travelling in Spain. He arrived early one evening at a village inn, and sat down before a stove to dry his boots. Close by him was a dog, which watched him very attentively. "'What can you give me for supper?' the gentleman inquired of the hostess. "'Some eggs,' was the reply. "'No; they are too mawkish.' "'A rabbit?' "'That is too indigestible.' "The attention of the dog seemed to become more and more directed to the conversation. "'Some ham?' the woman added. "'No,' said Mr. Taylor; 'that would make me too thirsty.' "'Some pigeons?' "The dog here stood up. "'No; there is no nourishment in them.' "'A fowl?' said the hostess, on which the dog started hastily out of the room. "'What is the matter with your dog?' asked the gentleman, noticing a smile on the woman's face. "'O, nothing at all,' was her reply; 'he only wishes to escape his work. He is anxious to know what you decide upon; for if you say a fowl, he is sure he will have to turn the spit.'" Both Mrs. Lee and Minnie laughed heartily at this anecdote. "That story reminds me of Dr. Kane's old dog Grim," said Mrs. Lee. "He was a curious old fellow." "O, will you please tell me about it, mamma?" cried Minnie. "Yes, my dear. He was very aged; his teeth, almost gone; and his limbs, once so nimble, now covered with warts and ringbones. "In the intense cold of the arctic regions Grim suffered much, and at last, by a system of patient watching at the door of the deck-house, together with a curious wag of his tail, pleading for admittance, he was allowed a place in the warm room, and used Dr. Kane's seal-skin coat as a bed for weeks together. "Somehow or other, when the dogs were being harnessed into their sledges for a journey, old Grim was sure to be missing; and one time, when he was detected hiding in a barrel, to avoid the labor of drawing the sledge, he began to limp badly, as if he were very lame. "'Poor fellow,' said one of the men, 'he must be left at home.' "Strange to say, he was lame ever after, except when the team was off from the ship. "Run and get the book about animals, on the third shelf in the library," said Mr. Lee, "and I will read you a story." Minnie flew to obey him, and Tiney, wagging his tail, slowly followed, but came back presently, and resumed his place on the sofa. CHAPTER II. BOSE AND THE WIG. "Here," said Mr. Lee, "is an account Mr. Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, gives of his dog Hector. "'I am sure,' he says, 'that the dog comprehends a good deal that is said in the family; and that his attention and impatience become manifest whenever any thing is said about either him, the sheep, or the cat. "'One evening I said to my mother, "I am going to Bowerhope for a fortnight; but I shall not take Hector with me, for he is constantly quarrelling with the other dogs, or breeding some kind of an uproar." "'My mother answered me, promptly, "I am glad of it; I like best to have him at home." "'Nothing more was said on the subject. The next morning was rainy, and I did not start till after breakfast. When I was ready, I ordered a servant to shut Hector up for a few hours, that he might not follow me. The servant presently reported that the dog was nowhere to be found. "'When I reached St. Mary's Lock, I found the river so swollen, I had to get across in a boat; and yet, when I arrived at Bowerhope, I found Hector, very wet, sitting on a knoll, impatiently awaiting me.'" "In Bath, England, there were at one time a large number of dogs employed in cooking-houses, to turn the spits used in roasting fowls. These animals were fond of following the crowd on the Sabbath, and collecting together, during divine service, in the Abbey Church. "On one occasion, the clergyman happened to use the word 'spit,' which reminded the dogs of their neglected duties, and, seized with remorse, they all ran home in a hurry." "Why, father," cried Minnie, much astonished, "I should not think the people would let so many dogs go to church." "Perhaps they could not prevent it," he answered, laughing. "Dogs are often fond of accompanying their owners to church. I remember Leo tried it several times when I first bought him. He seemed to understand perfectly well when Sunday came, and, as he knew I did not approve of his intruding, he would run off and creep into the pew without leave." "And did he keep still, father?" "Yes; I never knew him to make much noise, except as he occasionally turned himself over, but I was in constant fear of his doing so, and determined to break up the habit. "Early one Sabbath morning, before the ringing of the first bell for church, I went out to the stable to tell John to shut him up before he took out the carriage. He said he had not seen him for an hour or more. When I alighted at the door of the church, there was Leo, waiting to follow me up the aisle. "The next week I thought I would be in season, and had Leo shut up on Saturday. He cried incessantly, when the bells rang on Sunday; but I told John not to let him out until after our return from the evening service. "When Saturday came again, Leo took the precaution to be off, and enjoyed a whole day of church going, coming in and scratching at the door of the pew to gain my attention. "I felt almost guilty, when I reflected on his desire to keep the Sabbath. I think he came to know which was the sermon and which the prayer, for during the latter he invariably stood up. It was only by persevering effort that I convinced him his church-going propensity could not be allowed. But now, though you know he often accompanies me when I ride on horseback, and follows the carriage when we all go, he never attempts to do so on the Sabbath." "I remember," said Mrs. Lee, "when I was a young girl, visiting a lady who had a beautiful spaniel, of whom she made a great pet. When she went out to ride, Doll expected to go with her as a matter of course; and if the weather was cold, the dog was wrapped in embroidered blankets, like a baby. "One Sabbath day we were preparing to go to church, and I wondered whether Doll would go too; or, if not, how she would bear the disappointment. "To my astonishment the spaniel, though she whined a little, made no effort to accompany us by running here and there, as usual, and uttering short, joyful barks. She sat at the window gazing earnestly after us, but making no attempt to follow. "'She knows well enough,' said the lady, 'that she must not go to church, though I cannot imagine how she tells when Sunday comes.' "There's a curious story," remarked Mr. Lee, "often told of a number of dogs in a village in Bohemia. These animals, including a large mastiff, belonging to a nobleman in the place, had a practice of going regularly to church. "This at last excited the attention of the town authorities, and at a meeting of the court, a magistrate, who presided, said in a loud, decided tone,-- "'No dogs shall be allowed in church; let me not see one of them in future!'" "The mastiff was present, and seemed to listen with attention. Nor without effect; for on the ensuing Sunday he rose early, and ran round the village, barking at all the dogs. He then took his station near the door of the church; and when a dog came up, unmindful of his prohibition, he instantly killed him. Ever after he took on him this post of sentinel before the church, but not once was he known to enter it." "What a queer dog!" exclaimed Minnie, "and how strange that he should have known what the magistrate said!" Mr. Lee laughed. "Do you remember," he asked, turning to his wife, "the story we heard long ago of that old gentleman in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, who had such a knowing dog?" "Yes, I remember. Minnie will be interested to hear that." "O, yes, father!" "It seems his dog was so intelligent that he could do almost every thing but talk. Among other things, he was in the constant habit of attending church with his master. The old gentleman wore a wig, and having purchased a new one, donned it for the first time on Sunday morning, leaving the old one hanging on a chair in his bed room. "It happened that Bose had been taking a nap that morning in the garden, and did not awake in time to accompany his master to church. He entered the house, and perceived at once that he was late; but on seeing the wig, he imagined it had been forgotten, and catching it in his teeth, before he could be stopped, disappeared with it into the street. "The old gentleman's feelings may be imagined, when, in the commencement of the sermon, he saw Bose quietly trotting along the aisle, in full view of all the congregation, with the wig in his mouth, not stopping till he reached the familiar pew." "I fancy the good man wished his dog had remained at home," said Mrs. Lee, laughing heartily; while Minnie, who did not seem exactly to understand, exclaimed,-- "I thought, mamma, that wigs were fastened on like hair. I'm sure aunt Mary never takes hers off." Mr. Lee suddenly started up. "This is not doing my business," he exclaimed. "If I don't look out sharp, I shall miss an appointment. Run, Minnie, to the barn, and tell John to put the black mare into the buggy as quickly as possible." Before he had put on his boots, she came back, out of breath, calling out,-- "John has harnessed, father; so you can go at once." Soon after he had gone, Mrs. Lee went up stairs to make farther preparations for their journey. She had already directed Anne, a woman who had long been in the family, to put Minnie's dresses into a trunk. What was her surprise, when she entered the room, to see Tiney sitting on them, the trunk being left open! Poor creature! He had taken this method to ascertain the moment of their leaving, probably that he might follow them, as he was sure they would not go without Minnie's clothes. CHAPTER III. LEO AND THE MONKEY. Leo had two very strong friends at the stable, with whom he passed much of his time. These were some large pigs, occupying a nice, warm pen on the south side of the barn. When Leo left his own house to make them a visit, they received him with a grunt of welcome. One cold night, the hostler went, at a late hour, into the stable with his lantern, to see that all the animals were comfortably bedded. As he approached the pig-pen, he was surprised to hear a loud snoring, unlike the noise pigs make in their sleep. He entered cautiously, fearing a straggler had sought shelter there. This fear was quickly changed to mirth, however, as he saw Leo lying on his back between the two pigs, his feet extending some distance below them, while they were pressed closely up to his body, to impart to him as much as possible of their warmth. A few weeks after this, one of the pigs was carried away by the butcher to be killed. Leo mourned for his friend, and paid redoubled attention to the one who was left, as if to make up to him for the loss of his companion. I don't know that I have described Leo. He was a large, shaggy dog, of the Newfoundland breed, black as jet, with a white tip to his bushy tail, and three white feet. Leo's eyes were very bright, and his whole countenance remarkably intelligent. He was a most useful animal about the stable, always giving notice by a loud, fierce bark, when a stranger, and particularly an ill-dressed one, tried to enter. He was good-natured, too, and was never but once known to bite or seriously injure any person. One day, the hostler, having gone into the city, left Leo in charge of the stable, as usual. About noon, a man entered and began to walk around. After a few loud, prolonged barks, which brought no one to his aid, Leo concluded he must take care of the man himself. Every step that the stranger went he followed him, not molesting him in any way until the man took down a handsome fur robe from the shelf, and secreted it in the hay, near the window. He then proceeded to leave, when Leo caught him and held him fast. Nearly an hour later, when the hostler returned, they were still in this position, the robber frightened almost out of his wits, and not daring to move lest the dog should kill him. Being closely questioned by the hostler, he acknowledged his theft, and said that he had intended to come in the night and take away the robe, which he knew was valuable, by removing the window. While he was talking, Leo watched him narrowly, and then followed him from the barn, growling continually. Leo was very fond of his young mistress, whom in her babyhood, he had many times carried on his back around the gravelled walks near the house. Minnie was fond of him too, and sometimes put her arms around his neck and kissed him. When he saw her coming, he always ran to meet her, wagging his tail with pleasure. But there was one member of the family Leo did not like at all, and no inducements which his master could urge would bring him on even decently friendly terms with him. This was Jacko, the monkey, who by his grinning and chattering, and uncouth gestures, so disgusted the great dog, that he kept as far from his cage as possible. One morning, about three months after Minnie's cousin Ida had come to reside with them, the little girl was taken suddenly ill. When she was partially recovered, it was curious to see her sitting bolstered up in bed, with so many pets around her. First, there was Poll, hopping up and down from her perch to the floor of the cage, chattering continually between her fits of coughing, "I'm sick! I'm sick! O, what a cold!" and then, changing her tone, "better now! better to-day!" On the bed were Fidelle and Tiney, the latter nestled closely under his little mistress's arm. By the side of the couch, with his fore paws resting on the white counterpane, stood Leo, grave and dignified, seeming to realize more than any of them what a sad thing it was for Minnie to be lying there, instead of running over the grounds as usual. Just at this moment, Anne came into the room bringing Jacko, who began to grin and chatter with delight. Mrs. Lee directed the woman to fasten the monkey's chain tightly to the post of the bedstead, and let him have his liberty; but she soon regretted having done so, for Leo, who had bristled up the moment Jacko came in, with a deep growl sprang upon him, and would have torn him in pieces, had not the united force of several persons present caught the little fellow away, and shut him in a closet. The excitement proved too much for Minnie, and she began to sob hysterically. Leo came to lick her hand, apparently aware that he had done wrong, but she cried out,-- "Go away, you naughty dog. I don't love you at all now." Leo was presently sent from the room. Jacko, after overturning every thing in the closet, was returned to his cage, and then, in order to soothe the little girl, Mrs. Lee proposed that Ida should bring the book, and read some anecdotes about dogs. The first one she read was this:-- "Rev. James Simpson, of Edinburgh, had a large Newfoundland dog. At one time he resided at Libberton, about two miles out of the city, in a pleasant house surrounded with a garden. "One sacrament Sunday, the servant, who was left at home in charge of the house, thought it a good opportunity to entertain her friends, as her master and mistress were not likely to return home till after the evening service, about nine o'clock. "The company assembled, and wandered together over the house and grounds, the dog accompanying them wherever they went in the most attentive manner, and seeming greatly pleased. "As the time approached for Mr. and Mrs. Simpson to return, the party prepared to separate, and at last proceeded to do so; but the dog, the instant they went to the door, interposed. "Planting himself firmly before the entrance, he would not allow one of them to touch the handle. While they were quiet, he offered no force; but the moment they attempted to move, he became furious; and with deep, angry growls and a menacing manner, drove them back into the kitchen, where he kept them till the arrival of his master and mistress. "The surprise of the good clergyman and his wife may be imagined, when, on entering the house, they found a party assembled there at so late an hour, and the dog standing sentinel over them. "Being thus detected, the guilty servant acknowledged her crime, when her friends were allowed to depart, after being admonished by the worthy divine in regard to the proper use of the Sabbath. "Soon after this, Mr. Simpson was obliged to leave his country residence on account of his children's education, and remove into Edinburgh. Speaking one day to a friend, he said, 'I regret extremely that I shall be obliged to part with my faithful dog, as he is too large to be kept in a city house.' "The animal was present, and heard him say this, and must have understood what was meant, for he disappeared that very evening, and was never afterwards heard from." Minnie was silent a few minutes when her cousin ceased reading, and then said, half crying,-- "I'm afraid Leo will go away, for I told him I did not love him." Ida gayly approached the window, expecting to see the dog, as usual at this hour, sunning himself in front of the stable; but as she did not, she offered to go and find him. She had scarcely reached the hall when she met him coming up the stairs. He looked wishfully in her face, and then went to Minnie's door, and began to scratch upon it. Ida opened it, wondering what he wanted, when Leo, with his tail between his legs as if conscious he had done wrong, went directly to the couch, and putting his cold nose into Minnie's hand, asked, as well as he could, to be forgiven for his offence. "I do love you, Leo," she exclaimed, caressing him; "you're a real good dog; and you won't hurt Jacko again. Poor Jacko!" On hearing these words, Leo began to wag his tail joyfully, and then, putting his paws on the bed, licked the hand she playfully held out to him. CHAPTER IV. THE FAITHFUL DOGS. "O, cousin Minnie," cried Ida, "here are some beautiful stories. Let me read them to you." "An English terrier was brought up in a family where there was a little girl, with whom he was a great favorite. For hours together they amused each other, the dog readily yielding obedience to every wish of his little friend. One day, however, when they were at play in the nursery, the mother was startled by a quick snarl from the terrier, expressive of temper and violence. "Alarmed for her child, she rushed to the dog and drove him angrily away; but after the closest examination, she could find no trace of injury inflicted on the little girl, and she soon, forgot both the outcry and alarm. "Meantime poor Fido had not ventured from the corner where he had been driven in disgrace, but remained for a long time pensive and quiet in his retreat. At last, when his little playmate began to look round for him, he came slowly forward to the mother of his companion, and sitting directly before her, with a touch of his paw solicited her attention. "'What is it, Fido?' she asked. "He rose gently, and placed something on the carpet at her feet. "It was a pin, which she lifted up and examined, every motion closely watched by the dog. His pleading eye was too obvious to be misunderstood, and by questioning the child, the whole was soon explained. The pin had come in her way, and, in the fun of childhood, she had tried to make a pin-cushion of Fido's nose. The snarl was caused by pain, and the snap following removed the dangerous weapon from unsafe hands. "The lady patted the dog, calling him 'good Fido,' when he at once turned to his favorite, to assure her of his forgiveness, and to ask that they might be friends again. And so they were ever after." "That is a very good story," said Minnie, smiling. "I wish you would read another one as good." "Here is one," responded Ida, having cast her eye over it, "which is rather sad." "A gentleman named Llewelyn had a fine hunter, which he called Gelert. One day, the dog refused to accompany his master to the chase, which made him very angry. "Gelert always kept sentinel at night at the door of his bedchamber, and, on his return from the chase, Llewelyn met the dog coming from the room, covered with blood. He entered in great haste, alarmed for the safety of his child, when he found the bed overturned, and the coverlet stained with gore. In an agony of apprehension, he called aloud to his boy, but received no answer, and rashly concluded that the babe had been killed by Gelert. "Without stopping to reflect upon the fondness the animal had always manifested for the child, he ran his sword through the poor creature's body. "Roused from his slumber by Gelert's dying yell, the infant awoke, when the father, advancing, found to his heart-rending remorse, a gaunt wolf, torn and bleeding, tremendous even in death, lying on the floor near the tender nursling. The faithful dog had seen the wolf prowling about, and, refusing to accompany his master to the chase, of which he was extremely fond, placed himself near the couch of the boy, and in the end saved his life, though, as it proved, at the sacrifice of his own. "Llewelyn, who never could forgive himself, afterwards built a chapel, and raised a tomb to the memory of his faithful dog, who fell a victim to a momentary passion. This tomb is still called Beth-Gelert, or the tomb of Gelert; multitudes have there heard the account of his bravery and his untimely death." "How very sorry he must have been!" exclaimed Minnie, tears filling her eyes. "Read that account of the Stockholm dog," said Mrs. Lee. "Yes, aunt; but first here is a story of the fidelity of a dog, which is very affecting." "A French merchant, having some money due from a correspondent, set out on horseback, accompanied by his dog, on purpose to receive it. Having settled the business to his satisfaction, he tied the bag of money before him, and began to return home. His faithful dog, as if he entered into his master's feelings, frisked round the horse, barked, and jumped, and seemed to participate in his joy. "After riding some miles, the merchant alighted to repose himself under an agreeable shade, taking the bag of money in his hand, and laying it down by his side under a hedge, when, upon remounting, he unfortunately forgot it. "The dog perceived his want of recollection, and wishing to rectify it, ran to fetch the bag; but it was too heavy for him to drag along. He then ran to his master, and by crying, barking, and howling, tried to remind him of his mistake. "Unfortunately, the merchant did not understand his language; but the assiduous creature persevered in his efforts, and after trying to stop the horse in vain, at last began to bite his heels. "The gentleman, absorbed in some reverie, wholly misunderstood his animal's expostulations, and entertained the alarming apprehension that he had suddenly gone mad. Full of this suspicion, in crossing a brook, he turned back to see whether the dog stopped to drink. The faithful creature was too anxious concerning his master's business to think of it, but continued to bark and bite with greater violence than before. "'Mercy!' cried the affrighted merchant, 'it must be so? My poor dog is certainly mad. What shall I do? I must kill him, lest some greater misfortune befall me; but with what regret! O, could I find any one to perform this cruel office for me! But there is no time to lose; I myself may become a victim if I spare him.' "With these words he drew a pistol from his pocket; and with a trembling hand took aim at his faithful servant. He turned away in agony as he fired; but his aim was too sure. The poor animal fell wounded, and weltering in his blood, still endeavored to crawl toward his master, as if to tax him with ingratitude. The merchant could not bear the sight: he spurred on his horse with a heart full of sorrow, and lamented that he had taken a journey which had cost him so dear. Still the money never entered his mind; he only thought of his poor dog, and tried to console himself with the reflection that he had prevented a greater evil than he had suffered a calamity by despatching a mad animal. But even this thought did not quiet him. "'I am most unfortunate,' said he to himself; 'I had almost rather have lost my money than my dog.' "Saying this, he put out his hand to grasp his treasure. It was missing; no bag was to be found. In one instant his eyes were opened to his rashness and folly. 'Wretch that I am!' he cried; 'I alone am to blame. I could not understand the caution which my innocent and most faithful friend gave me; and I have sacrificed him for his zeal. He only wished to inform me of my mistake; and he has paid for his fidelity with his life!' "Instantly he turned his horse, and went off at full gallop to the place where he had stopped. He saw with half averted eyes the scene where the tragedy was acted; he perceived the traces of blood as he proceeded; he was oppressed and distracted; but in vain he looked for his dog; he was not to be seen on the road. "At last he arrived at the spot where he had alighted. But here his heart bled afresh. He was entirely overcome. The poor dog, unable to follow his dear but cruel master, had determined to consecrate his last moments to his service. He had crawled, all bloody as he was, to the forgotten bag, and in the agonies of death, he lay watching beside it. [Illustration: THE DOG FAITHFUL TILL DEATH. Page 92.] "As soon as he saw his master, he testified his joy by wagging his tail. He could do no more; he tried to rise, but his strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast; and even the caresses of his master could not prolong his life for a few moments. He stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that was now fondling him in the agonies of regret, as if to seal forgiveness of the deed that had deprived him of life. He then cast a look of love on his master, and closed his eyes in death." CHAPTER V. CANICHE AND THE TRAVELLER. Mr. Lee returned one day from the city with a party of friends who had been invited to visit them. They were all seated at the tea table, when a quick ringing of one of the chamber bells attracted their attention. The gentleman glanced at his wife, who at once noticed that all the family were present at the table, and only answered by the words, "Who can it be?" "It is Maria or Emily Otis, from the city," he answered, smiling. "They came, I suspect, in the noon train, and have taken this method to announce their arrival." At this moment the bell was rung again, and more furiously than before. Minnie sprang up, and ran from the room. She reached the chamber just as a servant was opening the door. What was their surprise, instead of the expected guest, to see Tiney standing on his hind feet pulling the bell rope! He had accidentally been shut into the chamber, and took this means to get out. The child ran down with the news, and Tiney, who followed her, was quite the hero of the occasion. After dinner, the conversation turned upon the intelligence and fidelity of dogs, when one of the gentlemen related the following singular incident, which he said was strictly true:-- "An English officer, who was in Paris somewhere near the year 1815, was once crossing one of the bridges over the Seine, when a poodle dog rubbed against his boots, which had just been polished, dirtying them so much that he was obliged to go to a man stationed on the bridge to clean them. "The same circumstance having occurred more than once, his curiosity was excited, and he watched the dog. He saw him roll himself in the mud of the river, and then station himself where he could see a person with well-polished boots, against which he contrived to rub himself. "Finding that the shoe-black was the owner of the poodle, he taxed him with the artifice; and after a little hesitation, he confessed that he had taught the dog the trick, in order to procure customers for himself. "The officer, being much surprised at the dog's sagacity, purchased him at a high price, and carried him to England. He kept him tied up in London some time, and then released him. The poodle remained with him a day or two, and then made his escape. A fortnight afterwards, he was found with his former master, pursuing his old trade of dirtying gentlemen's boots on the bridge." "Your story, which is a capital one," remarked another gentleman of the company, "reminds me of something I read lately, which, if not well vouched for, I should scarcely have credited. "A man by the name of Edward Cook, after having lived some time with his brother in Northumberland, came to the United States, bringing with him a pointer dog, which he lost soon afterwards, while shooting in the woods near Baltimore. "Some time after, his brother and sister, who continued to reside in Northumberland, were alarmed at hearing a dog in the night. They arose, admitted it to the house, and found, to their surprise, it was the same their brother had taken with him to America. The dog lived with them until Mr. Edward Cook returned, when they mutually recognized each other. "They were never able to trace by what vessel the dog had left America, or in what part of England it had been landed." "One of the best stories I have heard of the sagacity of a dog," remarked a lady, "was the account of Caniche, which, if not familiar to you, is well worth repeating." Mr. Lee begged her to favor the company with the story, when she began. "Once upon a time, Dumont, a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis, in Paris, was walking with a friend, when he offered to lay a wager with the latter, that, if he were to hide a six-livre piece in the dust, his dog would discover it, and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money secreted, after being carefully marked. "When the two had proceeded some distance from the spot, M. Dumont said to his dog that he had lost something, and ordered him to seek it. Caniche immediately turned back, and her master and companion pursued their walk to the Rue St. Denis. "Meanwhile, a traveller, who happened to be just then returning in a small chaise from Vincennes, perceived the piece of money which his horse had kicked from its hiding place. He alighted, took it up, and drove to his inn. "Caniche, after a careful search, had just reached the spot in pursuit of the lost piece, when the stranger picked it up. She at once set off after the chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close to the traveller. Having scented out the coin in the pocket of the latter, which she had been ordered to bring back, she leaped up incessantly at and about him. The traveller, supposing him to be some dog that had been lost by her master, regarded these movements as marks of fondness, and, as the animal was handsome, determined to keep her. He gave her a good supper, and, on retiring to bed, took her with him to his chamber. No sooner had he pulled off his pantaloons than they were seized by the dog: the owner, conceiving that she wanted to play with them, took them away again. The animal then began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, under the idea that the dog wanted to go out. Caniche snatched up the pantaloons, and away she flew, the traveller posting after her, dressed only in his night shirt. Anxiety for the fate of a purse full of gold Napoleons of forty francs each gave redoubled quickness to his steps. "Caniche, having a good start, ran full speed to her master's house, where the stranger arrived a moment afterward, breathless and enraged. He accused the dog of robbing him. "'Sir,' said the master, 'my dog is a very faithful creature; and if she has run away with your pantaloons, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you.' "The traveller became still more exasperated. "'Compose yourself, sir,' rejoined the other, smiling: 'without doubt there is in your purse a six-livre piece, with such and such marks, which you have picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine, and which I threw down there with the firm conviction that my dog would bring it back again. This is the cause of the robbery which she has committed upon you.' "The stranger's rage now yielded to astonishment; he delivered the six-livre piece to the owner, and could not forbear caressing the dog which had given him so much uneasiness and such an unpleasant chase." "There is no doubt," remarked Mr. Lee, "that the character and intellectual faculties of the dog are more strongly developed than those of any other quadruped, on account of his being the constant companion of man. It is a pleasing thought, the more that is known of his fidelity, faithfulness, and sagacity, the more he will be appreciated, and the better, therefore, his treatment is likely to be." CHAPTER VI. THE SHEPHERD'S DOG. "Mother," cried Minnie, one morning, "will you tell me about the dogs people used to have in old times, when the Bible was written? Father read about the dog with the flocks." "Yes, dear. The shepherds had dogs whose duty seemed only to be to guard the flock from the attacks of wild beasts, and, like the Spanish sheep dog of the present day, had nothing to do with the management of sheep. Indeed, he seems to have been regarded with great dislike by the Jews, and, if not carefully watched, was more destructive to the sheep than the beast of whose approach he was to give warning. When he was not on duty, he was regarded as a great pest and destroyer. "Among the Arabs, travellers in the East say, this is the character of them all; they are cruel, bloodthirsty, always hungry, and never satisfied. His look is savage, and his appearance disagreeable. The Moors grant him a corner in their tent, but that is all; they never caress him, never throw him any thing to eat. To this treatment must the indifference of dogs to their masters be ascribed. "The Spanish sheep dogs are used entirely for the defence of the flock against wolves. In case of attack, the sheep fly to them, and gather round them as friends and protectors. They are also taught, if a sheep lags behind unobserved by the shepherds, to stay with it, and defend it until some one returns for it. "In later times man has made a companion of this faithful animal, and the dog well reciprocates the kindness. The Scotch sheep dog, or colley, has no superior, scarcely an equal, in managing a flock. The Ettrick Shepherd says, that a single shepherd, with one of these colleys, will accomplish more in gathering a flock of sheep from a Highland farm than twenty shepherds could do without it. Neither hunger, fatigue, nor the worst treatment, will draw him from his master's side, and he will follow him through every hardship without murmur or repining. "Mr. Hogg also gives an account of his own colley, 'Sirrah,' who had one night a flock of lambs under his care. They became frightened at something, and ran in all directions, scattering among the hills. "'Sirrah,' exclaimed Mr. Hogg, in despair, 'they're a' awa'!' "The dog dashed off through the darkness. After spending, with his assistants, the whole night in a fruitless search after the fugitives, the shepherd commenced his return home. Coming to a deep ravine, they found Sirrah in charge of what, as they supposed, was one of the scattered divisions; but what was their joyful surprise to find that not one of the flock was missing!" "O," cried Minnie, "wasn't he a good fellow!" "Yes, dear; and the English sheep dog is also remarkable for its docility and faithfulness. It is larger and more powerful than the colley; and they are so useful to their employers that a writer says it would be almost impossible to conduct the markets without them. If you were to visit the Smithfield market in London, on Monday or Friday, you would see them at their work. Vast droves of sheep and other animals are brought from the country for the supply of the great metropolis, and are here crowded into the smallest possible space. Of course each owner wishes his flock kept from mingling with others; and this business devolves on his dog. If one sheep slips away, by a motion of the hand, or one word of command, the master signifies his desire, and the truant is instantly sought and returned, the dog always holding it by the side of the head, so as not to bruise the body. His eye is continually on his master's countenance, anxious to learn his wishes, or on the particular flock he has in charge. As difficulties multiply, his sagacity becomes almost human, and he seems to know every individual belonging to his flock." Minnie listened to this account with great interest; but now she started up, her whole countenance blazing with excitement, and exclaiming, "Father, you'll need a dog, you know, for your sheep. If you'll buy an English shepherd pup, I'll let Nannie take care of it, and train it for you." "Thank you, love," said her father, patting her head fondly; "but I'm afraid Nannie is scarcely capable of such business. I'll tell you a story of a remarkable Spanish shepherd dog which came to America from England. His name was Arrogante, and he was an animal of prodigious power. There was nothing affectionate or joyous about him. He never forgave an injury or an insult. He was proud and reserved, but not quarrelsome. Little curs would often run up to him, or seize his long, bushy tail; but he seldom condescended to notice them: when he did, he soon made an end of them. "Arrogante was honest, faithful, and courageous. He was a strictly temperance dog, and would allow no one on the premises who was what is called worse for liquor. Many a time, according to his own confession, the bailiff who usually fed Arrogante was obliged to sleep on the ground outside the farm because he came home unsteady from too much drinking. "On one occasion a couple of sailors, wishing to take advantage of the tide, came unexpectedly to the farm, soon after midnight, to take away some potatoes they had purchased from Mr. Rotch. But Arrogante would not consent to what he considered unlawful proceedings. He forced the men into an empty cart, and kept them there till morning. Once or twice they tried to put a foot over the side of the cart, but were convinced if they persevered the dog would kill them. They lost the tide, and were greatly disappointed, but, like honest fellows, confessed the fault was their own. "A gentleman who, I am sorry to say, was fond of spirituous liquors, lived near the farm, and often passed near the stable where Arrogante had his headquarters. This gentleman was regularly introduced to him, and warned by his master against ever provoking him. Returning home, late one Saturday evening, on horseback, from a convivial meeting, as he galloped past the stable he met Arrogante, and wantonly struck at him with a hunting whip. He was a large man, and rode a powerful horse, which was going at full speed, so that he escaped before the astonished dog recovered from his surprise. "The next morning the gentleman was on his way to church mounted as before. Arrogante, who was watching for him, at once knew the tread of his horse, and stood grimly awaiting his insulter. When the gentleman had approached within a few yards, the dog gave a spring, and met him in the air, in a deadly aim at his throat. Nothing but the sudden jump of the very active horse saved the rider's throat and his life; but so narrowly had he escaped, that he felt the gnashing teeth of the frenzied brute scrape down his dress, where they came in contact with, and closed upon, his watch, tearing it away with the adjacent clothing, and chewing it into atoms. The cause of this terrible onset not being disclosed at the time, Mr. Rotch, though convinced that Arrogante had not been the aggressor, felt obliged to have him shot." CHAPTER VII. THE INTELLIGENT POODLES. "You promised, cousin Ida, to read about the Stockholm dog." "I will, Minnie; but uncle George has something to tell you." "Read it now, Ida," said Mr. Lee, "and I will relate my stories afterward." "A captain of an English merchant vessel arrived in the port of Stockholm, in Sweden, and was soon afterward seized with an illness, of which he died. At the time of his death, he had on board a fine, large Newfoundland dog, which was fondly attached to him. On the day of the captain's funeral, Neptune was allowed to follow his poor master to the grave; and, after the funeral ceremony had been performed, the officers and crew made every exertion to induce the dog to follow them to the ship, but all in vain; and their endeavors to catch him proving fruitless, they left him in the churchyard. "During the short time the ship remained in port, Neptune might be seen at all times lying with his head on the grave, and every day the sailors brought him his food; but he was so vigilant on these occasions that they never could get near him, to take him back to the ship, and they were obliged to sail without him. "The neighboring Swedish inhabitants, in admiration of the extraordinary attachment displayed by this animal to his late master, made arrangements among themselves to supply him with his daily food; and, as the weather soon became extremely cold, a subscription was made, to build him a comfortable doghouse, which was placed near the grave. "It was affecting to see how earnestly Neptune gazed into every new-made grave, proving that he cherished the hope of seeing his beloved master again. "He remained on the grave for several years, and came to be called the dog of Stockholm, when, one day, he was found dead at his post." "I love Neptune," faltered Minnie, wiping her eyes. "I wish I could have seen him there. But, father, what did you say you had to tell me?" "I found two remarkable stories of the exhibition of dogs, which I thought would interest you; and so I took the pains to borrow the book for your benefit. "The first was an account of two pointers, Braque and Philax, exhibited in London by Mr. Leonard, a French gentleman of great wealth, who had instructed his dogs for his own amusement. He was earnest in stating that it only required gentle, persevering effort to teach them almost any thing. "The dogs were in vigorous health, and having bowed gracefully to the company, seated themselves on the hearth rug, side by side. Mr. Leonard spoke to his dogs in French, in his usual low tone, and ordered one of them to walk, the other to lie down, to run, to gallop, to halt, to crouch, all of which they did as promptly and correctly as the most docile children. "He then placed six cards, of different colors, on the floor, and, sitting with his back to the dogs, directed one to pick up the blue card and the other the white, varying his orders rapidly, and speaking in such a manner that it was impossible they could have executed his commands if they had not a perfect knowledge of his words. "For instance, he said, 'Philax, take the blue card, and give it to Braque; and, Braque, take the red card and give it to Philax;' and these orders were instantly executed. "Pieces of bread and meat were placed on the floor, when Philax was ordered to bring a piece of meat and give it to Braque, and then Braque was ordered to give it back to Philax, who was to return it to its place. Braque was then ordered to bring a piece of meat and eat it; but before he had time to swallow it, he was forbidden to do so, and instantly pushed it through his teeth, to show that he obeyed. "After this, Mr. Leonard invited any gentleman to play a game of dominos with Braque. The dog seated himself at the table, and his antagonist opposite him. Six dominos were given to the dog, and six more to the gentleman. Braque, having the double number, took it in his mouth, and put it in the middle of the table, when the gentleman put down a corresponding piece. "Braque instantly placed another correctly, when the gentleman intentionally placed a wrong number. "The dog stared, growled, and at last barked angrily. Finding no notice was taken of his remonstrances, he pushed away the wrong domino with his nose, picked a suitable one from his own pieces, and put it instead, when they went on, and Braque won the game." "O, father, I mean to teach Tiney to play with me." "But here is a wonderful story about dogs." "About fifty years ago, a Frenchman brought to London from eighty to a hundred dogs, chiefly poodles, all nearly the same size, and of the smaller kind. On the education of these animals their proprietor had bestowed a great deal of pains. "From puppyhood upwards they had been taught to walk on their hind legs, and maintained their footing with surprising ease in that unnatural position. "Among other performances was the representation of a siege. On the rising of a curtain, there appeared three ranges of ramparts, one above the other. In the centre of the fortress arose a tower, on which a flag was flying. The ramparts were guarded by soldiers in uniform, each armed with a musket or sword of an appropriate size. All these were dogs, and their duty was to defend the walls from an attacking party, whose movements now commenced the operations of the siege. "After some skirmishing, in which the chief, habited as an officer of rank, was conspicuous, the drums beat to arms, and the battle commenced in earnest. The chief of the assailants did wonders. He was seen, now here, now there, animating his men, and seeming to receive an accession of courage on every fresh repulse. "The rattle of the miniature cannon, the roll of the drums, the sound of trumpets, and the heroism of the actors on both sides, imparted an idea of reality to the scene. After numerous hair-breadth escapes, the enemy's standard was hurled down, and the British flag hoisted in its place; the ramparts were manned by the conquerors, and the smoke cleared away to the tune of 'God save the King.' "But a still more wonderful scene was an assembly room, on the sides and the farther end of which seats were placed; while a music gallery and a profusion of chandeliers gave a richness and truth to the general effect. Liveried servants were in attendance on a few of the dog company who entered. "Frequent knockings were now heard at the door, followed by the entrance of parties attired in the fashion of the period. These were the same dogs who had recently been engaged in the battle; but now all was peace, elegance, and ease. Different parties of dogs were introduced to each other with an appearance of the greatest decorum. The dogs representing ladies were dressed in silks, gauzes, laces, and gay ribbons, and adorned with artificial flowers, with flowing ringlets, with powdered and pomatumed headdresses, with caps and lappets, in ludicrous contrast to their natural features. The dogs representing gentlemen were equipped, some as youthful, and others as aged beaux. "The frequent bow and responsive courtesy produced great mirth in the audience. Suddenly, the master of ceremonies appeared. He wore a court dress, and his manners were in agreement with his costume. To some of the dog-gentlemen, he gave merely a look of recognition; to the ladies he was attentive; to some he offered his paw familiarly, to others he bowed with respect, and introduced one to another with an elegance that surprised the spectators. "The music was soon interrupted by a loud knocking, which announced the arrival of some important visitor. Several liveried servants entered, and then a sedan chair was borne in by appropriately dressed dogs. They removed the poles, raised the head, and opened the door of the sedan, when forth came a dog-lady splendidly attired in satin, decorated with jewels and a plume of ostrich feathers! She made a great impression, and appeared conscious of her superior charms, returning the bow of the master of ceremonies with a courtesy. "The band now struck up an air appropriate for the promenade; and the company instantly quitted their seats, and began to walk in pairs around the room. "On seats being resumed, the master of ceremonies and the sedan chair lady arose: he led her to the centre of the room, Foote's minuet struck up, when the pair commenced the movements with an attention to time. They performed the crossings and turnings, the advancings and retreatings, and obeisances, during which there was a perfect silence; and they concluded the whole amid thunders of applause." MRS. LESLIE'S JUVENILE SERIES. 16mo. FOR BOYS. Vol. I. THE MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. " II. PLAY AND STUDY. " III. HOWARD AND HIS TEACHER. " IV. JACK, THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. FOR GIRLS. Vol. I. TRYING TO BE USEFUL. " II. LITTLE AGNES. " III. I'LL TRY. " IV. ART AND ARTLESSNESS. MINNIE'S PET MONKEY. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Transcriber's Note A handwritten note on the dedication page identifies Henry Fowle Durant, Jr. as: "Son of founder of Wellesley College which was founded in memory of the boy who died in youth. K.F.R." The following corrections were made: 18 her parents went a changed to her parents went on a 24 "What can you give me for supper?" changed to "'What can you give me for supper? 24 '"That is too changed to "'That is too 29 from the ship. changed to from the ship." 73 them to you." changed to them to you. 78 rather sad." changed to rather sad. 82 very affecting." changed to very affecting. 129 have him shot. changed to have him shot." 150 The music was changed to "The music was 
26617	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. [Illustration: "Oh, dear! oh, dear me!" Page 85.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE MINNIE'S PET PARROT.] MINNIE'S PET PARROT. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. INTRODUCTION. The object of these little books is not so much to give full, scientific information with regard to the animals of which they treat, as to bring before the child such facts concerning them as shall interest him in their history, awaken a desire to know more of the particular traits of each, and especially lead him to be kind to them as a part of God's creation. Natural history we deem, according to the opinion of an eminent writer, as "not only the most captivating of the sciences, but the most humanizing. It is impossible to study the character and habits of the lower animals without imbibing an interest in their wants and feelings." Dr. Chalmers, who was famous for his interest in the brute creation, says, "To obtain the regards of man's heart in behalf of the lower animals, we should strive to draw his mind toward them. The poor brutes look, tremble, and give the signs of suffering, as we do. A threatened blow strikes them with terror, and they have the same distortions of agony on the infliction of it. Their blood circulates as ours does. They sicken, and grow feeble with age, and finally die, as we do. They possess also instincts which expose them to suffering in another quarter. The lioness, robbed of her whelps, makes the wilderness ring with her cries; and the little bird, whose tender household has been stolen, fills and saddens all the grove with her pathetic melody." The author has been careful to select only facts well authenticated. She takes this opportunity to acknowledge most gratefully her indebtedness to those friends who have contributed original anecdotes which have come under their own observation; and also to state that she has quoted from most of the popular English works on these subjects, prominent among which are Jesse, Richardson, and Hamilton, on dogs; Youatt, the Ettrick Shepherd, and Randall, on sheep; Morris, Brown's Natural History, Chambers's Miscellany, etc. She has been greatly encouraged, in the preparation of these volumes for the young, by the flattering reception of the previous productions of her pen. If these should meet with similar favor, they may be followed by other volumes of the same character and objects. THE AUTHOR. MINNIE'S PET PARROT. CHAPTER I. MINNIE AND HER PARROT. In these little books, I am going to tell you about Minnie, her home, and her pets; and I hope it will teach every boy and every girl who reads them to be kind to animals, as Minnie was. Minnie Lee had a pleasant home. She was an only child, and as her parents loved to please her, they procured every thing which they thought would make her happy. The first pet Minnie had was a beautiful tortoise-shell kitten, which she took in her baby arms and hugged tightly to her bosom. After a time, her father, seeing how much comfort she took with kitty, bought her a spaniel. He already had a large Newfoundland dog; but Mrs. Lee was unwilling to have him come into the house, saying that in summer he drew the flies, and in winter he dirtied her hearth rugs. So Leo, as the great dog was called, was condemned to the barn, while Tiney could rove through the parlors and chambers whenever he pleased. In Minnie's seventh year, her father bought her a Shetland pony and a lamb, which he told her was called a South Down--a rare and valuable breed. The little girl now thought her hands quite full; but only the next Christmas, when her uncle came home from sea, he told her he had brought an addition to her pets; and true enough, when his luggage came from town, there was a bag containing a real, live monkey, named Jacko. These, with the silver-gray parrot, which had been in the family for years, gave Minnie employment from morning till night. You will wonder, perhaps, that one child should have so many pets; and, indeed, the parrot belonged to her mother; but when I tell you that, though her parents had had six children, she was the only one remaining to them, and that in her infancy she was very sickly, you will not wonder so much. The doctor said that their only hope of bringing her up was to keep her in the open air as much as possible. "Let her have a run with Leo," he used to say; or, "Get her a horse, and teach her to ride. That will do her more good than medicine." When her father came home from town, if he did not see his little daughter on the lawn, playing with Fidelle, the cat, and Tiney, the dog, he was almost sure to find her in the shed where Jacko's cage was kept, with Miss Poll perching on her shoulder. When visitors called and asked to see her, her mother would laugh, as she answered, "I'm sure I don't know where the child is, she has so many pets." Minnie was not allowed to study much in books; indeed, she scarcely knew how to read at all; yet she was not an ignorant child, for her father and mother took great pains to teach her. She knew the names of all the different trees on her father's place, and of all the flowers in her mother's garden; but her favorite study was the natural history of beasts and birds; and nothing gave her so much pleasure as to have her father relate anecdotes of their intelligence and sagacity. He had a large, well-selected library, where were many rare volumes on her favorite subject, illustrated with pictures of different animals. When Mr. Lee could not recall a story as often as she wished, she would take his hand and coax him to the library. Then she would run up the steps to her favorite shelf, and taking down a book almost as large as she could lift, say, playfully, "Now, father, I'm ready for you to read." Mrs. Lee often found them sitting together, talking over the wonderful feats of some dog, cat, horse, or monkey, and laughed as she said to her husband, "I believe Minnie comes naturally by her love for animals, for you seem as much interested in the stories as she does." Mr. Lee lived in a very handsome house about seven miles from the city where he did business. He had made a great deal of money by sending ships to foreign lands, freighted with goods, which he sold there in exchange for others which were needed at home. He now lived quite at his ease, with plenty of servants to do his bidding, and horses and carriages to carry him wherever he wished to go. * * * * * But in this volume I shall speak of himself, his family, equipage, and estate, only as they are connected with my object, which is to tell you about Minnie's pet parrot, and also to relate stories of other parrots, all of which are strictly true. Poll was brought from the coast of Africa by a sea captain, who presented her to a lady, aunt to Mrs. Lee. At the lady's death it was given to her niece, and had been an important member of the family ever since. It was not known how old she was when she was brought to America; but she had been in the family for fifteen years, and therefore was old enough to know how to behave herself properly on all occasions. Miss Poll had a plumage of silver-gray feathers, with a brilliant scarlet tail. Her eyes were a bright yellow, with black pupils, and around them a circle of small white feathers. Her beak was large and strong, hooked at the end. Her tongue was thick and black. Her claws were also black, and she could use them as freely as Minnie used her hands. When her mistress offered her a cup of tea,--a drink of which she was very fond,--she took it in her claws, and drank it as gracefully as any lady. In the morning, when her cage was cleaned, she always had a cup of canary seed; but at other times she ate potato, cracker, bread, apple, and sometimes a piece of raw meat. She liked, too, to pick a chicken bone, and would nibble away upon it, laughing and talking to herself in great glee. Miss Poll, I am sorry to say, was very proud and fond of flattery. If Mrs. Lee went to the cage, and put out her finger for the bird to light upon it, and did not praise her, she would often bite it. But if she said, "Sweet Poll! dear Poll! she is a darling!" she would arch her beautiful neck, and look as proud as any proud miss. Then she would tip her head, and put her claws in her mouth, just like a bashful little girl. Poll was exceedingly fond of music, and learned a tune by hearing it played a few times; but she had a queer habit of leaving off in the middle of a line, when she would whistle for the dog, or call out, "Leo, come here! lie down, you rascal!" Poll was very fond of Minnie, and indeed of all children. When she saw the little girl come into the room with her bonnet on, she exclaimed, in a natural tone, "Going out, hey?" When Minnie laughed, she would laugh too, and keep repeating, "Going out? Good by." Parrots are said to be very jealous birds, and are displeased to have any attention shown to other pets. I think Poll was so, and that she was angry when she saw Minnie show so much kindness to Fidelle. One day she thought she would punish the kitty; so she called, "Kitty, kitty," in the most sweet, coaxing tones. Puss seemed delighted, and walked innocently up to the cage, which happened to be set in a chair. "Kitty, kitty," repeated Poll, until she had the little creature within reach of her claws, when she suddenly caught her, and bit her ears and her tail, Fidelle crying piteously at this unexpected ill treatment, until some one came to rescue her. Then puss crept softly away to the farther end of the room, and hid under a chair, where she began to lick her wounded tail, while Poll laughed and chuckled over the joke. CHAPTER II. THE PARROT AND THE TRAVELLER. One morning when the whole family were in the breakfast room, Poll began to talk to herself, imitating exactly the manner of a lady who had recently visited the house with her children. "Little darling beauty, so she is; she shall have on her pretty new bonnet, and go ridy, ridy with mamma; so she shall." In the midst of this, the bird stopped and began to cry like an impatient child. "Don't cry, sweet," she went on, changing her voice again; "there, there, pet, don't cry; hush up, hush up." This conversation she carried on in the most approved baby style, until, becoming excited by the laughter of the company, she stopped, and began to laugh too. After this, whenever she wanted to be very cunning, she would repeat this performance, much to the amusement of all who heard her. Poll was a very mischievous bird, and on this account was not let out of her cage, unless Minnie or some one was at liberty to watch her. Mrs. Lee, who usually sat in the back parlor, from which place she could hear Poll talk, was sure to know if the bird was doing any great mischief, for she always began to scold herself on such occasions. "Ah, ah!" she exclaimed, one day; "what are you about, Poll?" Mrs. Lee rose quickly, and advanced on tiptoe to the door, where she saw the parrot picking at some buttons on the sofa, which she had often been forbidden to touch. Much amused at the sight, she listened to an imitation of her own voice, as follows:-- "Go away, I tell you, Poll! I see you! Take care!" Finding her buttons fast disappearing, she suddenly entered, when the bird went quickly back to her perch. In the afternoon, when her husband returned from town, she related the incident to him and to Minnie. "That shows us," answered the gentleman, laughing, "how careful we ought to be what we say before her; we shall be sure to hear it again." After tea, when Minnie and her father were in the library, they heard Poll singing a variety of tunes in her merriest tones. They stopped talking a while to listen, and then both laughed heartily to see how quickly she struck into a whistle, as Tiney walked deliberately into the room in search of her little mistress. "What a funny bird she is!" cried Minnie; "she runs on so from one thing to another." "In that respect she shows a want of judgment," replied her father; "but, by the way, I have a story for you of a curious parrot, which I will read. "A gentleman who had been visiting a friend near the sea shore, and concluded to return by way of a ferry boat, walked to the beach to see whether there was one ready to start. As he stood looking over the water, much disappointed that there was none in sight, he was surprised to hear the loud cry of the boatman,-- "'Over, master? Going over?' "'Yes, I wish to go,' he answered, looking eagerly about. "'Over, master? Going over?' was asked again in a more earnest tone; and again he repeated,-- "'Yes, I wish to go as soon as possible.' "The questions were repeated constantly, and yet no preparation was made for granting his request. He began to be somewhat indignant, and seeing no one near upon whom he could vent his wrath, he walked rapidly toward a public house near by. Here his anger was speedily changed to mirth, for on going near the door he saw a parrot hanging in a cage over the porch, from whom all the noise had proceeded." "Oh, father," exclaimed Minnie, greatly delighted, "that was a real good story. Isn't there another one?" "Yes; here is one where a man made his bird revenge his insults. "There was once a distiller who had long suffered in his business by a neighbor, who had several times reported him to the public authorities as one who made and sold rum without a license to do so. At last he became very angry at being interfered with, and, as no ready means offered to revenge himself, he adopted the following singular method. "He had a large green parrot, which could speak almost any thing. This parrot he taught to repeat, in a clear, loud, and distinct voice, the ninth commandment,--'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.' "Having committed this lesson satisfactorily, the owner of the parrot hung him outside one of the front windows of the house, where his troublesome neighbor, who lived directly opposite, would be able to have the full benefit of the inspired words. "The first time the neighbor came in sight, the parrot began, 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor;' and this was repeated on every occasion, to the great delight of the neighborhood." At this moment, Mrs. Lee opened the door, to tell Minnie that Anne, the nurse, was waiting to put her to bed. "It's too early," began the child, impatiently; "I don't want to go yet." Her mother only answered by pointing to the little French timepiece on the mantel. "I was having such a good time," sobbed Minnie; "I always have to go just when I'm enjoying myself the most." Hearing this, Poll instantly began to whine, "I don't want to go," and then, putting her claw up to her mouth, sobbed, for all the world, just like her little mistress. Minnie wanted to laugh, but she felt ashamed, and did not like to have her parents see her; so she said, "Keep still, Poll; you've nothing to do with it." This reproof only excited the bird the more, and in a loud, angry tone, she went on,-- "Keep, still, Poll! don't meddle! don't meddle! Ah, Poll, what are you about? Take care; I see you!" Mr. Lee watched his daughter anxiously, to see whether she would recover her temper, and was pleased to observe that she presently advanced to the cage, when she held out her finger to say "Good night" to her pet, as usual. "Good night; say your prayers," repeated the bird, holding out her claw. She then gave her parents their good-night kiss, and snatching Tiney in her arms, went gayly from the room. CHAPTER III. POLL'S FUNNY TRICKS. In summer, Poll lived mostly out of doors, hung in a cage at the top of the piazza. Here she seemed very much amused at the various operations she witnessed. In the morning, she was placed in front of the house on account of the shade; but after dinner, the cage was carried round to a porch, where the shed and barn were in full view. From the front porch, she could salute all the early visitors, and watch the butcher's cart as it passed, often startling him with the inquiry,-- "What have you to-day?" Then, if no one answered, she would quickly reply, "Veal," or, "Only veal to-day." But her greatest amusement was to watch a family of children, who lived nearly opposite. There was one child just commencing to go to school--a duty which he disliked exceedingly. As soon as Poll saw him she would begin, "You must go, or you'll grow up a dunce." Then she would whine, and cry, "I won't go, I say I won't." "Go right along, you naughty boy, or I shall tell your father." Poll now begins to sob and sniffle in earnest, when she suddenly stops and begins the whole conversation over again, greatly to the merriment of her hearers. There is, however, one trick that Poll has learned, which is quite inconvenient. Near Mr. Lee's house, the ground rises, his residence being on a hill. Teams loaded with coal, and other heavy articles, continually pass by, it being of course quite an object with the drivers to get the horses to the top of the hill without stopping on the way. But this would spoil Miss Poll's fun. When they are about half way up, and just in the steepest part, she calls out, "Whoa," in a loud, authoritative voice, so exactly in imitation of the driver that they obey at once. This she repeats as often as he attempts to start them forward, until, greatly vexed, I am sorry to say, he sometimes swears at both the horses and the bird. Nor is this all. When the teams have reached the top of the hill, and the driver wishes to let them stop and breathe, Poll begins to cluck for them to go on, and will not let them rest until they are out of her sight, when she begins a hearty laugh over her own joke. In the mean time, the driver frets and fumes, and wishes that bird had the driving of those horses for once. Poll has formed quite an acquaintance with most of the children of the neighborhood. At one time, there was a great excitement among the boys in regard to a company of soldiers they were forming. On Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, they marched up and down the street, past Mr. Lee's, beating a drum, and singing, "Rub-a-dub, dub! rub-a-dub, dub! Hurrah, hurrah!" As soon as they were out of hearing, Poll began the story, and went through the drill with great glee. From the back porch, Poll witnessed the grooming of the horses, when, as was often the case, they were taken out for Mrs. Lee and Minnie to ride. Indeed, she did her best, as far as words could go, to assist in the operation. While the harness was being put on, she continually called out, "Back, sir! Stand still! What are you about there?" This was often done, greatly to the discomfiture of the hostler, who was obliged generally to countermand these orders. I have told you that Poll was very fond of her friends, and jealous of their affection. She was also very strong in her dislikes. There was one member of the family whom she could not endure, and she took every occasion to vent her spite against him. This was the colored boy who blacked the boots, scoured the knives, and ran errands. Early one morning, when Poll was hanging up at a back window, she saw Tom polishing the boots, and whistling a merry tune, never once thinking of his enemy near him. Squeezing herself, as she often did, through the wires of her cage, she crept silently along through an inner room into the shed, when she flew directly at him, caught him by the legs, and held him fast. Poor Tom was frightened nearly out of his senses, and yelled for some one to take the parrot away. The servants enjoyed the fun too well, however, to release him. They laughed heartily, telling him to shake her off; but he was paralyzed with fright, and stood the picture of horror until the cook coaxed Poll away. At another time, she took a great dislike to the groom, who was an Irishman. Watching a favorable opportunity, she flew at him, caught hold of his shirt bosom, and held it so tightly with her strong beak, that it was some time before Mrs. Lee, who was attracted to the kitchen by the noise, could make her let go her hold of the astonished object of her hatred. After this, whenever the women servants were displeased with the man, they would slyly let Poll out of her cage, when she darted directly toward him, and was thus the means of his losing many a dinner. When his grievances became too heavy, he complained to his mistress, who soon put a stop to such unjust proceedings. One evening, when Mr. Lee drove into the yard, he heard Minnie laughing heartily. Approaching nearer, he saw her sitting on the piazza; Leo, looking rather ashamed, crouching at her feet; and Poll talking, in great excitement, in exact imitation of his own tones-- "Leo, come here! good fellow! Down, sir! Leo, Leo! Hurrah, boys; what fun!" As it was near the time for his master's return, the dog had been more readily deceived by the parrot's call, and had run rapidly toward the house, when he perceived that he had been made a fool of, as he often had been before. A few hours later, they were talking it over in the library, when Mr. Lee said he thought he had read an incident very similar. Minnie joyfully clapped her hands, while her father took down the book, and read,-- "A parrot belonging to a gentleman in Boston was once sunning himself in his cage, at the door of a shop. Seeing a dog in the distance, he began to whistle, when the animal, imagining it to be the call of his master, ran swiftly toward the house. "At this moment, the bird exclaimed, 'Get out, you brute!' when the astonished dog hastily retreated, leaving the parrot laughing and enjoying the joke." "That reminds me," added Mrs. Lee, "of a story a lady once told me of a parrot she owned, and which was really a wonderfully intelligent bird. A new family moved into the neighborhood, consisting, among others, of two young ladies, who always dressed very gayly. "Polly had a bad habit of making remarks upon the passers by, as she hung in her cage overlooking the main street. If, as was sometimes the case, persons engaged in conversation stopped near the house, they would often be startled by the cry,-- "'Go home, now! Want to quarrel?' "But when she saw ladies dressed fashionably, she gave utterance to a most contemptuous laugh, which would have been insult enough by itself; but she often accompanied it by the words,-- "'La, how smart I do feel!' "My friend called at once on her new neighbors, but unfortunately found they were out; she waited a long time for the call to be returned, and at last began to wonder that no notice was taken of her politeness, when the cause of the neglect was explained by a mutual friend. "It appeared that on several occasions the young ladies had passed the house, and had heard the insulting laugh and words, which they attributed to my friend; so that when asked whether they had become acquainted with Mrs. G., they answered, coolly, 'We have no wish to make her acquaintance.' "Being pressed for a reason, they at last confessed that they had been repeatedly insulted, and narrated in what manner it had happened. "This answer caused such a burst of merriment that they were surprised, until, being told that it was the chattering of a tame parrot, they soon joined in the laugh, and went at once to make her acquaintance, and also that of her mistress." CHAPTER IV. POLL AT THE PARTY. "Please, mamma, tell me all you can remember about Mrs. G.'s parrot," cried Minnie, a few days later. "Was she as wonderful as our Poll? and was she as handsome?" Mrs. Lee smiled. "If I should answer all your questions," she said presently, "I should have work for the rest of the day. My friend's parrot was green, with a brilliant red neck and tail. She was a great talker, and seemed to understand the meaning of much of what was said in her presence. I can recollect now two or three incidents which are well worth repeating. "Polly was very fond of children, and enjoyed being let out of her cage to play with them as much as our Poll does. One day, when Mrs. G. had company, they were all startled by hearing loud and repeated screams of distress. Recognizing the voice of her favorite bird, my friend ran hastily into the yard, expecting to see Polly in some dreadful trouble. To her surprise, there was the bird perched safely on the clothes line; but going a few steps farther, she saw her youngest child, a darling girl between two and three years old, just balancing over the edge of a hogshead of water, and entirely unable to recover herself, or to utter one sound. Situated as she was, the poor child could not have remained long in that position, and, but for the alarm given by the watchful bird, must have fallen into the water and drowned." "O, wasn't that a good bird, mamma? I'm sure they all must have loved her better than ever. Will you please tell the rest?" "Mr. G. was for a long time ill, and was unable to rest well at night. Polly, who always remained in their chamber at night, was in the habit of rising early, and practising all her accomplishments by herself as soon as she could see. She would begin, 'Mr. G.,' and then go on, 'My dear,' the name he always called his wife, 'Francis, Maria,' until she had repeated the name of every member of the family; after which she chattered away a strange mixture of sense and nonsense until called to breakfast. After the gentleman was so ill, his best hours for rest were soon after dawn, and my friend would whisper, 'Still, Polly! keep still!' "This caution the parrot tried to enforce on herself by softly repeating the words away down her throat--'Keep still; Polly! keep still!' and ever after until Mr. G.'s death, whenever she saw her mistress point to the bed, and put her finger on her lip, she began to whisper, 'Keep still, Polly! Keep still!' "At Mr. G.'s funeral, the clergyman, who was an Episcopalian, read with great solemnity the funeral service. "The strangeness of the scene, the great concourse of people, and the sound of weeping, so interested Polly that she did not utter a word; but no sooner had the family returned from the grave than she began to utter sounds in sentences so nearly like what she had heard at the funeral, that it was recognized at once as the service for the dead. "I forgot to tell you that, having been in the habit of hearing the children when they repeated the Lord's prayer, she had long ago learned it, and never went to sleep on her perch without uttering the words with apparent solemnity. "After the funeral, whenever a number of persons were assembled and began to talk in a mournful tone, Polly always seemed to think this a proper occasion to repeat her funeral service, often occupying an hour in the recital. There were no distinct words; but the sentences were so similar in length, and the tone so exactly that of the clergyman, that many persons recognized it without being told who the parrot wished to imitate." "I think Polly is the very best parrot I ever knew," exclaimed Minnie. "I wish Mrs. G. would bring her here. I wonder what Poll would say to her." "Mrs. G.'s bird is dead, my dear; and a sad death it was too. I will tell you about it. After her husband's decease, my friend had a little Blenheim spaniel presented her--a beautiful creature, with long white hair like satin, and salmon ears. She was naturally fond of pets, and soon became greatly attached to the dog, who returned her affection with all his heart. As soon as she entered the room, he ran joyfully to meet her, licking her hands, and showing his pleasure in every possible way. "For some days she noticed that the bird seemed dull, and talked very little; yet she did not connect it with the fact of her attention to the dog. But at last as Polly refused to eat, and seemed uneasy when the spaniel was present, she was convinced that the bird was jealous. Every means was tried to reconcile the old friend to the new one, but in vain. Polly knew that children must of course be loved and cared for. She herself loved the children of her mistress; but she could not endure that any other favorite should divide the affection she had so long enjoyed. From this time she drooped; and upon consulting a physician, he said she had every symptom of consumption. Her feet swelled, and at last she died on my friend's breast, seeming 'happy in being allowed to die in the arms of one she so dearly loved.'" A few weeks later, Mrs. Lee invited a small party of friends to take tea at her house. They were all seated in the parlor, and Poll, who was out of her cage, perched on the back of a chair in the next room, and listened with the greatest curiosity to the hum of so many voices. Presently one of the ladies related a precious bit of scandal then running through the town. She had scarcely finished her narration, when a shrill exclamation,-- "Possible!" in a tone of incredulity, came through the open doors. The relator blushed deeply, but went on to prove that her statement must be true, while Mrs. Lee was so much amused, she was obliged to make a great effort to keep from laughing. Again, as soon as the lady ceased, the exclamation,-- "Possible!" was repeated, as if in greater doubt. This was too much of an insult, and the lady's face kindled with anger. Mrs. Lee quietly arose, saying, "Poll must come in and make her own apology for her rudeness;" and soon returned with the parrot clinging to her finger. "Poll has a bad habit of interrupting conversation," she said, playfully, "especially when she wishes to be invited to join the company, as at present." "Could that sound come from a bird?" inquired the lady; "I certainly thought it was a human voice." Many of the company tried to make Poll talk, but she declined for the present. After a while, however, when some witty remark was made which caused a general laugh, Poll laughed too, both loud and long, and then, as if perfectly exhausted with so much emotion, exclaimed,-- "Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!" Two or three of the company had been invited to bring their children, and just at this time Minnie returned with her young friends, having introduced them to Jacko and her other pets. The little girls gathered eagerly around Mrs. Lee, begging her to make Poll talk to them. "Perhaps you would like to play a game of hide-and-seek with her," cried Minnie; "she plays that real nice." "Yes, oh, yes indeed!" was the united response. "Come, Poll," called Minnie, extending her finger. The parrot went at first with seeming reluctance, but presently entered into the spirit of the play, running after the children around the tables and chairs, laughing as merrily as any of them, and every once in a while repeating that curious "Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!" as if quite worn out. Minnie then called the little girls into the next room, shutting the door behind them, when Poll, putting her head down close to the crack, seemed trying to listen to what they said. She well understood the game, however, for she presently called, "Whoop," and then hid behind the door, to catch them when they came along, crying out, as she did so, "Ah, you little rogue!" After this, she laughed so heartily that none could help joining her,--certainly the ladies could not; but all agreed she knew altogether too much for a bird, and was the most wonderful parrot they had ever seen. CHAPTER V. POLL AND THE BACON. Minnie went one day with her parents to a neighboring town, to visit some friends. She had no sooner alighted from the carriage, than she heard the familiar sound of a parrot's voice. "How do you do, miss?" cried the bird, arching its superb neck. "I am very well, thank you," answered Minnie, laughing. "How are you?" "I'm sick, very sick." The funny creature hung her head, and assumed a plaintive, whining tone. "Got a bad cough. Oh, dear!" (Coughing violently.) "I'm sick, very sick. Call the doctor." "I'm glad you have a parrot," the little girl said to her companion, who stood by laughing. "I have one too; I should admire to hear them talk to each other." "Yes, I should; but mother thinks one such noisy bird is more than she can endure. Father had Poll given to him when he was a little boy, and he says he couldn't keep house without her. She is very old indeed, and is often sick, though now she is only making believe. Father will tell you how many years she has been in the family." "There is nothing I like so well," exclaimed Minnie, enthusiastically, "as to hear stories about birds and beasts." "Oh, I'll get father, then, to tell you a funny one about Polly when he was a little boy. He knows all about parrots, because he once went to the country where they live." At dinner, Minnie was introduced to the gentleman, whom she regarded with great interest, on account of his fondness for the bird. No sooner was the dessert brought on the table, and the servants had retired from the room, than Lizzie Monson, her young friend, began. "Papa, will you please to tell Minnie about Poll finding out who stole the bacon?" Mr. Lee burst into a merry laugh, but presently said,-- "I warn you it is a dangerous business. Our little daughter has such a passion for birds and beasts, that if she once finds out you are a story-teller, she won't let you off very easily." Mr. Monson gazed a moment into the sparkling countenance of the child, upon which her father's remarks had caused the roses to deepen, and said, smilingly, "She does not look very savage. Any contribution I can make," turning to the child, "to your stock of knowledge on your favorite subject will give me great pleasure." His bow was so profound and his smile so arch that the little girl could not help laughing as she thanked him, while Lizzie whispered, "Isn't papa a funny man?" "Ask your friend to come into the library," called out Mr. Monson, as they were leaving the dining hall. "Father, isn't Poll sixty years old?" cried Lizzie, pressing forward to attract his attention. "She has been in the family ninety years," answered the gentleman, "and was then probably one or two years of age. It is astonishing how much she knows. Lizzie, run and open her cage, and bring her here." "She is, indeed, a splendid bird," remarked Mrs. Lee, gazing with delight at her richly-tinted plumage. "See, Minnie, how her neck is shaded from the most beautiful green to the richest mazarine blue." "And look at her breast, mother; see those elegant red feathers!" "The parrot," said Mr. Monson, "is an insulated bird. Its manners and general structure, and the mode of using its feet, as described by naturalists, are different from any other bird. Mr. Vigors, Mr. Swainson, and others, consider parrots the only group among birds which is completely _sui generis_. A parrot will, by means of its beak, and aided by its thick, fleshy tongue, clear the inside of a fresh pea from the outer skin, rejecting the latter, and performing the whole process with the greatest ease. "In climbing, I presume you have noticed, she uses her hooked beak as well as her feet; and in feeding she rests on one foot, holding the food to her beak with the other. Her plumage is generally richly-tinted, while in some varieties, like this, it is superb. In all kinds the skin throws off a mealy powder, which saturates the feathers and makes them greasy." "Please, papa," cried Lizzie, "to tell about these birds as you saw them in their own country." "I suppose, Minnie," continued the gentleman, "that you know this is not the home of your favorite bird. You never see them at liberty and flying from tree to tree, as you do the robin or bluebird." "Yes, sir, I know that. Uncle Frank was going to bring me another parrot from South America, but mother thought one was enough." "I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Monson, enthusiastically, "I can scarcely be reconciled to the noise of one, rousing me at all sorts of unreasonable hours, and keeping up such a clatter through the whole day." "They are confined to the warmer climates," the gentleman went on, "and are most abundant in the tropics. I have seen a flock of them resting in a grove of trees, chattering and talking like a company of politicians at a caucus. They are indeed very noisy, keeping together in large flocks, and feeding upon fruits, buds, and seeds. At night they crowd together as closely as possible, and hiding their heads under their wings, sleep soundly. As soon as the first ray of light can be discerned, they are all awake, chatting over the business for the day. First they make their toilet, and in this they assist each other, being very fond of pluming each other's feathers. "One peculiarity of this bird is, that he has but one wife, and never marries again. The pairs form lasting attachments, and when one dies the mate sometimes mourns itself to death. They make a kind of nest in the hollow trees, and there bring up their young. They belong to the scansorial order of birds; that is, they have two toes forward and two backward. Some of them fly slowly; but others wing their way with the greatest rapidity, and for a long period." "I think," remarked Mrs. Lee, "they are the most intelligent of the feathered race." "Yes, naturalists decidedly give them that character. Poll sometimes seems almost too human; and then they are so quick to learn. Did you know, Minnie, that a parrot is considered an article of delicacy for the table?" "O, no, indeed, sir! I wouldn't eat a parrot for any thing." "Nor I; but among other rare and luxurious articles on the bill of fare, described by �lian, as entering into the feasts of the Emperor Heliogabalus, are the combs of fowls, the tongues of peacocks and nightingales, the heads of parrots and thrushes; and it is reported that with the bodies of the two latter he fed his beasts of prey." Minnie's countenance expressed great distress, as she quickly exclaimed, "O, how cruel!" "Now, papa," said Lizzie, "please tell her about Poll and the bacon." "Yes, I mustn't forget that. When I was a little boy, Minnie, my father kept a country store, where all manner of things were exposed for sale. On one counter, in the genteel part, were cambrics, calicoes, and even silks for ladies' dresses, while at the other end were barrels of sugar, boxes of cheese, and other groceries, and above them hung large legs of bacon. "Midway between these, a hook was driven into the beam, and there Poll used to hang as long ago as I can remember any thing. "It was the custom for the men of the village to gather together at the store, and talk politics, or gossip about the affairs of the place. Long before town meeting, it was well understood at the store how each man in the community would vote, and who would be elected to the different offices. "Among others who used to come there, was a man by the name of Brush. He was considered an inoffensive, well meaning man, with no force of character; but all supposed him honest. Poll, however, knew to the contrary; and after a while she convinced others that Brush was a thief. "It was noticed, when this man got excited by the conversation, that he always left the circle round the stove, and walked back and forth through the store; and it was at such times that he contrived to cut large slices from the bacon, which he carefully concealed in his pocket. My father soon began to conclude that the meat, and sundry other articles, were missing, but could not imagine who was the thief. He watched for several days, not noticing that whenever Mr. Brush made his appearance, Poll instantly screamed, 'Bacon.' "One evening he determined to watch, as, the day previous, a larger slice than usual had been taken, and he was hid behind a barrel, when he saw Mr. Brush coming softly toward him. "'Bacon! bacon! bacon!' screamed Poll, at the top of her voice. "'I'd wring your neck if I dared,' murmured the man, glancing maliciously toward the bird; and then he walked back again to the fire. "After this, father watched the parrot, and found he made this cry only when Brush appeared. He thought it so singular that he charged him with the theft, which the man, in great confusion reluctantly confessed. "The curious story of his detection by a parrot soon spread through the town, and for years Mr. Brush was called by the name of Bacon, while the bird received much attention and many compliments for her sagacity." "I suppose, then, Poll saw him take it," said Minnie, gravely. "O, yes! He witnessed the whole proceeding, and did his best to give warning at once; but his loud cries were not understood." "Wasn't he a good bird?" asked Lizzie. "Yes, indeed. I suppose it would be a good plan to hang a parrot in every store." CHAPTER VI. PARROT SAVING THE SILVER. Minnie was quite distressed one morning, when, on going to Poll's cage to say "Good morning" to her pet, she found her unable to answer, only returning a feeble moan. She ran in haste to tell her mother, who thought it one of the parrot's tricks. When she came down, however, she found Poll was really ill. [Illustration: "Dear Poll! darling birdie!" Page 115.] "Dear Poll! darling birdie!" she said, tenderly, stroking the beautiful head. "I'll make you some tea, which I hope will soon cure you." She went at once to a side closet, and taking a little pinch of saffron from a paper, sent it to the cook, with directions to steep it at once. Breakfast that morning was a dull affair, without Poll's lively talk; and as, after the saffron tea, she did not at once revive, Minnie began to mourn so much lest her dear parrot would die, that her father, to occupy her attention, took her to the library, and read her some anecdotes, a few of which I will repeat. "A tradesman in London kept two parrots, which usually hung in a cage over the porch projecting from the front door, so that when a person stood on the side of the street nearest the house, the birds could not be seen. "One day, when the family were all absent, some one rapped at the door, when one of the parrots instantly called out,-- "'Who's there?' "'The man with the leather,' was the reply. "'Oh, ho!' retorted the parrot. "The door not being opened as he expected, the stranger knocked again. "'Who's there?' repeated the bird. "'Why don't you come down?' cried the man, impatiently. 'I can't wait all day.' "'Oh, ho!' was the only response. "The man now became furious, and leaving the knocker, began to pull violently at the door bell, when the other parrot, who had not before spoken, exclaimed, 'Go to the gate.' "'What gate?' he asked, seeing no such convenience. "'Newgate,' was the answer, just as the man, greatly enraged at the thought of being sent to Newgate prison, ran back into the street, and found out whom he was questioning." "Dr. Thornton, a benevolent physician in London, once visited the menagerie in Haymarket, where he saw a parrot confined by a chain fastened to his leg. He talked with the bird, and found he could imitate the barking of dogs, the cackling of fowls, and many sounds like the human voice. The bird, however, seemed melancholy and restless, which induced the good doctor to try and buy him of the owner. He succeeded at last in getting him for the sum of seventy-five dollars, which Dr. Thornton did not regret, since it would rescue the poor creature from her present unhappy confinement. "The first thing he did was to loose him from the chain, and carry him home, where his diet was changed from scalded bread to toast and butter for breakfast, and potatoes, dumplings, and fruit for dinner. "At first, his poor feet were so cramped, and the muscles so much weakened from long disuse, that he could not walk. He tottered at every step, and in a few minutes appeared greatly fatigued. But his liberated feet soon acquired uncommon agility, his plumage grew more resplendent, and he appeared perfectly happy. He no longer uttered harsh screams, but very readily learned many words, and amused himself for hours repeating them. He attached himself particularly to his kind benefactor, and always cheerfully practised his little accomplishments to please him, calling out, 'What o'clock? Pretty fellow! Saucy fellow! Turn him out, Poll.' "He was friendly to the children of the family, and to strangers, but exceedingly jealous of infants, from seeing them caressed. "He was remarkably fond of music, and danced to all lively tunes, moving his wings, and also his head, backward and forward, to keep time. If any person sang or played a wrong measure, he stopped instantly. When his quick scent announced the time of meals, he ran up and down the pole, uttering a pleasing note of request. "When any food was given him of which he was not very fond, he took it in his left claw, ate a little, and threw the rest down; but if the variety was nice and abundant, after eating what he wished, he carefully conveyed the remainder to his tin pail, saving it for another occasion. "Every Friday a scissors grinder came and worked under his window. After listening attentively, Poll tried to imitate the sound with his throat, but could not succeed. He then struck his beak against the perch; but his quick ear discerned a difference. Finally he succeeded by drawing his claw in a particular way across the tin perch, and repeated the performance of grinding every Friday, much to the amusement of those who saw him." Minnie was so much interested in these stories that she quite forgot her grief, until her mother opened the library door to tell her that her pet was beginning to sing. Minnie flew to see her, and before noon had the pleasure of knowing that Poll was quite recovered. Indeed, she had never seemed more gay. She hopped first on one foot and then on the other, in curious imitation of a polka dance, tossing her head on one side in a most coquettish manner. Then she talked and laughed with Minnie, exclaiming every now and then in a cunning tone, "What are you about, you rogue? O, you little rogue!" The little girl was delighted. She held Poll on her lap, caressing her fondly, and calling her by all sorts of endearing and funny names. The parrot on her part seemed desirous of showing her gratitude for relief from pain by doing all she could to please her little friend. She often heard the cook calling Tom, who was apt to run to the barn when she wanted him; and she began in a loud, impatient tone, "Tom!" her voice rising; then again, "Tom!" falling inflection; "Tom!" again; "I say, Tom; come here, you rascal!" Finding this made Minnie laugh heartily, she began to call, "Leo, come here! Lie down, sir! Tiney, Tiney," in a small, fine voice, like the child's; "Tiney, Tiney, Tiney! O, you little rogue!" After this she chattered away like Jacko, cocking her eyes and looking as if she thought herself very smart. Once in a while Poll talked Portuguese, which she had learned from some sailors who were in the vessel when she came over, more than fifteen years before. She began now to talk what sounded to Minnie like perfect jargon, but which so much amused the bird that she kept stopping to laugh most heartily. By and by Mrs. Lee was ready to sit down; and she said Poll had had excitement enough for a sick bird, but told Minnie if she would bring the book about birds, she would try and find some true stories to read to her. The next hour was passed most pleasantly to both of them. Some of the stories I will tell you. "A parrot belonging to a lady in England was fond of attending family prayers; but for fear he might take it into his head to join in the responses, he was generally removed. "But one evening, finding the family were assembling for that purpose, he crept under the sofa, and thought himself unnoticed. For some time he maintained a decorous silence; but at length he found himself unable to keep still, and instead of 'Amen,' burst out with, 'Cheer, boys; cheer!' "The lady directed the butler to take him from the room; and the man had taken him as far as the door, when the bird, perhaps thinking he had done wrong, and had better apologize, called out,-- "'Sorry I spoke.' "The overpowering effect on those present can be better imagined than described." "Here is a story," continued Mrs. Lee, "of a parrot who acted as a police officer." "In Camden, New Jersey, Mr. John Hutchinson had a very loquacious parrot, and also a well-stocked chest of silver plate. One day some robbers thought they would like to use silver forks, goblets, and spoons, as well as their rich neighbors, and watching their opportunity broke into the pantry. "They had already picked the lock off the thick oaken chest, and were diving down among salvers, pitchers, and smaller articles, when they were terrified to hear a loud, angry voice exclaim,-- "'You lazy rascals, I see you! John, bring me my revolver!' "Dropping the silver, which they had taken, on the floor, the robbers made a rush for the window, which they had forced open, and in their hurry got over the wrong fence into the yard of a neighbor who kept a fierce dog. "Bruno, not at all pleased with the appearance of his sudden visitors, sprang upon them, barking at the top of his voice. "The noise called the police to the place, and one of the robbers was secured. "The watchful parrot saved his owner's silver. When he was praised for his timely interference, he would arch his head, and begin at once to call out,-- "'You lazy rascals, I see you! John, bring me my revolver!'" CHAPTER VII. THE PARROT AND THE PRINCE. "When Prince Maurice was Governor of Brazil, he was informed of an old parrot who would converse like a rational creature. His curiosity became so much roused that, though at a great distance from his residence, he directed that it should be sent for. "When Poll was first introduced into the room where the Prince sat with several Dutch gentlemen, he instantly exclaimed in the Brazilian language,-- "'What a company of white men are here!' "Pointing to the prince, one gentleman asked, 'Who is that man?' "'Some gentleman or other,' Poll instantly replied. "'Where did you come from?' asked the prince. "'From Marignan.' "'To whom do you belong?' "'To a Portuguese.' "'What do you do for a living?' "'I look after chickens.' "The prince laughingly exclaimed, 'You look after chickens!' "'Yes, I do; and I know well enough how to do it,' clucking at the same time like a hen calling her brood. "Prince Maurice, as well as the rest of the gentlemen, were delighted with the intelligence of the bird, and after keeping him at his residence as long as possible, the governor gave him a prize for being the most sagacious parrot in the kingdom." When Mr. Lee returned from the city, he found Poll as bright and cheerful as a lark. He brought with him a young man in his employ, called Theodore, to whom Minnie exhibited all her pets, and who staid till after tea, and then Mr. Lee read a few stories to Minnie, with one of which I must close my story of Minnie's pet parrot. "A prince, named Leo Maced, was once accused by a monk of forming a plan to murder his father, the emperor. He was, therefore, though protesting his innocence, cast into prison. "After some months, the emperor had a feast, to which he invited most of the nobles of his court. They were all seated at table, when a tame parrot belonging to the prince, and which was hung up in the room, cried out, mournfully,-- "'Alas, alas! Poor Prince Leo!' "This exclamation, which was continually repeated, as if the bird could not help comparing their sumptuous entertainment with the prison fare and confinement of his exiled master, so affected the guests as to deprive them of all appetite. It was in vain that the emperor urged his delicacies upon them. They could not eat, while the faithful bird repeated his plaintive cry,-- "'Alas, alas! Poor Prince Leo!' "At last one of the nobles with tears entreated the emperor to pardon his son, whom they all believed to be innocent. The others joining in the request, the father ordered that Prince Leo be brought before him. He was soon restored to favor, and then to his former dignities, through the affection of his faithful parrot." Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: Page Error 4 LECTROTYPED changed to ELECTROTYPED 98 and was then changed to "and was then 
26618	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. Oe ligatures have been expanded. [Illustration: MONKEY IN CHURCH. Page 88.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS. BY MRS MADELINE LESLIE. MINNIE'S PET MONKEY.] MINNIE'S PET MONKEY. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. MINNIE'S PET MONKEY. CHAPTER I. JACKO AND HIS WOUNDED TAIL. Did you ever see a monkey? If you have not, I suppose you will like to hear a description of Jacko, Minnie's sixth pet. He was about eighteen inches high, with long arms, covered with short hair, which he used as handily as a boy, flexible fingers, with flat nails, and a long tail, covered with hair, which seemed to answer the purpose of a third hand. Though monkeys are usually very ugly and unpleasant, from their approaching so nearly to the human face, and still bearing so strongly the marks of the mere brute, yet Jacko was a pretty little fellow. He had bright eyes, which sparkled like diamonds from beneath his deep-set eyebrows. His teeth were of the most pearly whiteness, and he made a constant display of them, grinning and chattering continually. But I ought to tell you about his passage in uncle Frank's ship. On one of Captain Lee's voyages, he touched upon the coast of Africa, where he saw the little fellow in a hen-coop, just about to be carried on board a whaler. The gentleman had often thought he should like to carry his favorite niece a little pet; but as she already had a parrot, he did not know what she would wish. But when he listened to the chattering of the monkey, and heard the sailor who owned him say what a funny little animal it was, he thought he would buy it and take it home to her. On the voyage, Jacko met with a sad accident. The hen-coop in which he was confined was too small to contain the whole of his tail, and he was obliged, when he slept, to let the end of it hang out. This was a great affliction to the poor animal, for he was very proud of his tail, which was indeed quite an addition to his good looks. It so happened that there were two large cats on board ship; and one night, as they were prowling about, they saw the tail hanging out while Jacko was sound asleep; and before he had time to move, one of them seized it and bit it off. The monkey was very indignant, and if he could have had a fair chance at his enemies, would have soon punished them for their impudence. It was really amusing to see him afterward. He would pull his bleeding tail in through the bars of the hen-coop, and give it a malicious bite, as much as to say,-- "I wish you were off. You are of no use to me now; and you look terribly short." When they reached New York, at the end of their voyage, Captain Lee took Jacko out of the hen-coop, and put him in a bag, which was carried into the depot while he was purchasing his ticket. The monkey, who must needs see every thing that was going on, suddenly poked his head out of the bag, and gave a malicious grin at the ticket-master. The man was much frightened, but presently recovered himself, and returned the insult by saying,-- "Sir, that's a dog! It's the rule that no dog can go in the cars without being paid for." It was all in vain that the captain tried to convince him that Jacko was not a dog, but a monkey. He even took him out of the bag; but in the face of this evidence, the man would persist in saying,-- "He is a dog, and must have a ticket before he enters the cars." So a ticket was bought, and Jacko was allowed to proceed on his journey. The little fellow was as pleased as the captain when he arrived at the end of his journey, and took possession of his pleasant quarters in the shed adjoining Mr. Lee's fine house. He soon grew fond of his little mistress, and played all manner of tricks, jumping up and down, swinging with his tail, which had begun to heal, and chattering with all his might in his efforts to please her. Mr. Lee, at the suggestion of his brother, the captain, had a nice house or cage made for Minnie's new pet, into which he could be put if he became troublesome, and where he always went to sleep. The rest of the time he was allowed his liberty, as far as his chain would reach. Jacko came from a very warm climate, and therefore often suffered from the cold in the northern latitude to which he had been brought. Mrs. Lee could not endure to see a monkey dressed like a man, as they sometimes are in shows. She said they looked disgustingly; but she consented that the little fellow should have a tight red jacket, and some drawers, to keep him comfortable. Minnie, too, begged from her some old pieces of carpeting, to make him a bed, when Jacko seemed greatly delighted. He did not now, as before, often stand in the morning shaking, and blue with the cold, but laughed, and chattered, and showed his gratitude in every possible way. Not many months after Jacko came, and when he had become well acquainted with all the family, Fidelle had a family of kittens, which she often carried in her mouth back and forth through the shed. The very sight of these little animals seemed to excite Jacko exceedingly. He would spring the entire length of his chain, trying to reach them. One day, when the kittens had begun to run alone, and were getting to be very playful, the cook heard a great noise in the shed, and Fidelle crying with all her might. She ran to see what was the matter, and, to her surprise, found Jacko sitting up in the cage, grinning with delight, while he held one of the kittens in his arms, hugging it as if it had been a baby. Cook knew the sight would please Minnie, and she ran to call her. But the child sympathized too deeply in Fidelle's distress to enjoy it. She tried to get the kitten away from Jacko, but he had no idea of giving it up, until at last, when Mrs. Lee, who had come to the rescue, gave him a piece of cake, of which he was very fond, he relaxed his hold, and she instantly released the poor, frightened little animal. Fidelle took warning by this occurrence, and never ventured through the shed again with her babies, though Jacko might seem to be sound asleep in his cage. Jacko had been at Mr. Lee's more than a year before they knew him to break his chain and run about by himself. The first visit he made was to Leo, in the barn, and he liked it so well that, somehow or other, he contrived to repeat the visit quite as often as it was agreeable to the dog, who never could endure him. After this, he became very mischievous, so that every one of the servants, though they often had a great laugh at his tricks, would have been glad to have the little fellow carried back to his home in Africa. I don't think even Minnie loved her pet monkey as well as she did her other pets. She could not take him in her arms as she did Fidelle and Tiney, nor play with him as she did with Nannie and her lamb, and he could not carry her on his back, as Star did. "Well," she said, one day, after discussing the merits of her animals with her mamma, "Poll talks to me, and Jacko makes me laugh; but if I should have to give up one of my pets, I had rather it would be the monkey." CHAPTER II. JACKO BLACKING THE TABLE. One morning, cook went to her mistress with loud complaints of Jacko's tricks. "What has he been doing now?" inquired the lady, with some anxiety. "All kinds of mischief, ma'am. If I didn't like you, and the master, and Miss Minnie so well, I wouldn't be living in the same house with a monkey, no ways." Here the woman, having relieved her mind, began to relate Jacko's new offence, and soon was joining heartily in the laugh her story caused her mistress. "Since the trickish fellow found the way to undo his chain, ma'am, he watches every thing that is done in the kitchen. Yesterday I polished the range, and the door to the oven. I suppose he saw me at work, and thought it would be good fun; for when I was out of the kitchen hanging some towels to dry on the line, in he walks to the closet where I keep the blacking and brushes, and what should he do but black the table and chairs? Such a sight, ma'am, as would make your eyes cry to see. It'll take me half the forenoon to clean them." "I think you will have to take a little stick, Hepsy," said Mrs. Lee, smiling, "and whip him when he does mischief." "Indeed, ma'am, and it's little strength I'd have left me to do the cooking if I gave him half the whippings he deserves; besides, I'd be sure to get the cratur's ill will; and they say that's unlucky for any one." "What does she mean, mamma, by its being unlucky?" inquired Minnie, when the cook had returned to her work in the kitchen. "I can't say, my dear. You know Hepsy has some strange ideas which she brought with her from Ireland. It may be she has heard of the superstitious reverence some nations have for the monkey." "O, mamma, will you please tell me about it?" "I have read that in many parts of India, monkeys are made objects of worship; and splendid temples are dedicated to their honor. "At one time, when the Portuguese plundered the Island of Ceylon, they found, in one of the temples dedicated to these animals, a small golden casket containing the tooth of a monkey. This was held in such estimation by the natives, that they offered nearly a million of dollars to redeem it. But the viceroy, thinking it would be a salutary punishment to them, ordered it to be burned. "Some years after, a Portuguese, having obtained a similar tooth, pretended that he had recovered the old one, which so rejoiced the priests that they purchased it from him for more than fifty thousand dollars." Minnie laughed. "I should suppose," she said, "that if cook thinks so much of monkeys, she would be pleased to live with them. Do you know any more about monkeys, mamma?" "I confess, my dear, that monkeys have never been among my favorites. There are a great many kinds, but all are mischievous, troublesome, and thievish. The dispositions of some of them are extremely bad, while others are so mild and tractable as to be readily tamed and taught a great variety of tricks. They live together in large groups, leaping with surprising agility from tree to tree. Travellers say it is very amusing to listen to the chattering of these animals, which they compare to the shouting of a grand cavalcade, all speaking together, and yet seeming perfectly to understand one another. "In the countries of the Eastern Peninsula, where they abound, the matrons are often observed, in the cool of the evening, sitting in a circle round their little ones, which amuse themselves with their various gambols. The merriment of the young, as they jump over each other's heads, and wrestle in sport, is most ludicrously contrasted with the gravity of their seniors, who are secretly delighted with the fun, but far too dignified to let it appear. "But when any foolish little one behaves ill, the mamma will be seen to jump into the throng, seize the juvenile by the tail, take it over her knee, and give it a good whipping." "O, how very funny, mamma! I wonder whether Jacko was treated so. Will you please tell me more? I do like to hear about monkeys." "If you will bring me that book from the library next the one about cats, perhaps I can find some anecdotes to read to you." The little girl clapped her hands with delight, and running gayly to the next room, soon returned with the book, when her mother read as follows:-- "A family in England had a pet monkey. On one occasion, the footman retired to his room to shave himself, without noticing that the animal had followed him. The little fellow watched him closely during the process, and noticed where the man put his razor and brush. "No sooner had the footman left the room, than the monkey slyly took the razor, and, mounting on a chair opposite the small mirror, began to scrape away at his throat, as he had seen the man do; but alas! not understanding the nature of the instrument he was using, the poor creature cut so deep a gash, that he bled profusely. He was found in the situation described, with the razor still in his fingers, but unfortunately was too far gone to be recovered, and soon died, leaving a caution to his fellows against playing with edged tools." "I hope Jacko will never see any body shave," said Minnie, in a faltering voice. "Here is a funny story, my dear, about a monkey in the West Indies. The little fellow was kept tied to a stake in the open air, and was frequently deprived of his food by the Johnny Crows. He tried to drive them off, but without success, and at last made the following plan for punishing the thieves. "Perceiving a flock of these birds coming toward him one day just after his food had been brought, he lay down near his stake, and pretended to be dead. For some time, he lay perfectly motionless, when the birds, really deceived, approached by degrees, and got near enough to steal his food, which he allowed them to do. This game he repeated several times, till they became so bold as to come within reach of his claws, when he suddenly sprang up and caught his victim in his firm grasp. Death was not his plan of punishment. He wished to make a man of him, according to the ancient definition, 'a biped without feathers,' and therefore, plucking the crow neatly, he let him go to show himself to his companions. This proved so effectual a punishment, that he was afterwards left to eat his food in peace." "I don't see," said Minnie, thoughtfully, "how a monkey could ever think of such a way." "It certainly does show a great deal of sagacity," responded the lady, "and a great deal of cunning in carrying out his plan." "I hope there are ever so many anecdotes, mamma." Mrs. Lee turned over the leaves. "Yes, my dear," she said, cheerfully, "there are quite a number; some of them seem to be very amusing, but I have only time to read you one more to-day." "Dr. Guthrie gives an amusing account of a monkey named Jack. "Seeing his master and friends drinking whiskey with great apparent relish, he took the opportunity, when he thought he was unseen, to empty their half-filled glasses; and while they were roaring with laughter, he began to hop, skip, and jump. Poor Jack was drunk. "The next day, his master wanted to repeat the experiment, but found Jack had not recovered from the effects of his dissipation. He commanded him to come to the table; but the poor fellow put his hand to his head, and not all their endeavors could induce him to taste another drop all his life. "Jack became a thorough teetotaller." CHAPTER III. JACKO RUNNING AWAY. Minnie had a cousin Frank, the son of Mr. Harry Lee. He was three years older than Minnie, and was full of life and frolic. At one time he came to visit Minnie; and fine fun indeed they had with the pets, the monkey being his especial favorite. Every day some new experiment was to be tried with Jacko, who, as Frank declared, could be taught any thing that they wished. One time, he took the little fellow by the chain for a walk, Minnie gayly running by his side, and wondering what her cousin was going to do. On their way to the barn, they met Leo, who at once began to bark furiously. "That will never do, my brave fellow," exclaimed the boy; "for we want you to turn horse, and take Jacko to ride." "O, Frank! Leo will kill him. Don't do that!" urged Minnie, almost crying. "But I mean to make them good friends," responded the lad. "Here, you take hold of the chain, and I will coax the dog to be quiet while I put Jacko on his back." This was not so easy as he had supposed; for no amount of coaxing or flattery would induce Leo to be impressed into this service. He hated the monkey, and was greatly disgusted at his appearance as he hopped, first on Frank's shoulder, and then to the ground, his head sticking out of his little red jacket, and his face wearing a malicious grin. Finding they could not succeed in this, they went into the stable to visit Star, when, with a quick motion, Jacko twitched the chain from Minnie's hand, and running up the rack above the manger, began to laugh and chatter in great glee. His tail, which had now fully healed, was of great use to him on this occasion, when, to Minnie's great surprise, he clung with it to the bar of the rack, and began to swing himself about. [Illustration: JACKO RUNNING AWAY. Page 52.] "I heard of a monkey once," exclaimed Frank, laughing merrily, "who made great use of his tail. If a nut or apple were thrown to him which fell beyond his reach, he would run to the full length of his chain, turn his back, then stretch out his tail, and draw toward him the coveted delicacy." "Let's see whether Jacko would do so," shouted Minnie, greatly excited with the project. "When we can catch him. But see how funny he looks. There he goes up the hay mow, the chain dangling after him." "If we don't try to catch him, he'll come quicker," said Minnie, gravely. "I know another story about a monkey--a real funny one," added the boy. "I don't know what his name was; but he used to sleep in the barn with the cattle and horses. I suppose monkeys are always cold here; at any rate, this one was; and when he saw the hostler give the horse a nice feed of hay, he said to himself, 'What a comfortable bed that would make for me!' "When the man went away, he jumped into the hay and hid, and every time the horse came near enough to eat, he sprang forward and bit her ears with his sharp teeth. "Of course, as the poor horse couldn't get her food, she grew very thin, and at last was so frightened that the hostler could scarcely get her into the stall. Several times he had to whip her before she would enter it, and then she stood as far back as possible, trembling like a leaf. "It was a long time before they found out what the matter was; and then the monkey had to take a whipping, I guess." "If his mother had been there, she would have whipped him," said Minnie, laughing. "What do you mean?" The little girl then repeated what her mother had told her of the discipline among monkeys, at which he was greatly amused. All this time, they were standing at the bottom of the hay mow, and supposed that Jacko was safe at the top; but the little fellow was more cunning than they thought. He found the window open near the roof, where hay was sometimes pitched in, and ran down into the yard as quick as lightning. The first they knew of it was when John called out from the barnyard, "Jacko, Jacko! Soh, Jacko! Be quiet, sir!" It was a wearisome chase they had for the next hour, and at the end they could not catch the runaway; but at last, when they sat down calmly in the house, he stole back to his cage, and lay there quiet as a lamb. Minnie's face was flushed with her unusual exercise, but in a few minutes she grew very pale, until her mother became alarmed. After a few drops of lavender, however, she said she felt better, and that if Frank would tell her a story she should be quite well. "That I will," exclaimed the boy, eagerly. "I know a real funny one; you like funny stories--don't you?" "Yes, when they're true," answered Minnie. "Well, this is really true. A man was hunting, and he happened to kill a monkey that had a little baby on her back. The little one clung so close to her dead mother, that they could scarcely get it away. When they reached the gentleman's house, the poor creature began to cry at finding itself alone. All at once it ran across the room to a block, where a wig belonging to the hunter's father was placed, and thinking that was its mother, was so comforted that it lay down and went to sleep. "They fed it with goat's milk, and it grew quite contented, for three weeks clinging to the wig with great affection. "The gentleman had a large and valuable collection of insects, which were dried upon pins, and placed in a room appropriated to such purposes. "One day, when the monkey had become so familiar as to be a favorite with all in the family, he found his way to this apartment, and made a hearty breakfast on the insects. "The owner, entering when the meal was almost concluded, was greatly enraged, and was about to chastise the animal, who had so quickly destroyed the work of years, when he saw that the act had brought its own punishment. In eating the insects, the animal had swallowed the pins, which very soon caused him such agony that he died." "I don't call the last part funny at all," said Minnie, gravely. "But wasn't it queer for it to think the wig was its mother?" asked the boy, with a merry laugh. "I don't think it could have had much sense to do that." "But it was only a baby monkey then, Harry." "How did it happen," inquired Mrs. Lee, "that Jacko got away from you?" "He watched his chance, aunty, and twitched the chain away from Minnie. Now he's done it once, he'll try the game again, I suppose, he is so fond of playing us tricks." And true enough, the very next morning the lady was surprised at a visit from the monkey in her chamber, where he made himself very much at home, pulling open drawers, and turning over the contents, in the hope of finding some confectionery, of which he was extremely fond. "Really," she exclaimed to her husband, "if Jacko goes on so, I shall be of cook's mind, and not wish to live in the house with him." CHAPTER IV. THE MONKEY IN CHURCH. One day, Jacko observed nurse washing out some fine clothes for her mistress, and seemed greatly interested in the suds which she made in the progress of her work. Watching his chance, he went to Mrs. Lee's room while the family were at breakfast one morning, and finding some nice toilet soap on the marble washstand, began to rub it on some fine lace lying on the bureau. After a little exertion, he was delighted to find that he had a bowl full of nice, perfumed suds, and was chattering to himself in great glee, when Ann came in and spoiled his sport. "You good for nothing, mischievous creature," she cried out, in sudden wrath, "I'll cure you of prowling about the house in this style." Giving him a cuff across his head with a shoe, "Go back to your cage, where you belong." "Jacko is really getting to be very troublesome," remarked the lady to her husband. "I can't tell how much longer my patience with him will last." "Would Minnie mourn very much if she were to lose him?" asked Mr. Lee. "I suppose she would for a time; but then she has so many pets to take up her attention." Just then the child ran in, her eyes filled with tears, exclaiming,-- "Father, does Jacko know any better? Is he to blame for trying to wash?" Mr. Lee laughed. "Because," she went on, "I found him crouched down in his cage, looking very sorry; and nurse says he ought to be ashamed of himself, cutting up such ridiculous capers." "I dare say he feels rather guilty," remarked Mr. Lee. "He must be taught better, or your mother will be tired of him." When her father had gone to the city, Minnie looked so grave that her mother, to comfort her, took the book and read her some stories. A few of them I will repeat to you. "A lady was returning from India, in a ship on board of which there was a monkey. She was a very mild, gentle creature, and readily learned any thing that was taught her. When she went to lie down at night, she made up her bed in imitation of her mistress, then got in and wrapped herself up neatly with the quilt. Sometimes she would wrap her head with a handkerchief. "When she did wrong, she would kneel and clasp her hands, seeming earnestly to ask to be forgiven." "That's a good story, mamma." "Yes, dear; and here is another." "A gentleman boarding with his wife at a hotel in Paris had a pet monkey, who was very polite. One day his master met him going down stairs; and when the gentleman said 'good morning,' the animal took off his cap and made a very polite bow. "'Are you going away?' asked the owner. 'Where is your passport?' Upon this the monkey held out a square piece of paper. "'See!' said the gentleman; 'your mistress' gown is dusty.' "Jack instantly took a small brush from his master's pocket, raised the hem of the lady's dress, cleaned it, and then did the same to his master's shoes, which were also dusty. "When they gave him any thing to eat, he did not cram his pouches with it, but delicately and tidily devoured it; and when, as frequently occurred, strangers gave him money, he always put it in his master's hands." "Do you think, mamma, I could teach Jacko to do so?" inquired Minnie, eagerly. "I can't say, my dear; and indeed I think it would be hardly worth the pains to spend a great deal of time in teaching him. He seems to learn quite fast enough by himself. Indeed, he is so full of tricks, and so troublesome to cook in hiding her kitchen utensils, I am afraid we shall have to put him in close confinement." "I had rather uncle Frank would carry him back to Africa," sighed the child. "He would be so unhappy." "Well, dear, I wouldn't grieve about it now. We must manage somehow till uncle Frank comes, and then perhaps he can tell us what to do. Now I'll read you another story." "A monkey living with a gentleman in the country became so troublesome that the servants were constantly complaining." "That seems similar to our case," said the lady, smiling, as she interrupted the reading. "One day, having his offers of assistance rudely repulsed, he went into the next house by a window in the second story, which was unfortunately open. Here he pulled out a small drawer, where the lady kept ribbons, laces, and handkerchiefs, and putting them in a foot-tub, rubbed away vigorously for an hour, with all the soap and water there were to be found in the room. "When the lady returned to the chamber, he was busily engaged in spreading the torn and disfigured remnants to dry. "He knew well enough he was doing wrong; for, without her speaking to him, he made off quickly and ran home, where he hid himself in the case of the large kitchen clock. "The servants at once knew he had been in mischief, as this was his place of refuge when he was in disgrace. "One day he watched the cook while she was preparing some partridges for dinner, and concluded that all birds ought to be so treated. He soon managed to get into the yard, where his mistress kept a few pet bantam fowls, and, after eating their eggs, he secured one of the hens, and began plucking it. The noise of the poor bird called some of the servants to the rescue, when they found the half-plucked creature in such a pitiable condition that they killed it at once. After this, Mr. Monkey was chained up, and soon died." Minnie looked very grave after hearing this story, and presently said, "I wonder how old that monkey was." "The book does not mention his age, my dear. Why?" "I was thinking that perhaps, as Jacko grows older, he may learn better; and then I said to myself, 'That one must have been young.'" "If a monkey is really inclined to be vicious, he is almost unbearable," remarked the lady. "His company does not begin to compensate for the trouble he makes. Sometimes he is only cunning, but otherwise mild and tractable." "And which, mamma, do you think Jacko is?" "I have always thought, until lately, that he was one of the better kind; but I have now a good many doubts whether you enjoy her funny tricks enough to compensate cook for all the mischief she does. If I knew any one who wanted a pet monkey, and would treat him kindly, I should be glad to have him go. I should hate to have him killed." "Killed!" screamed Minnie, with a look of horror; "O, mamma, I wouldn't have one of my pets killed for any thing." Mrs. Lee thought that would probably be at some time Nannie's fate, but she wisely said nothing. "Please read more, mamma. I don't want to think about such awful things." The lady cast her eyes over the page, and laughed heartily. Presently she said, "Here is a very curious anecdote, which I will read you; but first I must explain to you what a sounding-board is. "In old fashioned churches, there used to hang, directly over the pulpit, a large, round board, like the top of a table, which, it was thought, assisted the minister's voice to be heard by all the congregation. I can remember, when I was a child, going to visit my grandmother, and accompanying her to church, where there was a sounding-board. I worried, through the whole service, for fear it would fall on the minister's head and kill him. But I will read." "There was once an eminent clergyman by the name of Casaubon, who kept in his family a tame monkey, of which he was very fond. This animal, which was allowed its liberty, liked to follow the minister, when he went out, but on the Sabbath was usually shut up till his owner was out of sight, on his way to church. "But one Sabbath morning, when the clergyman, taking his sermon under his arm, went out, the monkey followed him unobserved, and watching the opportunity while his master was speaking to a gentleman on the steps, ran up at the back of the pulpit, and jumped upon the sounding-board. "Here he gravely seated himself, looking round in a knowing manner on the congregation, who were greatly amused at so strange a spectacle. "The services proceeded as usual, while the monkey, who evidently much enjoyed the sight of so many people, occasionally peeped over the sounding-board, to observe the movements of his master, who was unconscious of his presence. "When the sermon commenced, many little forms were convulsed with laughter, which conduct so shocked the good pastor, that he thought it his duty to administer a reproof, which he did with considerable action of his hands and arms. "The monkey, who had now become familiar with the scene, imitated every motion, until at last a scarcely suppressed smile appeared upon the countenance of most of the audience. This occurred, too, in one of the most solemn passages in the discourse; and so horrible did the levity appear to the good minister, that he launched forth into violent rebuke, every word being enforced by great energy of action. "All this time, the little fellow overhead mimicked every movement with ardor and exactness. "The audience, witnessing this apparent competition between the good man and his monkey, could no longer retain the least appearance of composure, and burst into roars of laughter, in the midst of which one of the congregation kindly relieved the horror of the pastor at the irreverence and impiety of his flock, by pointing out the cause of the merriment. "Casting his eyes upward, the minister could just discern the animal standing on the end of the sounding-board, and gesturing with all his might, when he found it difficult to control himself, though highly exasperated at the occurrence. He gave directions to have the monkey removed, and sat down to compose himself, and allow his congregation to recover their equanimity while the order was being obeyed." CHAPTER V. JACKO IN THE PANTRY. In his frequent visits to the stable, Jacko amused himself by catching mice that crept out to pick up the corn. The servants, having noticed his skill, thought they would turn it to good account, and having been troubled with mice in the pantry, determined to take advantage of the absence of Mrs. Lee on a journey, and shut the monkey up in it. So, one evening, they took him out of his comfortable bed, and chained him up in the larder, having removed every thing except some jam pots, which they thought out of his reach, and well secured with bladder stretched over the top. Poor Jacko was evidently much astonished, and quite indignant, at this treatment, but presently consoled himself by jumping into a soup tureen, where he fell sound asleep, while the mice scampered all over the place. As soon as it was dawn, the mice retired to their holes. Jacko awoke shivering with cold, stretched himself, and then, pushing the soup tureen from the shelf, broke it to pieces. After this achievement, he began to look about for something to eat, when he spied the jam pots on the upper shelf. "There is something good," he thought, smelling them. "I'll see." His sharp teeth soon worked an entrance, when the treasured jams, plums, raspberry, strawberry, candied apricots, the pride and care of the cook, disappeared in an unaccountably short time. At last, his appetite for sweets was satisfied, and coiling his tail in a corner, he lay quietly awaiting the servant's coming to take him out. Presently he heard the door cautiously open, when the chamber girl gave a scream of horror as she saw the elegant China dish broken into a thousand bits, and lying scattered on the floor. She ran in haste to summon Hepsy and the nurse, her heart misgiving her that this was not the end of the calamity. They easily removed Jacko, who began already to experience the sad effects of overloading his stomach, and then found, with alarm and grief, the damage he had done. For several days the monkey did not recover from the effects of his excess. He was never shut up again in the pantry. When Mrs. Lee returned she blamed the servants for trying such an experiment in her absence. Jacko was now well, and ready for some new mischief; and Minnie, who heard a ludicrous account of the story, laughed till she cried. She repeated it, in great glee, to her father, who looked very grave as he said, "We think a sea voyage would do the troublesome fellow good; but you shall have a Canary or a pair of Java sparrows instead." "Don't you know any stories of good monkeys, father?" "I don't recollect any at this moment, my dear; but I will see whether I can find any for you." He opened the book, and then asked,-- "Did you know, Minnie, that almost all monkeys have bags or pouches in their cheeks, the skin of which is loose, and when empty makes the animal look wrinkled?" "No, sir; I never heard about it." "Yes, that is the case. He puts his food in them, and keeps it there till he wishes to devour it. "There are some kinds, too, that have what is called prehensile tails; that is, tails by which they can hang themselves to the limb of a tree, and which they use with nearly as much ease as they can their hands. The facility which this affords them for moving about quickly among the branches of trees is astonishing. The firmness of the grasp which it makes is very surprising; for if it winds a single coil around a branch, it is quite sufficient, not only to support its weight, but to enable it to swing in such a manner as to gain a fresh hold with its feet." "I'm sure, father," eagerly cried Minnie, "that Jacko has a prehensile tail, for I have often seen him swing from the ladder which goes up the hay mow." "I dare say, child. He seems to be up to every thing. But here is an account of an Indian monkey, of a light grayish yellow color, with black hands and feet. The face is black, with a violet tinge. This is called Hoonuman, and is much venerated by the Hindoos. They believe it to be one of the animals into which the souls of their friends pass at death. If one of these monkeys is killed, the murderer is instantly put to death; and, thus protected, they become a great nuisance, and destroy great quantities of fruit. But in South America, monkeys are killed by the natives as game, for the sake of the flesh. Absolute necessity alone would compel us to eat them. A great naturalist named Humboldt tells us that their manner of cooking them is especially disgusting. They are raised a foot from the ground, and bent into a sitting position, in which they greatly resemble a child, and are roasted in that manner. A hand and arm of a monkey, roasted in this way, are exhibited in a museum in Paris." "Monkeys have a curious way of introducing their tails into the fissures or hollows of trees, for the purpose of hooking out eggs and other substances. On approaching a spot where there is a supply of food, they do not alight at once, but take a survey of the neighborhood, a general cry being kept up by the party." CHAPTER VI. THE CRUEL MONKEY. One afternoon, Minnie ran out of breath to the parlor. "Mamma," she exclaimed, "cook says monkeys are real cruel in their families. Is it true?" The lady smiled. "I suppose, my dear," she responded, "that there is a difference of disposition among them. I have heard that they are very fond of their young, and that, when threatened with danger, they mount them on their back, or clasp them to their breast with great affection. "But I saw lately an anecdote of the cruelty of a monkey to his wife, and if I can find the book, I will read it to you." "There is an animal called the fair monkey, which, though the most beautiful of its tribe, is gloomy and cruel. One of these, which, from its extreme beauty and apparent gentleness, was allowed to ramble at liberty over a ship, soon became a great favorite with the crew, and in order to make him perfectly happy, as they imagined, they procured him a wife. "For some weeks, he was a devoted husband, and showed her every attention and respect. He then grew cool, and began to use her with much cruelty. His treatment made her wretched and dull. "One day, the crew noticed that he treated her with more kindness than usual, but did not suspect the wicked scheme he had in mind. At last, after winning her favor anew, he persuaded her to go aloft with him, and drew her attention to an object in the distance, when he suddenly gave her a push, which threw her into the sea. "This cruel act seemed to afford him much gratification, for he descended in high spirits." "I should think they would have punished him," said Minnie, with great indignation. "Perhaps they did, love. At any rate, it proves that beauty is by no means always to be depended upon." Mrs. Lee then took her sewing, but Minnie plead so earnestly for one more story, a good long one, that her mother, who loved to gratify her, complied, and read the account which I shall give you in closing this chapter on Minnie's pet monkey. "A gentleman, returning from India, brought a monkey, which he presented to his wife. She called it Sprite, and soon became very fond of it. "Sprite was very fond of beetles, and also of spiders, and his mistress used sometimes to hold his chain, lengthened by a string, and make him run up the curtains, and clear out the cobwebs for the housekeeper. "On one occasion, he watched his opportunity, and snatching the chain, ran off, and was soon seated on the top of a cottage, grinning and chattering to the assembled crowd of schoolboys, as much as to say, 'Catch me if you can.' He got the whole town in an uproar, but finally leaped over every thing, dragging his chain after him, and nestled himself in his own bed, where he lay with his eyes closed, his mouth open, his sides ready to burst with his running. "Another time, the little fellow got loose, but remembering his former experience, only stole into the shed, where he tried his hand at cleaning knives. He did not succeed very well in this, however, for the handle was the part he attempted to polish, and, cutting his fingers, he relinquished the sport. "Resolved not to be defeated, he next set to work to clean the shoes and boots, a row of which were awaiting the boy. But Sprite, not remembering all the steps of the performance, first covered the entire shoe, sole and all, with the blacking, and then emptied the rest of the Day & Martin into it, nearly filling it with the precious fluid. His coat was a nice mess for some days after. "One morning, when the servants returned to the kitchen, they found Sprite had taken all the kitchen candlesticks out of the cupboard, and arranged them on the fender, as he had once seen done. As soon as he heard the servants returning, he ran to his basket, and tried to look as though nothing had happened. "Sprite was exceedingly fond of a bath. Occasionally a bowl of water was given him, when he would cunningly try the temperature by putting in his finger, after which he gradually stepped in, first one foot, then the other, till he was comfortably seated. Then he took the soap and rubbed himself all over. Having made a dreadful splashing all around, he jumped out and ran to the fire, shivering. If any body laughed at him during this performance, he made threatening gestures, chattering with all his might to show his displeasure, and sometimes he splashed water all over them. "Poor Sprite one day nearly committed suicide. As he was brought from a very warm climate, he often suffered exceedingly, in winter, from the cold. "The cooking was done by a large fire on the open hearth, and as his basket, where he slept, was in one corner of the kitchen, before morning he frequently awoke shivering and blue. The cook was in the habit of making the fire, and then returning to her room to finish her toilet. "One morning, having lighted the pile of kindlings as usual, she hung on the tea-kettle and went out, shutting the door carefully behind her. "Sprite thought this a fine opportunity to warm himself. He jumped from his basket, ran to the hearth, and took the lid of the kettle off. Cautiously touching the water with the tip of his finger, he found it just the right heat for a bath, and sprang in, sitting down, leaving only his head above the water. "This he found exceedingly comfortable for a time; but soon the water began to grow hot. He rose, but the air outside was so cold, he quickly sat down again. He did this several times, and would, no doubt, have been boiled to death, and become a martyr to his own want of pluck and firmness in action, had it not been for the timely return of the cook, who, seeing him sitting there almost lifeless, seized him by the head and pulled him out. "He was rolled in blankets, and laid in his basket, where he soon recovered, and, it is to be hoped, learned a lesson from this hot experience, not to take a bath when the water is on the fire." CHAPTER VII. KEES STEALING EGGS. When Minnie was nine years of age, she accompanied her parents to a menagerie, and there, among other animals, she saw a baboon. She was greatly excited by his curious, uncouth manoeuvres, asking twenty questions about him, without giving her father time to answer. On their way home, she inquired,-- "Are baboons one kind of monkeys, father?" "Yes, my daughter; and a more disagreeable, disgusting animal I cannot conceive of." "I hope you are not wishing for a baboon to add to your pets," added her mother, laughing. "I don't believe Jacko would get along with that great fellow at all," answered the child. "But, father, will you please tell me something more about the curious animals?" The conversation was here interrupted by seeing that a carriage had stopped just in front of their own, and that quite a crowd had gathered about some person who seemed to be hurt. Minnie's sympathies were alive in an instant. She begged her father to get out, as possibly he might be of some use. The driver stopped of his own accord, and inquired what had happened, and then they saw that it was a spaniel that was hurt. He had been in the road, and not getting out of the way quick enough, the wheel had gone over his body. The young lady who was in the buggy was greatly distressed, from which Minnie argued that she was kind to animals, and that they should like her. The owner of the dog held the poor creature in her arms, though it seemed to be in convulsions, and wept bitterly as she found it must die. Mr. Lee, to please his little daughter, waited a few minutes; but he found her getting so much excited over the suffering animal, he gave John orders to proceed. During the rest of the drive, she could talk of nothing else, wondering whether the spaniel was alive now, or whether the young man in the buggy paid for hurting it. The next day, however, having made up her mind that the poor creature must be dead, and his sufferings ended, and having given Tiney many admonitions to keep out of the road when carriages were passing, her thoughts turned once more to the baboon. Mr. Lee found in his library a book which gave a short account of the animal, which he read to her. "The baboon is of the monkey tribe, notwithstanding its long, dog-like head, flat, compressed cheeks, and strong and projecting teeth. The form and position of the eyes, combined with the similarity of the arms and hands, give to these creatures a resemblance to humanity as striking as it is disgusting." "Then follows an account," the gentleman went on, "of the peculiarities of different kinds of baboons, which you would not understand." "But can't you tell me something about them yourself, father?" "I know very little about the creatures, my dear; but I have read that they are exceedingly strong, and of a fiery, vicious temper. "They can never be wholly tamed, and it is only while restraint of the severest kind is used, that they can be governed at all. If left to their own will, their savage nature resumes its sway, and their actions are cruel, destructive, and disgusting." "I saw the man at the menagerie giving them apples," said Minnie; "but he did not give them any meat all the time I was there." "No; they subsist exclusively on fruits, seeds, and other vegetable matter. In the countries where they live, especially near the Cape of Good Hope, the inhabitants chase them with dogs and guns in order to destroy them, on account of the ravages they commit in the fields and gardens. It is said that they make a very obstinate resistance to the dogs, and often have fierce battles with them; but they greatly fear the gun. "As the baboon grows older, instead of becoming better, his rage increases, so that the slightest cause will provoke him to terrible fury." "Is that all you know about them?" "Why, Minnie, in order to satisfy you, any one must become a walking encyclopædia. What other question have you to ask?" "Why, they must have something to eat, and how are they to get it unless they go into gardens?" Mr. Lee laughed aloud. "I rather think I should soon convince them they were not to enter my garden," he said, emphatically. "But seriously, they descend in vast numbers upon the orchards of fruit, destroying, in a few hours, the work of months, or even of years. In these excursions, they move on a concerted plan, placing sentinels on commanding spots, to give notice of the approach of an enemy. As soon as he perceives danger, the sentinel gives a loud yell, and then the whole troop rush away with the greatest speed, cramming the fruit which they have gathered into their cheek pouches." Minnie looked so much disappointed when he ceased speaking, that her mother said, "I read somewhere an account of a baboon that was named Kees, who was the best of his kind that I ever heard of." "Yes, that was quite an interesting story, if you can call it to mind," said the gentleman, rising. "It was in a book of travels in Africa," the lady went on. "The traveller, whose name was Le Vaillant, took Kees through all his journey, and the creature really made himself very useful. As a sentinel, he was better than any of the dogs. Indeed, so quick was his sense of danger, that he often gave notice of the approach of beasts of prey, when every thing was apparently secure. "There was another way in which Kees made himself useful. Whenever they came across any fruits or roots with which the Hottentots were unacquainted, they waited to see whether Kees would taste them. If he threw them down, the traveller concluded they were poisonous or disagreeable, and left them untasted. "Le Vaillant used to hunt, and frequently took Kees with him on these excursions. The poor fellow understood the preparations making for the sport, and when his master signified his consent that he should go, he showed his joy in the most lively manner. On the way, he would dance about, and then run up into the trees to search for gum, of which he was very fond. "I recall one amusing trick of Kees," said the lady, laughing, "which pleased me much when I read it. He sometimes found honey in the hollows of trees, and also a kind of root of which he was very fond, both of which his master insisted on sharing with him. On such occasions, he would run away with his treasure, or hide it in his pouches, or eat it as fast as possible, before Le Vaillant could have time to reach him. "These roots were very difficult to pull from the ground. Kees' manner of doing it was this. He would seize the top of the root with his strong teeth, and then, planting himself firmly against the sod, drew himself gradually back, which forced it from the earth. If it proved stubborn, while he still held it in his teeth he threw himself heels over head, which gave such a concussion to the root that it never failed to come out. "Another habit that Kees had was very curious. He sometimes grew tired with the long marches, and then he would jump on the back of one of the dogs, and oblige it to carry him whole hours. At last the dogs grew weary of this, and one of them determined not to be pressed into service. He now adopted an ingenious artifice. As soon as Kees leaped on his back, he stood still, and let the train pass without moving from the spot. Kees sat quiet, determined that the dog should carry him, until the party were almost out of sight, and then they both ran in great haste to overtake their master. "Kees established a kind of authority over the dogs. They were accustomed to his voice, and in general obeyed without hesitation the slightest motions by which he communicated his orders, taking their places about the tent or carriage, as he directed them. If any of them came too near him when he was eating, he gave them a box on the ear, and thus compelled them to retire to a respectful distance." "Why, mother, I think Kees was a very good animal, indeed," said Minnie, with considerable warmth. "I have told you the best traits of his character," she answered, smiling. "He was, greatly to his master's sorrow, an incurable thief. He could not be left alone for a moment with any kind of food. He understood perfectly how to loose the strings of a basket, or to take the cork from a bottle. He was very fond of milk, and would drink it whenever he had a chance. He was whipped repeatedly for these misdemeanors, but the punishment did him no good. "Le Vaillant was accustomed to have eggs for his breakfast; but his servants complained one morning there were none to be had. Whenever any thing was amiss, the fault was always laid to Kees, who, indeed, generally deserved it. The gentleman determined to watch him. "The next morning, hearing the cackling of a hen, he started for the place; but found Kees had been before him, and nothing remained but the broken shell. Having caught him in his pilfering, his master gave him a severe beating; but he was soon at his old habit again, and the gentleman was obliged to train one of his dogs to run for the egg as soon as it was laid, before he could enjoy his favorite repast. "One day, Le Vaillant was eating his dinner, when he heard the voice of a bird, with which he was not acquainted. Leaving the beans he had carefully prepared for himself on his plate, he seized his gun, and ran out of the tent. In a short time he returned, with the bird in his hand, but found not a bean left, and Kees missing. "When he had been stealing, the baboon often staid out of sight for some hours; but, this time, he hid himself for several days. They searched every where for him, but in vain, till his master feared he had really deserted them. On the third day, one of the men, who had gone to a distance for water, saw him hiding in a tree. Le Vaillant went out and spoke to him, but he knew he had deserved punishment, and he would not come down; so that, at last, his master had to go up the tree and take him." "And was he whipped, mother?" "No; he was forgiven that time, as he seemed so penitent. There is only one thing more I can remember about him. An officer who was visiting Le Vaillant, wishing to try the affection of the baboon for his master, pretended to strike him. Kees flew into a violent rage, and from that time could never endure the sight of the officer. If he only saw him at a distance, he ground his teeth, and used every endeavor to fly at him; and had he not been chained, he would speedily have revenged the insult." * * * * * "Nature is man's best teacher. She unfolds Her treasures to his search, unseals his eye, Illumes his mind, and purifies his heart,-- An influence breathes from all the sights and sounds Of her existence; she is wisdom's self." * * * * * "There's not a plant that springeth But bears some good to earth; There's not a life but bringeth Its store of harmless mirth; The dusty wayside clover Has honey in her cells,-- The wild bee, humming over, Her tale of pleasure tells. The osiers, o'er the fountain, Keep cool the water's breast, And on the roughest mountain The softest moss is pressed. Thus holy Nature teaches The worth of blessings small; That Love pervades, and reaches, And forms the bliss of all." MRS. LESLIE'S JUVENILE SERIES. 16mo. FOR BOYS. Vol. I. THE MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. " II. PLAY AND STUDY. " III. HOWARD AND HIS TEACHER. " IV. JACK, THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. FOR GIRLS. Vol. I. TRYING TO BE USEFUL. " II. LITTLE AGNES. " III. I'LL TRY. " IV. ART AND ARTLESSNESS. MINNIE'S PET CAT. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET PARROT. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET DOG. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET LAMB. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET HORSE. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: Page Error 73 "good morning," changed to 'good morning,' 112 pet monkey." changed to pet monkey. 
28660	----	generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL UNCLE THOMAS'S STORIES FOR GOOD CHILDREN. [Illustration: UNCLE THOMAS.] PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. [Illustration] NEW-YORK: LIVERMORE & RUDD 310 BROADWAY 1856. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847 By EDWARD LIVERMORE, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. INTRODUCTION. Uncle Thomas's Stories for Good Children. The design of this series of unpretending little books, is, to give to the Young information, joined with amusement. They are prepared for young children, and if, from the reading of these stories, they acquire a love for good books, the compiler's object will be accomplished. [Illustration] CONTENTS. PAGE THE BLACKBERRY GIRL, PART I., 9 THE BLACKBERRY GIRL, PART II., 19 GOOD CHILDREN, 23 POOR CRAZY ROBERT, 25 THE PET LAMB, 29 FATHER WILLIAM AND THE YOUNG MAN, 37 THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER PETS, 39 THE FLOWERS, 43 THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS, 45 ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 49 WASHING AND DRESSING, 51 THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY, 55 WE ARE SEVEN, 57 THE IDLE BOY, 63 CASABIANCA, 67 TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR, 71 [Illustration: Phebe, the Blackberry Girl.] THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. PART I. "Why, Phebe, are you come so soon, Where are your berries, child? You cannot, sure, have sold them all, You had a basket pil'd." "No, mother, as I climb'd the fence, The nearest way to town, My apron caught upon a stake, And so I tumbled down. "I scratched my arm, and tore my hair, But still did not complain; And had my blackberries been safe, Should not have cared a grain. [Illustration: Phebe and her Mother.] "But when I saw them on the ground All scattered by my side, I pick'd my empty basket up, And down I sat and cried. "Just then a pretty little Miss Chanced to be walking by; She stopp'd, and looking pitiful, She begg'd me not to cry. "'Poor little girl, you fell,' said she, 'And must be sadly hurt'-- 'O, no,' I cried, 'but see my fruit, All mixed with sand and dirt!' "'Well, do not grieve for that,' she said 'Go home, and get some more:' Ah, no, for I have stripp'd the vines, These were the last they bore. "My father, Miss, is very poor, And works in yonder stall; He has so many little ones, He cannot clothe us all. "I always long'd to go to church, But never could I go; For when I ask'd him for a gown, He always answer'd, 'No.' "'There's not a father in the world That loves his children more; I'd get you one with all my heart, But, Phebe, I am poor.' "But when the blackberries were ripe He said to me one day, 'Phebe, if you will take the time That's given you for play, "'And gather blackberries enough,-- And carry them to town,-- To buy your bonnet and your shoes, I'll try to get a gown.' [Illustration: Phebe and Billy going to School.] "O Miss, I fairly jumped for joy, My spirits were so light: And so, when I had leave to play, I pick'd with all my might. "I sold enough to get my shoes, About a week ago; And these, if they had not been spilt, Would buy a bonnet too. "But now they are gone, they all are gone And I can get no more, And Sundays I must stay at home Just as I did before. "And, mother, then I cried again, As hard as I could cry; And, looking up, I saw a tear Was standing in her eye. "She caught her bonnet from her head-- 'Here, here,' she cried, 'take this!' O, no, indeed--I fear your 'ma Would be offended Miss. [Illustration] "'My 'ma! no, never! she delights All sorrow to beguile; And 'tis the sweetest joy she feels, To make the wretched smile. "'She taught me when I had enough, To share it with the poor: And never let a needy child Go empty from the door. [Illustration: The Church the Blackberry Girl went to.] "'So take it, for you need not fear Offending her, you see; I have another, too, at home, And one's enough for me.' "So then I took it,--here it is-- For pray what could I do? And, mother, I shall love that Miss As long as I love you." [Illustration] [Illustration: Phebe with a Basket of Berries.] THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. PART II. "What have you in that basket, child?" "Blackberries, Miss, all pick'd to-day; They're very large and fully ripe; Do look at them, and taste them pray." "O yes: they're very nice, indeed. Here's fourpence--that will buy a few: Not quite so many as I want-- However, I must make it do." "Nay, Miss, but you must take the whole;" "I can't, indeed, my money's spent; I should be glad to buy them all, But I have not another cent." "And if you had a thousand, Miss, I'd not accept of one from you. Pray take them, they are all your own, And take the little basket, too. "Have you forgot the little girl You last year gave a bonnet to? Perhaps you have--but ever will That little girl remember you. "And ever since, I've been to church, For much do I delight to go; And there I learn that works of love Are what all children ought to do. "So then I thought within myself, That pretty basket, Billy wove, I'll fill with fruit for that dear Miss, For sure 'twill be a work of love. "And so one morning up I rose, While yet the fields were wet with dew And pick'd the nicest I could find, And brought them, fresh and sweet, for you. "I know the gift is small indeed, For such a lady to receive; But still I hope you'll not refuse All that poor Phebe has to give." [Illustration] [Illustration: Good Children learning their Hymn.] GOOD CHILDREN. How lovely, how charming the sight When children their Savior obey! The angels look down with delight, This beautiful scene to survey. Little Samuel was holy and good; Obadiah served God from his youth, And Timothy well understood, From a child, the Scripture of truth. But Jesus was better than they: From a child he was spotless and pure, His parents he loved to obey, And God's perfect will to endure. Like Samuel, Lord, I would be. Obadiah and Timothy, too; And oh! grant thy help unto me, The steps of my Lord to pursue. Make me humble, and holy, and mild, From the wicked constrain me to flee, And then though I am but a child, My soul shall find favor of thee. [Illustration] POOR CRAZY ROBERT. Poor Robert is crazy, his hair is turn'd gray, His beard has grown long, and hangs down to his breast; Misfortune has taken his reason away, His heart has no comfort, his head has no rest. Poor man, it would please me to soften thy woes, To soothe thy affliction, and yield thee support; But see through the village, wherever he goes, The cruel boys follow, and turn him to sport. [Illustration: Poor Crazy Robert.] 'Tis grievous to see how the pitiless mob Run round him and mimic his mournful complaint, And try to provoke him, and call him old Bob, And hunt him about till he's ready to faint. But ah! wicked children, I fear they forget That God does their cruel diversion behold, And that in his book dreadful curses are writ, For those who shall mock at the poor and the old. Poor Robert, thy troubles will shortly be o'er, Forget in the grave thy misfortunes will be; But God will his vengeance assuredly pour On those wicked children who persecute thee. [Illustration] [Illustration: The Pet Lamb.] THE PET LAMB. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice: it said, Drink, pretty creature, drink! And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain Lamb with a maiden at its side. No other sheep were near; the Lamb was all alone, And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, While to that mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal. The Lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook. Drink, pretty creature, drink, she said in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own. 'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare! I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair: Now with her empty can the maiden turned away; But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay. Towards the Lamb she looked; and from that shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her face; If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little maid might sing! What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee? What is it thou wouldst seek? what is wanting to thy heart? Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art: This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers; And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears! If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain; This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain! For rain and mountain storms, the like thou need'st not fear; The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here. Rest little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day When my father found thee first in places far away; Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none, And thy mother from thy side forevermore was gone. [Illustration] He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home! A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been. Thou knowest that twice a day I brought thee in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new. Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now; Then I'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the plough; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. [Illustration] It will not, will not rest! poor creature, can it be That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee? Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear, And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear. Alas, the mountain tops that look so green and fair! I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there: The little brooks that seem all pastime and at play When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe,--our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? why pull so at thy chain? Sleep--and at break of day I will come to thee again. As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat; And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine. Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; Nay, said I, more than half to the damsel must belong; For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own. [Illustration: Father William and the Young Man.] FATHER WILLIAM AND THE YOUNG MAN. You are old, Father William, the young man cries The few locks which are left you are gray: You appear, Father William, a healthy old man, Now tell me the reason, I pray. When I was a youth, Father William replied, I remembered that youth would fly fast: I abused not my health and my vigor at first, That I never might need them at last. You are old, Father William, the young man said, And pleasures, with youth, pass away; And yet you repent not the days that are gone Now tell me the reason, I pray. When I was a youth, Father William replied, I remembered that youth could not last: I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past. You are old, Father William, the young man still cries, And life is swift hastening away. You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death! Come tell me the reason, I pray. I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied; Let the cause your attention engage: In the days of my youth I remembered my God! And he hath not forgotten my age. The little Girl and her Pets. [Illustration] _Girl._ Swallow, thou dear one! now thou, indeed, From thy wandering dost reappear, Tell me, who is it to thee that hath said That again it is spring-time here. _Swa._ The fatherly God, in that far-off clime, Who sent me, he told me 'twas sweet spring-time. And though she had come so far and wide, She was not deceived in time or tide. The snow it was gone, the sun shone warm, The merry gnats danced in many a swarm, The Swallow knew neither want nor care, She found for her children enough and to spare. _Girl._ Come, little Dog, 'tis your master's will That you learn to sit upright and still. _Dog._ Learn must I? I'm so small, you see, Just for a little while let it be! _Girl._ No, little Dog, it is far best to learn soon, For later it would be more painfully done. The little Dog learned, without more ado, And soon could sit upright and walk upright too; In deepest waters unfearing could spring, And whatever was lost could speedily bring. The master saw his pleasure, and he too began To learn, and thus grew up a wise, good man. [Illustration] THE FLOWERS. Say, Ma! did God make all the flowers That richly bloom to-day? And is it he that sends sweet showers To make them look so gay? Did he make all the mountains That rear their heads so high? And all the little fountains That glide so gently by? And does he care for children small? Say, ma! does God love me? Has he the guardian care of all The various things we see? Yes! yes! my child, he made them all-- Flowers, mountains, plants and trees. No man so great, no child so small, That from his eye can flee. [Illustration] THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS. Put up thy work, dear mother; Dear mother, come with me, For I've found within the garden The beautiful sweet-pea! And rows of stately hollyhocks Down by the garden-wall, All yellow, white and crimson, So many-hued and tall! [Illustration: "Put up thy work, dear Mother."] And bending on their stalks, mother Are roses white and red; And pale-stemmed balsams all a-blow, On every garden-bed. Put up thy work, I pray thee, And come out, mother dear! We used to buy these flowers, But they are growing here! O, mother! little Amy Would have loved these flowers to see; Dost remember how we tried to get For her a pink sweet-pea? Dost remember how she loved Those rose-leaves pale and sere? I wish she had but lived to see The lovely roses here! Put up thy work, dear mother, And wipe those tears away! And come into the garden Before 'tis set of day! [Illustration] ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. One, two, Buckle my shoe; Three, four, Shut the door; Five, six, Pick up sticks; Seven, eight, Lay them straight; Nine, ten, A good fat hen; Eleven, twelve, Who will delve? Thirteen, fourteen, Maids a courting; Fifteen, sixteen, Maids a kissing; Seventeen, eighteen, Maids a waiting; Nineteen, twenty, My stomach's empty. [Illustration] WASHING AND DRESSING. [Illustration] Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross, And cry, and look sulky and pout? To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss, I can't even kiss her without. You say you don't like to be washed and be drest But would you be dirty and foul? Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast, And clear your sweet face from its scowl. If the water is cold, and the comb hurts your head, And the soap has got into your eye, Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said? And what good will it do you to cry? It is not to tease you, and hurt you, my sweet, But only for kindness and care, That I wash you and dress you, and make you look neat, And comb out your tanglesome hair. I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry, But pay me for all with a kiss; That's right, take the towel and wipe your wet eye; I thought you'd be good after this. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE INDUSTRIOUS BOY. In a cottage upon the heath wild, That always was cleanly and nice, Liv'd William, a good little child, Who minded his parents' advice. 'Tis true he lov'd marbles and kite, And spin-top, and nine-pins, and ball; But this I declare with delight, His book he loved better than all. In active and useful employ His youth gayly glided away While rational pleasures and joy Attended his steps every day. And now let us see him grown up; Still cheerfulness dwelt in his mind, Contentment yet sweeten'd his cup, For still he was active and kind. His garden well loaded with store, His cot by the side of the green, Where woodbines crept over the door, And jessamines peep'd in between. These fill'd him with honest delight, And rewarded him well for his toil: He went to bed cheerful at night, And woke in the morn with a smile. [Illustration] WE ARE SEVEN. BY WM. WORDSWORTH. A simple child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death! I met a little cottage girl: She was eight years old, she said, Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair Her beauty made me glad. Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be? How many? Seven in all, she said, And wondering looked at me. [Illustration] And where are they? I pray you tell. She answered seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother. You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet ye are seven!--I pray you, tell, Sweet maid, how this may be. Then did the little maid reply, Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree. You run about, my little maid Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five. Their graves are green, they may be seen. The little maid replied, Twelve steps or more from mother's door And they are side by side. [Illustration: The Churchyard.] My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit-- I sit and sing to them. And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. The first that died was little Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away. So in the churchyard she was laid; And when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side. How many are you, then, said I, If they two are in Heaven? The little maiden did reply, O master! we are seven. But they are dead, those two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven! 'Twas throwing words away; for still The little maid would have her will, And said, Nay, we are seven. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE IDLE BOY. Thomas was an idle lad, And loung'd about all day; And though he many a lesson had, He minded nought but play. He only car'd for top or ball, Or marbles, hoop or kite: But as for learning, that was all Neglected by him quite. [Illustration: The Idle Boy.] In vain his mother's kind advice, In vain his master's care; He follow'd ev'ry idle vice, And learnt to curse and swear! And think you, when he grew a man, He prosper'd in his ways? No; wicked courses never can Bring good and happy days. Without a shilling in his purse, Or cot to call his own, Poor Thomas grew from bad to worse And harden'd as a stone. [Illustration] And oh, it grieves me much to write His melancholy end; Then let us leave the dreadful sight, And thoughts of pity send. But may we this important truth Observe and ever hold: "All those who're idle in their youth Will suffer when they're old." [Illustration] [Illustration] CASABIANCA. The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled! The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form. The flames rolled on--he would not go, Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. He called aloud--Say, father, say If yet my task is done? He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. Speak, father! once again he cried, If I may yet be gone; And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair; And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair, And shouted but once more aloud, My father! must I stay! While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child, Like banners in the sky. There came a burst of thunder sound: The boy--O, where was he? Ask of the winds, that far around With fragments strewed the sea-- With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part; But the noblest thing that perished there Was that young faithful heart. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] Twinkle, twinkle, little Star. Twinkle, twinkle, little star; How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the traveller in the dark Thanks you for your tiny spark! He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveller in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star. [Illustration] 
26619	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. [Illustration: "Nannie! Nannie! come and get your breakfast!" P. 16.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS BY MRS MADELINE LESLIE MINNIE'S PET LAMB.] MINNIE'S PET LAMB. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. MINNIE'S PET LAMB. CHAPTER I. NANNIE AND THE PONY. In another book, about Minnie's pet pony, I have already given you some account of Nannie, her pet lamb. This had all the peculiarities of the South Down, to which breed of sheep it belonged. It had full, bright, black eyes, a small head, and a brownish-gray face and legs. Its back was straight and wide, and covered with fine, short wool, which protected it from the cold. When Mr. Lee first brought the lamb home, it cried, or bleated, continually. It was placed in a pen close by the stall where Star, the Shetland pony, was kept, and, the next day after it came, managed to get over the light railing which separated them, and creep up close to the animal. I don't know what Star thought of the little creature; but I suppose he was pleased to have a companion, for when the hostler went to feed him, he found them on very social terms. After this, the lamb's affection for Star grew so strong that it soon forgot all about its mother and its old friends, and gave its whole heart to the new one. The pony returned the love, and was as kind to his little companion as he could possibly be. He never seemed better pleased than when the lamb was standing quietly by his side, eating the hay or turnips with which it was fed, or when, its hunger being appeased, it lay down close under his nose, and chewed its cud by the hour together. At such times, the pony was careful not to step on it, or injure it in any way, but expressed his delight in its society by little short neighs, which were sometimes answered by a responsive note. In a few days they understood each other perfectly, and were as well acquainted, and as fond of each other, as if they had lived together all their lives. Mr. Lee, who was visiting Minnie's pets with his little daughter, said, one morning, it would never do for the lamb to stand in the stall, so closely confined from the out-door air; and he directed John to turn it out into the barn yard for a few hours every day. The man did so; but the poor lamb bleated at this separation from its friend, until the groom happened to think such a change would do Star good too. As soon as the lamb saw the horse coming through the barn door, it stopped crying, and ran toward him just as it would if he had been its mother. Star put down his head to his favorite, when the lamb frisked and gambolled about him, occasionally nibbling at his nose, when he would start back, and, thinking this fine fun, would begin to dance again. O, what a pleasant time they did have! Every morning, Minnie went with her bowl of milk for Nannie, into which, as the lamb grew older, she crumbled some pieces of bread. It was a pretty sight to see the little creature peeping shyly, with its bright eyes, from behind its friend, and then coming a few steps toward her, when she called, in her low, sweet voice,-- "Nannie! Nannie! come and get your breakfast!" Then she held the bowl down where the lamb could reach to put its mouth in, and laughed to see how much the pretty pet liked the milk. One morning the lamb had been eating so many turnips that it was not very hungry; and when Minnie called, it did not obey. In vain the little girl called out, in her softest tones, "Nannie, Nannie! come, pretty Nannie, and drink your milk." At last, the child went into the stable to see what was the matter with her pet, and there her father and mother presently found her, stooping down on the hay by the side of Star, with the lamb's head in her lap. "Minnie! Minnie! come out, quick! The horse will kick you," exclaimed her mother, greatly alarmed; but Mr. Lee only laughed, as he said,-- "No, indeed; Star loves his young mistress too much for that. Let the child be; she is doing well enough." "But she will soil her clothes, and get her shoes covered with dirt," urged the lady, still looking anxious. "O, mamma!" cried Minnie, "I'm in a real clean place on this straw, and Nannie likes to lick my hand. How funny Star is looking round to see what I am doing to his friend." A few hours later, when Mrs. Lee sat with her sewing in the back parlor, the little girl ran into the room, and taking a cricket, pulled it toward her mother, saying,-- "I want you to tell me all you know about sheep and lambs. Can they do such wonderful things, as dogs, and horses, and cats can?" The lady laughed. "I am afraid," she began, "that you would not be satisfied with what little I can tell you; for I confess that I know very little about them. You had better wait till your father comes home, for he has been studying a good many books on that subject, and has learned about the different kinds, with a view to buying a flock. "Or you can ask Anne; for she was brought up in a shepherd's family, and can tell you all about the way they bring up little lambs when their mothers will not own them." "'Not own them,' mamma! What can you mean? I thought mothers always owned their little children." "Sometimes a ewe, as they call the mother, has two or three lambs at a time; and perhaps she thinks she could not nurse them all, and so she chooses one or two that she will take care of, and when the other comes near her, she butts it softly with her head. The lamb knows then that she will not take care of it; and the little forsaken creature begins to cry, Anne says, 'for all the world just like a little baby.'" "And what do the people do for it?" inquired Minnie, tears filling her eyes. "Why, they take it away from the flock, and 'bring it up by hand,' as they call it; that is, they feed it with milk, and it learns to love the one who takes care of it, and follows her about wherever she goes, just like a little dog. Anne will tell you all about it." "She is busy now. I heard her tell cook she wanted to give your chamber a thorough cleaning to-day. Can't you remember something more?" "You know that gentleman, Mr. Sullivan, who comes here sometimes with your father. He is what is called a practical shepherd; that is, he knows all about the habits of sheep, from having been brought up with them. He understands the different breeds, and knows which are the best for wool; and which, for mutton; and what kinds of food are best for them. I have heard your father say that he had gained a great deal of information from Mr. Sullivan, which he could not get from books. I think he will visit us again before long; and I advise you to save all your difficult questions for him to answer." "If father buys a flock, will he keep them on his farm?" asked the child. "O, no, dear! Sheep like to roam over the hills, and browse on the bushes and moss. They can find a very good living where a cow would suffer from hunger." At this moment, Anne appeared at the door, to ask her mistress a question, and Minnie took the opportunity to tell her that she wanted to hear about raising little lambs. "I'll be pleased enough to tell you, miss," answered the woman, smiling. "I've had a dale to do with sheep, and lambs, too, in my younger days, and many's the little cosset I've brought up by hand, when the poor cratur would otherwise have died." CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE LAMBS. Anne was standing on some high steps, putting up clean curtains in her mistress's room; and Minnie stood watching her, and wondering how soon she would be done, so she could tell about the lambs. At last she said,-- "Anne, if I stand up in a chair, I could hold the nails and give them to you." "That's true for you, miss," answered the girl; "and it's a much better way than kapeing them in my mouth." "And you can talk better," urged Minnie, with a roguish look. Anne laughed outright. "Ah, it's the story ye're after, I see; and sure ye're welcome to all I can tell you. "You know my mother was English, and my father Irish. I was born in the great city o' Dublin; but after my father died, which was long enough before I could tell my right hand from my left, I went with my mother to her home in England. Of coorse, I knew nothing of that except by hearsay, which is no evidence at all; but well I can remember, when I was old enough, I was sent out on my grandfather's farm, to mind the sheep; I had a dog, Rover, to go with me, and a little crook, because I was a shepherdess, you know; and I used to carry dinner enough in my pail for Rover too, for he had to work hard, poor fellow! [Illustration: THE YOUNG SHEPHERDESS.] "I liked it very well at first, for the lambs looked so pretty, skipping around the dams; and the air was so fresh and bright; but I was a very little girl; so I soon grew tired, and left all the care of the sheep to Rover. He flew from one end of the field to the other, chasing them away from the hill where they used to wander and get lost. "When I saw the lambs drinking their mother's milk, I thought it must be very nice; and so I lay down on the grass, and drank some too; and I liked it so well that I used to drink every day, until grandfather found it out, and forbid me, because the lambs would not have enough. "By and by I grew up to be a big girl, and then, what with tending the sick sheep, and bringing up the cossets, I had plenty to do. Grandfather had five hundred ewes. He was a rich man, and every body thought well of him. When the lambs began to come, there were some of the ewes that would not own them." "I know about that, Anne," said Minnie; "mamma told me." "Well, when there are two, this is often the case; or sometimes the shepherd finds the mother has not milk enough for two, even if she would like them. Did your mamma tell you that some kinds of sheep are much better nurses than others?" "No, I think she did not know that. She says she don't know much about sheep." "Very likely, as she was not brought up with them. There is a kind called Merinos, which are very bad nurses. Grandfather wouldn't have them on that account, though they have very fine wool, which sells for a good price. Out of a hundred lambs, they wouldn't bring up more than half. "They are poor, tender little things, any way. Well, I mind the time when there was a great storm, and grandfather had to be up all night, housing the poor craturs; for the lambs were coming fast. A little past midnight, mother called me, and there we sat till morning, before a blazing fire, warming up one and another, as he brought them in. I sat down on a cricket, and took two or three in my lap at once, and hugged them up to my bosom. When they began to twitch, and we found they must die, we put them on the great hearth rug, and took more. Sometimes they'd just lie down and go to sleep, and when we had time to look at them, they'd be stiff and cold; and then again they would cry out like a baby. It used to make my heart ache to hear them." Anne had now finished her work, and came down from the steps. "I don't think I should like to be a shepherdess," said Minnie, sighing. "O, yes, you'd like it mightily. Such a time as that only comes once in a great many years. And then, when it's warm summer weather, and the lambs frisk and frolic about their mothers in the field, and you just sit down and play on the accordeon, while the dog keeps the flock in order,--O, there's no work so pleasant or so healthy as that!" When Mr. Lee returned from the city, Minnie was ready with her questions about sheep. "I want to know all I can about them," she exclaimed. "There are few stories that can be told about sheep," he answered, cheerfully; "for it must be confessed that they are far inferior to the horse, dog, and many other animals, in intelligence and sagacity. The sheep has few marked traits, except its meekness, and its natural affection for its young. Still, when I remember that the lamb was selected before all other animals for sacrifice, and as a type of Him who is called 'the Lamb of God,' and who is to take away the sins of the world, I feel a deep interest in its welfare. "The sheep, too, is one of the most useful animals, its fleece or wool being used as a covering to man, and its flesh for food. It was only yesterday I read the well-established fact that, from one pound of sheep's wool a thread was spun so fine that it reached to the almost incredible distance of ninety-five miles, while one of ordinary fineness reached twenty-six miles. This covering grows so thick in winter that it enables them to bear cold which would be fatal to other animals. They appear to know, too, when a storm is approaching, and take refuge under a sheltering hill or some projecting cliff. "One very curious thing is, that they can live under the snow for a long time. Mr. Sullivan, who is a shepherd, you know, told me a circumstance which occurred in his own experience. "There was every appearance of a storm, and he, with his men, drove the sheep early into the fold. In the morning, on counting them, he found there were seven valuable ewes missing. It had snowed all night, and was still snowing, when he started out in search of them. But nowhere could they be found. The storm continued four days, and the snow had reached a depth very uncommon; but day after day the search was renewed. At last, however, it was given up; when one day a woodcutter, in going over a stone wall which lay almost entirely concealed, fell through the snow, and found himself in the midst of the lost sheep. Their breath had rendered the crust, which was firm enough to bear his weight in other places, so thin here that it would not sustain him. They seemed lively and well, having found enough dead grass under the snow to sustain life. "There is an instance very similar to this in one of my books, which I will find and read to you." "In the winter of 1800, a sheep was buried in the snow near Kendal, and remained there thirty-three days and nights, without the possibility of moving, and yet survived. "In the same winter, a sheep near Caldbeck, in Cumberland, was buried thirty-eight days; when found, it had eaten the wool completely off both its shoulders, and was reduced to a skeleton; but with great care it recovered." "Mr. James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, gives a most interesting account of eight hundred ewes that were buried in the snow. Some of them he and his fellow-servants succeeded in getting out the first day; but the second there were but few of them to be seen, except the horns of some stragglers. The men went about, boring with long poles, but with little success, until their dog found out their difficulty, and flying to a spot, began to scrape away the snow. From this time, by his keen scent, he marked faster than they could get them out, and by his skill saved two hundred, though some were buried in a mountain of snow fifty feet deep. They were all alive, and most of them recovered their strength." CHAPTER III. THE SHEEP AND THE SCAVENGER. "Why, Minnie," said Mrs. Lee, one morning a few weeks later, "here is a story very much like that of our pony and lamb. If Poll will stop chattering, I will read it to you." "In December, 1825, Thomas Rae, a blacksmith in Hardhills, purchased a beautiful lamb, of the black-faced breed, from an individual passing with a large flock. It was so extremely wild that it was with great difficulty separated from its companions. He put it in a field in company with a cow and a little white pony. It never seemed to mind the cow, but soon manifested fondness for the pony, who showed the friendship to be reciprocated. "They soon became so attached that they were constantly to be seen in company, whether the pony was used for the saddle or its small carriage, exciting a smile from those who witnessed the unusual spectacle. When the lamb was approached, she would run under the pony for protection, when she would gaze around with looks of conscious security. At night, the lamb always repaired to the stable, and reposed under the manger, where it felt the pony's breath. "When separate, which only happened as it was effected by force, the little creature would raise the most plaintive bleatings, and the pony a responsive neighing. "On one occasion, they both strayed into an adjoining field, in which was a flock of sheep. The lamb joined the flock at a short distance from the pony; but as their owner removed him, it immediately followed, without the least regard to its own species. "Another time, when passing through a large flock, it followed its favorite without showing any signs of a desire to remain with its natural companions." "Somebody must have known about Nannie, and put it in a book," cried Minnie, greatly excited. "I wonder who it was." "I presume there are many such cases," answered the lady, smiling; "but you will be pleased to know that Mr. Sullivan will probably be here this evening; and you can ask him as many questions as you wish." The little girl clapped her hands, and then ran out to the kitchen, to tell Anne the good news. When her father returned, she looked anxiously into the carriage, to see whether he had any one with him, and was pleased to find that a dark-complexioned, black-whiskered man occupied the other seat. "I have prepared Mr. Sullivan for a regular catechising," exclaimed Mr. Lee, springing from the carriage, and kissing Minnie's glowing cheek. "You may show him Nannie, too; and he will tell you how to manage her." They were soon seated in the parlor, when Mr. Lee said,-- "I have often thought of that beautiful passage in which our Saviour describes the Jewish shepherd: 'The sheep hear his voice, and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out; and he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.'" "It is astonishing," remarked the visitor, "what power a humane shepherd has over his flock, when he has once acquired their confidence. This method of giving names to the sheep, as well as to the leaders, is very important. They soon learn the name given them, and will readily come at the familiar call. "I read lately an account given by a gentleman who had been travelling in Greece, and he asked if it was customary there to give sheep names. 'Yes,' was the answer; and soon after he had an opportunity of seeing for himself. Passing a flock, he asked the shepherd to call one. He did so; and it instantly left its pasture and its companions, and ran up to the shepherd with signs of pleasure, and with a prompt obedience which I had never seen excelled in any other animal. "I have heard, too, that an English shepherd knows every sheep in his flock. By feeding the lambs from the hand, and other kind treatment, he accustoms them to come at his call, and gradually to understand and follow his directions, when the rest of the flock will immediately follow. "In France, the shepherd selects certain sheep from the flock, gives them names, and teaches them to come by offering them a piece of bread. When he wishes to lead his flock through a defile, or to make them change the direction in which they are proceeding, he calls one of these selected sheep. Those that are nearest follow immediately, and the others are not very far behind; and so, by degrees, the whole flock is disposed to obey the call of the shepherd." "Since you were here last," rejoined Mr. Lee, "I have been reading Youatt's admirable treatise on sheep. He has an instance very similar concerning the flock of Messrs. Nowlan, Kilkenny. In 1820, they had six hundred pure Merinos, all under the charge of one man. Not even a dog was permitted; the whole care devolved on the shepherd. "At the sound of his horn, all the sheep flocked around him if he stopped, and followed him if he moved forward. "Salt was the means by which this docility was acquired, a small quantity of which he carried about with him, distributing a little as a reward for their obedience to his call. "The Kilkenny farm is divided by the King's River, which at times is so rapid and impetuous as not to be fordable by the strongest horse. A plank bridge, eighteen inches wide, and one hundred and ten feet long, with a rail on one side, is thrown across for the convenience of those who may be desirous of crossing the stream. "When it is necessary to remove the sheep from one side of the river to the other, the shepherd crosses the plank, sounding his horn, and each individual of the flock passes regularly after him in single file. Even in the highest floods, there has never occurred one single casualty." "That reminds me," said Mr. Sullivan, "of the flocks in the Island of Cyrnon, which, on the landing of a stranger, always flee away into the interior of the country; but as soon as the shepherd blows his horn, they scamper around him, and forget every fear. "But all this time I am quite unmindful of my young friend, who has not yet asked one question." "I want to know whether it's easy to be a shepherdess," said Minnie, blushing; "because I should like to be one; only I should want the kind of sheep that would own their lambs, and love them." Both Mr. Lee and his visitor laughed heartily. "Sheep have one trait, and a very marked one," said Mr. Sullivan, "which makes it difficult to keep them in order. That is, their habit of imitation. On my farm, the boundary one side is a stone wall, and it seems almost impossible to keep them from going over it. There is no better feed in my neighbor's pasture; but for some reason the leader runs over, and then the whole flock follow. They know better, and they seldom attempt it when Moses, the dog, is in sight; for sheep soon learn the exact boundaries of their enclosure: from being driven back so often, they find how far they can roam, and remain in peace. "So, Miss Minnie, unless you can run very fast, and like to keep on the chase pretty much all day, I think you would find it easier to take care of your pets at home than to be a shepherdess." "Will you please tell me a story about sheep?" said the little girl. "If you like a laughable story, I can tell you one which I was thinking of not a minute since. It illustrates their habit of imitation. It is often exceedingly difficult to drive a flock of sheep through a narrow passage to which they are unaccustomed; but if one of them can be got through, the rest follow without the slightest trouble. "A butcher's boy was driving some fat sheep through Liverpool; but they ran down a street where he did not wish them to go. The boy saw a man before him sweeping the street, and called loudly to him,-- "'Stop them! Turn them about!' "The man began to run from one side of the street to the other, always opposing himself and his broom to them when they tried to force a passage through; but the sheep became more and more excited, and pressed forward with increasing impetuosity. "At last, one of them came right up to the man, who was stooping down, as if he were going to jump over him, which so frightened the fellow that, instead of rising, he seized the short broomstick, with one hand on either end, and held it over his head. He remained a few seconds in this position, when the sheep made a spring, and jumped fairly over him, without touching the broom. "The first had no sooner done this, than another followed, and then another, in quick succession, so that the man, perfectly confounded, seemed to lose all recollection, and remained in the same attitude until the whole flock had jumped over him, not one of them attempting to pass on either side, though the street was quite clear. "All this took place just after a wet day, so that the man was entirely bespattered with mud and dirt before they had all passed; and it would be impossible to conceive a more ludicrous appearance than the poor fellow made on that occasion." CHAPTER IV. ATTACHMENT TO HOME. "That's a real funny story," exclaimed Minnie, her eyes sparkling with mirth, "only I can't help pitying that poor man." "I can recall another, though a sadder incident," continued Mr. Sullivan, "illustrating the same quality." "In 1808, an accident happened in England to some sheep belonging to Mr. Cooper, of Huilston Hall, who had intrusted them to the care of a boy for that day, in the absence of the shepherd, who was assisting in getting in the harvest. "About the middle of the day, the sheep broke from their pasture, when the thoughtless boy drove them back in great haste over a narrow and deep ditch. The leading sheep fell in, and the remainder, passing over them, smothered twenty-five sheep and forty lambs, the whole being worth near four hundred dollars. "In the same book, there is also an account of a flock near Guildford, consisting of more than eight hundred sheep, in one pasture. A dog one day jumped the hedge, and so frightened them that one of them jumped into an adjoining field, which was on a great descent, when the rest of the flock followed each other over the gap of the hedge so fast that one hundred and twenty-three of them were killed." "There is one quality or characteristic of the sheep which will interest you, Minnie," said her father, "and that is their love of home. Perhaps Mr. Sullivan will tell you some stories about that." "I should be very glad to hear them, and about the little lambs." "A great deal can be said upon that," returned the shepherd, cheerfully. "So strong is their attachment to the place where they have been bred, that I have heard of their returning to the Highlands of Scotland from a distance of three hundred miles. When a few sheep accidentally get away from their acquaintance in the flock, they always return home with great eagerness and perseverance. "The most singular instance that I know of is that of a black ewe, that returned from a farm in the head of Glen Lyon to her home in Tweeddale, and accomplished the journey in nine days. She was soon missed by her owner, and a shepherd was despatched in pursuit of her, who followed her all the way to Crieff, where he turned and gave her up. He got intelligence of her all the way, and every one told him that she absolutely persisted in travelling on--she would not be turned, regarding neither sheep nor shepherd by the way. "Her poor little lamb was often far behind, and she had constantly to urge it on by impatient bleating. She unluckily reached Stirling on the morning of a great annual fair, about the end of May, and judging it imprudent to venture through the crowd with her lamb, she halted on the north side of the town the whole day, where she was seen by hundreds, lying close by the roadside. "But the next morning, a little before the break of day, when all was still, she was seen stealing quietly through the town, in apparent terror of the dogs that were prowling about the street. The last time she was seen on the road was at a toll bar near St. Ninian's; the man stopped her, thinking she was a strayed animal, and that some one would claim her. She tried several times to break through by force, when he opened the gate for travellers; but he always prevented her, and at length she turned patiently back. She found some means of eluding him, however; for she reached home on a Sabbath morning early in June, having left the farm at Glen Lyon either on Thursday afternoon or Friday morning, a week and two days before. "I suppose her former owner thought she had earned a right to remain on her native farm, for he paid the Highland farmer the price of her, and she remained with him till she at length died of old age, in her seventeenth year." At this moment, company was announced, who remained till evening, so that poor little Minnie, after waiting a long time for her stories, was obliged to go to bed without them. "Never mind, dear," whispered her father, noticing her look of disappointment; "I have a book with beautiful anecdotes of sheep and lambs, which I will read to you when I come home to-morrow night." In the morning, Mr. Sullivan found time to pay Nannie a visit, and pronounced her in a thriving condition. He recommended Mr. Lee to have her wool sheared off, as it was so long as to make her uncomfortable during the heat of summer. Nannie was now a year old, and was a fine, large lamb, with her speckled face looking very bright and intelligent, and, as the gentleman said, did credit to the care of her shepherdess. Soon after breakfast, Mr. Lee and his visitor went to the library on business, and Minnie did not see them again until just as they were getting into the carriage to drive away. She waited with some impatience for her father to return, and wished she knew what book her father referred to as having the stories in it, so that she might have it ready for him. Her mother, finding that she was restless and discontented, advised her to apply herself to her letters, which she was beginning to learn. If the truth must be told, the little girl was not fond of study; but when her mother reminded her that most children of her age could read and spell with ease, and that, if she was diligent, she herself would soon be able to read stories, and not be dependent on any one else, she thought it would be a good thing to learn. For half an hour, she forgot her desire for her father's return in finding A's and E's in books to match letters on her cards. Evening came at last, and Mr. Lee with it. He looked very smiling, and told his wife his sister was in the city, and was coming in a few weeks to visit them. The moment he saw Minnie's expectant face, he told her he would be ready in five minutes to attend to her, and then invited Mrs. Lee to accompany them to the library, to hear some stories from the Shepherd's Calendar, and other books. In a few moments, Minnie was seated on her father's lap, her whole countenance beaming with pleased anticipation. CHAPTER V. AFFECTION FOR ITS YOUNG. The gentleman began:-- "The marked characteristic of the sheep is that of natural affection, of which it possesses a great share. At the present time, there is in Regent's Park a poor sheep, with very bad foot rot. Crawling along the pasture on its knees, it with difficulty contrives to procure for itself subsistence; and the pain which it suffers when compelled to get on its feet is evidently very great. At a little distance from the sufferer was another sheep, which, after close observation, I found was always the same. As I pursued my regular morning walk through the Park, I commonly sought out the friends, and, after two or three days, they seemed to be aware that no harm was intended them, and they suffered me to come near enough to observe their signals, and fully to satisfy myself that it was always the same faithful adherent by whom the cripple was solaced and watched. "When a sheep becomes blind, it is rarely abandoned to itself in this hapless and helpless state. Some one of the flock attaches himself to it, and by bleating calls it back from the precipice, and the lake, and the pool, and every kind of danger to which it is exposed." "Isn't that good of them?" cried Minnie, eagerly. "I like those sheep." "There was once a gentleman living in Inverness," Mr. Lee went on, "who was passing through a lonely and unfrequented district, when he observed a sheep bleating most piteously, and hurrying along the road to meet him; on his approaching nearer, the animal redoubled its cries, and looking earnestly in his face, seemed to implore some favor or assistance. "Touched with a sight so unusual, he alighted, and leaving his gig, he followed the sheep in the direction whence it had come. There, in a solitary place, the ewe stopped, and the traveller found a lamb, completely wedged in between two large stones, almost exhausted, but still continuing to struggle very feebly. "The kind gentleman instantly extricated the little sufferer, and placed it safely on the neighboring greensward, while the delighted mother poured out her thanks in a long-continued and grateful, if not a musical, strain. "An interesting provision of nature with regard to these animals is, that the more inhospitable the land on which they feed, the greater will be their kindness and affection to their young. "'I once herded,' says the Ettrick Shepherd, 'two years on a wild and bare farm, called Willenslee, on the border of Mid Lothian; and of all the sheep I ever saw, these were the kindest and most affectionate to their lambs. I was often deeply affected at scenes which I witnessed. We had one very hard winter, so that our sheep grew lean in the spring, and disease came among them, and carried off a number. Often have I seen these poor victims, when fallen to rise no more, even when unable to lift their heads from the ground, holding up the leg to invite the starving lamb to the miserable pittance that the udder still could supply. I had never seen aught more painfully affecting. "'It is well known that it is a custom with shepherds, when a lamb dies, if the mother have a sufficiency of milk, to bring her from the hill, and put another lamb to her. This is done by putting the skin of the dead lamb upon the living one; the ewe immediately acknowledges the relationship, and after the skin has warmed on it, so as to give it something of the smell of her own lamb, and when it has suckled her two or three times, she accepts it, and nourishes it as her own ever after. Whether it is from joy at this apparent reanimation of her young one, or because a little doubt remains in her mind, which she would fain dispel, I can not decide; but, for a number of days, she shows far more fondness, by bleating and caressing, over this one, than she formerly did over the one that was really her own. "'While at Willenslee, I never needed to drive home a sheep by force, with dogs, or in any other way than the following: I found every ewe, of course, hanging her head over her dead lamb; and having a piece of twine with me for the purpose, I tied that to the lamb's neck or foot, and, trailing it along, the ewe followed me into any house, or fold, or wherever I chose to lead her. Any of them would have followed me in that way for miles, with her nose close on the lamb, which she never quitted for a moment, except to chase my dog, which she would not suffer to walk near me. "'Out of curiosity, I often led them in to the side of the kitchen fire, by this means into the midst of servants and dogs; but the more that dangers multiplied around the ewe, the closer she clung to her dead offspring, and thought of nothing whatever but protecting it. One of the two years while I remained on this farm, a severe blast of snow came on by night, about the latter end of April, which destroyed several scores of our lambs; and as we had not enough of twins and odd lambs for the mothers that had lost theirs, of course we selected the best ewes, and put lambs to them. I found one fine ewe standing over a dead lamb in the head of the Hope, and asked my master to put a lamb to her, but he did not. I watched her, and faithfully did she stand to her charge; so faithfully, that I think the like was never equalled by any of the woolly race. I visited her morning and evening, and for the first eight days never found her above two or three yards from the lamb; and always, as I went my rounds, she eyed me long ere I came near her, and kept trampling with her feet, and whistling through her nose, to frighten away the dog. He got a regular chase, twice a day, as I passed by. "'The weather grew fine and warm, and the dead lamb soon decayed; but still this affectionate and desolate creature kept hanging over the poor remains, with an attachment that seemed to be nourished by hopelessness. It often drew tears from my eyes, to see her hanging with such fondness over a few bones, mixed with a small portion of wool. "'For the first fortnight, she never quitted the spot, and for another week she visited it every morning and evening, uttering a few kindly and heart-piercing bleats each time, till at length every remnant of her offspring vanished, mixing with the soil, or wafted away by the winds of heaven.'" "There, Minnie, I think you have heard enough for to-night," said Mr. Lee, gayly, as he heard his little daughter sigh repeatedly. "O, father, I can't help being so sorry for the poor sheep!" "You had better read her something more cheerful, or she'll be thinking of that all night," responded Mrs. Lee, laughing at the child's dolorous tone. "Yes, father, please read one more." "Well, then, here is something that will please you." "A drover, being on his way to Smithfield market with a flock of sheep, one of them became so sore-footed and lame that it could travel no farther. The man, wishing to get on, took up the distressed animal, and dropped it over the paling of an enclosure belonging to Mr. O'Kelly, and where the celebrated race-horse Dungannon was then grazing, and pursued his journey, intending to call for the sheep on his return, believing, after a little rest, it would quickly recover. This was the case; but, in the mean time, a strong attachment grew up between the two inhabitants of the paddock. The horse would playfully nibble the neck of the sheep, and, without hurting it, would lift it into the manger of a neighboring shed belonging to the field, as much as to say, 'Though you are not able to reach it, I will help you to the banquet.' Besides this, the horse would, on all occasions, protect his new friend, and would suffer no one to interfere with him. "When the drover returned, the two friends had become so attached, that it seemed cruel to part them; and Mrs. O'Kelly, having learned the circumstances, bought the sheep, and left the friends in peaceable possession of the paddock and its adjoining shelter." CHAPTER VI. THE SHEEP-FARM. About this time, Minnie went a short journey with her parents, and was greatly delighted when, one afternoon, they drove through a long, winding lane to a farmhouse, where her friend, Mr. Sullivan, was residing. "Will you please let me see the lambs?" she asked the kind old lady, Mr. Sullivan's mother, who kept house for him at this time. "My little daughter has been scarcely able to contain her joy," explained Mr. Lee, "since I told her, a few miles back, that we were going to visit your son." The good woman smiled kindly upon the child, and then went to the back door, where she took down a long horn, and blew upon it with all her might. "Joseph will hear that," she said, laughing, as she saw Minnie's large eyes fixed so eagerly on her face, "and he will come up presently from the field. When he has taken care of your father's horses, you can go back with him if you please." "And may I take the little lambs in my arms? I love lambs dearly." "They are rather shy of strangers, dear, but you can try. If the ewes are willing, I am." Minnie then ran to the door, and soon announced, in a glad voice, that Mr. Sullivan was in sight. He gave them a cheering welcome, and, after kissing Minnie, told her she might run all over the farm, just where she pleased. "There is a calf in the barn," he said, laughing, "and plenty of little pigs in the sty." "But I like lambs better than pigs, sir." "Well, there are some over a hundred of them, and you shall be introduced to their acquaintance as soon as I have given the horses some oats." Mrs. Lee was readily induced to join the party, although somewhat tired with her long drive. The sheep, of which there were one hundred and fifty, were eating grass on the side of a hill, but, at the shepherd's call, came running to meet him, bleating for their lambs to follow. He threw out some salt, with which his huge pockets were filled; and while Minnie gazed with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks upon the unusual scene, asked Mr. Lee what he thought of their appearance. "I never saw a finer flock," was the eager reply. "They do credit to their keeping." A scream of delight from Minnie caused her father to turn quickly, in time to see a beautiful white lamb crowding its little nose through the fence, into the child's hand. "Here, Minnie," said the shepherd, giving her an ear of corn; "hold this up, and call, 'Luke,' and you'll soon have the mother to the lamb eating from the cob." He laughed merrily, as he added, "My boy has given them all Bible names; so we have Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. He hesitated a little about Acts, but finally thought he'd better go straight through. So here comes Acts, with her twin lambs, as fine a pair as there is in the flock." Mr. and Mrs. Lee laughed heartily, and presently Minnie asked, "What is the name of that great one, with horns?" "O! That's Jeroboam. He's a cruel fellow, I'm sorry to say. I wouldn't advise you to have much to do with such a fellow as he is." "He looks like a picture in our Bible of a ram going to sacrifice," said the child, gravely. "I wish he were good, though." "Here comes a lamb now," said Mr. Sullivan, "that I took the liberty to name for you. To my fancy, she's the prettiest one of the flock. Minnie, Minnie, come and get your corn." "Can lambs eat corn, sir?" "No; but their mothers can, and they get the good of it." Minnie's mother came and ate the corn greedily from his hand, while the lamb danced about, first on one side and then on the other, much to the amusement of the child. "Do they stay out in the field all night, sir?" "O, no! we always shelter them. At this season, we allow them to feed till late; the sun being so hot in the middle of the day, they all crowd under the shade of the hill." "But what do they do when it rains?" "A warm shower doesn't hurt the lambs; but we had some cold north-east storms earlier in the season, when we were obliged to drive them all in, as we couldn't separate the lambs from their mothers. One day, we tried to keep the ewes out to feed, but they bleated so much for their little ones 'twas no use; they wouldn't eat." "I'm glad of that," cried Minnie, eagerly. "I'm glad your sheep love their children. In Ireland, sometimes they won't own them." "We had a great deal of trouble with the merinos," Mr. Sullivan went on, directing his remark to Mr. Lee. "Not one in ten cared any thing about her lamb. If she had milk enough, I could tie her; but it often made my heart ache to hear the poor wee things crying for a mother's care. I was almost glad when they died off, as they generally did. I find it's the universal opinion now that merinos make poor nurses." The shepherd turned smilingly to Minnie: "Have you any more questions to ask, Miss?" "O, a great many! But as we are going to stay all night, I shall have time." "Then, my dear, I will go in," said her mother, laughing. "I think you have catechised Mr. Sullivan quite enough for the present." The next hour was spent by the child in wandering all over the farm. In company with her father and the good-humored shepherd, she examined the neat continuous racks all around the sheep-house, which, in winter, were filled with hay or husks for their food. Long troughs were underneath, into which, as night approached, she was much amused to see the boy, Isaac, pour the scalded meal. In the centre of the house was a large, shallow box or trough, filled with clear water from a neighboring hill. This, Mr. Sullivan assured them, had not frozen during the winter. Minnie stood for a long time watching the pearly drops as they trickled slowly through the pipe, wondering why the water never rose any higher in the trough. At length her father showed her a little pipe which carried off the waste water into the ground. They were sitting at the supper table, and Minnie was giving a glowing account of her discoveries, when they were startled by a loud shouting: "Stop, Israel! Go along, Moses! Ssh! hi! there, Obadiah! Here, Jonah, Amos, Nebuchadnezzar, Moses! what are you about?" "What is the stupid fellow bringing up the sheep at this time for?" queried Mr. Sullivan, glancing at the clock; and then, seeing the look of merriment on the faces of his visitors, he burst into a hearty laugh. "I believe you'll have to excuse me," he said, rising hastily. "Isaac will never be able to get them into the fold alone." "I want to go, too," whispered Minnie. She was rather frightened at first at the loud bleating of the ewes, and the responsive cries of the lambs; but keeping close to the shepherd, had the satisfaction of feeling that she was of great assistance in driving them into the enclosure. The moment they began to enter the sheep-house, the boy, Isaac, commenced a loud, shrill whistle, which the sheep seemed to understand, and which her friend informed her directed them to the troughs for their supper. "I didn't mean to shelter them for an hour yet," exclaimed the lad, when his master blamed him for driving them to the fold so early; "but Jeroboam butted down a rail in the fence, and before I knew it, the crazy creatures were all out in the garden." "We must kill that fellow if he does much more mischief," Mr. Sullivan said; and taking Minnie's hand, they returned to the house. "It speaks well for Isaac's knowledge of Scripture," remarked Mr. Lee, archly, "that he has chosen the names so appropriately." "O! He goes to mother for that," was the ready answer; "but it does surprise me to see how he recognizes every one. I believe he is as well acquainted with the name and character of every sheep and lamb as a pastor is with his congregation. I often hear him talking to one for being selfish, or praising another for her meekness. I am well enough acquainted with Jeroboam to know that he is as obstinate and self-willed as his illustrious namesake." "Isaac says little Abner is a thief," exclaimed Minnie, laughing. "So he is, and steals his supper from the ewes whenever he can get it, at the expense of many a poor lamb." "I saw Minnie again, mother, and I knew her in a minute." "You'd make a capital shepherdess," added Mr. Sullivan; "you'd govern them all by love." "That is the way you do," remarked his mother. "Well, there is no other way. Sometimes they are rather provoking; but I always feel ashamed of myself when I lose my temper with a brute. There is nothing like kindness to conquer even the most obstinate animal. Last winter, I had a man to help me. He was giving one of the ewes a dose of medicine, and she struggled so hard to get away that she threw over the cup three successive times. I found he could do nothing with her, and so I myself undertook the job. The poor creature was by that time so frightened, that when I forced the spoon between her teeth, she bit my finger to the bone. I said nothing of the pain until I had accomplished my object--" "And then you came near fainting," interrupted his mother. "The finger was a long time in healing." "The man was terribly angry," added the shepherd, "and showed so much spite to the innocent cause of his rage, that I told him he was unfit for the care of animals; that he degraded himself to a brute when he revenged on them his own awkwardness. I dismissed him, and took Isaac, who is worth a dozen such fellows." The next morning, Minnie arose in season to help Isaac drive the sheep from the fold to the pasture; and then, having received a promise from Mrs. Sullivan to save some of the lamb's wool, and knit Minnie a pair of stockings, she took leave of the farm, exclaiming, as she rode off, "O, I do love sheep, and I wish we lived on a farm!" CHAPTER VII. THE SHEPHERD'S DOG. A few mornings after this, Minnie went out at an early hour to see her pets in the stable, when she found the sheep lying on its side, quiet and still. She did not, as usual, spring forward to eat the corn which Minnie was sure to have for her, but only raised a feeble, plaintive cry. As her father was already gone to the city, Minnie flew to the house, for Anne to come and tell her what was the matter with poor Nannie. Anne looked very sober after examining the sheep, and then said, "It must have a dose of medicine at once." Poor Minnie was dreadfully excited, and looked really pale, though, like a brave little girl, she insisted on holding the cup from which nurse was feeding sick Nannie. Star, too, seemed really anxious, and he was quite careful to keep his own side of the stall, for fear he should hurt his favorite. Through the day, Minnie visited the barn as often as twice in an hour, and always insisted that Anne should accompany her. Before her father returned, she had the satisfaction of knowing that Nannie was much better. She was still very weak, but her eyes looked brighter, and she chewed her cud, which Anne said was a good sign. To turn her mind from her trouble, Mr. Lee took his book again, and said,-- "Minnie, did you ever hear of a sheep that had so fat a tail that it weighed more than fifty pounds?" "O, no, sir," answered the child, laughing; "how funny they must look!" "They are called the fat-tailed sheep," added her father, "and are natives of Africa." "Are there as many kinds of sheep as there are of dogs?" "More, if all the inferior qualities are counted. They are constantly multiplied, too; and there are many very greatly improved varieties. Now I suppose you would like to hear about the sheep-dogs, and how they are trained to take care of the flocks." "Yes, sir, I should like that." "In many parts of the world, where there are immense flocks, it is very important to have dogs to assist in taking care of them. But as a sheep considers the dog an enemy, and is more afraid of him than of almost any other animal it meets, it is necessary, in the first place, to get these animals acquainted, that they may feel friendly. "In order to do this, when one of the ewes has a lamb, the shepherd takes it from her, and puts a young puppy in its place. "After being held two or three times while the puppy suckles her, the ewe will generally adopt the little creature, and love it as well as if it was her own lamb. "All this time, the puppy has a bed of wool to lie on, to accustom him to the smell of the animal; and by the time he is weaned, he becomes so attached to his new friends, that he will never forsake them, nor leave the particular drove with which he has been brought up. Not even the voice of his master can entice him out of sight of the flock. No hunger and thirst can do it. There he remains, constant and true to his charge, ready even to lay down his life for them, while they regard him not only as a dearly loved friend, but as a protector and guide, whom it is their duty to obey. Did you ever know, Minnie, that the Italian wolf dog has short wool under his hair? This is the case, the wool resembling the Leicester and Lincoln breeds. "One of these faithful, noble animals takes charge of a thousand sheep, going out with them in the morning, and bringing them all back at night. "If one of the sheep strays from its companions, the dog follows it, even into a strange flock, takes it carefully by the ear, and leads it back. "When a stranger approaches the flock, the dog advances, barking, and the sheep all close in his rear, as if round the oldest ram, while they are so fierce with other dogs and wolves, that it is said a whole pack of hungry wild dogs will not venture to attack them. "The only trouble with the sheep-dog is, that when they are young, they like to play with the sheep, and sometimes run them unmercifully; but when they are older, they seem fully to understand their duty, and walk up and down continually on the outer side of the flock, ever watchful for the approach of danger. "Sometimes, where there is a scarcity of grass, two flocks will be brought within a short distance of each other, when these faithful sentinels place themselves in the space between them, and if one or a number attempt to rush across and make acquaintance with their neighbors, their respective dog gently but firmly selects them from all the others, and leads them back. What is very strange is the fact that on such occasions, the other dog stands quietly by until the intruders are removed, while no force would induce him to allow the strange dog to enter his flock on any other pretence. "A very affecting instance of the faithfulness of these animals I will tell you. "A shepherd dog, having the charge of a small flock, was allowed to wander with them into the mountains, while the shepherd returned to his village for a few days, having perfect confidence in the ability of the animal to protect them, but with a strange forgetfulness to provide the dog with food. "Upon his return to the flock, he found it several miles from the place where he had left it, but on the road leading to the village, while the poor dog, in the midst of plenty, was lying by the roadside in the agonies of death by starvation. He might have torn one of the lambs to pieces; but so devoted was he to his charge, that rather than injure one of them he sacrificed his own life." "What a wicked man!" cried Minnie, indignantly. "I shouldn't think he would ever forgive himself." "Yes, it was cruel; but no doubt he felt the loss keenly, as it could not readily be made up. Another dog must be brought up among them, and be trained to his business; for it is a mistake to suppose that, however well taught a shepherd's dog may be, he will be allowed by the sheep to come among them until they have learned to regard him as a friend and protector." "I heard, not long since, a laughable story, to illustrate this fact. "Mr. Thomas Jefferson, one of our Presidents, having a flock of sheep on his place at Monticello, was very glad to receive a thoroughly broken shepherd dog which had been sent him. "Soon after its arrival, he had a number of distinguished guests, to whom he made known his recent gift, the convenience of having a dog to manage his flock, and the almost incredible ability of the animal, and whom he led forth to witness the value of his present. "The dog had not as yet been admitted to the sheep, but at the word of command sprang in among them. "The terrified animals fled in all directions, some of them dashing themselves over precipices, and breaking their necks. "The dog either shared the same fate, or, mortified at his failure, felt his pride too deeply wounded to return. Mr. Jefferson never recovered him." CHAPTER VIII. HARRY AND HATTY. One pleasant morning in June, Mr. Lee ordered the carriage, and drove with Minnie to a delightful residence on the border of a lovely lake. Minnie had often been here to visit little Harry, only child of her mother's friends. This dear boy, like Minnie, had many pets, and could fully sympathize with her in her love for animals and for the beauties of nature. Harry had a pony named Cherokee; he had also pretty birds, that he delighted to watch, as they hung in their cage. But the pet which Harry loved more than all others was a lamb, which he had named Hatty. This little creature had been given him but a short time before Minnie's visit; but it had learned to know his voice, to run to meet him, and to eat grass from his hand. When Hatty was first carried from her mother to Harry's home, she cried for her usual companions. The boy's tender heart was touched, and he begged his father to let the lamb sleep in his room. "She will be so lonely!" he urged; "and I shall want to take care of her. Please, papa, be so kind as to let me have her there." His parents, ever anxious to please their dear child, readily consented; but first his mamma allowed him to take his pet into the lake for a bath. Nurse, laughing at his delight, dressed Harry in his red flannel bathing suit; and then, with his lamb in his arms, he waded into the water. Hatty was a little afraid; but even in those few hours that she had been with her young master, she had learned that he would not allow her to be injured. When the lamb's soft wool was dry, as it soon was in the hot sun, his father left his reading in the parlor to help him find a basket large enough for the lamb's bed. In the morning, when his mother went into his chamber, she laughed to see that he had taken his pet to share his own bed, and was lying with his arms around her neck, kissing her with demonstrative affection. "Pretty little Hatty!" he exclaimed, again and again; "I do love you so dearly!" Minnie had scarcely alighted from the carriage, when Harry cried out, "Please come and see my lamb." The child smilingly followed him to the field, where the little creature was learning to graze in the rich clover. As soon as she heard his voice, she ran toward him, bleating and showing every mark of strong affection. She was a pretty lamb, with long, silky wool, gentle eyes, and a meek, loving expression. During the day, the two children were scarcely a moment away from Hatty; for Harry's heart was moved by her cries for him, and he was so fond of her he could not endure a separation. Sometimes they would sit down on the clean, sweet grass, the boy laying his head on Hatty's neck; but more commonly they were running over the lawn, with the lamb close at their heels, sharing their happiness. "O, mamma," he exclaimed, when they went in to dinner, "we have had such a funny time! Hatty knows Minnie now quite well; but she does not love her, of course, as she does me. She cries for me whenever she cannot see me." His mother smiled, and then asked, "Have you told Minnie about Una, and what Hatty does while you are learning your lessons?" "O, no, mamma! I quite forgot to tell her." "Will you please tell me about Una?" urged Minnie, with great earnestness. "Yes, dear. Una was the name of a lamb I once saw. She was not gentle and loving, as Harry's lamb is; she was more lively, and full of tricks. She had a bad habit of browsing the trees, so that her mistress one day told a servant to tie her to a stake in the orchard, or she would destroy the young plants. "Una had a little companion that was very quiet and inoffensive, but was sometimes led by her into mischief. The next morning after she had been tied, when the man went with the leather strap and string to lead her to the orchard again, Una was nowhere to be found. All day long she and her companion were off out of sight; but at night they came timidly back, watching to see that the man did not catch them." Minnie laughed heartily. "I suppose," she exclaimed, "that she ran away to escape being tied, as our Leo used to when he wanted to go to church." "Yes; and she repeated the trick for several days. She was a very cunning lamb, and would watch her chance, standing on her hind feet, to eat the bark from the young trees, and pull the slender twigs down toward the ground with her fore leg." "Can you remember any thing more about her?" timidly inquired Minnie. "Dinner is ready," answered the lady, smiling. "We shall not have time now; but Harry may tell you about Hatty." Harry stood up very straight, his bright eyes sparkling with pleasure; then, with a motion peculiar to him, tossing the curls from his forehead, and turning to Minnie, he said, in an animated tone, "Every morning I have my lessons with mamma; but Hatty doesn't like me to study, because she wants to be playing, you know. At first, she cried so much that I couldn't get on at all well, until mamma put my stool close to the door. You see it is glass, and she could look through the panes. So she lies on the piazza outside, with her nose as close as she can get it to me." "And her loving eyes fixed on his face," added mamma, smiling at Minnie's earnest gaze. "Isn't it funny," cried the boy, leaning toward his young visitor, "for her to sit still till my lessons are learned, so that I can say them all by heart? "O, mamma!" he shouted, "there's Hatty now." And, true enough, the affectionate creature had followed them around the house to the dining room, and there she stood butting against the glass, to get to her dear little master. "I do think," cried Minnie, enthusiastically, "that Hatty is the very best lamb I ever saw." MRS. LESLIE'S JUVENILE SERIES. 16mo. MRS. LESLIE'S JUVENILE SERIES. 16mo. FOR BOYS. Vol. I. THE MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. " II. PLAY AND STUDY. " III. HOWARD AND HIS TEACHER. " IV. JACK, THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. FOR GIRLS. Vol. I. TRYING TO BE USEFUL. " II. LITTLE AGNES. " III. I'LL TRY. " IV. ART AND ARTLESSNESS. MINNIE'S PET HORSE. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: Page Error 16 crumbed changed to crumbled 48 their strength. changed to their strength." 109 adjoining shelter. changed to adjoining shelter." 143 companions, the changed to companions, the dog 
26620	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. Oe ligatures have been expanded. [Illustration: MINNIE AND HER PONY.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS. BY MRS MADELINE LESLIE. MINNIE'S PET PONY.] MINNIE'S PET HORSE. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. MINNIE'S PET HORSE. CHAPTER I. THE HORSE AND THE DOG. In the other books of this little series, I have told you about Minnie's pet parrot, her pet cat, and her pet dog. In this one, I shall give you an account of her pet pony, and also tell you anecdotes of other horses. Star was the name she gave her Shetland pony, I suppose because he had a white star on his forehead, which showed very distinctly from the contrast with his dark bay hair. He was about three feet high, with a short neck and a long black tail. He was very affectionate and gentle, loving his little mistress, and neighing pleasantly whenever he heard her voice. The little girl seldom went out to the stable without asking the cook for a piece of bread for Star. Sometimes she did not give it to him at once, but hid it under her apron. The pony soon learned this trick, and, if the bread was not forthcoming, lifted the apron with his teeth, whining like a child, until she put it in his mouth. During the summer months, Star was kept in the pasture, where the grass was very green. When he was thirsty, there was a clear, running brook at the end of the pasture, where he could go and drink. If the weather was very hot, he liked to go and stand in the water and cool himself. Star had a companion to stay with him in the pasture, and help him eat the young, sweet clover. This was Nannie, the lamb, who never, if she could help it, was out of his sight for a moment. Wherever Star went, Nannie tried to go too; or, if she could not, she bleated continually, refusing to eat until his return. Mr. Lee's place contained near a hundred acres. There was a farm house about two hundred rods from the mansion, and a nicely gravelled road leading past the lawn through the garden, connecting them. Here, almost every pleasant morning, Minnie could be seen trotting her little pony back and forth, and Nannie running along by his side. After a few months, Star became so well accustomed to his young mistress, that he would walk by himself from the stable door, when the groom had buckled on the saddle, to the bottom of the stone steps where she used to mount. Her father soon taught her to put her foot in the stirrup, and mount by herself; and Star would stand quite still, turning his head to see when she was ready; then, when she tightened the reins, and said in her pleasant tones, "Come, pony!" away he would go down the avenue, trotting or cantering, just as suited her best. As Minnie grew older, her mother sometimes trusted her to go to the village store of an errand; or, if the servants were busy, and there was a letter to be posted, there was nothing easier than for Minnie to run to the gate leading into the pasture, and call out, "Star! Star!!" Then he would come up to the house, following her like a dog, and wait to be saddled. In the winter the pony occupied a stall in the neat, warm stable; and there, curled down by his side, Nannie lay too, doing her best to keep her favorite warm with her long fleece. Minnie thought Star a very knowing horse, and she loved to tell her father and mother all the cunning things he did, and how glad he always was to see her, when she went to visit him. Sometimes her father told her stories of other ponies. I suppose you would like to hear some, and I will tell them to you. "The first was an account of a horse owned by Dr. Smith, in Ireland. He was a beautiful hackney, and although extremely spirited, was at the same time wonderfully docile. "The doctor had also a fine Newfoundland dog, named Cæsar. These animals were mutually attached, and seemed perfectly acquainted with each other's actions. The dog was always kept in the stable at night, and universally lay beside the horse. "When Dr. Smith practised in Dublin, he visited his patients on horseback, and had no other servant to take care of his horse while in their houses but Cæsar, into whose mouth he put the reins. The hackney stood very quietly, even in that crowded city, beside his friend Cæsar. When it happened that the doctor had a patient not far distant from the place where he paid his last visit, he did not think it worth while to remount, but called to his horse and Cæsar to follow him. They both readily obeyed, and remained quietly opposite the door where he entered until he came out again. "While he remained in Queen's county, he had many opportunities of witnessing the friendship and sagacity of these intelligent animals. The horse seemed to be as implicitly obedient to his friend Cæsar, as he could possibly be to his groom. "The doctor would go to the stable, accompanied by his dog, put the bridle on his horse, and giving the reins to Cæsar, bid him take the horse to the water. They both understood what was to be done, when off trotted Cæsar, followed by the hackney, which frisked, capered, and played with the dog all the way to the rivulet, about three hundred yards distant from the stable. He followed at a great distance, always keeping so far in the rear as to observe their manoeuvres. They invariably went to the stream, and after the horse had quenched his thirst, both returned in the same playful manner as they had gone out. "Sometimes the doctor desired Cæsar to make the horse leap the stream, which was about six feet broad. The dog, by a kind of bark, and leaping up toward the horse's head, intimated to him what he wanted, which was quickly understood, when he cantered off, and took the leap in a neat and regular style. On one occasion, Cæsar lost hold of the reins, and as soon as the horse cleared the leap, he immediately trotted up to his canine friend, who took hold of the bridle, and led him back through the water quietly." "They loved each other," cried Minnie, "just like Star and Nannie." "Such attachments are not uncommon," rejoined Mr. Lee. "Many horses will not stay a moment in the stable by themselves, without discovering a great deal of impatience. "Sometimes they try to break the manger with their fore feet. On one occasion a pony leaped out of a stable door through which manure was thrown, after company which was in the barn yard. A cow, a goat, or a pet lamb, will perfectly satisfy them." "A gentleman in Bristol had a greyhound which slept in the stable along with a fine hunter about five years of age. They soon became attached, and regarded each other with the most tender affection. Indeed, the horse was restless and unhappy when the dog was out of sight. "The gentleman used frequently to call at the stable for the greyhound to accompany him in his walks. On such occasions the horse would look over his shoulder at the dog with much anxiety, and neigh in a manner which plainly said, 'Let me also accompany you.' "When the dog returned to the stable, he was always welcomed with a loud neigh, and ran up to the horse, licking his nose. In return, the horse would scratch the dog's back with his teeth. "One day, when the groom was out with the horse and greyhound for exercise, a large dog attacked the latter, and quickly bore him to the ground. In spite of all the efforts of the groom, the horse threw back his ears, rushed at the strange dog, seized him by the back with his teeth, and shook him till a large piece of the skin gave way. The offender no sooner got on his feet than he ran off as fast as possible." CHAPTER II. HORSE GOING TO CHURCH. When Minnie was in her ninth year, her father's brother and wife made them a visit. This gentleman was exceedingly fond of horses, and a good judge of their excellences. Minnie was eager to exhibit her pony, and invited her uncle to the stable for that purpose. When they went to that part of the building where his stall was, the lamb was quietly feeding by the side of her friend; but as soon as she heard a strange voice, she ran under the pony for protection, and popped her head out between his hind feet. The gentleman laughed heartily at their strange appearance, but after a careful examination of her pet, told her she might well be proud of him, as he had very good points, and was in every way a capital little fellow. "You must make the most of your uncle Harry," exclaimed her father merrily. "He is an inveterate story-teller, and can give you any amount of information about horses, ponies, &c." "O, I'm so glad!" cried Minnie, laughing and clapping her hands. "I love to hear stories so dearly!" "I'm going to try the black mare," said the gentleman. "What do you say to riding with me on the pony?" "May I, mamma? Please let me," urged the child. "I have not the slightest objection; my dear." "Come, then, and I will tell you stories to your heart's content." They were soon on their way, when, after giving her a few hints about holding her reins, he began:-- "There was once a pony mare which had a young colt. They were put to graze in a field adjoining the River Severn, where there was rich pasturage. One day the pony made its appearance before the gentleman's house to whom she belonged, and, by clattering with her feet and other gestures, drew his attention. A person being sent out, she immediately galloped off through various gates all broken down, occasionally glancing back to be sure she was followed. "They soon came to a field, through which she passed directly for a spot in the river, over which she hung with a mournful look, and there the colt was found drowned." "O, how sorry she must have been!" exclaimed Minnie. "I suppose she thought her master could bring the colt to life again." "I'll tell you another, and a more lively story," said uncle Harry, smiling. "A noble gentleman in France, called Monsieur de Boussanelle, captain of cavalry in the royal regiment, tells about a horse belonging to his company, which was disabled by age from eating his hay or oats. This horse was fed for two months by a couple of his companions on his right and left, who ate with him. Perceiving his infirmity, they drew the hay out of his rack, chewed it, and then put it before their aged comrade. They prepared his oats for him in the same way." "I like those horses, they were so kind," urged Minnie. "I hope, uncle, you have a great many stories as good as that." The gentleman smiled archly, and then proceeded. "The island of Krutsand, which is formed by two branches of the Elbe, is frequently laid under water, during the time of the spring tides. In the early part of the year 1794, the water one day rose so rapidly that the horses, which were grazing in the plain with their colts, suddenly found themselves standing in deep water; upon which they all set up a loud neighing, and collected themselves as closely together as possible. "They now seemed to consult together what measures to take to save the colts, that were standing up to the belly in the flood, and soon determined upon a singular course, when some old mares, which had no colts, assisted them in carrying it out. "The method they adopted was this: Every two horses took a colt between them, and pressing their sides together, kept it wedged in and lifted quite above the surface of the water. "All the horned cattle in the vicinity had already set themselves afloat, and were swimming in regular columns toward their homes. But these noble mares, with wonderful perseverance, remained immovable under their cherished burden for the space of six hours, till, the tide ebbing, the water subsided, and the colts were out of danger." "The inhabitants, who had rowed to the place in boats, viewed with delight this singular manoeuvre, whereby their valuable colts were saved from destruction." "How very curious!" exclaimed Minnie, gravely; "but I don't see how they could get the colts up in their places without some one to lift them." The gentleman laughed as he assured her that mares who were intelligent enough to make such a plan could easily manage that part. "Do you suppose," he asked, "that your pony understands any thing you say to him more than the tones of your voice?" "O, no, uncle!" "And yet," he said, "a true blood horse, when at liberty, when two or more persons are conversing, will approach and seem to listen to the conversation. Even the common farm horse is quite obedient to the call of his own name, and will not stir, when desired to stand, until his own name is pronounced. "They have a kind of reason, too. I have seen a horse who, in ploughing, would walk very steadily toward the directing pole, and halt when his head had reached it. I knew of another horse who seemed to have a just idea of time, and calculated it so correctly, that he always neighed about ten minutes before the time of ceasing work, whether in summer or winter." "I don't see how he could do that, uncle Harry." "Horses are very susceptible to music," he went on. "I owned a horse once who would stop eating, and listen attentively with pricked, moving ears, and steady eyes, the instant he heard the note low G; and I knew of another that was similarly affected by a high note." Minnie laughed, as she said, "I mean to try my pony just as soon as I get home." "I dare say, if you were to take your accordeon to the stable, he would be delighted. I have watched many of these noble animals on the military field, and there is no doubt they are pleased with martial music. "I remember hearing of an experiment made in the year 1829, on some of the Duke of Buckleuch's hunters. A gentleman went toward them in the field, but they were shy of his approach, as he was a stranger, and slowly retreated, till he sounded a small musical instrument, called a mouth Æolian harp. On hearing this, they immediately erected their heads and turned round. On his sounding it again, they approached nearer, when he began to retreat, and they to advance. Having gone over a paling, one of the horses came up to him, putting its mouth close to his breast, seeming delighted with the music which he continued to produce. As the other horses were coming up, apparently to follow the example of their more confident comrade, the gentleman retired. "As you like stories so well," he added, archly, "I must tell you about the first horse I ever owned. My brother Frank gave him to me before he went to sea; and a splendid fellow he was, too. He was a perfect mouse color, with an arching neck, and a handsome, black, flowing mane. I was living at home then, and we always used him to carry us to church. "I believe Duke knew as well as I did when Sunday came, for he regularly walked up from the pasture where he was grazing, in time to be harnessed, though he never did this any other day. Once it happened that father and mother were both ill, so that none of us went to church; but at the usual time Duke came trotting to the door, where he stood for a few minutes neighing frequently and looking anxiously toward the house, and then trotted off a mile and a half to church by himself. Several persons saw him going up into the yard, and walking demurely into the shed while the bell was ringing, and there he stood quietly until the service was through, when he came home again, just as I was going out to find him." CHAPTER III. STAR DANCING TO MUSIC. "O, mamma," cried Minnie, "I have had a beautiful time. Uncle Harry is such a good teacher! And then he tells me such nice stories!" Her cheeks rivalled the rose, and her eyes were sparkling with animation, as she said this, while her uncle, who, unobserved by her, had followed into the parlor, said, laughingly, "I have seldom found so good a listener. I have enjoyed the ride myself exceedingly. Come here, Minnie, and I will relate to you an amusing anecdote which I read a short time ago. "In Persia, where they have splendid horses, all persons of the least distinction ride on horseback, and scarcely any one will deign to go the shortest distance on foot. The anecdote is related by a celebrated pomologist, concerning a horse employed in his nurseries for over fifteen years. His name was Old Charley. I was so much interested in the account of his sagacity, that I went to see him. The good animal was used for ploughing between lines of trees from three feet and a half to four feet apart, and moved with such precision and care as to run the plough and cultivator as near as possible to the trees, without ever hitting or injuring one of them. His owner told me Old Charley would go straight between the lines, turning at the end without any motion or word from the driver, with as much accuracy and skill as any human being could display, and without stepping over, or entangling his feet in, the traces in any manner whatever." [Illustration: STAR DANCING TO MUSIC. Page 53.] After dinner, Minnie, in company with her mother and their visitors, went to the stable to try the effect of music on her favorite. She had scarcely struck a note, when he stopped eating, and began to move his feet rapidly, as if he were trying to dance. Even the gentleman was surprised at this display, and declared that the pony must have been trained to do this by his former owner, while Minnie became so much excited that she could scarcely control herself. Mr. Henry Lee took the instrument himself, and found that the horse really had an idea of time, as the faster he played, the quicker were the pony's movements. As soon as he stopped, the animal quietly went on munching his oats. When her father returned from the city, Minnie ran to meet him, and relate the wonderful feats of her pet. To gratify her, he walked to the stable to see the operation repeated. "Music has a wonderful influence on horses," he remarked, as they were returning to the house, "especially martial music." "Do you remember the case of the old war-horse, Solus?" inquired his brother. "Yes; and Minnie would like to hear it." The gentleman playfully patted her head, as he related the following anecdote:-- "Many years ago, an assistant of the contractors on a new turnpike used to ride to the field of labor a horse which had long carried a field officer, and who, though aged, still possessed a good deal of spirit. One day he was passing a large town where volunteers were at drill, on the Common. The moment Solus heard the drum, he leaped the fence, and was speedily at his old post, heading the drill, occupied by the commanding officer on parade. "The young rider, dreadfully mortified, could not induce the horse to leave his honorable position till the volunteers left for the town; but, to the great amusement of the bystanders, headed all their manoeuvres, prancing in true military style, as well as his stiffened limbs would allow him, much to the annoyance of the assistant, who did not feel very highly honored by Solus making a colonel of him against his will." The company all laughed at this story, which Mrs. Lee said reminded her of the effects of a trumpet on some captured horses, of which she had read. "It seems," she went on, "that in the early part of this century, the Tyrolese captured fifteen horses belonging to the Bavarian troops sent against them, and mounted them with fifteen of their own men, in order to go out again against the same troops. But no sooner did these horses hear the sound of their own trumpet, and recognize the uniform of their old friends, than they dashed forward at full speed, and, in spite of all the efforts of their riders, bore them into the ranks, and delivered them up as prisoners to the Bavarians." "That was rather a mortifying defeat," suggested uncle Harry, "and only proves my theory correct, that horses are very susceptible to kind treatment, and have a wonderful memory, often recognizing their old masters after a separation of years." "Harry, do you remember father's old black horse?" asked his brother. "Of course I do; and the mile I ran for the doctor, when she snuffed that long brier up into her nose. I never saw father more alarmed. After he pulled the brier out, there was a whole pailful of blood, which frightened old Blackey so much that they were obliged to blindfold her. "Poor creature! her afflictions followed thick and fast, for she had scarcely recovered from this, when the plank floor gave way in the stable, and she broke her leg. "Father hated to part with her, but at last gave her to a man to use on his farm, who he knew would treat her kindly. He did not see her again for three years; but as soon as she heard his voice, when he was walking toward her in the pasture, she came quickly toward him, neighing with pleasure, and put her head lovingly on his shoulder. Then she turned round and looked at her colt, as if she wanted to introduce them." "She was a splendid animal in her prime," rejoined Mr. Lee. "I have heard father say that she would travel off hour after hour, ten miles to the hour, without the spur or the whip; indeed, I never knew him to use the whip but once. Somehow, she got a habit of not standing quietly while he was getting into the chaise and preparing to start. One day she was unusually restive, when he told the man to go to the barn and bring a whip. "Blackey knew what it meant, and, before a blow was struck, trembled from head to foot. Father cut across the back two smart blows, which proved so effectual a cure that she never troubled him afterward." "There is no animal more susceptible to kind treatment," remarked uncle Harry. "I imagine half the obstinacy and unruly conduct of some horses is the result of cruelty and mismanagement. I can recall to mind at this moment a sad illustration of the latter course. "A man near Boston used to catch his horse by taking to the field a quantity of corn in a measure. On calling to him, the horse would come up and eat the corn, while the bridle was put over his head. But the owner having deceived the animal several times by holding out the measure when it had no corn in it, the animal at length began to suspect the design. Coming up one day as usual, he looked into the measure, and finding it empty, turned round, reared on his hind legs, and, striking with his fore feet, killed his master." "That was indeed a fearful punishment for his deception," returned Mrs. Lee. "It reminds me of an anecdote I read lately, of a horse belonging to an Irish nobleman, who became restive and furious whenever a certain individual came into its presence. "One day, when this poor fellow happened to pass within its reach, the animal seized him with its teeth, and broke his arm. It then threw him down, and lay on him, when, every effort to get it off proving ineffectual, they were compelled to shoot it. Afterward the fact was discovered that the man had performed a cruel operation on the horse some time before, which it had never forgiven." "I know," responded her husband, "that such cases have occurred, showing a spirit of revenge on the part of the animal; but I believe them to be rare, compared to the instances of gratitude for kindness. "Professor Kruger, of Halle, relates a pleasing incident of this character. 'A friend of mine,' he says, 'was one dark night riding home through a wood, and had the misfortune to strike his head against the branch of a tree, and fell from his horse, stunned by the blow. The animal, who was greatly attached to his master, immediately returned to the house which they had left, about a mile distant. He found the door closed, and the family gone to bed. He pawed at the door, till one of them, hearing the noise, arose and opened it, and, to his surprise, saw the horse of his friend. "'No sooner was the door opened, than the horse turned round, and led the man directly to the spot where his master lay in a fainting fit.'" CHAPTER IV. HORSE GOING TO A DOCTOR. "Another instance of the same kind is related of a horse belonging to a carter in Fifeshire. From the carter having a large family, this animal had become particularly intimate with children, and fond of them, so that he would not on any account, move when they were playing among his feet. "One day, when he was dragging a loaded cart through a narrow lane near the village, a young child happened to be playing in the road, and would inevitably have been crushed by the wheels, had it not been for the kindness of the animal. He carefully took it by the clothes with his teeth, carried it for a few yards, and then placed it on a bank by the wayside, moving slowly all the while, and looking back, as if to satisfy himself that the wheels of the cart had cleared it." "The effect of kind treatment," rejoined his brother, smiling at Minnie's delight, "was particularly manifest by a horse belonging to a gentleman in England, called Colonel Smith. The charger had belonged to him for two years, and became greatly attached to him; but he was at last obliged to leave it with the army, though it was subsequently sold and carried back to London. About three years after, Colonel Smith chanced to travel to London by the mail coach, and while they were changing horses, the off side one attracted his attention. Going near, the affectionate animal at once recognized him, testifying its satisfaction by rubbing its head against his clothes, and making every moment a little stamp with his fore feet, till the coachman asked, 'Are you not an old acquaintance, sir?' "The same gentleman says there was a most beautiful and powerful charger belonging to a friend of his, then a captain in the fourteenth dragoons, which was bought by him in Ireland, at a low price, on account of his viciousness, which had cost the life of one or two grooms. The captain was a celebrated rider, not to be thrown by the most violent efforts, and of a temper so gentle and patient that he could effect a cure if vice were curable. "After some very dangerous combats with his horse, the animal was subdued, and became so attached that his master could walk any where, with him following like a dog, and even ladies could mount him with perfect safety. He rode him during several campaigns in Spain, and on one occasion, when, in action, horse and rider came headlong to the ground, the animal, making an effort to spring up, placed his fore foot on the captain's breast, but, immediately withdrawing it, rose without hurting him, or moving till he was remounted." A few days later, and while his brother and wife were still visiting them, Mr. Lee invited some of his city friends to come out and make their acquaintance. They were all seated at dinner when they heard Leo barking in a manner to express great joy. As the noise continued, Mrs. Lee allowed Minnie to see what occasioned the rejoicing. When she reached the door, she saw a gentleman mounted on a handsome gray horse, near the stable door, talking to Leo. There was something about him which riveted her attention, and presently, with a joyful cry, she ran forward to welcome uncle Frank, who had just come into port after a long voyage. In answer to his inquiries for her father and mother, she led him in triumph to the dining hall, where a scene of excitement and pleasure ensued. Captain Frank Lee was a fine, noble-hearted son of Neptune. Having chosen the sea early in life, he had followed it for many years, rising step by step until he reached his present honorable position. He had become rich, too, as well as his brother, each being benefited by a kind of partnership existing between them; for, while the captain sailed to foreign ports, the merchant supplied the money to freight the vessel, which they owned in equal shares, and to buy goods at a foreign market. When he had answered some of the numerous questions which were crowded upon him, such as, "How did you come?" "When did you arrive in port?" "Is Louise well?" &c., &c., the captain begged them to reseat themselves at table, adding, "I am as hungry as a bear, and long for some of the home luxuries with which I see your table is spread." "Well, Minnie," he exclaimed, pinching her check, when he had thrice emptied his plate, "I'll not forget that you were the first one to welcome me; and, by the way, how is Jacko? and how are all the rest of your pets?" "You had better not name the subject of pets," cried uncle Harry, laughing, "unless you are willing to be pinned to a chair and tell stories--'yarns,' I think you call them--for the next five hours. Now, it's cats or dogs; then, it's monkeys or parrots; yesterday, it was horses; and you must rake up your memory for all the stories, true, veritable facts, that you ever heard in your life." "I know, I know," answered the captain, drawing the child toward him, and kissing her as well as his long, thick beard would allow. "Minnie and I are old cronies, and understand each other's crotchets pretty well. She's the little puss who threw down a beautiful bracelet I had purchased for her in Paris, and said, 'Uncle Frank, I don't care for presents unless they're alive.' So, the next voyage, I brought her a live present, in the shape of a grinning monkey, with which she was greatly delighted." A roar of laughter from the company followed; but while they were eating the fruit, Minnie found an opportunity to whisper,-- "You can't think, uncle, what funny things my pony does. He knows how to dance beautifully." "I should admire to see him," returned the captain, glancing roguishly toward his sister-in-law; "and you can't guess what I've brought for you this time." "Alive, is it?" "Yes; alive and squealing when I left the vessel. You'll see it, or them, to-morrow, and I hope you'll be as pleased as you were with Jacko." After dinner, the party adjourned to the piazza, when the captain said, "Leo, good fellow, knew me at once, in spite of my heavy beard; but he looked rather shy at my new horse; and, by the way, Prince is well worth showing. I brought him in the ship with me from England, and I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for him, if that sum were offered me to-day." "Let's go and see him!" exclaimed Mr. Harry Lee. "You were always a good judge of horseflesh, Frank." After the animal had gone through a thorough examination of his qualities for the carriage, the saddle, &c., and the different gentlemen had given their opinion of his various excellences, the conversation turned, to Minnie's delight, on horses in general, and many anecdotes were related of their bravery, their fidelity to their masters' interests, their sagacity and memory, some of which I shall repeat in this and the next chapters. "An instance of the latter trait, combined with reason," said Mr. Harry Lee, "is well authenticated. "A cart horse, owned by Mr. Leggat, of Glasgow, had been several times afflicted with disease, and as often cured by Mr. Downie, farrier there. He had not, however, been troubled for a long time; but on a recurrence of the disorder, he happened one morning to be employed in College Street, a distance of nearly a mile from Mr. Downie's workshop. He was arranged in a row with other horses engaged in the same work; but when the carters were absent, he left the range, and, unattended by any driver, went down High Street, along the Gallowgate, and up a narrow lane, where he stopped at the farrier's door. "As neither Mr. Leggat nor any one appeared with the horse, it was surmised that he had been seized with his old complaint. Being unyoked from the cart, he lay down, and showed, by every means in his power, that he was in distress. He was again treated as usual, and sent home to his master, who by that time had persons in all directions in search for him." CHAPTER V. THE TRUMPETER'S HORSE. "For Minnie's sake, I must tell some anecdotes about Shetland ponies," cried the captain, laughing, as he patted his niece under the chin. "The first one shows what a power of memory they have. "A pony reared upon Drumchany, belonging to General Stewart, was once travelling from Edinburgh to Perthshire, in company with several other gentlemen. They were advancing to the neighborhood of Drumchany when it suddenly grew dark, and they could not find the place to take the ford. "At last, they concluded to trust to the pony's memory, and, giving him the reins, he trotted on cheerily, till, suddenly pausing and turning to the right, he trotted down a furrow through a potato field, that led directly to the ford in question, which he crossed in the same decided manner, and piloted them safely all the rest of the way to their destination. "During their stay, he got out of the stable one night, and was found next day pasturing among the mosses where he had been bred." "I heard of a case very similar," rejoined Mr. Gordon, one of the gentlemen who composed the party. "A gentleman rode a young horse, which he had brought up, thirty miles from home, and to a part of the country where he had never been before. The road was a cross one, and extremely difficult to find; however, by dint of perseverance and inquiry, he at last reached his destination. "Two years afterward, he had occasion to go the same way, and was benighted four or five miles from the end of his journey. The night was so dark that he could scarcely see the horse's head. He had a dreary moor and common to pass, and had lost all traces of the proper direction he wished to take. The rain began to fall heavily. He now despaired of reaching the place. "'Here am I,' said he to himself, 'far from any house, and in the midst of a dreary waste, where I know not which way to direct the course of my steed. I have heard much of the memory of the horse, and that is now my only hope.' "He threw the reins on the horse's neck, and encouraging him to proceed, found himself safe at the gate of his friend in less than an hour. What made it more remarkable was the fact, that the animal could not possibly have been over the road, except on the occasion two years before, as no person but his master ever rode him." "You said you had another story of a Shetland pony, uncle Frank," whispered Minnie. "So I have, dear. It was about a little girl, the daughter of a gentleman in Warwickshire. She was one day playing on the banks of a canal which runs through her father's grounds, when she had the misfortune to fall in, and would in all probability have been drowned, had not a small pony, which had long been kept in the family, plunged into the stream, and brought the child safely ashore without the slightest injury." "I think my pony would do that," exclaimed Minnie; "he loves me so well." "That is to me one of their most interesting traits," added the captain. "They are capable of becoming so strongly attached to man, that they give up their own wishes to those of their master. Indeed, their interests become so identified with his, that they come to have no will of their own. I have myself seen an old Shetland pony, which would place its fore foot in the hand of its young master like a dog, thrust its head under his arm to be caressed, and join with him and a little terrier in all their noisy rompings on the lawn. The same animal daily bore its young master to school; and, though its heels and teeth were ready for every other urchin, yet so attached was it to this boy, that it would wait hours for him in his sports by the way, and even walk alone from the stable in town to the school room, which was fully half a mile distant, and wait, saddled and bridled, for the afternoon's dismissal. Indeed, the young scapegrace did not deserve one tenth of this attention; for I have seen old 'Donald' toiling home with him at the gallop, to make up for time squandered at play." Minnie's father then repeated to the gentleman many instances of her pony's attachment to her, and of his playfulness. "I am of opinion," said Mr. Gordon, "that there are instances of attachment of a horse to his master equal to that shown by man to man. "During the Peninsular war; the trumpeter of a French cavalry corps had a fine charger assigned to him, of which he became passionately fond, and which, by gentleness of disposition and uniform docility, showed the affection to be mutual. "The sound of the trumpeter's voice, the sight of his uniform, or the clang of his trumpet, was sufficient to throw this animal into a state of excitement, and he appeared to be pleased and happy only when under the saddle of his rider. Indeed, he was unruly and useless to every body else; for once, on being removed to another part of the forces, and consigned to a young officer, he resolutely refused to obey the commands of his rider. The first chance he had, he bolted straight to the trumpeter's station, and there took his stand, jostling alongside his former master. "They were obliged to restore him to his old place, when he carried the trumpeter through many campaigns, and through many hair-breadth escapes. "At last, the corps to which he belonged was defeated, and in the confusion of retreat, the trumpeter was mortally wounded. Dropping from his horse, his body was found, many days after the engagement, stretched on the sward, with his faithful charger standing over it. "During the long interval, it seems he had never quitted the trumpeter's side, but had stood sentinel over his corpse, scaring away the birds of prey, heedless of his own privations. "When found, he was in a sadly reduced condition, partly from loss of blood through wounds, but chiefly from want of food, of which, in the excess of his grief, he could not be prevailed on to partake." "A similar case of strong attachment happened under my immediate notice," remarked Mr. Lee, after a moment's silence. "General L. had a horse with him in camp of which he was exceedingly fond, and to the training of which he had given particular attention. Every morning, at exactly eight o'clock, this horse came alone to the door of his tent, saddled for use, and stood there ready for his rider to mount. When the general appeared in his uniform, the affectionate animal welcomed him with a loud neigh of delight. "At last, the noble officer received his death wound, and lay for some days in his tent. It was affecting to see the horse walking up to the door as usual, and, when its master did not appear, to witness its look of anxious solicitude. "When General L. died, he left his noble charger to the particular care of his wife, who was with him in his last moments. His remains were removed to ----, the horse being conveyed by the same train of cars, and manifesting intense grief. On the day of the funeral, the body was carried to the church in which his family worshipped, the most touching tribute to his memory being this faithful animal, caparisoned in mourning, taking his station directly behind the corpse. "It was not necessary for any one to lead him, for he somehow seemed to understand that his deceased master was in the coffin; and nothing would induce him to leave it. For more than an hour, while the religious services lasted, he stood in front of the church, watching the door through which he had seen the corpse carried, waiting for it to come out, and then, without any command, wheeled into line, and followed directly behind it to the grave. What was very remarkable, as soon as the body was buried, he left the cemetery, following the coach containing the wife of his master." "Your story," said the captain, "reminds me of a singular one I heard at sea. "A farmer who lived in the neighborhood of Bedford, England, and regularly attended the markets there, was returning home one evening, and being somewhat tipsy, rolled off his saddle into the middle of the road. His horse stood still; but after remaining patiently for some time, and not observing any disposition in the rider to get up and proceed further, he took him by the collar and shook him. This had little or no effect, for the farmer only gave a grumble of dissatisfaction at having his repose disturbed. The animal was not to be put off with any such evasion, and so applied his mouth to one of his master's coat laps, and after several attempts, by dragging at it, to raise him upon his feet, the coat lap gave way. "Three persons, who witnessed this extraordinary proceeding, then went up and assisted him in mounting his horse, putting the one coat lap into the pocket of the other, when he trotted off, and safely reached home. This horse is deservedly a favorite with his master, and engages in gambols with him like a dog." "How old is your new horse, Frank?" inquired his brother George. "Nine years. Just in his prime; and, with good care, will last for twenty years to come." Mr. Gordon laughed. "Twenty years!" he repeated, incredulously. "I think," answered the captain, "it a mistake to suppose a horse is not fit for service much after he is twelve or fourteen years old. If he is used as he ought to be, and has good care, he will last well twenty, or even thirty years. The charger of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, which was wounded in the battle of Alexandria, afterwards died at Malta. On the stone erected there in commemoration of its services, the age of thirty-six is inscribed. "And in 1790, there was alive near Haddington, in England, a Shetland pony which had been in battle in 1745, whose age was forty-seven years." "No doubt there are such cases," answered the gentleman, "but they are rare in this country. I suppose we give our horses too much to do." "Yes, that is it; and too little care. No animal so richly repays the attention bestowed upon him as the horse." CHAPTER VI. THE BLIND HORSE. The next day, Minnie was walking through the grounds with her uncle, while Tiney and Fidelle were following at her heels, when the express-man drove into the yard. He had a cage, as Minnie called it, in his wagon, and she ran eagerly to see what it contained. How great was her delight to see a goat, and two cunning little kids, cuddling down on the hay at the bottom of the wagon! When they were put into the stable, Minnie laughed and clapped her hands, and ran to summon all the family to come and see them. Captain Lee's wife had accompanied him on this voyage, and had now gone to see her mother. Her husband had promised to meet her the next day, and afterwards was coming with her to make them a longer visit. Minnie obtained directions from him before he left, as to the diet and care of her new pets, and then, after making him promise to come back as quickly as possible, consented that he should go. Her mother found her sitting quiet and sad, looking from the bay window in the parlor; for the captain was her favorite uncle, and she was greatly disappointed at his going so soon. To comfort her, the lady took one of the books on natural history, and read some anecdotes to her, with a few of which I will close my book of Minnie's pet horse. Here is an illustration of the force of habit in a blind horse. He ran on one of the stages of the great north road for many years, and so perfectly was he acquainted with all the stables, halting places, and other matters, that he was never known to commit a blunder. He could never be driven past his own stable; and at the sound of the coming coach, he would turn out, of his own accord, into the stable yard. What was very remarkable, so accurate was his knowledge of time, that, though half a dozen coaches halted at the same inn, yet he was never known to stir till the sound of the ten o'clock coach was heard in the distance. "I think, after all," said Mrs. Lee, "that the docility of the horse is one of the most remarkable of its natural gifts. Here are some anecdotes that are very entertaining, in regard to their docility, or readiness to learn. "Mr. Astley, of the Royal Amphitheatre, at Westminster Bridge, once had in his possession a remarkably fine Barbary horse, forty-three years of age, which was presented him by the Duke of Leeds. This celebrated animal officiated in the character of a waiter in the course of the performances at the amphitheatre, and at various other theatres in the United Kingdom. "At the request of his master, he would ungirth his own saddle, wash his feet in a pail of water, and would bring into the riding school a tea table and the dishes, which feat was usually followed up by fetching a chair, or stool, or whatever might be wanted. Last of all, he took a kettle of boiling water from a blazing fire, to the wonder and admiration of the spectators. "Another gentleman had a horse which he taught to dance to music." "Just like Star," shouted Minnie. "Yes, dear; and at the command of his master he pretended to be lame, feigned death, lying motionless, with his limbs extended, and allowing himself to be dragged about till some words were pronounced, when he instantly sprang to his feet. "In 1838, there was a wonderful horse presented to the public, who performed many curious tricks, which seemed to exhibit something far beyond instinct. Among other things, it cleared six poles, one after the other, at a distance of not more than four feet between. "After it had done this, it went limping up to its master, as if to say, 'See; I can do no more to-night.' "The master lifted the lame foot, searching for the cause of the halt, but in vain. Still, however, the horse goes on limping. The man then looked it in the face, and shook his head, as if he would say, 'Ah, you are shamming, you rogue; aren't you?' "And a sham it proved to be; for, with a touch of the whip, the creature bounded away like a fawn, sound both in wind and limb." "I wish I could see that horse," cried Minnie, laughing. "The most remarkable instance of docility," added the lady, "was Bank's famous horse, Morocco. "This animal would restore a glove to its owner, after his master had whispered the man's name in his ear; and he could also tell the number of pence in any silver coin. Morocco danced to the sound of a pipe, and counted money with his feet." "O, mamma, wasn't that strange? I wonder whether I could teach Star to do any funny things!" "Kindness and perseverance will effect a great deal, my dear," answered the lady, enjoying her little daughter's delight. "I have heard of a little farm boy, who was too small to mount the plough horses, he was required to ride, who taught one of them to put down its head to the ground, while he jumped astride on its neck, and then, by gently elevating the head, let him slip backward into his seat on its back. "The intelligent creature appeared perfectly to understand the wishes of the boy, and the use of lowering its head for the purpose of his mounting. "Perhaps you can teach Star to pump his own water, as a gentleman in Leeds found his horse doing. The animal had been kept in a stable for a long time, but was at last turned into a field, where there was a pump, well supplied with water. "One day, being thirsty, I suppose, a man saw him go to the pump, and, taking the handle in his mouth, work it with his head, in a way exactly similar to that done by the hand of a man, until he had secured a supply." "It does seem as if they were guided by reason," remarked Mrs. Harry Lee, who had entered the room in time to hear the last anecdote. "Certainly," returned her sister; "their intelligence and sagacity place them in the highest rank among the brute creation. I have been myself surprised in reading these accounts of their attachment to man, and to each other; their courage, faithfulness, and devotion to the interests of their owner; and I wish every man, woman, and child, who has any thing to do with these noble creatures, would study their history, so as to treat them with the kindness and care they deserve. I have heard my husband say, that even in a wild state, all their movements are so intelligent, that it seems as if it must be the result of reason. When the herds wish to change from one vast plain to another, they choose leaders, and place sentinels along the line of march, thus recognizing the necessity of obedience and order. "Then, the readiness with which they communicate to each other when they have discovered water or fresh pasturage, the adroitness with which, by their responsive neighings, they express alarm, terror, or pleasure, are equally wonderful. "When they pass through a swamp, they test it with the fore foot before they trust the weight of their whole bodies upon it; and they often scoop out a hollow place in the sand, expecting it will fill with water. Even the little Shetland pony, in going through the bogs, puts its nose to the ground, then pats it with the fore foot, judging from the feeling of the ground whether it will bear him." CHAPTER VII. THE ARABIAN HORSE. "Now, father, I'm ready to hear about the Arab and his horse," cried Minnie, one day, when, after following the gentleman about the grounds for nearly an hour, they at length returned to the library. Mr. Lee, with an arch glance at his wife, arose at once, and, taking a large book from the shelves, opened to a chapter on Arabian horses. "I will first read you a description, my dear, of the animal, before I repeat to you the anecdote to which you refer. "The celebrated horse of Arabia is of the smaller class of these animals, very little exceeding fifty-six inches in height. As compared with the horses of countries abounding in the grasses, their aspect is lean, their form slender, and their chest narrow. But this slimness of figure is not inconsistent with muscular force. Their movements are agile, their natural paces swift, and their spirit is unmatched. "Bishop Heber, while travelling through the upper part of India, gives a more correct notion of the Arab than the more labored descriptions of others. "My morning rides are very pleasant. My horse is a nice, quiet, good-tempered little Arab, who is so fearless that he goes, without starting, close to an elephant, and is so gentle and docile, that he eats bread out of my hand, and has almost as much attachment and coaxing ways as a dog. "The temper of these beautiful horses is no less happily moulded than their bodily powers to their condition. They are gentle, patient, and attached to their rude and simple protectors. This, indeed, is greatly the effect of training; for the same animals, under the charge of Europeans, frequently manifest a vicious and indomitable temper. But the Arab treats his horse as a companion, never beats him, but cheers him with his voice, and only uses him with seeming cruelty in necessary demands on his physical powers. "In the desert, the mare of the Bedouin, and her foal, inhabit the same tent as himself and his children. She is the friend and playmate of the little household. The neck of the mare is often the pillow of the rider, and more frequently of the children, who are rolling about upon her and the foal; yet no accident occurs, and she acquires a friendship and love for man which occasional ill-treatment will not cause her for a moment to forget. "She is obedient to her master's voice, and will neigh when she hears his footsteps. Without a bit, she will obey the slightest motion of the rider, stand at a word, or put herself to speed in an instant. "These horses subsist on the scantiest fare, on which the English horses would perish, and are patient of hunger and thirst in a degree unknown in any other races except the African. They feed on the scanty plants which the borders of the desert supply, and when these are wanting, they are fed on a little barley, with chopped straw, withered herbs, roots dragged from the sand, dates, when they can be obtained, and, in cases of need, the milk of the camel. They drink at long intervals, and in moderate quantities. They bear continued exposure to the fiercest heat, and, day after day, pursue marches of incredible toil through the burning sands of the wilderness. "The mare usually has but one or two meals in twenty-four hours. During the day, she is tied to the door of the tent, ready for the Bedouin to spring, at a moment's warning, into the saddle; or she is turned out before the tent ready saddled, the bridle merely taken off, and so trained that she gallops up immediately upon hearing the call of her master. "At night, she receives a little water, and with her scanty provender of five or six pounds of barley or beans, and sometimes a little straw, she lies down content in the midst of her master's family. She can, however, endure great fatigue. She will travel fifty miles without stopping, and on an emergency, one hundred and twenty; and occasionally neither she nor her rider has tasted food for three whole days." "O, father, how dreadful! I should think she would sink down and die." "No doubt, my dear, both she and her master endured much suffering. But notwithstanding the Arab lives with, and loves his horse beyond any other treasure, the young filly, when about to be trained, is treated with a cruelty scarcely to be believed. Take one who has never before been mounted. She is led out, her owner springs on her back, and goads her over the sand and rocks of the desert at full speed for sixty miles, without one moment's respite. She is then forced, steaming and panting, into water deep enough for her to swim. If, immediately after this, she will eat as if nothing had occurred, her character is well established forever afterwards. "The master does not seem to be conscious of the cruelty which he thus inflicts. It is the custom of the country, and custom will induce us to inflict many a pang on those whom, after all, we love." Minnie sighed. "I remember," added her father, affectionately patting her head, "an anecdote which proves the strong affection of the Arabian horse for home and friends. "One of these animals was taken by the Persians in an attack made by an Arab tribe on a party of the royal family of Persia. The chief heading the party was killed, and his horse, running into the Persian lines, was taken. A ransom--enormous for so poor a tribe--was offered by the Arabs for their noble charger, but refused; and he was taken to England by Sir John McNeil, who was at that time the British resident at the court of Persia. "When his portrait was being painted, he was languid, from the cold of the weather. It was desired to arouse him a little, and the idea occurred of trying the effect of some tones of simple music. "The sounds no sooner struck his ear, than his whole frame was agitated; his heart throbbed so violently that its beating could be seen; and so great was his excitement, that it was necessary instantly to stop the music. Some chord of feeling had been struck; perchance he was reminded, for a moment, of his desert home, and of the friends from whom he had been so rudely severed." "O, father," said Minnie, with glistening eyes, "I wish I could see that horse. I would be ever so kind to him. Please tell another story as good as that; can't you?" "When the Arab falls from his mare, and is unable to rise," the gentleman went on, "she will stand by his side and neigh till assistance arrives. If he lies down to sleep in the midst of the desert, she stands watchful over him,--her body being the only shield between him and the fierce rays of the sun,--and neighs to rouse him, if man or beast approaches during his slumbers. "There was once an old Arab who had a valuable mare, that had carried him for fifteen years in many a hard-fought battle, and many a rapid, weary march. At last, when eighty years old, and unable longer to ride her, he gave her, and a cimeter that had been his father's, to his eldest son, and told him to appreciate their value, and never lie down to rest until he had rubbed them both as bright as a looking-glass. "In the first skirmish in which the young man was engaged he was killed, and the mare fell into the hands of the enemy. When the news reached the old man, he exclaimed, 'Life is no longer worth preserving. I have lost my son and my mare. I grieve as much for the one as the other.' After this, he sickened and died." "How much the old man did love him!" said Minnie, thoughtfully. "Is that the story you promised me?" "No, dear," said Mr. Lee, looking at his watch; "but I must tell you at once, for I have an engagement soon." "There was a poor Arab in the desert--so poor that he had nothing but his mare. The French consul saw her, and offered to purchase her, in order to send her to his sovereign, Louis XIV. The Arab would have rejected the proposal at once with indignation and scorn, but for his poverty. He had no means of supplying his most urgent wants, or procuring the barest necessaries of life. Still he hesitated. He had scarcely a rag to cover him; his wife and children were starving. The sum offered was great--it would be sufficient for his whole life. "At length, and reluctantly, he consented to the sacrifice. He brought the mare to the dwelling of the consul; he dismounted; he stood leaning upon her; he looked now at the gold, and then at his favorite, while large tears rolled down his swarthy cheek. He sighed repeatedly, and at length exclaimed, 'To whom is it I am going to yield thee up? To Europeans, who will tie thee close, who will beat thee, who will render thee miserable? Return with me, my beauty, my jewel, and rejoice the hearts of my children.' "As he pronounced the last words, he sprang upon her back, and was out of sight in a moment." Minnie laughed and clapped her hands, though tears of sympathy with the poor Arab were running down her cheeks. "O, father!" she cried, "how glad, how very glad I am! I think, too, that the French consul, when he saw how the man loved his mare, should have given him money to buy his children food and clothes. I'm sure you would have done so." Mr. Lee smiled, and thanked God for the child's loving heart. MRS. LESLIE'S JUVENILE SERIES. 16mo. FOR BOYS. Vol. I. THE MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. " II. PLAY AND STUDY. " III. HOWARD AND HIS TEACHER. " IV. JACK, THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. FOR GIRLS. Vol. I. TRYING TO BE USEFUL. " II. LITTLE AGNES. " III. I'LL TRY. " IV. ART AND ARTLESSNESS. MINNIE'S PET MONKEY. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: 52 whatever. changed to whatever." 82 willing te be changed to willing to be 83 'I know, changed to "I know, 88 next chapters." changed to next chapters. 130 plough horses, changed to plough horses 
28682	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. Oe ligatures have been expanded. [Illustration: MINNIE PLAYING WITH FIDELLE. Page 10.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS. BY MRS MADELINE LESLIE MINNIE'S PET CAT.] MINNIE'S PET HORSE. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. MINNIE'S PET CAT. CHAPTER I. THE LOVING PUSS. Fidelle, Minnie's second pet, was a beautiful tortoise-shell cat. She was an elegant creature. Her fur was of moderate length, of pure black, white, and reddish orange. Her eyes were large, bright, and affectionate in expression. Her form was delicate, and her motions active. In character, she was the most attached, graceful little puss I ever knew. The moment Fidelle heard Minnie's voice, she walked to the door, and was ready to welcome her, rubbing her glossy sides against the child's feet, and making little soft notes of pleasure. Sometimes Minnie had the headache, or was tired, and lay upon the sofa; when she did so, Fidelle loved to jump up and walk softly over the little figure until she came to her mistress's face, when she quietly lay down near by, or sometimes licked her hand lovingly. She never did this to Mrs. Lee, or any other member of the family. Fidelle was an active puss, and often went bird-catching, or mousing during the night; but generally, when Minnie opened the door of her chamber in the morning, there was Fidelle ready to receive her. During the warm weather, it was Minnie's habit to take an early stroll with her father through the grounds, or to accompany him to the nursery, garden, and orchards, when he went to give orders to the men who worked for him. On such occasions, Fidelle was always on hand, sometimes running along by her side, and then skipping to the top of a tree, or gamboling on before her. When Minnie was very small, she often used to hug the kitten so tightly as, no doubt, to cause the little creature pain; and then, in running around the room after it, the young miss used to catch it by the tail; but Fidelle never resisted, nor, if hurt, revenged herself. She seemed to understand that Minnie loved her, and that it was her duty to submit quietly to all the caprices of her young mistress. One day, when the child was about four years old, a rude boy came, with his mother, to visit her. Seeing Fidelle frolicking about the room, highly delighted with a ball of thread, into which she had got her dainty little feet entangled, Wallace caught the cat by the tail, and held her by it in the air. Minnie screamed with all her might, as she flew to the rescue of her pretty pet. "Go right away, you ugly boy!" she cried out. "Poor Fidelle! darling kitty! I won't let you be hurt so." Puss remembered the insult and abuse. Whenever she saw Wallace coming toward her, she hid herself behind the sofa; and once, when he came suddenly upon her, she gave him a long, deep scratch on his hand. Minnie never after liked this boy; and once, when Mrs. Lee was intending to invite his mother to repeat her visit, the child begged earnestly that Wallace might be left at home, saying, "He is so cruel to Fidelle, I can't bear to have him here." I told you, in the other book about Minnie's pet parrot, that she used often to ride with her mother in the afternoon. There was nothing she liked better than to take Fidelle and Tiney out with her. Sometimes Mrs. Lee allowed this; but when she was intending to make calls she feared the pets would be troublesome. Fidelle was greatly disappointed when she could not go. She would ask as well as she knew how, and I dare say some of her mews were promises to be good; but Mrs. Lee knew best when it was proper, and was obliged to be firm. Kitty then used to stand at the door, watching her mistress, as she jumped into the carriage, returning her "Good by, dear Fidelle," by little soft purrs. When the carriage was out of sight, Puss seated herself at the window to watch for their return. Whether it was one hour or two, she almost always sat patiently, sometimes indulging herself with a nap, but never getting so sound asleep that the first rumble of the wheels did not awaken her. As soon as the carriage began to roll up the avenue, Kitty was all excitement, looking from the window, and moving her tail back and forth, then with a spring bounding to another window, where she could see them alight. If the door happened to be shut, she cried piteously until let out, when she ran quickly and jumped on Minnie's shoulder, purring as loud as she could, to express her joy. A lady was once visiting at the house, who said she liked dogs, especially such splendid great ones as Leo; but she couldn't see any thing agreeable or intelligent in a cat. "There are some wonderful accounts of the sagacity of cats," remarked Mr. Lee, smiling at Minnie's quick flush of indignation. "If my little daughter will bring me that book we were looking at yesterday, I think I can soon convince you that they are certainly not wanting in intelligence." "They are capable of strong attachments," said Mrs. Lee, as the child rose and left the room, followed closely by Fidelle. "I think none of Minnie's pets show more real affection for her, nor more gratitude for her kindness." "Is this the book, father?" inquired the little girl, putting a handsomely bound volume into his hand, and looking very bright and rosy. "Yes, child, this is it." "I thought it was, by the picture of the cats." The lady looked surprised; and presently asked, earnestly, "Can't you read, Minnie?" Vivid blushes spread all over the child's face, as she softly answered, "No, ma'am." "We have our own views on that subject," said the gentleman, smiling, as he drew his only daughter tenderly to his side. "She will learn fast enough when we put her to her books. At present, our only desire is to see her enjoy herself, and lay in a good stock of health." "Why not do both, Mr. Lee?" asked the lady. "My little Marie Louise is only four, and she can read almost as well as I can. She is learning to write, too, and really pens a letter very prettily." "I dare say," added the gentleman, gravely, after giving his wife a comical look; "your daughters are all geniuses, which, I am happy to say, Minnie is not. She is only an obedient, affectionate, practical little girl," giving her a tender caress. "But come, we were discussing, not the child's merits, but the cat's." "True; and now for your account of them." Mr. Lee turned over the leaves of the book, thanking God that his dear, conscientious, simple-hearted Minnie was not artful, disobedient, and affected, like the child of their visitor, even though the latter might be ever so learned a miss; and presently came to the chapter on domestic cats, from which we shall quote a few incidents. CHAPTER II. THE CAT AND CHICKEN. "In the summer of 1792, a gentleman who lived near Portsmouth, in England, had a favorite cat, with a family of kittens. As he did not wish so large an increase to his family, he ordered all the kittens to be drowned. "The same day, the cat was missing, and, on farther search, one chicken also. "Diligent search was made in every place that could be thought of, but in vain. Day after day passed, and at last the gentleman concluded some accident had deprived them of life. "Nearly a week after the kittens had been drowned, a servant had occasion to go to an unfrequented part of the cellar, where, to his great astonishment, he saw the cat lying in one corner, with the chicken hugged close to her body, and one paw laid over it as if to protect it from injury. "Puss and her adopted chicken were brought into a closet in the kitchen, where they continued some time, the cat treating her little charge in every respect as a kitten. Whenever the chicken left the cat to eat the soft dough provided for it, she appeared very uneasy, but on its return, received it with the affection of a mother, purred, and presented the appearance of being perfectly happy. "The gentleman, being curious to know whether the affection of puss was returned by her protege, carried it to the hen, the cat following with loud cries of distress. But on being released, the chicken at once returned to her attached friend, who received her with enthusiastic delight. "Some time after, the chicken was, by some accident, killed, and, though another one was tendered her, the cat pined, and was inconsolable for the loss of her favorite." "O, father," cried Minnie, her face glowing with excitement, "wasn't that strange? I mean to try Fidelle, and see whether she likes chickens." "More likely she'll make a meal of them," said the lady, laughing. "At any rate, your story only proves my opinion of cats, as thieving, mischievous creatures, to be true. Even she stole a chicken from the hen, the rightful owner of it, and alienated its affections from its own mother." "But all her kittens had been taken away from her, and pussies must have something to love, as well as people," exclaimed Minnie, while her quivering lip and flushed cheeks showed how much she was in earnest in what she said. "My dear," remarked her father, "the lady is only joking, to carry out her side of the argument, which, when I have read farther, I am sure she will see is a weak one." "Here is a case just in point." "A lady had a tame bird which she was in the habit of letting out of its cage every day. When at liberty, it would fly to the top of the mirror, or on the picture frames, and then to the floor, to pick up crumbs. "One morning, as it was busily picking crumbs of bread from the carpet, her cat, who had always before showed great kindness for the bird, suddenly seized it, and jumped with it in her mouth upon the table. "The lady screamed, being greatly alarmed for the safety of her favorite; but on turning about, instantly discovered the cause. The door had been left open, and a strange cat had just come into the room. "After turning it out, her own cat came down from her place of safety, and dropped the bird on the carpet without doing it the smallest injury; for it commenced again picking crumbs, as if nothing alarming had occurred." "What do you say to that, Mrs. Belcher?" inquired Mr. Lee, earnestly. "I must confess," she answered, "that was the most sensible puss I ever heard of. She certainly did a good deed, and ought to have been commended for it." "She showed presence of mind in danger," added the gentleman, "an affection for the bird with which she daily associated, and gratitude for the kindness of her mistress, who had, no doubt, treated her tenderly." "Now here is another case." "In the parish of Stonington, Surrey, England, a man was passing through a hay field in the month of September, 1793, when he was surprised to see a cat and a hare playing together in the hay. He stood more than ten minutes gratified at the unusual sight, when the hare, alarmed at seeing a stranger approach, ran into a thicket of fern, and was followed by the cat." "I'm sure, father, Fidelle and Tiney are good friends," cried Minnie, exultingly. "They often play together." "Tiney is getting too fat and lazy to play much with any body," remarked Mrs. Lee, smiling. "Will you please read more, father?" Mr. Lee was looking over the book, and laughed heartily. "Do please read it aloud, father," again urged Minnie. The gentleman commenced. "In 1806, Mr. Peter King, of Islington, had two large cats, which used to sit at table with him. They were waited upon by servants, and partook of the same dainties in which he indulged himself. "Mr. King was a great admirer of fine clothes, richly laced, and of making a display. One day, as he sat eating, with his cats for company, he thought, perhaps, they might like liveries, as well as he did. He accordingly sent for the tailor, when he had them measured for their suits. The clothes were speedily sent home, and the cats wore them for the rest of their lives." "That doesn't prove much for you," remarked Mrs. Belcher, archly. "It only shows there are some foolish cats as well as some foolish men. But whatever we may think on the subject, the king of Guinea, once thought a cat so valuable that he gladly gave a man his weight in gold if he would procure him one, and with it an ointment to kill flies. "A Portuguese, named Alphonse, was the happy individual; and he so well improved the money he made by the trade, that after fifteen years of traffic, he returned to Portugal, and became the third man in rank and wealth in the kingdom. All that for the despised cat." "O, I don't despise them in their place!" urged the lady. "They are good to keep the cellar and out buildings free from those troublesome animals, rats and mice. But I never could make a pet of a cat." "Nor eat one, I suppose," he added, roguishly. "No, indeed," with an expression of contempt. "They are thought by some to make a delicious meal," he went on with mock gravity. "A fricassee, for instance. Here is a recipe for the cooking:-- "Skin the cat thoroughly, cut it in pieces, and soak twenty-four hours in vinegar; then anoint it with garlic and honey, after which it is fried like a young chicken." "Horrible!" exclaimed Mrs. Belcher; while Mrs. Lee confessed, much as she esteemed cats, she could not relish such a meal. "Is it possible they are ever used for such a purpose?" she inquired presently. "Certainly, my dear; among the negroes they are considered a great dainty, and Goethe, in his 'Rifleman's Comrade,' said the soldiers at Palmero ate them with a relish." CHAPTER III. PUSS AND THE PARTRIDGE. A few days later, as Minnie sat watching Fidelle washing herself, licking her paws, and then putting them on her face and ears, her father drove into the yard, accompanied by a niece, who had come to make them a long visit. Ida Morris was the daughter of Mr. Lee's only sister. She was a lovely girl of fourteen, having long been the companion and especial charge of her widowed mother. Mrs. Morris had now gone to Europe with her son, who was an invalid, and Ida had come to stay at her uncle's until their return. Minnie had not seen her cousin for a year; but she knew from her parents that Ida was frank and good tempered, and very fond of pets. When she heard the carriage, therefore, she ran joyfully to meet and welcome her visitor. Ida had grown very tall within the year, and this afternoon was exceedingly sad from the parting with her mother and brother, the latter of whom she might never see again; but when she felt Minnie's soft hand pressed so lovingly in her own, and heard the eager tones of joy at her arrival, she felt comforted. Wiping her tear-dimmed eyes, she said, "Uncle George has been telling me about your pets; and you, dear Minnie, shall be mine." Fidelle presently came and jumped in Ida's lap, to the surprise of Mrs. Lee and Minnie. "Why, here is the beautiful cat I saw last year," cried the young girl; "can it be possible that she remembers me? You know I petted her a great deal." "I have no doubt that is the case," answered her aunt; "otherwise I should be at a loss to account for her sudden fondness. She is usually very shy with strangers." Ida stroked the soft, silky hair, and seemed almost as much in love with the puss as Minnie herself was, while Fidelle purred and purred, and lovingly licked the hand that fondled her. "Oh, cousin!" cried Minnie, her cheeks glowing with animation, "we do have such good times reading stories about birds and animals. We are reading about the cat now. Father says there is something in his books about every one of my pets." "I hope I may be a listener, then." "Oh, yes, indeed! While you are here, you are to be my ownty, downty sister, and I shall try to make you happy." Ida kissed her; then they adjourned to the dining hall, where they had been summoned to tea. Fidelle, knowing she was not allowed there at meal times, reluctantly remained behind. In the evening, when the candles were lighted, Minnie begged her father to go on with the stories, to which he willingly consented; but first he said,-- "I suppose you know, Minnie, that the cat belongs to the same family as the lion, the tiger, the panther, the leopard, and several other wild animals. The tiger and cat are very similar in form and feature; they have the same rounded head and pointed ears; the long, lithe body, covered with fine, silky hair, often beautifully marked; the silent, stealthy step, occasioned by treading on the fleshy ball of the foot; the same sharp claws; the same large, lustrous eyes, capable, from the expansive power of the pupil, of seeing in the dark; the whiskered lip; the carnivorous teeth; and a tongue covered with bony prickers. "In many of their habits, too, they are alike. In their natural state, they sleep a great part of the time, only rousing themselves when pressed by hunger. Then they are alike in lying in wait for their prey, not hunting it, like the wolf and dog; but after watching patiently for it, as I have often seen Fidelle watch for a mouse, they steal along with their supple joints and cushioned feet till within springing distance of their victims, when they dart upon them with an angry growl. "Though cats are very plenty now, they were not always so. The Egyptians venerated cats, as a type of one of their gods. To slay a cat was death by law. When a cat died, the family to which it belonged mourned as for a child. It was carried to a consecrated house, embalmed, and wrapped in linen, and then buried with religious rites, at Bulastes, a city of Lower Egypt, being placed in a sepulchre near the altar of the principal temple. "The Mohammedans have an extraordinary reverence for them; and a traveller, of whom I once read, saw at Damascus a hospital for cats, which was a large building walled around, and said to be full of them. "This singular institution, well supported by public alms, originated in the fact that Mahomet brought a cat to Damascus, which he kept carefully in the sleeve of his gown, and fed with his own hands. He even preferred cutting off the sleeve of his robe, rather than to disturb the repose of his favorite, who had fallen asleep in it. "I remember a curious story, which is told of Cambyses, a Persian general, who conquered Thebes by placing in front of the Persian army a corps of cats, giving to each of his soldiers, employed in the attack, instead of a buckler a live cat, and other animals venerated by the Egyptians. "Not daring to advance upon these animals, the Theban garrison fell, as the wily Persian commander anticipated, an unresisting prey to his stratagem." "And do you remember," said Mrs. Lee, to her husband, "that Moncrieff says an insult offered a cat by a Roman was the cause of an insurrection among the Egyptians?" "Yes, and the same writer states that even after death, these animals were held so sacred, that they were often deposited in the niches of the catacombs. If they were killed, even by accident, the murderer was given up to the rabble to be buffeted to death. "Now, Minnie, that I have made so long a speech, for your benefit, on the high esteem with which cats have been regarded, I will read you a most remarkable instance of the sagacity of one of them." "In the summer of 1800, a physician of Lyons was summoned to court, and requested to inquire into a murder that had been committed on a woman in that city. He accordingly went to the residence of the deceased, where he found her extended on the floor, and weltering in her blood. "A large white cat was mounted on the cornice of the cupboard, at the farther end of the apartment, where he seemed to have taken refuge. He sat motionless, with his eyes fixed on the corpse, his attitude and looks expressing horror and affright. "The next morning the room was filled with officers and soldiers; but still the cat remained exactly in the same position, entirely undisturbed by the clattering of the soldiers' arms, or the loud conversation of the company. "But as soon as the suspected persons were brought in, his eyes glared with fury, his hair bristled, he darted into the middle of the apartment, where he stopped for a moment to gaze at them, and then precipitately retreated. This he repeated three times, to the amazement of the spectators. "The assassins returned his gaze with terror. They who had but a moment before been so bold, now became confused; and all their wicked effrontery left them. They were condemned, and afterwards acknowledged that, in the presence of the cat, they, for the first time during the whole course of the horrid business, felt their courage forsake them." "That was an awful story," remarked Mrs. Lee, having watched Minnie's shudder of horror. "I hope you have something more lively." "Yes, here is an account of an attachment which was formed between a cat and a dog. The story is quite amusing." "Mr. Weuzel, a writer on natural history, gives an account of a cat and dog, which became so attached to each other that they would never willingly be asunder. Whenever the dog got any choice morsel, he was sure to divide it with his whiskered friend. They always ate sociably out of one plate, slept in the same bed, and daily walked out together. "Wishing," continues Mr. Weuzel, "to put their friendship to the proof, I one day took the cat by herself into my room, while I had the dog guarded in another apartment. I entertained the cat in a most sumptuous manner, wishing to see what sort of a meal she would make without her friend. "She enjoyed the treat with great glee, and seemed to have entirely forgotten her table companion. I had had a partridge for dinner, half of which I intended to keep for my supper; my wife covered it with a plate, and put it in a cupboard, the door of which she did not lock. "The cat left the room, and I walked out on business, my wife sitting at work in an adjoining apartment. When I returned, she related to me the following:-- "The cat, having hastily left the dining room, went to the dog, and mewed uncommonly loud, and in different tones of voice, which the dog from time to time answered with a short bark. Then they both went to the door of the room where the cat had dined, and waited till it was opened. One of my children opened the door, and the two friends entered the apartment. The mewing of the cat excited my wife's attention. She rose from her seat, and stepped softly up to the door, which stood ajar, to observe what was going on. "The cat led the dog at once to the cupboard which contained the partridge, pushed off the plate which covered it, and taking out my intended supper, laid it before her canine friend, who devoured it greedily. No doubt the cat, by her mewing, had made him understand what an excellent meal she had made, and how sorry she was that he had not participated in it; but at the same time had told him there was something left for him in the cupboard, and persuaded him to follow her there. "Since that time, I have paid particular attention to these animals, and am convinced that they communicate to each other whatever seems interesting to either." CHAPTER IV. FIDELLE AT PRAYERS. Mr. Lee was a religious man, accustomed to having morning and evening devotions, at which all the family were present. Fidelle had for a long time made it a point to be in the parlor on such occasions, and often caused a smile by the eagerness with which she ran to join them on their return from the table. One morning, Mrs. Lee was quite ill, and unable to leave her chamber. The family, however, assembled as usual for prayers, and Fidelle among them. She seemed instantly to notice that the lady was not in her accustomed place, and, after an earnest gaze into Minnie's face, started off to call her. Mrs. Lee was quite surprised to see the cat come walking quickly into the room, up to the side of the sofa where she was lying. There she stopped, and, gazing at her, cried, "Meow! meow!" Then she ran out to the hall, and part way down the stairs. But finding the lady did not follow, she returned again, and still more earnestly cried, "Meow! meow!" trying to make her understand that, instead of lying there, she ought to be below, attending prayers. This she did three times; after which she concluded, perhaps, that she had better not abstain from the service because the lady did so, and she therefore quietly took her usual place near Mr. Lee. It was invariably her custom to remain with her eyes tightly closed while the gentleman read the Scriptures; then, when he closed the book, and the family knelt for prayer, she arose, turned over, and sat down again, which was the nearest approach she could make to imitating them. In this position she remained quietly until the service was concluded, when she at once began to caper and play as usual. Minnie had sometimes been disposed to smile to see Fidelle sitting upright, with her eyes tightly closed; and Ida acknowledged that the first time she saw her looking so demure, as though she understood and appreciated every word that was said, she had to bite her lips to keep from laughing outright. When Mrs. Lee told them what Fidelle had done, her husband was delighted with this proof of her intelligence. He said her conduct while they were engaged in devotion was an example to all of them, and wished Poll would take a lesson of her. With this incident occurring under their own notice, their interest in the stories was increased, and after tea, Mr. Lee read among others the following:-- "A little black spaniel had five puppies, which were considered too many for her to bring up. As, however, they were a rare kind of dog, her mistress was unwilling that any of them should be destroyed; and she asked the cook whether she thought it would be possible to bring a portion of them up by hand, before the kitchen fire. The cook answered that the cat had several kittens, and she had no doubt, if they were taken away, the puppies might be substituted. "The cat made no objection, took to them kindly, and gradually all the kittens were taken away, and she nursed the two puppies only. "Now, the first curious fact was, that the two puppies were in a fortnight as active, forward, and playful as kittens would have been. They had the use of their legs, barked, and gamboled about, while the other three nursed by the mother were whining and rolling about like fat slugs. "The cat gave them her tail to play with; and they were always in motion. They soon ate meat, and long before the others, they were fit to be removed. This was done; and the cat became inconsolable. She prowled about the house, and on the second day of tribulation, fell in with the little spaniel, who was nursing the other three puppies. "'O,' said puss, putting up her back, 'it is you who have stolen my children.' "'No,' replied the spaniel, with a snarl, 'they are my own flesh and blood.' "'That won't do,' said the cat. 'I'll take my oath before any justice of the peace, that you have my two puppies.' Thereupon there was a desperate combat, which ended in the defeat of the spaniel; and then the cat walked off proudly with one of the puppies, which she took to her own bed. "Having deposited this one, she returned, fought again, gained another victory, and redeemed another puppy. "Now, it is very singular that she should have taken only two, the exact number she had been deprived of." "Isn't that a nice story?" cried Minnie, joyfully clapping her hands. "I had no idea there were such pleasant things about cats," said Ida, laughing at her cousin's enthusiasm. "Fidelle has risen wonderfully in my estimation. But don't let me detain you, dear uncle." "I see here," he said, "a curious account of a cat, published by M. Antoine in France." "In a French cloister, the hours of meals were announced by the ringing of a bell. A favorite cat belonging to the establishment was accustomed, as soon as she heard the summons, to run quickly to the dining hall, that she might be fed. "One day it happened that puss was accidentally shut up in a room by herself when the bell rang, and could not therefore obey the summons. Some hours after, she was let out, and instantly ran to the spot where dinner was always left for her; but no dinner was to be found. [Illustration: PUSS RINGING FOR HER DINNER. Page 82.] "In the afternoon, the bell was heard ringing at an unusual hour. The inmates of the cloister ran quickly to see what was the cause of it, when, to their surprise, they saw the cat clinging to the bell rope, and setting it in motion as well as she was able, in order that she might have her dinner served up to her." "I hope they gave her a good one," urged Minnie. "I'm sure she deserved it for being so smart." "I have no doubt of it," remarked the gentleman, smiling. "Now, here is a story of another French cat." "It was of a kind known as the Angora variety, a very beautiful creature, with silvery hair of fine silky texture, generally longest on the neck, but also long on the tail. Some of them are olive, the color of the lion; but they are delicate creatures, and of gentle dispositions. "This one belonged to a hotel in Paris, and having noticed that the cook always left the kitchen upon the ringing of a certain bell, and thus left the room clear for her to eat the dainties she had been preparing, soon acquired the art of pulling the bell herself. "This trick she practised for some weeks, in the mean time growing plump and sleek from her abundance of rich delicacies, until the thieving became so extensive that a person was set to watch for the rogue. "Concealing himself, therefore, with fire-arms, ready to secure the villain, the man had to wait but a short time before he saw puss steal along near the wall, where she gently agitated the bell wire. "Cook obeyed the summons, and left the kitchen, when the cat sprang from her hiding place, and catching a pigeon, just ready for the oven, in her mouth, ran into the cellar to enjoy her plunder." This instance of intelligence caused a hearty laugh among the hearers, which had not quite ceased when Mr. Lee said, "I have been told that a garrison of disciplined cats was once kept on the island of Cyprus, for the purpose of destroying the serpents with which it was infested. They were so well trained that they came in to their meals at the sound of a bell, and at a similar signal returned in order to the chase, where they were equally zealous and successful." CHAPTER V. KITTY AND THE FISH. One morning, when Minnie went down stairs, she found Fidelle apparently much distressed at having stepped into some water which the chamber girl had accidentally spilled on the floor. Puss shook one foot and then another in the most dainty manner imaginable, and then, going to a dry place, sat down to lick her paws. "What can be the reason cats don't like water?" Minnie asked her mother. "Leo thinks a bath very refreshing, and I suppose Tiney would if Kate did not scrub her so hard." "I don't know, my dear, why it is so; but they do almost always dread the water. Though they are extremely fond of fish, they seldom venture into the water after it, but wait for it to be brought to them. "But there are cases where they have become expert fishers. I remember an account now which I think will interest you. "A widow woman by the name of Rogers had a large family of children dependent on her for support. By practising the greatest economy, they were able to live for several years. At last there came a famine, when provision of every kind was so scarce that this poor family were reduced to the verge of starvation. Twenty-four hours had passed without one mouthful of food, and the widow knew not where to obtain any; when, hearing a faint scratching at the door, she went to open it. She saw there a sight which made tears of grateful joy stream from her eyes. The cat, which had long been an inmate of the family, a sharer of their prosperity and adversity, with whom one of the children had divided her last crust,--this cat stood at the door, holding in her mouth a large fish, which furnished all the household with a plentiful meal. "What was more remarkable, puss continued to do this for nearly three weeks, until better times dawned upon them, when she suddenly ceased the habit, and never was known to take to the water again." "Wasn't that a good kitty, mamma?" cried Minnie, giving Fidelle an extra squeeze. "She was a useful cat." "Yes, my dear; and when your father comes home, I think he can find a number of instances where cats have overcome their dislike of wet feet, and have become expert fishers." In the evening, Minnie did not forget to remind her father that she liked to hear stories. Running up on the steps, she took the volume from its place, and playfully put it into his hands. After repeating to him the incident her mother had related in the morning, he turned over the leaves, and presently found the following:-- "At Caverton Mill, in Roxburghshire, a beautiful spot on the Kale water, there was a famous cat domesticated in the dwelling house, which stood two or three hundred yards from the mill. When the mill work ceased, the water was nearly stopped at the dam head, and below, therefore, ran gradually more shallow, often leaving trout, which had ascended when it was full, to struggle back with difficulty to the parent stream. "So well acquainted had puss become with this circumstance, and so fond was she of fish, that the moment she heard the noise of the mill clapper cease, she used to scamper off to the dam, and, up to her belly in water, continue to catch fish like an otter." "That is really a curious instance," remarked Mrs. Lee, "where the instinct of puss amounted almost to reason. She connected the stopping of the wheel with the shutting off the water, and found by experience that at such times the trout could be seen." "Here is another," added Mr. Lee, "related by the Plymouth Journal, in England." "A cat who had for many years attached herself to the guard house, was in the constant habit of diving into the sea, and bringing up the fish alive in her mouth, for the use of the soldiers. At the time this account was given, she was seven years old, and had long been a useful caterer. It is supposed that she first ventured into the water, to which cats have a natural aversion, in pursuit of the water rats, but at length became as fond of it as a Newfoundland dog. She took her regular walk along the rocks at the edge of the point, looking out for her prey, and ready to dive in at a moment's notice." "We have a neighbor at home," said Ida, "who cannot endure the sight of a cat. I wish she could hear some of these incidents; it is probable that it might change her opinion of their intelligence." "They are really affectionate little creatures," rejoined Mr. Lee, "as this story would convince any one." "A cat, which had been well treated in a family, became extremely attached to the eldest child, a little boy who was very fond of playing with her. She bore with patience all maltreatment which she received from him without making any resistance. As the cat grew up, however, she daily quitted her playfellow for a time, from whom she had before been inseparable, in order to catch mice; but even when engaged in this employment, she did not forget her friend; for as soon as she had caught a mouse, she brought it alive to him. "If he showed any inclination to take her prey from her, she let the mouse run, and waited to see whether he was able to catch it. If he did not, the cat darted at it, seized it, and laid it again before him; and in this manner the sport continued, as long as the child showed any desire for the amusement. "At length, the boy was attacked by small pox, and during the early stages of the disorder the cat never quitted his bedside; but as his danger increased, it was found necessary, on account of her cries, to remove the cat, and lock her up. The boy died. On the following day, puss, having escaped from her confinement, immediately ran to the chamber where she hoped to find her playmate. "Disappointed in this, she sought for him with great uneasiness, and loud cries, all over the house, till she came to the door of the room where the corpse had been placed. Here she lay down in silent melancholy till she was again locked up. After the child was buried, the cat was set at liberty, when she suddenly disappeared. It was not until a fortnight later that she returned to the well-known apartment quite emaciated. She refused nourishment, and soon ran away again with dismal cries. At last, compelled by hunger, she made her appearance every day at dinner time, but always left the house as soon as she had eaten the food that was given her. No one knew where she spent the rest of her time, till she was found one day under the wall of the burying ground, close to the grave of her favorite. "So indelible was her attachment to her deceased friend, that till his parents removed to another place, five years afterwards, she never, except in the greatest severity of winter, passed the night any where else than close to the grave. "Ever afterwards she was treated with the utmost kindness by every person in the family, though she never exhibited partiality for any of them." CHAPTER VI. MOUSER AND HER MISTRESS. Soon after this, Minnie, was ill, and obliged to keep her bed for several days. One morning she lay bolstered up with pillows, Fidelle keeping her position close under the arm of her mistress, when a particular friend of Mrs. Lee called, and was shown into the chamber. She laughed as she saw kitty lying there, and tried to coax her away. "I love kitties," she said, passing her hand softly over the glossy fur, "and kitties love me." Minnie's pale cheek kindled with a glow, in her sympathy with the lady's remark. "I must tell you about my puss, Mouser," the visitor went on, seating herself close by the couch. "I was ill in bed, as you are, and puss, who is a splendid great Maltese, was very anxious about me. She feared I might be neglected, or that I should not take the right medicine, or that every thing might not be done in the best manner, and thought proper to oversee the whole business. She was continually running from the shed to my chamber, as if she were half distracted, mewing and crying in the most heart-rending manner." "Why didn't she stay on your bed, as Fidelle does?" inquired Minnie, in great interest. "I was just coming to that, my dear. Unfortunately for Mouser, she had at that very time five kittens, a family large enough, one would suppose, to occupy all her attention. But even with the care of her kittens on her mind, Mouser would not forsake her old friend. For a time, her distress and anxiety were so great, running here and there fifty times in a day, that it really began to wear upon her health, when an expedient happily was suggested to her mind. "I had provided a large box in the shed for the little family, with a piece of soft carpet doubled for their bed. Mouser paid me an early visit one morning, and, having taken a rapid, eager survey of the premises, hastened away again. But she presently returned with a kitten in her mouth, and made a bold jump with it on the bed. "'I declare that great cat has brought her kitten up here,' exclaimed my nurse, astonished at her effrontery. 'I'll soon teach her to keep them at home;' and taking a broom, she was proceeding to drive the intruders out in great wrath. "'Let her stay,' I said, decidedly; 'she is a great pet of mine.' "Mouser looked anxiously in my face, without dropping the kitten from her mouth, as if her life depended on my words. She seemed instantly to understand that I had conquered, for she laid the kitten down, and was gone in an instant. "I understood the whole matter at once, but had hard work to make nurse believe that I really meant to have the cat and all her family on my bed. It was with great reluctance she brought a foot blanket from the closet, and spread it over the white counterpane, all the while muttering, 'Well, I never heard any thing like it. I don't believe it's healthy. I won't be answerable for the consequences.' "When Mouser had brought the last one, and laid it on the blanket at the foot of the bed, she walked deliberately up to me, and began to lick my hand, while the look of gratitude and satisfaction she gave me amply repaid my interference in her behalf. It said, as plainly as possible, 'Now I have all I love about me, and without distraction can attend to you, my dear mistress, and not neglect my family. Now I am contented and happy.' "I was sick two days after this. At night, Mouser and her charge were removed to the corner of the room; but whenever I made any sound of distress, she was directly at my side, looking in my face, and mewing piteously. I understood perfectly that she wished to express her sorrow and sympathy at my affliction. "When I was able to be out of bed, her delight was so great that even the nurse was convinced of her affection. She frisked about, played with her kittens, which she had not once done while I was in bed, followed me around the room, leaping upon me, and rubbing her glossy fur against my dress. Do you wonder, Minnie, that I love Mouser; and other kittens for her sake?" The lady was somewhat surprised, when the enthusiastic child, instead of answering, started suddenly and gave her a kiss. From this time, a warm friendship was established between them. When she had gone, the child had a refreshing nap, and then asked her mother to get the book and read her a story. "Here is an affecting one," remarked Mrs. Lee, after having looked over the pages, "where puss loved her mistress as much as Mrs. Davis's Mouser did. "A lady named Madame Helvetius had a favorite kitten, which constantly lay at her feet, seemingly always ready to defend her. It never molested the birds which she kept; it would not take food from any hand but hers, and would not allow any one else to caress it. "At the death of its mistress, the poor cat was removed from her chamber; but it made its way there the next morning, went on the bed, sat upon her chair, slowly and mournfully paced over her toilet, and cried most piteously, as if lamenting its poor mistress. "After her funeral it was found stretched lifeless on her grave, apparently having died from excess of grief." "I think Mouser would have died just so," said Minnie, softly, "she loves her mistress so well." "Here is another story, my dear, if you are not too tired." "O, no, indeed! I think I should very soon be well if you would read all the time." "Henry, Earl of Southampton, was long confined in the Tower of London, as a political prisoner. He had been already some time in confinement, when, one day, he was both delighted and surprised by receiving a visit from a favorite cat. "The poor creature being distracted with grief at the cruel separation from her master, and not being able to gain access to him through the gates of the prison, was at last sagacious enough to plan a method of visiting him. She watched her chance, scaled the walls of the Tower, and finally reached him by descending through the accumulated soot and smoke of his chimney. Whether instinct guided her aright the first time, or whether she was obliged to descend many chimneys in her eager search for the one she loved, we cannot tell; but her delight at last in finding him seemed abundantly to repay her for all her perils." "How very glad her master must have been to see her!" faltered the child, her eyes moist with emotion. "I don't see how any body can help loving cats." CHAPTER VII. PUSS TAKING A JOURNEY. Fidelle had one singular habit which I have not yet noticed. She used to take a solitary walk every evening at about dusk. The custom began in the following manner. For a long time Mr. and Mrs. Lee, with Minnie, were in the habit of taking a walk at sunset, and sometimes Fidelle went with them; but finding the frolics of the kitten fatigued the child, causing her to run up and down in pursuit, they ordered the cat to be kept at home. As soon as they were out of sight, puss started off by herself, and enjoyed it so much, that for years, except when the weather was very stormy, the little creature might be seen walking demurely down the avenue into the street, from which direction she usually returned in the course of an hour, walking as quietly as she went. One day a gentleman from the neighboring city came to pass the night with her father, and, knowing Minnie's fondness for animals, told her he had heard a curious account of a cat, which he would relate to her if she pleased. The little girl was delighted, and ran at once to call her cousin Ida. They were presently seated in the parlor, Minnie having taken the precaution to carry with her the favorite volume from the library, in case it should be needed. "I am told this story is authentic," said the gentleman. "It occurred in the summer of 1828, near Deniston, England. "A gentleman, by the name of Stankley, owned a cat, who was a great favorite with the children, and was in the constant habit of going out of doors to play with them. One day she returned to the house without any of her usual company, and going directly to Mrs. Stankley, rubbed herself against her feet, crying, to arrest attention. She then went to the door and returned, which motions she repeated so long that the lady suspected the little creature had something in view. She therefore put on her bonnet, and followed her out. To her astonishment, it ran on before her, turning continually, and apparently delighted that it had gained its object, until they had gone some distance. Here the cat left her, and darted forward, when, to her surprise, she saw her youngest child stuck fast in the mud of a ditch, unable to move. "When the mother extricated the child, the cat testified her pleasure in every possible way, jumping on the lady's dress, and purring as loudly as possible." "I imagine," remarked Mr. Lee, "that the power of observation in the inferior animals is greater than is generally supposed. Those who have most carefully watched them, and noted their characters and habits, think they not only come to know persons and events, but to distinguish particular days, like the Sabbath, and to comprehend the meaning of many words. "I saw, the other day, a curious proof that cats observe what is passing around them. "There was a lady who lived at Potsdam with her children. One day, the youngest ran a splinter into her little foot, which caused her to scream out most violently. "At first, her cries were disregarded, as it was supposed they proceeded, as they often did, from impatience. At last, the elder sister, who had been asleep, was awakened by the screams, and as she was just getting up to quiet the child, she observed a favorite cat, with whom they were wont to play, and who was of a remarkably gentle disposition, leave its place under the stove, go to the crying girl, and strike her on the cheek with one of its paws so as to draw blood. "After this, the animal walked back with the greatest composure and gravity to its place, as if satisfied with having chastised the child for crying, and with the hope of indulging in a comfortable nap. She had, no doubt, often seen the child punished in this way for crossness; and as there was no one near to administer correction, puss had determined to take the law into her own hand." This story occasioned a great laugh, though Minnie pitied the crying girl, who not only had to bear the splinter, but the punishment of the cat. "Another story, exhibiting the close observation of cats," rejoined Mr. Lee, "relates to their habit of returning home from a long distance. A most remarkable instance of this was given by a gentleman who removed from the county of Sligo to Dublin, a distance of about ninety miles. "When about to change their residence, he and his children regretted exceedingly being obliged to leave a favorite cat behind them, which had endeared itself to them by its docility and affection. "They had not been settled many days in their new abode, when one evening, as the family were sitting and chatting merrily at the tea table, the servant came in, followed by a cat so precisely like the one left behind that all the family repeated his name at once; the little creature testifying great joy, in his own way, at the meeting. "The gentleman took the puss in his arms, while all gathered about to examine him; but no difference could be found between their old favorite and this one. Still it was difficult to believe it was their poor deserted pet, for how could he have travelled after them? or how could he have found them out? "Yet the exact resemblance, the satisfaction which the poor animal evinced, as he walked about in all the confidence of being among friends, with his tail erect, and purring with pleasure, left little doubt that this was indeed their own cat. "At last, one of the family examined his claws, and found they were actually worn down with travelling. This circumstance convinced them that poor puss had really followed them the whole journey of ninety miles. "As soon as they could believe it was their own, they gave the faithfully attached creature an enthusiastic greeting and a sumptuous repast." "I think that is the most remarkable case of which I ever heard," responded the visitor, "though I know that cats are famous for returning to their own homes. But here was a road over which puss had never travelled, with nothing whatever to guide him in his difficult search for those he loved." CHAPTER VIII. THE SAGACIOUS CAT. The next evening, when Mr. Lee returned home, he gave Minnie a small parcel, which he told her was a present from their late visitor. It was a beautifully bound book, containing many interesting stories on her favorite subject. She could not rest until she had persuaded Ida to read it to her. Two of the incidents are so remarkable, that I shall quote them to close my book on Minnie's pet cat, hoping my young readers will be encouraged by these stories to be kind to pussy, and indeed to all the creatures that God has made. "De la Croix, a lecturer on experimental philosophy, was one day proving to his class that no creature could live without air. For this purpose he placed a cat in a large glass jar, under the receiver of an air pump, and began to exhaust the air. "Puss flew about, feeling decidedly uncomfortable, but, after a quick examination of her situation, saw a small aperture, upon which she placed her paw. "The lecturer went on; but puss did not, as he expected, fall down lifeless. She had discovered a method of preventing the air in the jar from escaping. When he ceased pumping, she took her paw away; but the instant he took hold of the handle, she put it there again. "Finding her too sagacious to be quietly killed, De la Croix was obliged to send for a less intelligent cat before he could proceed with his lecture." "In April, 1831, an exhibition of six cats was opened in Edinboro', by a company of Italians, which gave astonishing proofs of their intelligence. They were kept in a large box, and each came forth at the command of the owner, seeming perfectly to understand its duty. They had been taught to beat a drum, turn a spit, strike upon an anvil, turn a coffee roaster, and ring bells. "Two of them, who seemed to be more sagacious than the rest, drew a bucket suspended by a pulley, like a draw well. The length of the rope was about six feet, and they perfectly understood when the bucket was high enough to stop pulling. Most of the time they stood upright on their hind legs. "One of them would turn a wheel when a piece of meat stuck on a spit was put before it. But the instant the meat was removed, she stopped, considering the labor needless till the meat was replaced." Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: 41 I suppose" changed to I suppose," 95 So well changed to "So well